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Chapter Text

Selene Amell kept her eyes closed as she pulled soft blankets around her.  It was easier to forget the responsibilities of the day to come this way.  She could pretend she was back in her tent on a rainy day, one where the weather was too bad to travel, and she could remain in the arms of the man she loved.

The man in question tightened his arms around her and mumbled softly in his sleep.  A hand reached up and cupped her cheek.  They had had a huge fight and had only made up a couple of weeks before.  He had ranted at her for killing Connor Guerin.  She hadn’t wanted to kill the child, but there had been little choice.  He was possessed and the demon in him had raised the undead.  Every villager in Redcliffe was now in mourning for a lost loved one because of that child’s actions, but she hadn’t wanted to kill him.  She had just wanted to check on the arl before she made the journey to Kinloch Hold to get help.  The child had attacked her when she had moved to open the arl’s door.

At first, everything had seemed find between them.  Then when they had returned to camp, Alistair had turned on her; railing at her for slaughtering a child.  He knew her better than that, he knew she would never want to harm an innocent.  She’d yelled back.  She hated having to be the one in charge.  She was only eighteen.  True, Alistair was only a year older than her, but he’d been a Grey Warden when the Blight started.  She had just undergone her Harrowing when Duncan arrived at the Circle.  She’d reminded him of this and offered him the leadership of their little adventuring party, the one trying to stop a Blight, once again.  He’d refused but held her responsible for the death of a child he thought of as his cousin.

She wasn’t sure what Wynne had said to him, but a week later, he’d come crawling back into their tent and apologized.  He’d been trying to make up for their lost week since then and she was still amazed at how easily she’d forgiven him.  Maker, she did love him.  She obviously loved him so much it made her stupid.  She should have used the argument to make him take charge.  He might be a bastard, but he was the king’s son.  He would be in a better position than a Circle Mage when they tried to convince the Landsmeet to back them against Teyrn Loghain MacTir.  When she got up, she would have to do just that.

She snuggled against Alistair.  For now, she would stay in the one place that she knew was safe.  In the arms of the man she loved; the one person she knew would never hurt her.

The pounding on the door came to soon.  Selene had slipped back into sleep.  Now someone was rudely demanding she return to reality.

“I’m sorry my lady.”  A maid’s voice came from the other side of the door.  “Arl Eamon demands that you get dressed and go to the palace for the Landsmeet.”

Alistair spoke without opening his eyes.  “Tell Eamon we are on our way.”  He pressed his face into Selene’s neck.  “Mm…  Good morning, my love.”

“Eamon doesn’t like us sleeping together,” she reminded him.  “I wonder if he actually sleeps with Isolde.”

She felt Alistair’s grin against her neck.  “He adores Isolde, but she doesn’t often stay the night in his room.  He seems to think it is not seemly.  He’s probably very scandalized by us, my dearest one.  It’s another reason we should get up and get dressed.”

She kissed the top of his head.  “Is that what you want?”

He pulled her down on top of him.  “I want to stay here, like this, with you forever.”  He smoothed her chestnut curls from her face.  “Unfortunately, that is not a choice we can make.”

“I guess we’ll have to deal with the nobles,” she lifted her head to kiss his nose.  “Then we can find some more time with just the two of us before we have to lead an army against the Archdemon.”

Alistair rolled off the bed, pulling her with him.  “Let’s get dressed and get this over with then.”

Chapter Text

Selene gazed at her party, one by one as they stood at the doors leading out of the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate.  Each one gazed back at her, even her dog, Barkspawn.  Alistair fidgeted a little, but looked dashing in King Cailan’s armor; which they had recovered from Ostagar. 

Beside Alistair, Oghren burped and scratched his ginger beard.  “Ready to become the King of Ferelden, Blondie?”

“Anora wants to be queen, we’ll let her,” Alistair insisted.  His voice bellied his words, though.  Selene was sure he knew what she planned.  Anora’s claim to the throne was shaky at best and would leave Ferelden too vulnerable.  Alistair would prefer to stay with the Wardens, but he was no fool and loved his country.  She assured herself that everything would be all right.  He would likely pout for a few moments and then square his shoulders and do what he knew was right.  She would be at his side to help him.  She smiled over at him; she would always be at his side.

“You have a duty to your country,” Wynne’s voice was sharp.  The elderly mage shook her head disapprovingly at Alistair.

“Don’t worry Wynne,” Leliana patted Wynne’s shoulder.  “Selene and Alistair will both always do the right thing.  Although, it could be terribly romantic if they turned their backs on duty, followed their hearts, and just ran off together to Orlais.”

“It would also get everyone else in Ferelden killed,” Morrigan reminded the red-headed former assassin.

“What is life like without a little danger?”  Zevran wiggled his eyebrows at the Witch of the Wilds.  “I’ll protect you, Morrigan.”

“I have not observed any time when Morrigan has needed your protection,” Sten did not get the humor or flirtation behind Zevran’s words.  “She is quite capable of taking care of herself.”

Barkspawn, Selene’s dog, grumbled at the rest of her companions and then bumped her legs, encouraging her to get moving. 

Selene patted his head.  “We’re going, boy.  We have a despotic teyrn to take down.”

Selene was shocked at how little resistance they met on their way to the Denerim Palace.  “Where are Loghain’s forces right now?”

“Perhaps he’s keeping them close to him,” Leliana suggested.  “He’ll spring them on everyone when he loses the Landsmeet.”

“It is likely that Ser Cauthrien was in charge of keeping us away from the palace,” Oghren burped.  “He probably hasn’t replaced her yet.”

“Did you have to kill her?”  Wynne’s voice was exasperated.  “If we could have made her see the error of following Loghain, then…”

“Look, it was me or her.  Would you prefer if she’d have killed me?” Selene cut her off.  She was fond of Wynne, but sometimes the senior mage drove her crazy.  Wynne had tried to talk her into breaking up with Alistair, going on about duty and obligations.  Was love not more important than those?  She’d never been in love before and couldn’t see herself feeling for another what she felt for her former Templar.  She looked over at him and saw his smile, assuring her that all would be well.

When Selene approached the main hall of Denerim, she could hear Eamon and Loghain talking with each other.  Eamon had already challenged Loghain and the pair were vying for the support of the Landsmeet.  “My Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear,” Eamon was saying.  “He placed us on this path, yet we should place our destinies in his hands?  Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?”  The people applauded his words.

“A fine performance, Eamon,” Loghain answered.  Selene noted that he mispronounced Eamon’s name and wondered if it was on purpose, to insult the arl.  “But no one here is taken in by it.  You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it.  The better question is ‘who will pull the strings?’”

Selene threw the doors open and approached the arguing pair.  Alistair was one step behind her.  As she looked at Loghain, those he betrayed flashed through her memory.  She could see Duncan as he stood proud and sure, protecting her from the Templars as she was accused of Jowan’s crimes, even though she’d told Irving of her friend’s plans and he insisted she pretend to help him.  Irving hadn’t protected her, but Duncan had.  She could also see King Cailan smile at her as she arrived at Ostagar.  It had taken her awhile to realize he and Alistair had the same bright, charming smile.

“Ah!”  Loghain’s piercing voice interrupted her thoughts.  “And here we have the puppeteer.  Tell us Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us?  Will they deign to send troops, or simply issue their commands through this would be prince?”

“What does Orlais have to do with anything?”  Selene challenged.  “Alistair and I are both from Ferelden.”  She’d actually been born in the Free Marches, but she didn’t have to tell Loghain that.

“What did they offer you?”  Loghain proved he wouldn’t listen to reason.  “How much is the price for Fereldan honor now?”

“Yes, we could speak of Fereldan honor and how you have lost all of yours,” Selene agreed.  “But that isn’t the most crucial matter here.  We are in the middle of a Blight and that is what needs to be addressed.”

“There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear,” Alfstanna Eremon, the Bann of the Waking Sea, agreed.

“The South is Fallen, Loghain!”  Gallagher Wulff shouted.  “Will the darkspawn take the country for fear of Orlais?”

“The Blight is indeed real, Wulff,” Loghain finally admitted.  “But do we need the Grey Wardens to fight it?  They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar.  And they asked to bring with them four legions of chevaliers.  And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to return from whence they came?”

Yes, they did need Grey Wardens to defeat the darkspawn and the only reason they had failed at Ostagar was that Loghain had betrayed them and King Cailan.  Yet this was not the time to get into that, not when there was more damning proof of how unfit a leader Loghain was.  “You sold Fereldan Citizens into slavery to fund your civil war against your own banns,” Selene revealed to the Landsmeet.

“What’s this?”  A bann Selene didn’t recognize demanded.  “There is no slavery in Ferelden.  Explain yourself!”

“There is no saving the alienage!”  Loghain insisted.  He ignored the murmurs from the crowd.  “Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired.  There are bodies still left rotting in their homes.  It is not a place I would send my worst enemy.  There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here.”  He turned back to Selene.  “Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty.  Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden.”

What a bunch druffalo droppings, Selene wondered how many of the nobles were buying his shit.  “Was having Howe torture citizens for the good of Ferelden?”

“Howe took my only son!”  Bann Sighard pronounced to the room.  “The things done to him… some are beyond any healer’s skill.”

“Howe was a grown man responsible for his own actions,” Loghain proclaimed, as if everyone in the room didn’t know Howe was his sycophant.  “He will answer to the Maker for his crimes, as must we all.”  The crowed murmured again.  “But enough of this,” he cut the off.  “I have one question: What have you done with my daughter?”

 “I have done nothing with your daughter and have no idea where she is at at the moment.  We were discussing your crimes; not slights you’ve imagined up.”

“You took my daughter… our queen… by force, killing her guards in the process,” Loghain claimed, as if he had no idea, she’d been held captive by Howe.  Selene had been maneuvered into rescuing the ungrateful bitch and regretted it all of the time.  Eamon had insisted they couldn’t let her die, they’d be framed for her death.  “What arts have you employed to keep her?”  Eamon continued his accusations.  Does she even still live?”

“I believe I can speak or myself,” Anora swept in.

Andraste’s stubbed toe, Selene had hoped the incompetent queen had managed to get herself killed in a way that screamed Selene and her friends were innocent.

The assembled Landsmeet gasped at Anora’s entrance and she took it as an invitation to try and twist them around her corrupt, lying little finger.  “Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me.”  Sure, if one was born and noble and not a mage, then everyone just listened.  “This Warden has slandered and defamed Ferelden’s greatest hero in a bid to put Maric’s imposter on the throne.”

 “That is the biggest lie I’ve heard since Maferath swore to Andraste he loved her and someone told you that you look nice in that dress,” Selene rolled her eyes, not caring how the nobles judged her.  They’d have to be idiots to believe the woman.  “The man abandoned your own husband to die at the hands of darkspawn.  That man was Alistair’s brother by the way, which you admitted when you were begging us for help.”

“Oh, and she turned on us.”  Light jovial sarcasm dripped from Alistair’s words.  “What a shock.  She seemed like such a nice despot.”  Selene couldn’t help but smile at him.  Even in the worst of times, he could lighten her heart.

“It has become clear to me, Warden, the true threat to this nation is you,” Anora proclaimed.  “I offered you the chance to ally with me for the good of this nation and you refused it.”  Anora actually admitted in front of the Landsmeet that she was turning on someone she proposed an alliance to.  “I will not allow you to destroy the throne Cailan and I have held.”

Loghain began pacing aggressively in front of the Landsmeet, like a cougar about to attack.  “Who here can say that Anora is not fit to rule this land?  And who can say that Alistair is?  We know nothing of him save that he may have royal blood.”

“That’s more than Anora can claim,” Selene tried to point out, but Loghain continued to talk over her.

“For five years Anora has been queen, and proven herself worthy of the Theirin name.  She can lead our people through this crisis, and I lead her armies.  My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before.  It’s been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting.   We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united.  We must not let ourselves be divided now.  Stand with me, and we will defeat the Blight itself.”

Selene opened her mouth to remind that Landsmeet that no Blight had been defeated without a Grey Warden, but she didn’t have to.  Her supporters spoke up before she could.

“The Warden!”  Gallagher Wulff declared.  “I’m with the Warden!”

“Southreach stands with the Grey Wardens,” another voice joined in.

Another bann stepped forward.  “The Warden helped me personally in a… family matter.”

Elfstanna nodded to the other bann and then gripped the bannister of the balcony she stood on, leaning forward so I would hear her.  “Waking Sea stands with the Grey Warden!”

“Dragon’s Peak stands with the Grey Warden!”  Another voice rang behind her.

“The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Grey Wardens,” another responded.  “Maker help us.”

Then a crochety old man stepped forward.  “I stand with Loghain!  We’ve no hope of victory otherwise.”  A stupid, crochety old man, Selene amended her thought.

“I stand with the Warden,” one of the bann’s on the floor glared at the Crochety old man.  His willingness to let them be consumed by the Blight would be remembered by his peers.  Those around him applauded.  “The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!”

There was more cheering and shouts as a large portion of the majority declared that they would stand with Alistair and Selene.  Selene smiled at them, grateful.  Then she turned to Loghain.  “You lose.  Live with it.”

Loghain clenched his fists and teeth, appearing as if in a vice or suffering from extremely egregious constipation.  “Traitors!  Which of you stood against the Orlesian Emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?”

“No one raped your wife!”  One of the banns called to him.  “You were single until after the war.”

“You wanted Maric’s wife more than you wanted your own!”  An older bann also called out.

“You don’t know of what you speak!”  Spittle spewed from Loghain’s mouth with each word.  He turned on Eamon, fists still clenched.  “You fought with us once, Eamon.  You cared about this land once.  Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk.”  He then waved a hand at the assembly.  “None of you deserve a say in what happens here!  None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have!  How dare you judge me!”

The man was definitely a few mages short of a circle.  She wondered when he had become completely unhinged.  She had no doubt that he would slaughter every noble in attendance to keep power.  He had arranged for the death of his own king after all.  “Loghain,” she tried to keep her voice soft and reassuring.  “Why don’t you call off your men and we can settle this honorably.”  She had no doubt she could easily take the man.  He had no Templar training and she doubted he had faced many mages in the past.  It would be quick and simple.

Loghain’s shoulders slumped.  “Then let us end this.  I suppose we both knew it would come to this.  A man is made by the quality of his enemies.  Maric told me that once.  I wonder if it’s more a compliment for you or me.”

“Well, I didn’t try to kill both of his sons,” Selene pointed out.  “That was you.”

“Enough,” Loghain waved a hand.  “Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel.”

Elfstanna stepped forward immediately, almost as if the Landsmeet had already discussed the possibility of this duel.  “It shall be fought according to the rules of tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields.  And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.”

So, she’d had the backing of the nobles one moment, but they were willing to overthrow her if she lost a duel.  That was nice to know, Selene thought.  At least she could judge the fealty of the nobles.  She just wasn’t sure she wanted them at her back.

“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?”  Loghain challenged.

“I take that to mean I would be facing you and not a champion?”  Selene raised an eyebrow.

Alistair grabbed her arm and pulled her, gently, against him.  “Let me fight him.  I owe that to Duncan and Cailan.”

“He’s no Templar,” Selene reminded Alistair.  “He has no protection from a mage and I have been studying the Arcane techniques the spirit in the Brecilian Forest taught me.  I think I’m becoming rather good.  I promise I won’t kill him; I’ll leave that to you.”  She fluttered her eyelashes at him and then gave him a soft kiss.  “It is me he challenged and he isn’t calling up a champion.  Can I do no less than face him myself?”

“Fine, but be careful,” Alistair’s hand gently cupped her cheek.  “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“You won’t.”  This time their kiss was a little longer.  She turned back to Loghain.  “I will face you myself.  That is only what is right in this situation.”

Loghain’s expression softened again.  “It is you or me the men will follow.  So, let us fight for it.  Prepare yourself.”

Wynne pulled Selene aside as she checked her soft leather armor and drank a small vial of mana.  “Be careful, if you kill the Champion of River Dane with magic, mages everywhere will fill the brunt of the panic it will cause.”

“We can’t keep living in fear of our own powers!  Nor should we just continue to take abuse because of them!”  Selene hissed at her.  “This is a duel, not a dance!”

She turned and began marching towards the spot the noble now surrounded, waiting for the duel.  She felt Alistair’s touch on her arm.  He pulled her in for a warm kiss.  “That was for luck.”  He kissed her again.  “That’s because I love you.”

She laid her head on his chest for a moment.  “I love you, too.”  She the straitened and moved into the circle the nobles had made.  The circle widened as she faced Loghain.

The pair slowly began to circle each other.  Loghain unsheathed his sword first and those gathered around them gasped.  What had they been expecting to happen?  Storm clouds began gathering around her and thunder boomed above.

Loghain lunged at her, but only hit her barrier.  Selene summoned a crushing cage.  The cage was made from electricity and blackened Loghain’s sword as he tried to strike at it.  She hit him with a lightning bolt that threw him against the cage’s electric bars.  He slumped to the floor.  She was mildly surprised that he still lived.  She lowered the cage and kicked his sword out of the way, unsheathing the one she carried and laying the tip across his neck.

After several minutes, Loghain regained consciousness.  He slowly made his way to his knees, his head bent.  “I underestimated you, Warden.  I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play war.”  He slowly stood, wobbling the entire time.  “I was wrong.  There’s a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died.  I yield.”

“I accept your surrender,” she nodded.

“What?”  Alistair’s voice rose a pitch.  “What do you mean you accept his surrender?”

“He knows that he must die for his crimes, but we can give him a dignified death,” Selene reasoned.  Alistair nodded reluctantly and Loghain nodded.

“Wait!”  Riordan suddenly appeared.  Selene had not seen him since she’d rescued him from the Arl of Denerim’s Estate.  He had thanked her for rescuing him and then slunk off instead of helping her.  Now he suddenly appeared at just the opportune moment of the Landsmeet.  He claimed to be a Grey Warden, and Alistair knew him and said he was, but he hadn’t lifted one finger to help her or Alistair win the Landsmeet and get help fighting the Blight.  “There is another option,” Riordan continued talking.

Alistair raised an eyebrow at him and Selene rolled her eyes.  She couldn’t believe this.  First the man seemed to refuse to ever help them, even though there was a Blight going on, now he showed up when the fighting was done and was interrupting a simple execution.

“The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown,” Riordan stated the obvious.  “Let him be of use.  Let him go through the Joining.”

Selene wondered what sort of substances Riordan had been consuming while recovering from his time in Howe’s dungeon.  Perhaps he’d gotten ahold of some bad mushrooms.  “Have you gone insane?  That’s crazy!”

“There are too few of us.”  Riordan obviously did not realize he’d gone insane.  “It’s not a matter of what we like; it’s a matter of what we must do.  Our duty is to slay the archdemon.  We aren’t judges.  Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits; anyone with the skills and mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us.  There are three of us in all of Ferelden.  And there are… compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon.”

“The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?”  Anora spoke up.  Selene wondered how Anora knew that.  She hadn’t before Duncan put her through the ritual and she had asked if there was anything she needed to know.  “If he survives, you gain a general.  If not, you have your revenge.  Doesn’t that satisfy you?”

It really did not.

It didn’t satisfy Alistair, either, from his expression.  “Absolutely not!”  Alistair was practically yelling.  “Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed!  He hunted us down like animals.  He tortured you!  How can we simply forget that?”

“Like animals, Riordan,” Selene repeated her love’s words.  “We had to kill people; lieutenants and generals who were foaming at the mouths, like rabid dogs, in anticipation of killing us.  He sent a horny Antivan Crow after us.  He’s a traitor, Cailan’s death, and he let Duncan die in the process.  He has to die.”

“You can’t do this!”  Anora objected.  “My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people.”

“Anora, hush,” Loghain’s voice was gentle as he addressed his child.  “It’s over.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” Anora’s voice became more shrill.  “This is serious.”

Loghain closed his eyes for a moment and gave her a fond smile.  “Daughters never grow up, Anora.  They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever.”  He turned to Selene.  “You’ll find that out when you have one of your own.”

Selene gave a little shake of her head.  “Even were I ever to be so blessed, the Chantry would just take the child from me.  There is a reason you never see babies in the Circles.”

“Father…”  Anora threw her hands over her face.

“Just make it quick Warden,” Loghain requested.  “I can face the Maker knowing that Ferelden is in your hands.”

Selene looked over to Alistair and held out a hand.  “Alistair, you should be the one to do this.”

He took her hand for a moment.  “Thank you.  I will.  I owe that to Duncan.”  He unsheathed his sword and slowly walked to Loghain.  Loghain took one involuntary step back, but that was all.  Alistair grit his teeth, his face ferocious, as he made a vicious swing that cleanly separated Loghain’s head from the rest of his body.

Anora weaved on her feet as her father’s blood splashed onto her and his headless corpse fell at her feet.          She collapsed to the ground, her head on his chest and wailed her sorrow to the heavens.

“We’ll give her a few moments.”  Selene stepped away.  She’d gotten a bit of blood on herself and Alistair grabbed a cloth to gently wipe their enemy’s blood from both of them.

Chapter Text

The banns gathered for the Landsmeet did not even wait for half an hour, to allow the former queen to finish grieving for her now headless father, before they got back to business.

“So, it is decided,” Eamon declared.  “Alistair will take his father’s throne.”

“Wait!  What!”  Alistair protested.  “Nobody’s decided that,” he looked over at Selene and lowered his voice.  “Have they?”

“He refuses the throne!”  Anora smiled archly, obviously she was done grieving.  “Everyone here has heard him.  I think it’s clear then he abdicates in favor of me.”  Her words were falling over themselves in her eagerness.

“I hardly think you’re the appropriate person to mediate this Anora,” Eamon reprimanded her.  “Selene, will you help us?”  He dumped his problems on Selene’s lap.

Selene had been told to expect this, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.  She knew that Alistair had no desire to be king, but she also knew there wasn’t another viable choice.  She couldn’t let Anora take it.  She wasn’t sure how complicit Cailan’s widow was in his death or other machinations, but she had no legitimate claim to the throne and couldn’t be trusted.  “I want to talk to Anora first.”

“Certainly.”  Anora gave a small nod and her voice was a little too chipper.

Selene was just taking the opportunity to voice some things she’d been unable to before.  “Are you aware that you’re a ruthless bitch?”

Anora crossed her arms.  “I prefer to think of it as having staunch determination.  Was there a point you wanted to make?”

“No,” Selene shook her head.  “I just wanted to say it, to make sure you knew.”

“Oh,” Anora uncrossed her arms.  “I’m glad that you can take time from deciding the fate of our nation for this.”  Finally, she no longer sounded smug, likely because she now realized that there was no way Selene was going to find in her favor.  Selene was shocked that she had ever entertained the idea that Anora had ever entertained the idea that Selene would be on her side.         

“Have you made a decision, Warden,” Eamon was growing a bit testy.  Perhaps he realized she didn’t care for him that much, either.

“Of course, I have,” she turned to the people.  “Alistair will be king and I will rule beside him.”

“You can’t,” Alistair spoke before anyone else could.  “The people would never accept a mage as queen.”

            So much for winning freedom for her people, she supposed.  That didn’t change her personal goals, she’d just never marry and become the royal mistress.  That would still allow her to make some changes and stay by the side of the man she loved.  “Very well, Alistair will rule alone.”

            “Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you,” Eamon proclaimed.  “You must now swear fealty to our king, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs.”

            “If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon, you know nothing of me,” Anora countered.

            “You’ll have to do something about her Alistair,” Selene looked to him.  She wanted to suggest that he kill Anora on the spot, but she knew that it would make her look petty and weak. She also doubted that he’d actually do it. Really, the man was almost too kindhearted for his own good.

            “I suppose that’s true.”  Alistair looked and sounded sorrowful.

            “We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war,” Eamon insisted.  “If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all.”

            “Put her in the tower for now,” Alistair decided.  “If I fall against the Blight, then she can have her throne.  If not… then we’ll see.”

            Anora turned to him, her eyes wide.  “You would give me a chance for the throne after this?”

            “I said if I fall, Anora, if I fall the throne falls to you.”  Alistair’s voice finally got the warrior’s edge that Selene knew he needed.  “I won’t kill you while there’s a chance that can happen.  Someone has to treat this Blight seriously.”

            “Alistair you can’t be serious,” Selene objected.  Anora was a threat, she needed a sword to her throat, not a cushy room to cool her heels in.

            “That is uncharacteristically wise of you,” Anora declared.

            “Yes,” Alistair turned, presenting his chiseled profile.  “Well, don’t let it get around.  I have a reputation to maintain.

            “Very well then,” Eamon capitulated to Alistair’s decision.  “Guards, take her away.”

            The crowd gasped yet again as the guards surrounded Anora.  They led her through the other nobles and out the door.  Selene wondered if they were taking her to Fort Drakon or to just place her under house arrest and lock her in her room.

            “The people would never accept me as queen, but you’ll leave the Throne of Ferelden to the woman who helped plot against Duncan and Cailan if something happens to you while we are fighting the darkspawn?”  Selene was incredulous.  “So, being born with magic really is worse than murder and treason.”

            “Selene,” Alistair reached a hand out to her, but then let it fall.

            “Your highness,” Eamon interrupted them.  “Would you address the Landsmeet?”

            “Oh,” Alistair turned towards him.  “That would be me.  Right, um…”  He stumbled.  “I never knew him, but from all I heard about my father, he was defined by his commitment to protecting this land and its people.”

            “Just put on the crown and get this over with,” Selene sighed.  She was done with speeches at the moment.  She wanted to get away from all of the nobles and find a dragon so she could put a lightning bolt up its ass, before she put one up Eamon’s butt.

            “Maker’s breath,” Alistair glanced back at her.  Then he turned his attention back to his nobles.  “When the Blight is over, I’ll come back and take up my duties… whatever they are… as king.  Until then, I think Arl Eamon will have to be regent.”

            Eamon bowed.  “Then I can do Maric’s memory no less honor than you do.  I accept.  And may the Maker bless your efforts against the darkspawn.”  The decision didn’t sit well with Selene.  She sensed that this was what Eamon had wanted all along.  He wasn’t strong enough to take the throne, but he would now sit on it.

            “My fellow Warden will, I hope, take up Loghain’s place as leader of my armies,” Alistair added.  He turned to Selene.  “Shall we finish this thing together?”

            She didn’t like this.  He had never used her name, just ‘fellow Warden’.  He was handing her an army, but it felt like he was distancing himself from her.  She tried to tell herself she was being silly.  She was just tired.  “I could do no less for you, my king.”

            Alistair turned back to the crowd.  “Everyone get ready to march!  It’s going to take all of Ferelden’s strength to survive the Blight.”  The crowd began to cheer.  “But we will face it and we’ll defeat it together!”  He turned back to Selene.  “We’d better get going.  Ferelden is depending on us.”

            “I’d like to speak with you alone, Alistair.”  Eamon gently gripped his arm and led Alistair away from Selene.

Chapter Text

“A wise man once said that ‘a room without books is like a body without a soul’,” Selene scanned her surroundings.  “This room has no soul.”

“It is rather dreary room,” Leliana agreed.  There was a large table in the middle with plenty of chairs set around it.  Large urns sat behind the table and there was a stack of firewood in one corner.  She pulled out one of the chairs and gracefully folded into it.  “Are there other rooms where we can wait for Alistair to join us?”

“I don’t trust that Eamon,” Zevran decided.  “He seems keen on manipulating Alistair.  We shouldn’t have let him take him off by himself.”

“He claims to be like Alistair’s uncle,” Sten remarked.  “What is an… uncle?”

“It’s the brother of one of your parents,” Wynne explained to him.  “In this case, his older sister used to be married to Alistair’s father.”

“And this gives him some authority to advise a king?”  Sten shook his head.  “This makes no sense.”

“He’s…”  Wynne stopped as the door opened.

Alistair walked in, his gaze on Selene.  “We… need to talk.”

Selene didn’t like the tone of his voice or the way he looked at her, it scared her.  Something was very wrong.  “We can go somewhere.  It sounds like we need to be alone.”

“No…”  He didn’t look at the others.  “If we go off alone now… I won’t be able to… this is hard already.  I’m not going to question why you made me king.  I think I’m starting to come around on the idea, anyhow… it could be an interesting future for me.”

“You’ll be a wonderful king,” she assured him.  She’d been so afraid he’d be angry, but there really was no other viable choice.   

“Thank you,” his voice was soft.  “But… being king, that raises some questions about us.  About you and me.”

“Alistair, I really think you two need to be alone,” Wynne tried to interrupt.

“You and me?”  Selene repeated.  She found she could hardly speak and her hand reached back to grab a chair.  She didn’t realize her knuckles were turning white.  Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach.  “I thought you were in love with me.” 

“I am, more than anything,” he professed.  “But this is all I can think of since the Landsmeet.  First, there’s the fact that you and I are both Grey Wardens.  It’s not just a question of obligation, but of blood.  You know that Grey Wardens don’t usually live to become old, right.”

She sank down on a nearby chair, but missed.  Leliana sprang up to support her.  Selene vaguely wondered how she’d missed the chair, but most of her brain was dulling, trying to shut down as if to protect itself.  “I never wanted to be a Grey Warden.”  She hadn’t.  She’d gone to Irving when she’d learned of Jowan’s insane plan to destroy his phylactery and run of with some Chantry hussy.  He’d told her to pretend to go along with the plan.  The next thing she’d known, she was being accused of blood magic and Duncan was conscripting her.  He’d saved her life, but at the moment, she almost wished he hadn’t.  She didn’t think she wanted to hear what Alistair was going to say next.  “Don’t punish me more for being one,” she begged.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded it, yet she didn’t believe him.  If he was sorry, he wouldn’t keep talking.  He would take back what he’d already said and assure her that everything would be all right.  “As king, I’ll be required to have a child.  Even more so, because my death is assured.  That’s assuming someone with the taint could or even should have a child.”

She blinked at him.  There was a sliver of hope that he was saying they should have a child, but then why would he bring up their tainted blood?  “We can try for a child.”

“I’ve only heard of a few Grey Wardens having children,” he shook his head emphatically.  “I’ve never heard of two having a child together.”

She found herself leaning against Leliana, who had wrapped her arms more firmly around her and was glaring at Alistair.

“Perhaps the rest of us should leave,” Oghren stood, but Wynne put a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we need to stay at this point,” her voice was firm.  She was angry, but Selene couldn’t tell at who.

Alistair continued, as if he couldn’t stop what he was doing.  “I will need to find a wife; one who can bear a child, who will live to raise it.  I don’t relish it,” his voice became quicker.  “But…” He paused.  “I will have a duty as the king.”

Selene shook her head.  She tried to glare at him, but her vision was becoming blurred.  She realized she was crying and couldn’t stop.

“I love you,” he insisted.  That just made her cry harder.  If he loved her, he wouldn’t be doing this.  He wouldn’t be so calm.  “But I have to face what this means.  I can’t run away from it anymore.”

She opened her mouth to speak and a sob came out instead.  The man she loved more than life itself was dumping her for some unknown woman.  One the nobles would accept, one who could give him a child.  He claimed to love her, but his actions belied those words.  She finally found her voice.  “You’re the king, you can do what you want.  You don’t have to give up…”  She said the words quickly, but another sob cut her off before she could continue.

“You mean… no!”  His voice raised an octave.  “I could never… not to my wife.  It would be unfair to her.”

Unfair to her, this nameless woman who wasn’t cursed with magic or the taint.  Ever since she’d called up a storm when angry at the age of six, she’d not been enough.  She’d been dragged to a circle and locked up because there was something wrong with her.  She’d tried to be an exemplary mage, but the Templars had continued to watch her.  She’d gone to the Grand Enchanter when she knew her friend was getting into trouble.  Jowan had dragged her into his scheme so he could by with Lilly, or whatever the Chantry initiate who liked to seduce mages was named.  He hadn’t cared if she got in trouble, he cared about what he wanted.  Now Alistair was telling her that he’d rather be with this other woman, this one who could give him what he desired, than be with her.  He’d be loyal to her replacement, but throw her aside.  She hadn’t realized that she’d sunk to the floor until Leliana was pulling her head onto her lap and rubbing her back as she cried.  Alistair was just looking at her, with regret in his eyes.  She felt a moment of anger.  Screw his regret, he might as well be driving a dagger into her heart.  She pulled up a moment to glare at him.  She’d given him her heart and body, something no one else had had and he had used her and was discarding her.  “So, we had sex, and now… that’s it?”  She could handle this better if that was it.  The sweet, gentle man she’d fallen in love with didn’t exist and he’d just used her to get what he wanted.

“Please don’t say it like that,” his voice was still gentle and he leaned down to touch her, but Leliana batted his hand away before he could. 

“Don’t touch her now,” Selene swore she heard her friend growl.  It almost sounded like Sten’s growl, though.

“I didn’t know it would turn out like this,” Alistair pleaded.  He scooched down to get closer to her, but didn’t try and touch her.  “I could see it becoming very hard to tear myself away from you.  Impossible, even.”

She managed a bitter laugh between her tears.  “Obviously, not.  You’re doing quite well.”

“No, I’m not,” he insisted.  “But if this is what must be, then… then I have to do it now.  I’m sorry.”

“Is…”  She took a breath, trying to stop her sobs.  She tried to tell him he wasn’t worth it.  No man who would hurt her like this was.  “Is this revenge for me making you king?”

“No,” he extended a hand, but still didn’t dare try to get past her guard again.  “I said I understand and I do.  But at the same time, I cannot avoid what that entails.”

“So, I’m good enough for another Warden, but not for a king?”  She wiped away her tears, but more just took their place.  She wanted to say more, but she could no longer breathe.  She forced herself to take in one breath after another, even if it caused her tears to flow quicker and each exhale to be a sob.  Her chest ached with each inhalation.  Maker, she was just trying not to die.

“Shh...” Leliana still held her close.  “Don’t.  You’re more than enough,” She scowled at Alistair. 

“You weak, pathetic fool, stop begging for her forgiveness,” Morrigan demanded.  She stepped between Alistair and Selene, causing him to back up.  “You don’t deserve it.”

Wynne stepped next to them, frowning disapprovingly at the new king.  “And to think I was afraid she’d be the one to hurt you.”

“Duty be damned,” Zevran spoke up.  He stalked towards Alistair.  “Either you love her or you don’t.  You’re a king, which means you can have whatever you want.  Even a slave has the right to love.  Throw that away if you must, but don’t hide behind duty like a coward.”

“Selene,” Alistair took another step back, but kept his gaze on her.

“Go, before I put my staff up your butt and then make sure you will never have a child with anyone,” Morrigan demanded.

Alistair nodded and walked away.

Leliana rubbed Selene’s back, as Morrigan moved to guard the door.  Zevran sat beside them and placed a gentle hand on her head as Selene’s sobs grew.  She couldn’t stop them.  He looked to Wynne.  “Can you help?”

“This isn’t something one can heal,” Wynne’s voice was somehow even more gentle than usual.  “Perhaps I have something to calm her, though.  I remember when Gregoire…”  She shook her head.  “He didn’t go off to have a baby with someone else, though.” 

Alistair found himself in his new rooms, staring into the fireplace.  The room was cold, barren, empty.  It fit his present mood perfectly.  He could see Selene’s face in the flames, tears streaming from her sapphire eyes down her rosy, rounded cheeks.  He’d hurt her.  Maker, he’d hurt the woman he loved.  He thought he’d done the right thing, but why did it make him feel like a monster?

After the Landsmeet, Eamon had pulled him aside and reminded him where his duties lay.  Everything he’d told Selene was true.   He had to do his duty to Ferelden now that he was king.  He had to find a noble woman to marry and make an heir with.  The thought of being with someone else sickened him. He couldn’t imagine sharing a bed, or a life with anyone else.

It would be unfair to that woman, whoever she might be, to promise her his hand and start a family with her, while he then crept into a bed of another; even if that other was Selene.   She didn’t deserve that; it wasn’t her fault that he could never love her.  Maker, he wished Selene had never made him King. He wished that the entire blighted idea hadn’t ever come to Eamon. He wanted things to go on as they were. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Selene, not some acceptable daughter of a family that just wanted a tie to the throne.

It hadn’t mattered what he wanted when he was young, and Isolde made him sleep with the dogs. It hadn’t mattered when Eamon sent him away to the Chantry. It hadn’t mattered when Duncan sent him to light the Beacon. Why, now that he’s king, should he think he’d have more say in anything.

He stepped away now, because he knew that he’d never be able to do it later.  Every day he spent at her side, was one he fell deeper in love.  She’d gone from being a comrade, to a friend, to a sweetheart, to the love of his life.  He didn’t know how he’d found the strength to split from her even now.  

He once dreamed of staying at her side forever.  A lifetime of breakfasts in bed, private jokes, and nights of quiet, or loud passion.  Every single one of those dreams died with his words to her, and he hated himself for it.  He was too weak to refuse Eamon. He didn’t deserve her now.

He wondered if part of him was still mad that she’d made him king and did want to lash out at her.  If it was there, even that part of him now cursed him for hurting her.  For putting that look in her blue eyes.  He told himself it was better for her, as well, that he broke with her now.  What would she have thought when he began looking for a queen?  He cursed her, the future queen, as well; for the necessity of her existing and for taking him from the woman he wanted to run to even now.  But duty was duty.

Duty was duty, it had to be honored.  He repeated that phrase in his mind, even as he tried to ignore the part of him that screamed at him to run to Selene and beg her to forgive him.  He repeated it even as he put his head in hands and cried.

Chapter Text

“You must be a Grey Warden,” a buxom blonde murmured to Alistair.  “For they are the opposite of darkspawn.  They are light-spawn and I’d like for you to spawn my children.”

“Melissa!”  One of the blonde’s companions gasped.  “I cannot believe you’d say something so impertinent to our new king!”

“She’s desperate, Willa,” a striking brunette declared.  “She wants to be queen and her father told her that our new king is single.”

Alistair had only been half listening to the women surrounding him.  Maker, why were they surrounding him?  Eamon had insisted on having a party to let the nobles get to know their new king and commander.  For some reason, that meant every noble of Ferelden had to bring their unmarried daughters.  He had more important things to do.  He looked around, hoping to see his companions.  This was for both himself and Selene, after all.  He saw Oghren and Sten standing in corners.  Sten was glaring at the nobles, while Oghren enjoyed the alcohol that Eamon had provided.  The rest of his companions were nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me ladies, I must…”  He hesitated.  Every excuse he could think of sounded lame in his own mind.  “I must check on my friends.  They are about to go into battle to protect you ladies from the darkspawn.”

“Like you will?”  The brunette, touched his arm.

“Who’s being too bold now, Toni?”  Melissa muttered.

Alistair turned and fled.  He found himself practically hiding behind Sten.  “Where are the others?”

“What is the point of this gathering?”  Sten answered the question with a question.  “I will only be staying for an hour.  Wynne is to relieve me, so the others don’t realize that your companions are not here to support you.”

“What do you mean they aren’t…”  Alistair recalled the looks on his friends faces earlier.  Perhaps Selene was right and he should have spoken to her while they were alone.  He hadn’t wanted her to be alone when he walked away.  He hadn’t wanted…

“Alistair!”  Eamon came to his side.  “Why did you leave our lovely noble women?  They are anxious to get to know you.  You don’t want to alienate your future queen, do you?”

“I don’t want a woman who cares for my rank more than me.  One more minute of that, and I’d have run, screaming from the future queen. How would that have looked?”  Alistair didn’t want any of those women at all, he wanted Selene.  He reminded himself again that he couldn’t have her.  He had a duty to his country.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t worry for her, though.  “Where is Selene?”

“The Warden Commander?”  Eamon glanced around.  “She isn’t here.  I’ll go find her and remind her of her responsibilities.  As the commander of your forces, she has a commitment to you and the nobles.”

“Perhaps I should…”  Alistair moved towards the guest wing, where his friends would be staying.

“No,” Eamon put a restraining hand on his arm.  “I’ll go find her.”

Alistair was about to protest, then thought better of it.  It was best he wasn’t alone with Selene and she likely didn’t want to see him.  He just nodded.

Sten smiled. The image of Selene sending a lightning bolt up Eamon’s backside cheered him immensely.

Selene stared into the fire.  She sat cross legged on a large bed with a mug in her hand.  The smell of heated chocolate wafted out.  Wynne had come to her room and told her that she had the perfect potion for her.  Then she’d handed her the mug.  There were small white things in it, along with a heaping of whipped cream.  It tasted wonderful.  She wished she wasn’t so cold inside that the hot, sweet contents weren’t really reaching the core of ice at her center.

Leliana sat beside her, her arm around Selene and their heads together.  Wynne stood by the bed, looking over them.  While Zevran was draped across the bottom of the bed.

The assassin wrapped his arms around Selene’s legs.  “You know that I have always been devoted to you, my beautiful and deadly goddess.  Just let me know what you need and I shall get it.  I will even kill Eamon if you’d like me to, there will be no charge.”

“No,” Selene took a sip.  “Alistair did talk to him right before he… ended things.  I wonder how much Eamon had to do with that.”

“Alistair does look up to him,” Wynne confirmed.  “He is practically his uncle and Maric did trust him to raise Alistair.  He would be looking out for the throne and what he thought was best.”

“He is establishing his control over Alistair right now,” Leliana agreed.  “He would need to do so, before he feared you got too much influence, Selene.  I just can’t see our little Templar deciding that he no longer wanted the woman he obviously loved.”

“He has been thrust into power he never expected to have,” Zevran pointed out.  “And he comes from powerful people, but none of them ever fought to put him before their duties.  He doesn’t know how to fight for what he loves, because no one has fought for him.  You might need to teach him how.”

Selene took a deep sip.  “Were you not in the room when he decided to rip out my heart in front of everyone.  He stomped on it while he talked about how I wasn’t worthy of enough to be the mother of his future child.  He said he was worried about shaming someone that doesn’t exist yet more that he was of shaming me!  After all, I’m a mage and we are expected to stay locked in their towers until the nobles decide to let us out to fight their wars. We aren’t there for them to actually care about.”

“Don’t let anyone make you think that is all you are,” Leliana pulled her closer.  “Don’t listen to their bigotries.”

“How can I not?”  Selene sniffed.  “I let myself think I’d become something more and it caused my heart to be crushed.”

“If you don’t want to let me killed Arl Eamon, then at least don’t let him win,” Zevran pleaded. 

“I can’t let you kill him,” Selene sniffled again.  “I need his army to fight the archdemon.  I’m tempted to just let the archdemon destroy Ferelden and the rest of Thedas.”

“Selene!”  Wynne gasped.

“I just said tempted,” Selene muttered.

“Morrigan would cheer you if you decided to let everyone die,” Leliana murmured.  “The little bitch.”

“Where is…”  Zevran’s question was cut off by a knock on the door.  “That must be her.”

            Wynne opened the door to reveal Arl Eamon. 

            “I would have preferred Morrigan,” Leliana admitted.

            “So, would I,” Selene sighed.  The Witch of the Wilds would likely turn the arl into a toad for her.

            “Warden,” Eamon didn’t even bother to address her by name.  “You are supposed to be down in the throne room, mingling with the nobles.  Why are you up here?  You have a duty to the people as their commander.”

            “Speak of the demon,” Zevran slowly stood, his movements languid and relaxed.  “What brings you here, Eamon, making demands of our beautiful, wounded warrior goddess?”

            “Wounded?”  Eamon’s eyes tried to search Selene, but Leliana moved to block his view.  Her own gaze was calm and steely.  “Were you hurt, Warden?”

            “Her name is Selene,” Wynne’s voice was cool, firm.  “I believe you should use it rather than an arbitrary title.  Perhaps you could use Commander in front of others.”

            “I prefer the formality,” Selene spoke up.  “Perhaps that would remind you to stay out of my personal life.  You talked with Alistair shortly after the Landsmeet, Eamon, what did you say to him?”

            “I merely reminded him of his duties as king and helped set up a plan for Ferelden’s future,” Eamon assured her.  “There was nothing that touched personal lives, merely that which affects all of our people.”

            “But you reminded him that he needs a queen the nobles will accept, didn’t you?”  Zevran leaned casually against a bed post and crossed his arms.

            “Of course,” Eamon obviously refused to think there was anything wrong with that.  “That is why many of the nobles have brought their daughters to this party.  Yet our Alistair is running from the girls, rather than charming them as I know he can.  You seem to find him charming, Commander.  Which is why I need you to also talk to him downstairs.  Then you can mingle with the nobles who forces you command.  It is your duty after all.”

            “My duty?”  Thunder cracked in the air and none of Selene’s friends made a move at first to stop her.

            “Eamon,” Wynne finally spoke.  Her voice was that of a teacher who was done putting up with a petulant student’s crap.  “It is not your place or your duty to remind a Grey Warden of her duty against the darkspawn.  We’re here to save Ferelden.  You seem to be here to further your own political agenda.  Tell the nobles that we are leaving for Soldier’s Peak, an old Warden fortress, tomorrow morning and are resting.  You’ve done more than enough and should pray to the Maker that you do not one day feel its repercussions.  Good night.”

            Eamon sighed and walked out of the room.

            “Idiota con cara de mierda,” Zevran hissed after the arl.  “He doesn’t even deny what he did to our sweet Templar.”

            “Now I know for sure,” Selene took another drink.  “And Alistair listens to whatever he says, he’s his beloved uncle.  His beloved uncle who let Isolde banish him to the stables and then send him to the Chantry.  He thought he was being childish when he refused to see Eamon after that, it was the smartest thing he’d ever done.  Now, he…” Her breath shuddered and Leliana wrapped her arms around her.  “He made his choice.”

            “Don’t let him win,” Zevran sat back down, this time on her other side.

            “He already has.”  Selene didn’t notice the thunder that cracked outside her window or the lightning that followed.  The rain fell as her tears did so.

Chapter Text

Even the sun is dimmer when you wake up alone, after having gotten used to waking up beside someone you love more than life itself, Selene realized.  It was the second morning she had done so and it was no easier than the first one.  At least the previous morning, she’d had Leliana and Zevran both passed out on her bed with her.

            Now, she lay in her tent, curled up in her bedroll by herself.  She blinked at the walls of her tent.  The sun was indeed out, it just didn’t seem any brighter.  She told herself to pull it together and get on with life.  The archdemon wasn’t going to wait for her to get over her broken heart and she had a promise to keep to Levi Dryden.  They would be entering the caves leading to Soldier’s Peak that day and she had things to do before she set out.

            Selene took time combing out her hair and dressing.  She exited her tent to find her companions already gathered around the fire.  There was a pot of porridge set over the flames and most had bowls in their hand.  She knew she should eat, but she couldn’t convince her stomach to venture to eat the rolling oats.  Instead, she grabbed a basket and walked to Bodhan. 

            “Do you need to trade for goods?”  Bodhan’s eyes brightened.  “I picked up new stock in Denerim.”

            She’d already picked up supplies there.  “No, I just wanted to tell you that we’ll likely be gone for several days while we secure the fort.  You could go to Highever or Amaranthine to trade while we do.”  She hoped he would take her advice.  He seemed to have little variety in his stock for the last couple of months.  She then made her way to Wynne.  “I’m going to go hunt for herbs.  I should be back in a couple of hours.  Keep an eye on things for me.”

            “Take someone with you,” Wynne advised.  “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

            “I’ll be fine,” Selene assured her.  “This isn’t the Circle where I need a Templar to watch me where ever I go.”  She swallowed as she realized she had had an ex-Templar, or ex-Templar in training, with her where ever she went.  Well, that time was past and she would rather be alone now.  “I’m fine,” she insisted again and walked away.

            Selene had barely stepped into the trees, when she heard a foot step behind her.  She whirled around, summoning a barrier around her.  She wasn’t aware of the sound of thunder above her. 

Alistair stood behind her; one eyebrow raised.  “That’s a new reaction to seeing me.”

She was glad it was thunder and anger that reared up instead of tears.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you.”  From the tone of his voice and his expression, it was apparent that he felt that should be obvious and found nothing wrong with his actions. 

“Did Wynne tell you to accompany me?”  She would kill the other mage if she had, but it didn’t seem like Wynne’s style.  She wasn’t cruel.

“What?”  Alistair blinked at her in confusion.  “No.  I’ve always gone with you when you pick herbs.”  He really didn’t seem to know why he shouldn’t do so anymore.

She shot a bolt of lightning at his feet and took a petty pleasure when he jumped back.  “Do you really think I want you with me now?  You can’t just tell me you are staying away from me… forever… and then think you can just come walk with me now.  You made your decision and it wasn’t me.  Stay away from me.”  She whirled around and rushed further into the woods.

Alistair stood staring after Selene.  He wasn’t sure what he should do, whether he should return to the camp or chase after her.  He’d walked and talked with her as she gathered herbs since before the fall of Ostagar.  He admitted that the first time he’d accompanied her, he hadn’t spoken much; but he’d enjoyed their companionable silence.  Just because he had to step back from her, it shouldn’t mean that he had to give up their friendship.  She was his best friend.  But now she seemed to run from him, as if he were as vile as Loghain or Howe.

“I hope you hadn’t expected her to go skipping into the woods with you hand in hand.”  Zevran had snuck up on him, unseen.

“What?”  Alistair blinked at him.  He had never seen Selene skip before, which was a bit of a shame.  “We don’t skip together.”

“You two don’t do anything together, not anymore,” Zevran patted his shoulder.  “You saw to that back in Denerim.”

“I walked with her while she collected herbs and flowers since I’ve known her, long before we… admitted our feelings and… acted on them,” Alistair protested.  “We have always been friends, why should that change?”

“You changed things, Alistair,” Zevran pointed out.  “Then you changed them again.  When you change things, things change; things you didn’t mean to change do change.  Her heart is broken; I was there when you broke it. You cannot pretend that didn’t happen. You refuse to be her lover, and you cannot be her friend. Did being made a king turn you into someone so selfish as to think you can tell others how to feel? Are your feelings as changeable as you want hers to be?  I envy you if they are.”  He moved as if to follow Selene.

“Zevran,” Alistair stopped him.  “My feelings… I don’t think they’ll every change.  I love her more than life itself and I know I will until the day I die, longer even.  It would be so much easier if I could stop.”

Zevran looked at him over his shoulder.  “Yes, I’m sure it would be, my friend, for both of you.  You made this bed and you must lie in it.  That means leaving her alone.”  He stealthily pursued Selene.

Selene knelt in front of a bush, carefully pulling up elfroot from under it.  As she placed it in her basket, she noticed a sprig of Andraste’s Grace.  Leliana would appreciate it.  Her friend had taken to putting springs in her pack to make her clothes and armor smell like it.  Her victims would smell the lovely, floral sent moments before being dispatched to the Maker.

She stood and noticed another bush.  It was a group of bushes, a group of rose bushes.  She found tears bubbling up in her.  Sweet Andraste, would she never be able to look at a rose without crying ever again?  A simple plant held way too much sway over her.

“It’s the Maker’s way of telling you that you can give yourself your own roses,” Zevran approached her.

Selene sniffed and wiped away a tear that had managed to escape.  “I thought you were staying in the shadows, so I didn’t have to talk to anyone.  Or did you think I didn’t know you were there?”

“I…”  Zevran bristled.  “Of course, I know you knew I was there.  I am a master assassin.  I could hide from you if I wanted to.”

She smiled.  She’d wounded her friend’s pride, but listening to Zevran’s boasts brightened her heart a bit.  “Of course.”

“Here,” Zevran sauntered around her and picked one of the flowers, presenting it to her.  “Now, when you see a rose, you’ll think of me.”

No, she wouldn’t.  Still, she took the flower.  “Thank you, Zevran. I…”

“So, what do you suppose we’ll find at Soldier’s Peak?”  Zevran changed the subject.  “And how will your daring Antivan friend end up saving you?”  He continued on, more extravagant than usual, obviously trying to bring a smile from his friend in pain.

Chapter Text

“See, I got you here and with no trouble,” Levi Dryden proclaimed as Selene emerged from a series of caves and into the land that held Soldier’s Peak.  “Maker’s breath, look at the size of her.  What a fortress.”

“Admit it, you got lost there for a bit,” she was sure he had.

“The map just got a little wet, that’s it,” he defended himself. 

She thought he had just been trying to escape from her and her friends.  At one point, she’d stumbled over a fallen rock and Alistair had rushed to her side, slipping his arm around her.  She’d shrugged the arm off.  He had no right to put it there anymore and she was afraid of what she might do if he kept it there, like throwing herself into his arms and begging him to unbreak her heart.

The moment she’d pushed Alistair away, Morrigan had pounced.  Morrigan seemed angrier than usual, especially at Alistair.  She was touched by that, knowing that Morrigan was irate at Alistair having hurt her.  “So, am I to understand that you and Selene have ended your relationship?”  Morrigan had acted as if she hadn’t been right there when Alistair had crushed Selene’s heart.

“Shut up,” Alistair had growled.  Selene had been shocked by the vehemence in his voice, considering he had been the one to end things.  “That is none of your business.”

Selene had almost spoken up at that moment to remind him that he’d made it everyone’s business when he’d dumped her in front of them all.  Of course, it was her friends’ business anyway.  Did they not have a right to know that their leader had been emotionally compromised.  Selene almost snorted now at that thought she was emotionally compromised she wondered if the Grey Wardens would let her out of the Joining over that or if Alistair should ask her to step down as leader of Ferelden’s Forces.

“What?”  Morrigan had challenged.  “No questions allowed?  You do not wish your motivations…?”

“I said shut up!”  Alistair had shouted the words.  “I will run this sword through you, I’m not joking!”

“Oooh,” Morrigan had mocked.  “I see.  Most serious then.”

“This discussion is over,” Alistair insisted.

“Oh, a threat from a little boy.  That will certainly silence me,” Morrigan chuckled.

Selene whirled on Alistair.  “You will not threaten my friends like that!  If you raise your sword against Morrigan, you can expect a bolt of lightning up your ass, Alistair.  That will be before I really hurt you.”

He took a step back and looked hurt.  Hurt!  He’d ripped her hear out and stomped on it and now he threatened her friends when they brought up the results of actions, and he dared to look hurt when she defended them.

Now she looked up at Soldier’s Peak, it rose over the mountain and reached into the sky.  It seemed impressive enough.  Restoring the fort could help the Grey Wardens, as soon as they made more of them in Ferelden that was.  “How did you find this in the first place?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Levi insisted.

“Try me.”  Selene has a companion that swore the Maker sent her visions.  She’d seen several things that made her believe that, too.

“It came to me in a dream,” Levi revealed.  “When I was a lad, I tried to get through the tunnel by myself.  I got horribly lost.  But every now and then since, I dreamt of it.”

“Why didn’t you mention these dreams before?”  Selene wanted to know.

“I didn’t want you to think I was some moon-addle minded simpleton,” Levi protested.  “I’ve my wits about me, but enough of that.”

“In this group, being moon-addled and not having your wits doesn’t seem to make a difference,” Morrigan informed him.  “Selene will still let you follow her.  Just ask the half-wits.”  She gestured at her companions.  The dog growled at her and then barked.  “And he’s the brightest of the lot,” she added.

“Well, I still have me wits about me,” Levi insisted.  “I’ll follow you… from a distance.  This place has the stench of death.  I expect there’s trouble up ahead.”

Great, Selene had somehow picked up a coward.  That was all she needed now.

“Soldier’s Peak,” Alistair looked around.  “It looks like it’s seen better days.  Better centuries, more like.”

“Just like your relationship with Selene,” Morrigan dug.

Selene slowly walked up the stairs that led to the gates.  The portcullis was raised, almost as if inviting them to come in.  But when she stepped under it, the air around her shimmered and forms appeared.  Those forms didn’t seem to know she was there.  They were acting out something that had happened hundreds of years before.

“Fall back, fall back already,” a dark-haired man in heavy armor commanded.

“Taking the Peak will not be easy,” a man in chainmail commented.  Selene assumed it was one of the invader’s lieutenants.”

“I gave the Wardens once chance to die with honor,” the invader declared.  “Instead, they hole up like cowards.  We follow the king’s advice then, starve them out.”

“But the Peak has months of supplies,” the lieutenant objected.

“Then we wait,” the invader, as Selene now thought of him, declared.  “When they are too weak to lift their weapons, we will send them to their final judgement.”

The air shimmered again and the figures disappeared.

“Wh… what was that?”  Levi was shaking.  “I felt a bit woozy there.  I’m not mad, am I?  You saw it, too?”

“I’ve heard of an Orlesian ballad about something like this,” Leliana revealed.  “It was a beauty trapped in a dream.  In the song, Bellissa never woke up.”

Levi looked from Selene to Leliana and back.  “Your pretty friend here is making me nervous, Warden.  How’s this even possible?  This place must truly be haunted.”

“It’s a remnant, not an active haunting,” Selene assured him.  She tried not to snap at him, but Maker she hated it when people just called her Warden.  When Duncan conscripted her, did she cease to be Selene?  “This sometimes happens when the Veil is thin somewhere, like it apparently is here.”

“The Veil?”  Levi was apparently such an idiot that he hadn’t heard of the Veil.

“It’s what separates us from the Fade, the world of spirits and demons, and our world.”  She tried to explain it patiently.  She could hear Morrigan gritting her teeth behind her.

“Demons?  Thank Andraste you came, Warden!”  Levi exclaimed.

“My name is Selene, not Warden,” she reminded him.

“Selene,” Levi corrected himself.  “After you.”

Alistair watched as Selene investigated every crook and cranny outside of the main fortress.  There were a couple of statues.  She seemed fascinated by them.  He knew her well enough to know that she’d be speculating about who they were and what they had done to have their likeness captured in stone.

He still couldn’t believe that she’d threatened him, him.  The woman he loved more than anything had threatened him.  He supposed he had really lost his temper with Morrigan, and for some reason Selene was fond of the witch, but she’d pressed.  She’d tried insisting he talk about him and Selene and the fact that there was no longer a him and Selene.  It hurt, sweet Maker, it hurt.  He still wanted to hold his darling enchantress close.  He wanted to stand by her side and see her smile, he wanted to be the cause of that smile.  But he knew he’d done the right thing.  If he’d waited until he’d found a queen the bannorn would embrace and who could give him an heir, he wasn’t sure he could have let Selene go then.  He had had to break with her immediately.

Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair to let her believe they had a future together, not when he knew he had to sacrifice her for duty’s sake.  He remembered Wynne saying something about duty possibly coming between them.  Selene had told the older mage that that wouldn’t happen, that they’d find a way to stay by each other’s side no matter what.  Now, he’d had to prove her wrong, but that didn’t mean she had to shut him out of her life completely. 

Alistair squared his shoulders and began to march towards her.  That was when the undead had attacked.  Walking skeletons, risen from both sides of the battle hundreds of years before hefted swords and crossbows against them.  He cut the closest one to him down and hit another with his shield, as he rushed to Selene’s side.  He moved in front of her, as a large skeleton swung a sword at her, taking the blow with his shield and then using his sword to cut off the creature’s head.

“What are you doing?”  Selene demanded.  She stepped around him and hit one of the creatures with a fireball, before summoning lightning to fry another.

“I was protecting you,” he pointed out the obvious.

“You took my kill!”  She was outraged.  “That was my kill!”

“I…”  He stammered.  Was she serious?

“Look, I tolerated that type of behavior when we were together, but we aren’t anymore,” she declared.  “I will not stand for you taking my kills!”  She trapped two of the skeletons in an electric cage.

“Darling, I was trying to protect…”  He began.

“Oh, don’t you dare try to darling me!”  She was truly angry.  “That’s the last of them,” she announced to their friends.  “Let’s go inside.”  She stormed up the stairs.

“Let me give you a piece of friendly advice, Alistair,” Zevran slipped an arm around Alistair’s waist.  “A gentleman never takes a lady’s kill.  Remember that.”

The moment Selene stepped into the main fort of Soldier’s Peak, another ghostly memory of the past played out before her.

A man in mage’s robes addressed a raven-haired woman in Grey Warden armor.  The armor was nice, royal blue with silver griffons on it.  “The men’s morale is low,” the mage was saying.  “My spells are of no use in this matter, Commander.”

“There is more to leading than sorcery, Avernus,” the Commander declared.  “I will remind them they are Wardens.”  She turned, addressing the other ghostly figures.  “Men… I won’t lie to you.  The situation is grim.”  She went on with her speech.

As the ghost rallied her men, Selene looked around.  There was a notice on the door.  It was a declaration from the Wardens, explaining why they were fighting the king.  They had all signed it.  She read the names carefully wondering who each of them was, what they were like, what their hopes and dreams were.  She found herself wanting to know if any of them had been in love.  Perhaps one of them had had their heartbroken as she had.  Maybe one was a mage who was just happy to free of the Circle and refused to ever be imprisoned in one again.  When she turned back, the Commander was still giving the speech.  As she ended, the other ghostly figures cheered.

“So brave, even when starving,” Levi was obviously impressed.  “And my great-great-grandmother stood with them.

“Was King Arland a tyrant?”  She’d read about him in the history books she’d managed to get in the tower and he sounded bad, but she hadn’t heard all of the sides of his story.

“Not much is known of King Arland,” Levi tried to claim.  “The war of succession that followed his death, now that was a piece of work.  Lasted nearly a decade, and almost burned Denerim and the palace to the ground.  Loads of history was lost, but maybe there are answers inside.”

“The reason there was a war of succession is that King Arland stole his throne and tried to kill off anyone else with a good claim,” Morrigan revealed.  When the others looked at her, she shrugged.  “What?  Of course, my mother insisted I learn history and she was around at the time.  You forget just how old she is.”

Flemeth was indeed old, Selene knew that.  She was the Flemeth of legend and had to be hundreds of years old at the youngest.  Selene entered the next room, only to be attacked by an arcane horror.  She threw a bolt of lightning at it, even as Leliana unleashed arrow after arrow.  They stopped when Sten moved in their way.

“See, it’s not just Alistair,” Leliana growled.  “Now Sten is taking our kill.  It really is rude.  It’s like these warrior type believe they are the only ones who can kill monsters.”

“You’re just trying to make me less made at Alistair,” Selene accused.

Leliana shook her head.  “No, you have every right to be mad at him.  I’m still mad at him on your account.  I think we should keep firing the next time one of the warriors get in our way, though.  That’ll teach them.”

“Now young ladies, you are not going to injure your companions just to teach them a lesson,” Wynne chastised them.

The arcane horror was followed by two rage demons, but Morrigan blasted them with shards of cold before they could fully emerge from the floor boards.

Selene investigated the remains, but only found a single health potion.  When she went into the next room, she found herself in the barracks.  A contingent of skeletal archers stood poised in front of the sleeping cots, their bows were all aimed at the door.

Sten tried to push his way into the room, only to be reprimanded by Morrigan. “If you take a step in front of me, I shall merely blast through you.”

Leliana unleashed her own arrows as Selene sent chain lightning in.  Morrigan then blasted them with cold. 

“Are we supposed to stand here and watch?”  Oghren demanded.

“Yes, you obviously didn’t learn to fight with mages around, but I know you had archers,” Wynne’s voice was firm.  “Did you make a habit of running in front of them?”

“He’s just trying to steel our kills, like the rest of the warriors,” Selene confided.

Soon, the archers were dead and they moved in to loot… investigate… the area.  As Selene turned, she noticed Levi in the corner, cowering.  She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s safe,” Leliana assured Levi going to him and guiding him along gently.  “We’re not going to let you die.”

“We’re not?”  Morrigan objected.  “It’s not like we need him anymore.”

Selene secretly agreed with Morrigan, but didn’t voice her opinion.  Levi was becoming a millstone around their necks.  She didn’t want him to die, but she didn’t want his cowardice to get any of her team killed, either.  She continued moving.  Most of the rooms were clear, but the library had somehow attracted some demons.  The moment she walked in; three rage demons crawled out of the floor.  She and Morrigan froze them and then let the warriors go wild.  Soon, they were just ash.  She found the archivist’s book near one of the piles, it was badly burnt and she could only make out some of the passages.  She picked up the book and began to read.

As soon as she began to read out loud, ghostly figures appeared to recount the events for themselves.

The archivist stood over the book, which now sat at a table.  Other mages stood near him, they all looked frantic.

“The door won’t hold Archivist,” a female mage warned.

“Almost done…”  The Archivist didn’t sound concerned at all.  “The truth must be told.”

“What does it matter?”  The female mage through her arms up.  “We’re dead.”

“Our grand rebellion… so close… And to die here a stillbirth,” he pouted over the book.

“We never should’ve done it,” the female mage insisted.  “Wardens aren’t supposed to oppose Kings and princes.”

“Should we stand idly by while…?”  The Archivist was cut off by a loud bang.

The scene faded out.

“Another one… Rebellion?”  Levi griped.  “What’s this about rebellion?  If only the book weren’t burned.”

“There might be more clues further in,” Selene hoped there were.  She was curious as to what could have driven the Grey Wardens to not only get into politics, but rebel.

“Grey Wardens aren’t allowed to get involved in matters of state,” Alistair sounded hurt.  “They really rebelled against the king.”

“But Sophia must have had her reasons,” Levi insisted.  “The Wardens are heroes.”  His voice became firm.  “Some injustices can’t be ignored.”

“Would you have wanted to spare Loghain, because his actions were a matter of state?”  Selene challenged Alistair.

“No, but if we hadn’t gotten involved in the Landsmeet…”  He shook his head.  “Then maybe I wouldn’t now be king and we would still be together.”  The last part was said softly.

“It was your choice to insist that the former meant the latter could no longer be.”  She quickly moved up a staircase before he could say more on the matter.  She didn’t care what the Grey Wardens espoused, she wasn’t leaving a monster like Loghain, or his malicious daughter, on the throne of Ferelden… or any throne for that matter.  Perhaps she wasn’t Grey Warden material, that’s what she’d tried to tell Duncan.  The only time she’d been happy being a Warden was…  She viciously cut off her thoughts.  She couldn’t keep thinking of what would never be again.

She noticed a fireplace on a large landing.  The fire was lit.  She turned to ask anyone else if they thought it was strange, but a conversation between Zevran and Alistair reached her ears.

“I still don’t understand why she doesn’t understand why I had to distance myself from her now,” Alistair whined to Zevran.  “If I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t be able to later.  I thought we’d just take a bit a time apart and then go back to being friends.  I don’t want to lose her friendship.”

“Alistair, there is something you need to realize; you're not friends you'll never be friends.  You'll be in love until it kills you both you'll fight and you'll shag and you'll hate each other till makes you quiver but you'll never be friends; lovers and brains, man, it's blood, blood screaming inside you to work its will.” Zevran’s voice was losing some of its usual suaveness.   “This is what happens when you change something, things change.  You two took the friendship you’d formed and peaked at what was beneath and you found the truth.  The truth that already sang in your blood.  Then you decided to try and still that river of blood.  You wanted to reverse its flow and go back to a friendship that was never truly what it seemed.  You can change the course of a river, but you cannot control what will happen when you try and change the course back.  You do not decide what is now where the river once was.  The river bed is still there, but the farmers and animals have moved.  You thought you could spend a bit a time away from her and move the course of the river back to where it was before you embraced your full feelings for her.  However, while your ex-lover is still there, your friend has moved.”

“She’s right there,” Alistair protested.

“No, that is your ex-lover,” Zevran insisted.

“She’s Selene,” Alistair obviously didn’t get the difference.  “How I feel about her hasn’t changed.  Why should the way she feels about me do so?”

“That’s what happens when you rip out a girl’s heart and stomp on it,” Leliana’s voice was strangely cheerful.

“If Branka had loved me half as much as our boss loved you, she wouldn’t have ever left me,” Oghren declared.  “So, she obviously loved you more all along.”

“No, I…”  Alistair began.

“Perhaps you should threaten them all with your inadequate sword,” Morrigan interrupted.  “I’m sure then they would agree with your point of view.”  Her tone was extremely patronizing.

Selene decided to ignore them.  After all, Alistair would just push her away again if she tried to talk to him about her feelings… or his.  She turned and rushed up the rest of the stairs.  She found herself in a large room and the air shimmered around her as more remnants of memory materialized around her.

Sophia was yelling at the other Grey Wardens.  “Make them pay with every inch, men!”  She fought against the Ferelden invaders.  She’d killed a few, when she turned to a nearby mage.  “Avernus, we need you!”

The mage spoke in the ancient tongue.  Selene’s blood chilled as she recognized the words.  It was dark, forbidden magic.  Even as she watched, he summoned a demon to fight for him.  The fool!

“Andraste’s Blood!”  One of the invaders swore.  “Wh… what?”

“More Avernus,” Sophia commanded, lifting her sword.  “Whatever it takes!”

The idiot continued, still speaking dark words in the ancient tongue.  Another demon appeared at his command.

“Press them!”  Sophia shouted, not realizing how idiotically stupid she and Avernus were being.  “Press them now!”

The second demon grabbed a Grey Warden mage and threw her against the wall.  The blood splatter from where her head hit stone was still as bright and as fresh as if it were happening now.  It then attacked another Grey Warden that just happened to be running by.

“No!”  Avernus said the command as if he were reprimanding a Mabari that had gone potty on his favorite rug.  “I command you, fight the king’s men!”

The demon obviously thought Avernus was funny.  It laughed and turned to him.  “Fool!  So much death, suffering, and, oh yes… blood.  The Veil is torn now.  Your soul is mine Avernus.

Avernus slowly walked backwards, away from the demons.  “Acolytes… retreat now.  The battle is lost.”  When he reached the stairs that led further up, he turned and ran.

“Avernus!”  Sophia shouted after him. 

The scene faded again.

“What just happened?”  Levi was trembling again.  “Oh, no, more fighting!”  He went to find a corner to cower in as an abomination appeared, along with several bodies of dead Wardens.

Selene was getting tired of the little coward.  She threw an electric cage around the abomination as her companions engaged the shades.  This place needed some sort of cleansing and somehow Sophia Dryden’s descendants had turned out to be mewling chickens. 

Alistair engaged one of the dead Wardens, hitting it with his shield before he cut off its head.  Sten and Oghren ganged up on another one.  The third was taken down by a swarm of bees, which was really Morrigan in one of her animal forms. 

The cage dissipated, leaving the abomination wobbling.  Selene followed up with a freezing spell and then a bolt of lightning.  It lay in a pile of melting ash on the floor.

Levi came out of his corner, shaking his head.  “The Wardens summoned demons.  I can’t believe it.  And my grandmother… she knew.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”  Selene had to force herself not to roll her eyes. 

“Yes,” Morrigan drawled. “Usually Alistair does that. It’s good to hear another voice for a change.”

“Morrigan, please…” Selene sighed. Then she turned her attention back to Levi.  “Grey Wardens do allow any methods to be used in their fight against the Blight.  They may have had Blood Mages among them.”

“I believed my family was better than that,” Levi insisted.  “But answers may lay up ahead.”

Selene doubted Levi wanted those answers, but refrained from pointing that out.  She noticed something laying on the nearby ashes and picked it up.  It was a rather nice staff that reminded her of winter.  There was a smell about it and it was cool to the touch.  She then turned her attention to the stairs that she’d seen Avernus run up.  “I suspect Sophia’s office is up there.  Let’s go find it.”

Chapter Text

Sophie Dryden’s office was about where Selene expected to find it.  It had been almost expected that she would have to fight more undead to get to it.  She hadn’t expected to find a jar of raspberry jam, however.  She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not that the jam still appeared to be good.

She was definitely surprised when she walked into the office and found Sophia staring into the fireplace.  “Step no further Warden.”  The sound of Sophia’s voice confirmed that she was possessed.  Sophia wasn’t the first possessed person Selene had met.  When she turned around, Selene decided that Connor had at least looked better.  She quickly realized that, unlike in Connor’s case, Sophia’s body was deceased.  “This one would speak with you.”

“And why should I speak with you?”  Selene wanted to know.  She’d never heard of demons who referred to themselves in the third person.  It threw her off her game for a moment.

“Because this Peak is mine,” the Sophia demon declared.  “This one is the Dryden, Commander, Sophia; all these things.”

“G-grandmother?”  At least Levi hadn’t retreated to a corner to cower, at least not yet.

“You have slain many of the demon ilk to get here,” the demon declared.  “This one would propose a deal.”

“Levi, your grandmother is a possessed corpse,” Selene informed him.

“Either that or she’s really let herself go,” Levi agreed.  “My great-great grandmother is dead.  I don’t know what that is.”

“It is a possessed corpse, Selene told you that,” Morrigan pointed out.  “I just don’t know why she is still talking to it.”

“It started talking to me first.”  At least that was Selene’s excuse.  “You’re right, we should get to killing it already.”  She captured the demon possessed Warden’s corpse in a static cage.

“Fool!”  The Sophia demon tried to attack her from the cage, waving its sword at them.  Four corpses appeared to help her.

“I really wish they would stop doing that,” Alistair grumbled, even as she beheaded the closest one.

“It is getting annoying,” Oghren agreed.  He leapt on another corpse and split its skull in two.

Zevran had taken on the third one.  “Come to Zevy.”  He wheeled his dual swords in an intricate pattern, before hacking at the animated corpse with both.

The cage collapsed and the demon charged out.  Selene failed to step back fast enough and the edge of Sophia’s sword caught her arm, cutting her.

There was a cry of rage and Alistair appeared between the mage and possessed body.  He pushed Selene back as he cut off Sophia’s head in one brutal gesture.  He then sheathed his sword and grasped Selene’s arm.  His touch was gentle as he raised it up.  “How badly are you hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Selene was so startled that she didn’t think to pull her arm back away from him.

Wynne grasped Alistair’s shoulder.  “I’ll see to her.”

“What if her sword was coated?”  Alistair fretted.

“This isn’t the first time either of you have been hurt,” Wynne reminded him as she applied her healing magic to Selene’s arm.

Selene found herself staring into Alistair’s frantic eyes as Wynne easily knit her skin back together.  She wanted to comfort him and assure him that she was fine.   She even found herself reaching for him before she remembered that that was no longer her place.  He was no longer hers to comfort, much less embrace.

She turned away and noticed Levi was staring out the door, his back to the action.  She was shocked that he hadn’t been killed.  She also noticed a book on Sophia’s desk.  She went to it and opened it up.  It was Sophia’s journal.  She took it and then turned her attention to the armor Sophia had been wearing.  It was in perfect condition.

From Sophia’s office, Selene and her friends found a door to a bridge that connected to another tower.  On the bridge were more undead and large bear traps.  She had visions of the Wardens having to battle bears along with the king’s men.  Ferelden did have plenty of bears, that was for sure.

It was no surprise when yet more undead greeted them in the second tower.  Had no one bothered to burn the bodies from the last battle at Soldiers Peak?  When the last one had fallen, Selene found herself facing a set of doors on either side of a table. 

Selene slowly approached the table.  There were several books, a clay jar, and tattered notes.  As she began to read through the notes, they were rather disturbing.  Sophia had let Avernus use human subjects for his experiments.  He was using Grey Wardens and trying to find a way to change the taint in their bodies.  She couldn’t be sure if he was trying to augment their powers or find a cure.  Part of her found it fascinating, the other part was completely repulsed.  As she continued to read, she realized the clay bottle contained the culmination of his work.

She picked up the bottle and examined it, wondering what the contents would do to her.  She didn’t notice that Alistair now had the notes in his hands until she uncorked the bottle.  “Stop!”  He commanded her. 

She sniffed the contents.  They smelled… herbal.  “There’s only one way to know what this will do.”

“Selene, no,” Alistair pleaded.  “We don’t know what it will do.  I don’t want to lose you!”

Selene gave a bitter little laugh.  “You don’t have to worry about that, you already threw me away.”

“I…”  He swallowed.  “I had to step away.  That doesn’t mean that I don’t still love you.  I told you I did, I always will.  I can’t let you risk yourself like this.”

“I welcome the risk,” she declared.  “I can’t keep doing this Alistair!  You dumped me and told me that I’m not good enough to be queen, so I’m not good enough to be with you.  Then you want to walk in the woods with me again and you think you must protect me.  You freak out when I get hurt.  Yet you then remind me why you had to distance yourself from me.  I welcome not having to live like this any longer!  You can’t pull me close and then push me away again.  I’m not your yo-yo!”

“It’s hard for me, too,” Alistair whined.  “You don’t… Selene!”

She tilted the bottle and drank its contents.  “You were saying?”

“How does it taste?” Wynne wondered.

“It has a metallic twinge to it and there is something floral in it as well,” Selene assessed.  “But mostly herbs.  It reminds me of chamomile tea.”

“Do you feel any different?”  Morrigan pressed.  “We should have experimented on Alistair; you are too important to risk like this.”

“Selene,” Alistair pleaded.

“Let’s find out what’s through those doors,” Selene stepped away from him.

She walked into a large room, where the bodies of Avernus’ victims were still pinned to the wall and corpses were trapped in cages.  At the top of a small staircase stood an elderly man, bent over a book.

Selene tried to contain her shock.  It had been over a hundred years since anyone else had stepped into Soldier’s Peak.  There was only one person this could be.  How he not died from the Calling or old age?  “Avernus.”

“I hear you…”  It was the same voice Selene had heard in the visions.  “Don’t disrupt my concentration.” 

Selene looked at her companions.  She’d only experienced this type of devotion to studies at that level of arrogance amongst grand enchanters.  She slowly approached the stairs, even as she looked around.

Avernus, finally, turned to her.  “Even now the demons seek to replenish their numbers.  Are you to thank for this welcome, but temporary imbalance?”

“You could say that,” Selene nodded.  “You’ve survived here all of this time?”

“Only just,” he snorted.  “I have only a short time left.”

“Careful,” Leliana cautioned.  “This… man,” she obviously didn’t think of him as a reasoning, feeling person, “has dabbled in matters forbidden by the Maker.  He may look frail, but don’t trust him.”

“So, the Maker told you that, did He?”  Avernus challenged.  He and Leliana went on trading barbs as Selene tried not to roll her eyes at the old man.  She had an urge to kill him, but knew that might not be in her best interests.

Levi, finally, broke them up with a question of his own.  “What happened here?  What happened between the Wardens and Arland and… my great grandmother, Sophia Dryden?  I must know.”

“What use would story telling serve?” Avernus continued to be a dick.  “The tyrant, Arland, is long dead.  As are all of our co-conspirators in the rebellion.  Sophia’s corpse may walk and talk, but she, too, is no more.”

“This is ridiculous,” Selene declared.  “Are you done talking yet?”

She then found herself stuck in a looping conversation with the ancient mage for twenty minutes.  She kept trying to figure out his attentions and what to do with him, but instead found herself in circular conversations.  It seemed his isolation had gotten to him and he wanted everyone to ask him questions, even if he didn’t want to answer them.

“Enough!”  Alistair’s voice was firm.  “What is it you want us to do?  What are you willing to do?  We need just those two questions answered.”

Selene could have kissed him, but that would have been a bad idea.

“Let me undo my greatest mistakes,” Avernus pleaded.  “Let me cleanse this place.  Then… Then, I will accept whatever justice you feel I merit.”

“Agreed,” Selene agreed.  She led the way out.

As they walked back over the bridge, Levi started speaking of his problems again.  “Master mage, uh, ser. My family’s name has been worth less than dirt for over a century.  Do you have any proof that Sophia was a hero?”

“Ah, you’re the boy who braved the mists,” Avernus patted his shoulder.  “So, you heeded my call.”  His laugh reminded Selene of Flemeth’s.  “You are a Dryden?  The cosmos has a sense of humor.  Oh, by the way, there is no proof to be had.  Deal with it.”

Selene looked over at Alistair, who was glaring at Avernus.  “Thank you for…”  She trailed off as Alistair turned the glare on her.

“Tell me if you feel any side effects from that potion you decided to guzzle to spite me,” he growled.  “I’ll have Wynne try and find a cure.”

He was being pissy with her now?  Usually he reserved that tone for Morrigan and only when she really got to him.  She guessed he now lumped her in with the rest of the mages and she’d seen his Templar training show through more than once.  “Don’t bother,” she hastened her step towards the other end of the bridge.  “I’m sure your future queen would prefer to have all of your exes dead.  As long as I live to kill the archdemon, everyone else will be fine.”  Wasn’t that all nobles thought mages were good for, fighting their wars and making their lives easier?  Why had she expected more from her prince?

There was stony silence by the time they were back in the large room where they’d seen Avernus summoning demons in the past.

The mage in question moved to the middle of the room.  “We must act quickly.  The demons are clawing at the gate.  The Veil must be closed.  I will unravel the summoning circles I drew so long ago.  Waves of spirits and demons may come through.  Dispatch them.”  He paused, as if for drama.  “I will begin.”  He turned towards a trio of mirrors.  “First I must summon the magical energies.”  He waved his arms.  “I feel them.  They’re coming!”

“Good!”  Selene shouted at him.  “Get on with it already!”

Avernus began to wave his arms in an even more dramatic manner.  She was pretty sure he was just putting on theatrics.  What did all of that time alone do to him?  Finally, a trio of rage demons appeared.

Selene and her friends went to work on wave after wave of demons.   Magic and steel flashes as they cleaned out one group after another.  The rage demons were followed by shades.  Then came the wraiths.  Finally, was a desire demon.  Selene wondered as she struck it with lightning, if the desire demon hadn’t controlled Sophia or Avernus at one point.  As the desire demon wheeled back from the lightning, Alistair lunged at it, cutting into it. 

He followed that with a shield bash before her beheaded it.  He flashed a smile at Selene.  “I think we work well together.”

She returned the smile.  They did make a good fighting team.  Maker, she missed his comradery already.  She then turned to Avernus, who stood calmly in the middle of the room.

“I said I’d submit to judgement, and so I shall,” he acceded.  “Can I be left to experiment in peace?”

After all of that, his experiments were all he cared for.  Still, she wondered what had been in that bottle she drank.  “Fine, but no more human experiments.  Your experiments must all be humane.”

“What, no humans?”  He pouted.  “Fine, I agree.  No unwilling human sacrifices.”

“That’s not what she said,” Alistair protested.

“Just make sure they’re humane,” she repeated.

“It may take months or years for my research to reach fruition,” Avernus predicted.  “When it does, I will send for you.  Thank you for this, Warden.”         He walked slowly back to his office.

“You’ve done it, Warden!”  Levi walked up to her.

“Avernus was rude enough not to ask my name, you know it,” Selene reprimanded him.

“Of course, Warden Amell,” he corrected himself.  “It’s just, Soldier’s Peak is safe again.  That old geezer, Avernus, deserves the gallows if you ask me, but… people will do queer things to survive.  But if he does proper research… without the sacrifices and blood magic and all… maybe he’ll turn up something good.  But there was no proof to redeem my family.”

“Don’t keep looking to the past,” Selene advised.  “Look to the future instead.”

“For so long, I was focused on the past on answers.  But I think I would have been better off to stay at home,” Levi decided.  “Enough of that, though.  I find myself at a loss.  You’ve got a whole fortress now.  I suppose I should start plying my trade again.”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Selene agreed.  He definitely should not become a mercenary.  He was helpless in a fight, less than helpless.

“My cousins have been looking for a safe place to store trade goods,” he mused.  “And the Peak will do nicely.  Whatever the Drydens have to offer is yours, at a sizeable discount!”

Alistair smiled proudly and threw an arm around Selene’s shoulders.  “Looks like we’re done here.  A demonic invasion thwarted; a Warden base safely rescued.  We do good work.”

Chapter Text

If something was right, why would it feel so bad?  Alistair questioned this as he stared at Selene’s tent.  He was sat in front of the campfire, half listening to Oghren and Wynne compare the best ways to make wine.  He hadn’t realized both were connoisseurs.  They had left Soldier’s Peak the morning before.  They had spent an extra day there, as Selene had had some metal she found in a crater turned into a staff. 

He hadn’t known she had any blacksmithing abilities, but she’d stepped up beside Michael Dryden and begun expertly manipulating the ore.  He’d immediately asked where she’d learned such skills, having been raised in a mage circle.  She’d simply told him that such things were no longer his business.  She’d seemed so happy, so calm swinging a hammer.  Not like his delicate mage at all.  He gave a little laugh; he’d always known she wasn’t really delicate.  At least not all of her, he had to admit that her pride and heart were more vulnerable than he’d realized.  He hoped they hadn’t grown a coat of armor due to his bumbling attempts to remove himself from them, before he found himself unable to leave at all.

As he watched the tent, he realized that part of him was unable to leave.  He’d separated himself from her, but It seemed his own heart had stayed behind.  He knew he’d have to marry someday and the thought left him cold.  That was why he now sat by the fire, rather than laying alone in his Maker forsaken tent.

“Are you all right there, sparky,” Oghren sat down next to Alistair.  He followed Alistair’s gaze.  “I wouldn’t try to sneak in there if I were you.  I don’t think she’ll let you play Tumble and Grind with her anymore.  You’ll have to find someone else to grease the old bronto with.”

Alistair felt his temper rising, he really didn’t like to talk about what had happened between him and Selene.  He took a breath and reminded himself that, unlike Morrigan, Oghren was his friend.  “Are you propositioning me, Oghren?”  He joked.  Alistair hoped it was just a joke.

“You wish!”  Oghren laughed.  “Everyone wants what the Oghren has, but none of you can handle it.  I’m loyal to Felsi anyway, that shrew would not take too kindly to others imbibing of this manly goodness.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Alistair smiled.

“It’s good to see you smile again, Alistair,” Wynne sat on the other side of him.  “It will be even nicer when she does, too.”  She nodded towards Selene’s tent.  “As soon as this is over, you two can part ways and never have to see each other again.  That will make the healing easier for you both.”

“But she’s the head of my armies,” Alistair objected.  “There is no reason for that to change.”  Despite knowing he had to separate himself from Selene, the thought of never seeing her again made his heart race and his breath shorten as panic gripped him.

“Yes, there is.”  Wynne patted his leg.  “Things are changing and you can’t stop them.  All you can decide how you will react.”

Chapter Text

Killsin Durant, the high priest of the Disciples of the Old Ones, sat at the head of a large table.  The other priests and priestesses, like him, were dressed in black robes.  In the middle of the table were several lit candles and an athame.  “…And we shall return the world to the Old ways and our gods shall be returned unto us.”  He finished reciting his prayer.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  Those around the table exclaimed in unison.

“Things are progressing quickly,” Killsin informed his priests.  “The Great One known as Urthemiel has risen in Ferelden.”

“All hail Urthemiel!”  The others chanted before he could continue.  “May he purge the faithless!”

“He is in his Archdemon form and has shown himself outside of the Deep Roads,” Killsin continued. “This time, the Wardens of the Grey, or the Wardens of the Dark as they are more appropriately called, will not destroy the Old God.  His soul shall not be banished to the Abyss, where it must wait for us to open the gates so He can return.”

“No, this time He shall rule supreme and we shall return the Old World!”  Priestess Forsaken Guthrie declared.

“He shall return!”  The others repeated.  “All hail the Old One!”

Chapter Text

There were villages and towns that thrived and then there was Redcliffe.  The first time Selene had come to the town, they had been under attack by the walking dead.  Things didn’t feel better this time. 

When Selene had come before, Alistair had stopped her as they approached the village.  He’d had a confession to make and seemed ready for her to crush him as a result of the secret.  That was when he’d revealed that King Maric had been his father.  She had, indeed, been shocked and hurt.  She’d asked him before about his paternity and whether he was sure that Arl Eamon hadn’t sired him.  She’d asked pointed questions about his family even before then; he hadn’t told her.  He’d claimed he didn’t want her to treat him any differently.  She now knew the result of letting his parentage factor into her decisions, he dropped her like a hot potato.

This time, he didn’t even look at her as they approached Redcliffe.  She glanced over at him, covertly several times, but he never even looked in her direction.  She was greeted by one of the villagers as she rode in.

“Thank the Maker you are here!”  The villager breathed heavily.  “I thought I could make it from the castle to my home and back before they got here, but I was too late!”

“Before who got here?”  There was fear in Leliana’s voice.

“The darkspawn!”  The villager declared.  “They’re here!” 

“Get back to the castle,” Selene ordered.  Even as she looked towards the village, she saw smoke beginning to rise into the air.  “We’ll take care of the darkspawn.”  She turned her horse and urged him into the village.

The darkspawn were burning everything in sight.  They seemed rather put out that the villagers had left before they got there and they were taking it out on their property.

“Wynne, I want you to take Sten and Zevran,” Selene ordered.  Clear out everything near the river.  “Morrigan, Help Oghren near the tavern and market.  Leliana and I will take the area around the Chantry.”

“What about me?”  Alistair protested.

She was so used to having Alistair by her side, she hadn’t even thought about it.  “Take Barkspawn and make sure everything around the Smithy is free from Darkspawn.”

“The smithy isn’t far from the chantry,” Leliana reminded her as they peeled away.  “You can see him from here.”

“There are plenty of darkspawn over there,” Selene pointed out as she hit a Hurlock with her staff, before hitting a genlock with a bolt of lightning.

“Are you sure…”  She stopped as a large ogre lumbered towards Alistair.  “Oh.”

“Shit,” Selene moved to go help him, but another ogre appeared to her right.  It was charging at her.  She side stepped, even as she threw a crushing cage over it.  Then she summoned a storm.  The sky darkened as lightning shot from the incoming clouds.  One went through the ogre that had attacked her, causing its skin to blacken.  It still howled in defiance, until Leliana put an arrow through its eye socket.

Selene turned to help Alistair and Barkspawn, but even as she watched Alistair jumped, his sword flashing and landed on the ogre’s back.  His sword was buried at the top of the ogre’s spinal cord.  He rode the creature as it fell to the ground.  Maker, he was so enticing.  He didn’t seem to notice her eyes on him as he pulled his sword out of the darkspawn and began slashing at its companions.

“We’re done here we should go help… Barkspawn,” Leliana suggested.

Selene just nodded and directed her personal storm to where Alistair was, hitting darkspawn after darkspawn.  One of the bolts hit close to Alistair and he turned to her, glaring.  “Are you trying to kill me?  Don’t you still need me to help fight the archdemon?”

“Sorry!”  She would always need him, but that was her pain to bare and not something she wanted him to know.  She sent a bolt of cold at genlock, even as Leliana moved to protect their perimeter.

It was only half an hour, before the rest of their companions finished and joined them.

“That seems to be all of them,” Wynne assessed.

Selene looked around.  She couldn’t see any others.  “Let’s get to the castle and make sure there are no darkspawn there.”

Redcliffe castle was quiet when they arrived, if one could count only a couple of dozen darkspawn as quiet.  The Wardens and their companions easily sent the creatures to the Maker’s punishment or would that be reward as they were not responsible for their actions after they had become tainted?  Perhaps they just set their souls to rest, Selene pondered the question even as she slaughtered her enemies.

  Selene had fought off the undead the first time she’d been in its courtyard.  She’d also killed Eamon’s heir during that visit.  She could still hear Isolde begging for her son’s life, but what was one to do when an abomination attacks them?  She had just been trying to check on Earl Eamon before leaving him to get help from Kinloch Hold and the boy had charged her.  She’d defended herself.

Yet she could still see the looks of horror on Isolde and Alistair’s face.  Truth be told, she hadn’t cared how Isolde felt.  The woman had just made Connor’s situation worse.  But Alistair’s reaction had hurt, especially when he’d verbally attacked her at camp.  She had yelled back, though.  She was tired of him stepping back and insisting she lead, then he dared to strike out at her when he didn’t like her decisions.  Wasn’t that what he’d done after the Landsmeet, as well?  She suffered, because she was being forced to make hard decisions and others didn’t like the result.  But they refused to do the hard work themselves.

One way or another, that would all end soon.  They would face the archdemon and if they didn’t defeat it, they’d likely be dead.  Or they would win and then go their separate ways.  Either way, her merry little band was about to end. 

“Warden Amell!”  One of the guards greeted her at the main doors.  “You’ve finally arrived, thank the Maker!  Eamon will want to know at once.  I was told to watch for your arrival.  Your comrade, Riordan, arrived just ahead of the darkspawn attack.  He has urgent news for you!”

“Riordan stayed in the castle and left you out here to fend off the darkspawn.”  Selene needed clarification on this.  A Grey Warden had hid in the castle and left a group of guards to fight the very darkspawn he was supposed to be protecting them against.

“Yes, my lady,” the guard confirmed.

“Do you know why he’s here?”  She might as well find that out before she talked to the Warden who seemed to have an aversion to fighting, whether it be Howe’s men or darkspawn.

“I don’t rightly know,” the guard admitted.  “Things happened so fast.  I only know he was scouting in the south before he arrived.”

“Fine, let’s go.”  Selene wouldn’t put it past Riordan to have brought them with him at this point.

“I shall take you to the hall right away, my lady,” the guard opened the doors.  “They’ll be waiting for you there.”

Riordan was talking quietly with Eamon and Teagan when Selene walked into the main hall.  Selene didn’t know why that bothered her, but it did.  She realized that here were three men who seemed determined to control her and her life.  She’d had enough of that at the Circle.

Riordan turned and took a couple of steps towards her.  “It is a relief to see you unharmed.  And you as well, Alistair… or should I say Your Majesty?”         

“Er… no,” Alistair got a pinched look.  “No, I wouldn’t say that.  Not yet, anyway.”

“You either are the king or you’re not.”  Selene couldn’t believe he was trying to act as if he weren’t the King of Ferelden, when his first act as king had been to get rid of his inappropriate mistress.  That was all she had been to him, after all.  He hadn’t been in the relationship for the long haul, like she had.  She’d foolishly believed they’d fight to be together always, fight and win.

“She’s right, Alistair,” Eamon reprimanded him.  “You are the king and you can’t forget that.”

Riordan apparently didn’t care what Alistair’s title was.  He suddenly seemed to care about the darkspawn, despite having let the raze the village.  “The darkspawn that attacked were relatively few in number, I’m afraid.  It was assumed they were marching in this direction… but that is not true.”

“Riordan tells us the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading for Denerim,” Eamon added.  “They are perhaps two days away from the castle.”

“What?”  Alistair’s voice showed his upset and his words came faster and faster.  “Are we sure about that?  I mean… if that’s true…”

“I ventured close enough to ‘listen in’, as it were,” Riordan assured him.  “I am quite certain.”

“Did you send word to Denerim?”  Selene wanted to know.  “We must warn them.

“Word has been sent,” Eamon assured her.  “But they need more than warning.  They need our armies.”

“There is, I’m afraid, one other piece of news that is of even greater concern,” Riordan revealed.  “The archdemon has shown itself.  The dragon is at the head of the horde.”

“Maker preserve us,” Eamon swore.

“But we can’t reach Denerim within two days, can we?”  Alistair objected.  “It’s too far.”

“We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately,” Eamon declared.  “Denerim must be defended at all cost.”

“And what if Denerim is just a distraction and they really are aiming at Redcliffe?”  Selene was pissed off that these men seemed to forget that they’d put her at the head of the army and now they were deciding where to send them, assuming she’d just do what they wanted.  And hadn’t she been?  Perhaps not willingly, but they were getting whatever they wanted and now they seemed to be acting like she was invisible as they decided where to send the army that she’d spent the last year accumulating.

“Perhaps not,” Riordan admitted.  “But what is important is that we know where the archdemon will be.  If we do not defeat the archdemon, it will not matter if Denerim or Redcliffe are saved or if the horde defeated.  And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon.  That is why we must go.”

“Then we march, and hope the army we’ve collected here gives us the chance we need.”  Alistair sounded like the king he was.  “Arl Eamon, how long before the army can set out?”  Once again, Alistair seemed confused about who he’d put in charge.  Just how much hold did the arl have over him?  It seemed insurmountable; she knew it was more than any hold she’d ever had over him.

“By Daybreak,” Eamon answered Alistair.

“Then let’s get them ready.”  Alistair sounded more and more authoritative.  “I won’t let all those people die without giving them a chance.”

“Why don’t we just leave now,” Selene suggested.  She had no reason to stay in Redcliffe castle longer than necessary.

“No,” Alistair disagreed.  “You’re tired and there may be darkspawn waiting for us in the dark.  We’ll leave in the morning.”

He cared that she was tired?  Why did that warm her heart?  She was pissed and she wanted to stay that way.  She didn’t want her heart softening.  Next, she’d be sighing over him again.  Maker help her.

“I will give the orders at once,” Eamon announced.  “And will notify you the moment we are ready to march.”

“That would be appreciated,” Alistair’s voice softened as did his stance.  She wondered when he’d started the tougher, more regal, posture.

“Then if you and Alistair could meet me before you retire, we have Grey Warden business to discuss.”  It took Selene a moment to realize that Riordan was talking to her and not Eamon.  For a second, she’d wondered why he was discussing Grey Warden matters with the arl.  He did seem to have decided that Eamon was the one in charge, so why not?

“I will have someone show you to your rooms,” Eamon added.  “I suggest you get some rest, while you can.  We will need it.”

Riordan and Alistair both walked away.  Apparently, they already knew where their rooms were.  She saw Teagan and Eamon exchange a glance and the arl went off in search of his servants or so she assumed.  “It’s good to see you again, Teagan.”  She thought she was making small talk.

“And you,” he held out an arm.  “Why don’t I just show you to your room.  There is no need to wait for the servants to do so.  They can take care of your friends.”

“Well, thank you,” she took his arm.  He had been the only one not talking as if she didn’t exist earlier.  He hadn’t seemed to be able to get a word in edgewise, either.

“I heard what happened in Denerim.”  He led her up a flight of stairs and down a hall not far from where she’d had to end his nephew’s life.

She was a bit confused.  “A lot of things happened in Denerim.  Which one do you mean?”

“You and Alistair,” he clarified.  “I hear that he… well, you and he…  you aren’t together anymore.”

“No, we’re not.”  Was there a reason he was bringing up such a painful subject?  She had to admit that with as mad as she was with Alistair at the moment, she wanted to seek his arms for comfort.  They would be marching into battle, against the archdemon, in a matter of hours.

Teagan stopped at a door and touched her cheek.  “When we first met, in the chantry, I must admit that I found you to be intriguing.  You were beautiful, brave, and kind, any man would be lucky to have you.  I think you were flirting with me at that first meeting.  I admit to flirting back.  But we had a battle ahead of us and there was no time to… act on that interest.”

Selene felt her heart beat speed up.  She admitted to herself that she’d flirted with him, but her heart had already belonged to Alistair.  It was a heart he’d since ripped out and crushed under his boot, but she found she could not easily alter her feelings.  “What are those interests?”  Was that encouraging him?  She wasn’t sure.

He grinned at her and then leaned down and kissed her, trapping her between his torso and the door.  He moved in even closer, leaving no doubt about what his exact interests and intentions were.  She reached out and opened the door, stepping back quickly.  

She almost smiled when he stumbled, but he managed to catch himself before he hit the floor.  “We still have a battle in front of us and I have Riordan insisting on talking to me.  Besides, we hardly know each other well enough for that sort of thing, good ser.  I do not know your full intentions and have already given my… interests to someone who lied about what his were.  I thought he was offering me things he later told me he could not.  How do I know that you aren’t just interested in a tumble and then will remind me of my lowly status as a mage and how I’m not good enough to be by your side on a long-term basis?”

“Selene?”  He protested.  She could tell he was still… interested.

“How?”  She repeated.  “All I know is that I’m not acceptable to be at your king’s side.  What would make me acceptable to a bann?  Would I be wife, mistress, or just a fun tumbling partner.  I no longer know and must take things slowly.  Very, very slowly.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I must check on my allies and then find Riordan.”  She strolled quickly out the door.

She found her dwarven allies back on the first floor.  They were quietly talking about one of the houses that had failed to send the men they had promised.  That would be a problem.  “Is everything all right?”  She interrupted them.

“Fine,” one of them assured her.

“Nothing that can be helped now,” the other added.

“Just make sure you get a good night sleep,” she instructed.

They both nodded.  “Yes, my lady.”

“Oh,” she had a thought.  “Arl Eamon hasn’t tried ordering you around, has he?”

“He tried,” the first one admitted.  “He stopped when we stared at him like he was the idiot that he is.”

“Good,” she nodded.  “I’m off to find Riordan.”

Chapter Text

Selene had a couple of servants point out to her where Riordan’s room was.  She didn’t know what he wanted to discuss, but she was sure she wasn’t going to like it.

She found Alistair waiting outside the door for her.  “There you are,” he greeted her, all of his old warmth back in his voice.  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.  “Let’s go see what Riordan has to say.”  Without thinking about it, he grabbed her hand and led her through the door.

“You’re both here,” Riordan greeted them.  “Good.  You’re new to the Grey Wardens and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain.  I need to know if that is so.”

“You mean there’s more to it than, just say, chopping off its head?”  Alistair asked.

Riordan gave them both a pitying look.  “So, it is true, Duncan had not yet told you.  I had simply assumed… Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?”

“I always thought it had to do with the taint in us and whatever happened when you guys forced us through the joining,” Selene responded.

“That is exactly what it involves,” Riordan confirmed.  “The archdemon may be slain, as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough.  The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body.  The dragon is thus all but immortal.”  He paused for dramatic affect and looked at them both.  “But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden, its essence travels into the Grey Warden instead.”

That didn’t sound pleasant.  “And what happens to the Grey Wardens?”  Selene wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she needed to.

“The darkspawn is an empty soulless vessel,” Riordan explained.  “But a Grey Warden is not.  The essence of the archdemon is destroyed and so is the Grey Warden.”

“Meaning,” Alistair paused and moved in front of Selene, facing Riordan directly.  “The Grey Warden who kills the archdemon…. Dies?” His voice betrayed his hurt at this secret.  Selene knew him well enough to catch the nuances.

“Yes, Riordan confirmed.  “Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends.  It is the only way.”

“Why is this such a secret?”  Selene could have used this information with the Landsmeet.  It would have made so many things simpler.  The Templars wouldn’t have objected to Duncan taking her, if they knew she was going to die anyway.”

“We keep it secret for the same reason the Joining is kept secret,” Riordan answered.  “Who would become a Grey Warden if they knew the end that awaited them?  Yet there must be Grey Wardens.  Without us, there is no hope.”

“So, you’re saying that it’s up to us to kill the archdemon.”  Up to the two of them, Selene amended silently.  She wasn’t going to let Alistair die.  “I’ll do it.”

“You will not!”  Alistair objected.  “You are not going to just sacrifice your life to this thing.  Ferelden is my responsibility.  I’ll make the sacrifice if it comes to that.”

“You’re the King of Ferelden,” she objected.  “You aren’t disposable.”  Not to her, he wasn’t.  Despite everything, she still loved him.  She couldn’t bear the thought of the archdemon taking him from Ferelden.

“In the past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow,” Riordan explained.  “If possible, the final blow should be mine to make.  I am the eldest and the Taint will not spare me much longer.  But if I fail, the deed falls on you.  The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble.  Remember that.  But enough, there will be plenty to do tomorrow and little time to rest before it.”  He moved to his door, dismissing them.  I will let you return to your rooms.”

So, he told them that at least one of them had to die during the upcoming battle and then sent them to their rooms to sleep.  As if anyone could easily sleep after getting that news.  All Selene wanted to do was curl up against Alistair and assure herself that she could keep his heart beating.  But that was no longer her place and he wouldn’t welcome her to his bed, even just to snuggle… or to just not be alone.  Perhaps she should have taken Teagan up on his lewd offer.  No, she wasn’t the type.

Alistair turned to Riordan as he walked out.  “I will see you once the army is ready to march then.”  He looked back at Selene.  “I guess this will end soon, one way or another.”

“That it does, my friend,” Riordan spoke before Selene could.  “That it does.”

Selene waited until Alistair had left and then turned to Riordan.  “If you don’t take that blow, then I will return from the Maker’s side to haunt you through life.  It won’t be pleasant.”

“If I don’t take the blow, I’ll likely already be dead,” Riordan pointed out.

“Then I will follow you to the Maker’s Side and ensure you suffer for the rest of eternity,” she vowed.  “I won’t chance him.  Not like this.”

“Perhaps you should have let me put Loghain through the Joining, then,” he suggested.  “It’s not like you kept Alistair’s affections after the Landsmeet.”

“I didn’t…”  She let out a low growl.  “That wasn’t about keeping Alistair happy, the man deserved to die for all he did.  If you could put him through the Joining, there was a room full of trained warriors you could have chosen from.  Don’t put this on me.”  She marched out.

Selene was surprised to find her room was not empty when she returned to it.  She was even more surprised to find that it was Morrigan waiting for her.  She was staring into Selene’s fire.  “Do not be alarmed,” Morrigan insisted.  “It is only I.”

“Teagan did proposition me earlier,” Selene admitted.  “I believe I’d rather see you than him again.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Morrigan sighed.

Selene sat down on her bed.  “Is everything all right?”

“I am well.  ‘Tis you who are in danger,” Morrigan assured her.  “I have a plan, you see.  A way out.  A loop in your hole.  I know what happens when the archdemon dies.  I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed and that sacrifice could be you.  I have come to tell you this does not need to be.”

“It does not need to be?”  Selene repeated.  “What do you mean?  Alistair won’t exactly run away to Orlais with me.”

“I offer a way out,” Morrigan announced.  “A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice.  ‘Tis a ritual performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night.”

“Just what sort of ritual is this?”  Selene didn’t like the sound of this.  Still, she worried for Alistair’s life.  She was shocked and saddened that it was his, and not her, life that concerned her.  Sweet Maker, she was still in so much pain from his casual disgarding of her that she didn’t value her life that much.  Hadn’t Alistair himself pointed that out at Soldier’s Peak when she’d drank Avernus’ strange concoction?

“It is old magic, from the time before the Circle of Magi was created,” Morrigan explained.  “Some would call it Blood Magic, but I think that means little to one like you; one who already escaped the Circle of Magi and called Templars Dickless Chantry Skirts.”

“Where did you learn this dark ritual?”  Selene was wondering what would be required of her. 

“From Flemeth, of course,” Morrigan informed her.  “I have known about it for some time.”

“You knew that I would die when I killed the archdemon and didn’t tell me?”  That hurt, Selene realized. 

“Would you have believed me if I’d been the one to tell you?” Morrigan challenged.  “I, who am not a Grey Warden?”

“Good point,” Selene conceded.  “But we are friends, aren’t we?  I would like to think I would have believed you.  What is it you want me to do?”

Morrigan moved back and forth in front of the fire for a moment.  “What I propose is this: You convince Alistair to lay with me; here, tonight.  And from this ritual a child will be conceived from me.”

Selene shot to her feet.  “Are you fucking kidding me!”  Her hand covered her mouth.  Now she was using foul language towards her friends.  Still, she expected that!

“I am serious,” Morrigan insisted.  “The child will bear the taint and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon.  At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish.  The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process.”

“So, the child would become a darkspawn?”  The thought of carrying a darkspawn for nine and half months was terrifying.

“Not at all,” Morrigan assured her.  “It will become something different; a child born with the soul of an Old God.”  Morrigan sat.  “After this is done, you allow me to walk away… and you do not follow.  Ever.  The child will be mine to raise as I wish.”

Selene was having a hard time wrapping her head around the concept of this child.  “I want to know more about this child.”  She crossed one of her arms across her chest, almost in a half hug.  Alistair’s words about Grey Wardens not being able to have children were echoing in her head and she found herself wanting to be sure this hypothetical child was safe.

“As you wish,” Morrigan seemed unconcerned.

“The child won’t be hurt, will it?”  She hated to think of it in pain and likely unloved.

“Ignoring that after one night it can hardly be called a child… no, it will not be hurt,” Morrigan assured her.  “It will be changed.”

“Will the Old God’s soul corrupt it?”  Selene rubbed her right arm with her left.  “Will it be evil?  What will it become?”

“Allow me to say that what I seek is the essence of the Old God that once was and not the dark force that corrupted it,” Morrigan claimed.  “Some things are worth preserving in this world.  Make of that what you will.”

Morrigan seemed to already care more for the Old God’s soul than the child she would create.  The poor babe.  “Why Alistair, why not Riordan?”  That was when she realized that it would be Alistair’s baby.  Morrigan would have his child, if he agreed to this, as would the woman who was decreed to be worthy of being his queen.  She found herself jealous of them.  All she would have would be memories that were now tainted by the ending of their relationship.

“Even if I thought Riordan could be convinced, he is unsuitable,” Morrigan insisted.  “I need one who has not been tainted long… it must be him, and it must be tonight.”

“What if Alistair wants to see… h… the child?”  She couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal at her friend for wanting this.

“No,” Morrigan vigorously shook her head.  “This will be my child and my child alone.  I will disappear and he will never see us again.  I have no doubt he may wish to see the child, but he will not.  It is what I ask in return.”

“Why do you even think he would agree to this, Morrigan?”  Selene had broken up enough arguments between the pair and knew some of the more colorful names they had called each other.

“If you care for him, as you seem to, you will convince him to,” Morrigan insisted.  “Consider what the alternative might be?”  She paused a moment to let the options sink in.  “Do you believe Alistair will fail to do his duty as king and save his country?  And if you take the blow instead, he loses the woman he loves.  How do you think he feels about that?  I think you have many good reasons to tell him to save his own life.  I think you should consider them carefully.”

Selene sat back down on the bed.  “The woman he loves?”  She began to laugh, the laugh turned into tears.  She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her.  “He loves some hypothetical woman, who definitely isn’t me.  She is a sweet noble, one not cursed by magic, who will bear him many fine healthy sons.  I’m sure Eamon will adore her and she’ll give him back and foot rubs every night, after she’s seen that the fire is stoked to perfection.  I would just be in the way, if I were even around.  He’s made it very clear that she’s what he wants.”  She buried her face in the pillow for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

“He does love you, no matter what foolish decisions he’s made,” Morrigan insisted.  “He wouldn’t hesitate to make the sacrifice for you.”

Selene sat up straight and squared her shoulders.  “I will be making the sacrifice, Morrigan.”  She found a strange comfort in the thought.  Soon, all of this would be over.  She wouldn’t have to stay in Denerim and watch the man she loved find contentment in the arms of another.  Nor would she have to go where ever the Grey Wardens would send her, instead, finding herself in yet another type of prison after having escaped the Circle of Magi.  No, this pain would finally be over.

“Don’t be a fool!”  Morrigan stood, fists clenched.

“I’ve already been a fool,” Selene wiped away her own tears.  “I also already made my decision.  Morrigan, I couldn’t convince Alistair to stay with me.  There is no way I could convince him to have sex with you.  You’ve seen that I have no power over him, despite what you seem to imagine.  I beg you not to ask me to put myself through the humiliation of trying to convince him.  Didn’t I degrade myself enough after the Landsmeet when I begged him, in front of our friends, not to cast me off.  My pleas fell on deaf ears then.  He doesn’t care about me.  You should go to Eamon and have him convince Alistair.  That is who he will heed, not me.”

“So, be it,” Morrigan stormed to the door.  “You have made your decision.”  She threw the door open and walked out.

Selene walked after her, but the hall was empty save a dog that was slipping to the doors that led to the main hall.  She sighed and went to her trunk, searching for her night clothes.

“Are you all right?”  A familiar voice spoke from the door.

Selene jumped and whirled.  She wasn’t sure if she’d closed the door again, but now Alistair stood in the door way.  “Oh, did Morrigan go and talk to you?”

“No,” he stepped in and closed the door.  “I saw her waiting for you earlier.  The look she gave me was colder than the tops of the Frostback Mountains.”  He shivered.  “If looks could kill…  Then I heard shouting, her shouting, so I came.  Did she hurt you?”

“No,” she assured him.  “We… had a disagreement about my abilities.  I thought you were going to bed.”

“I am,” he strolled quickly across the room to her and stroked her cheek.  “With you.”  His mouth covered hers.

She clung to him for a moment, reveling in his kiss, being pressed up against him, safe in his arms again.  She pulled her mouth back from his for a moment.  “But… we’re… we don’t…”

“I know.”  He released her and pressed his forehead against hers.  “I’m… I know we shouldn’t… I shouldn’t ask this of you.  I just… I need to be with you tonight.  It might be the last chance I get.  No matter what happens tomorrow, I just want my last night to be with the woman I love.”

She knew she should push him away; he would allow her.  Yet his words sunk in.  Part of her heart still fluttered at the words that he loved her; the part left from when he shattered it.  That part reminded her that it would be she who died in the upcoming battle.  Should she deny herself one last night in the arms of the man she still loved, would likely always love?  Could she turn her back on one last memory to hold close, as she went to the Maker’s side?  She tilted her head back to kiss him, even as her hands sought out the fastenings of his armor.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bed.

Chapter Text

Alistair realized he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the night before the Landsmeet.  Staring at the form beside him, bathed in the moonlight that seeped through the window, he thought it ironic that he was still unable to drift off.  Instead, he propped his head on one arm as he studied Selene’s moon-bathed form.  Her long brown eyelashes fluttered as she breathed deeply.  Her cheeks were soft, almost cherubic when she was this relaxed.  The light sprinkling of freckles on her face were easy to pick out in the silvery globe, he knew every single one well.

            He realized he should try and welcome a visit to the Fade, but this would be the last time he got to lay by her side and he didn’t want to miss a moment of it.  He remembered Riordan’s words and knew what he had to be.

            There was a horrid thought in his mind, wiggling like a worm in an apple, that Selene was planning to sacrifice herself to end the Archdemon.  He couldn’t allow her to do that.  Just because he had to step away from her, from the one thing he loved most in Thedas, didn’t mean he could even stomach the thought of living in a world without her.  He needed her by his side, helping him still.  And when he was gone, he needed to know that she was alive, happy.  She would get to help rebuild the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, as they’d once planned to do together.

            He was faster than she was and stronger.  He was sure that he could get to the Archdemon first.  He would be the one to make the killing blow.  With that determination, he curled around her gently and let himself rest.

            The morning in Redcliffe started out early.  Children and spouses saw their loved ones off, as an army prepared to march on their own capital; to save it from the Blight.

            Others joined them; the Dalish Elves, the mages from Kinloch Hold, and the dwarves who had come to help destroy the Blight on the surface.  They gathered together to march to Denerim.  Hoping to stop the Archdemon from destroying the city and then all of Ferelden.  If he did, the rest of Thedas would begin to quickly fall.

            Alistair stopped to check on his friends before addressing the troops.  He’d woken at Selene’s side and wanted nothing more than to hold on to her and stay there with her, but he’d known neither of them could stay.  They’d dressed almost silently.  Then he had kissed her on the forehead and returned to his room.  He’d felt bereft of her almost immediately.

            Now he found her with their friends, talking quietly.  She looked quite upset.  “Selene…”  he stepped towards them tentatively.  “I…”

            “It wasn’t you this time,” Wynne’s voice was gentle.

            “What?”  he blinked at her in confusion.

            “Morrigan decided to leave us on the morn of battle,” Leliana’s voice was almost chipper.  “Wasn’t that just like her?”

            “I…”  Alistair was shocked.  No, it wasn’t like her to abandon Selene.  “She just left?  Did she leave a note?”

            “No,” Zevran shook his head.  He had his arm around Selene.

            “It was a coward’s way out,” Sten grumbled.

            “She…”  Selene slumped a bit against Zevran.  Alistair tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled in him at the casual intimacy.  “She came to me last night, you saw her outside my room, Alistair.”

            “I did,” he remembered that.

            “Well,” Selene let out a long sigh.  “She wanted me to convince you to sleep with her.”

            Alistair laughed.  “Good one, that’s revenge for all of my bad jokes, isn’t it?”

            “No, she seriously did,” Selene wasn’t joking.  Her face and voice were sober.  “She thought I could convince you to…”

            “Why did she want to sleep with Alistair?”  This was obviously the first Leliana had heard of this, too.  “I… don’t they hate each other.”  She turned to Alistair.  “You two do hate each other, don’t you?  You aren’t harboring some secret desire to jump Morrigan and give her a good thrusting with the old bone, are you?”

            “The what?”  Alistair blinked at her.

            “I haven’t heard that one,” Oghren burped.  “It’s not bad.  They did fight an awful lot.  Maybe it was foreplay.”

            Selene glared at him; her expression was almost what it would be if she’d heard he had indeed done the deed with the swamp witch.  “Did you?  Was that what all that fighting was about?  I’m sorry to have cockblocked you last night!”

            “I have no desire to sleep with Morrigan!”  He couldn’t believe he was defending himself, to his ex, over a woman he couldn’t even stand.  He hadn’t wanted Morrigan to join them in the first place.  He did have to admit that Barkspawn had been the only creature he’d been fine with joining their party.  He really would have preferred it just be the two of them and their dog.  “Why would she want to sleep with me?  Did she…?”  Just the thought of Morrigan thinking of him in that way made him shudder.  He had a vision of her lying in her tent, imagining him, and…  He stomped on the thought even as it made him want to find some way to cleanse all thoughts from his brain.

            “She wanted you to perform a Dark Ritual with her, that she only gave me a vague description of,” Selene explained.  “You’d get her pregnant, but the Archdemon’s soul would go into her unborn child instead of one of us, so neither of us would die.  Then she’d disappear with the child you two produced.”

            “She wanted to perform blood magic so Alistair could knock her up!”  Leliana’s eyes were as wide as saucers.  “Then she would just disappear with his baby?  I wonder if that’s how Flemeth had her.  Wait… what do you mean so neither of you die?”

            “Don’t worry about that,” Selene waved off her concern.  Alistair didn’t want to worry their friends either, so he wasn’t going to tell them what was going to happen when he killed the Archdemon.  “I’m just reeling from yet another betrayal.”  She stood up and straightened her clothes.  “You’d think I would get used to being betrayed and left by now, but it seems I’m still learning.  Give me time and I will know better than to trust that anyone has my back… or I’ll be dead and it won’t matter anymore.”

            “Mio Caro,” Zevran gently grasped her shoulders.  “You know I have your back through thick and thin.  Have I not proven that to you already?  We won’t count when we met.”

            She smiled at him, causing Alistair to try and contain his bubbling jealousy.  He tried to remind himself that he no longer had the right to be jealous of her attentions going to another, even if he had just spent the night before with her in his arms.  He did want her to have people she could trust, didn’t he?  He just wanted her to trust him still.  He wanted to still be the one she bestowed her smiles on.  When had he lost that, the smiles and trust?  There was one other thing bothering him.  “So, she thought I would be OK making a baby and just letting her run off with it?”

            “She thought you’d do anything to keep me from dying,” Selene gave a cute little snort.  “Right, I couldn’t even keep you from…”  She stopped and shook her head.

            He stared at her for a moment.  He realized he would have done it, he would have gone through the ritual and slept with Morrigan to save Selene.  He would do anything to protect her.  Even if she wasn’t with him, he needed to know she was safe.  He needed her happy.  She was far from happy now.  She’d been betrayed and he’d already hurt her.

            He reluctantly moved from her side for a moment and went to address the army they’d gathered.  He ran up the steps of a nearby mill.  It at least put him a little higher than those assembled.  “Before us stands the might of the Darkspawn Horde.”  He moved his arm dramatically, pointing towards Denerim.  “Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!”  He motioned for Selene to join him.  She shook her head a little, but Wynne glared and she moved to the base of the stairs.  Alistair did not react, keeping his face straight.  The men needed to see her as their leader, not someone their king obviously had feelings for.  “The woman beside me has lived in Ferelden almost her entire life, raised in Kinloch Hold.  Now she’s risen through the ranks of the Grey Wardens.  She is proof that glory is within reach of us all.  She has survived despite the odds.  And without her, none of us would be here.”  He motioned for her to join him at his side.  She did so and he moved down the stairs, still talking, but hoping that eyes were on her.  “Today we save Denerim!  Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan.  And most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice.  For Ferelden!”  He pointed again towards Denerim, this time pointing directly down the road.  “For the Grey Wardens!”     

            The armies immediately began running down the road.  They were going in the right direction, that’s all he wanted.

            “This is not the organized march I was hoping for,” Selene sighed as she looked after them.  “I hope I can get them back in formation when they’ve tired themselves out a bit.”  She turned to him.  “Between the two of us, aren’t you the one with actual training for this sort of thing?”

            “I trained to be a Templar,” he shrugged.

            “I used to train to escape Templars,” she admitted under her breath.

Chapter Text

By lunchtime on the first day of the march, Selene was able to get the soldiers back in some semblance of a controlled formation.  She did so by first yelling at Eamon for letting his men get out of hand.  She easily admitted to herself that she enjoyed yelling at Eamon.  Then she moved on to the dwarves and then Lyanna and her elves.  Finally, she just asked Irving if the mages were making a break for it.

            “Would you try and stop us if we were?”  He laughed.

            “No,” she admitted.  “But I really need your help against the Archdemon.  Irving,” she hesitated.  “I know this may not be the best time, but why didn’t you say something when I was accused of practicing blood magic; along with Jowan?  You knew I was innocent.”

            “I was scared,” he admitted.  “I try to explain what was going on, but I had just thought that Jowan was going to break his phylactery and make a run for it.  I didn’t expect him to suddenly start performing blood magic.”

            “Neither did I,” she admitted.  “In retrospect, perhaps I should have.  He was terrified of the Harrowing.  But… blood magic is much worse than being sent into the Fade.  Whatever happened to his little Chantry Strumpet?”

            “She was sent to Val Royeaux to face reprimand,” he explained.

            She stopped her horse for a moment, as she got her temper back under control.  “They wanted to make me a Tranquil, if not execute me.  Frankly the execution would have been more merciful.  They were definitely going to execute Jowan if he hadn’t escaped and she was just sent to the Sunburst throne to be reprimanded?”

            “She wasn’t a mage,” Irving shrugged. 

            No, Selene fumed silently.  She wasn’t and that seemed to make all the difference in Thedas.  She’s lost so much, just because of the circumstances of her birth, while others could seduce those at a disadvantage and only get a slap on the hand for it.

            “I’ve heard rumors that she was imprisoned, don’t think that she wasn’t punished.  And what was her crime, except to love one of us?  Speaking of relationships, what happened between you and the king?”  Irving interrupted her thoughts.  “You two seemed to be getting close when you were last at the tower.”

            She shrugged.  “I’m a mage.  That should answer everything right there.”

            The First Enchanter just nodded.  “So, what are your plans for when you destroy the Archdemon?”

            She sighed.  “I don’t plan to live through this battle.  If, by some miracle, I do; I guess my choices are between serving Ferelden and the Grey Wardens.  Alistair did make me the head of his armies.  The Wardens and Templars might object, though.”

            “You are the reason Ferelden still has an army and you killed their previous Commander,” Irving pointed out.  “Even in the Circle, we heard about that duel.  I think you’ll be able to stay in your present position, if that’s what you want.  The Wardens will have to be grateful to you for dealing with the Archdemon, without most of them, and they’ll protect you from the Templars.”

            “From your mouth to the Maker’s ear,” Selene looked up in benediction.  She moved back to her companions.

            “I should have known that witch would bail on us when we needed her the most,” Leliana was saying to Wynne.

            That night, they stopped late.  Many ate their dinner in silence and slept in their armor.  Selene wondered to Alistair’s tent, wondering what she would find there.  Would he have someone else in there with him?  No, not her Alistair, not after he’d spent the night before with her.  Even if they were no longer together, he wouldn’t just grab a woman he barely knew to… caboodle with.  It was more likely, she’d find Eamon lying in wait for her, to keep her away from his king.

            She stopped right in front of the tent.  What if Morrigan had returned, determined to seduce Alistair herself?  She could find them… no, she realized, she couldn’t.  Alistair’s scream at seeing Morrigan would have been enough to wake the entire camp.  There was a reason Morrigan had gone to her, instead of directly to Alistair.

            She opened the tent flap.  Eamon was, indeed, lying on the tent floor; near the entrance.  She looked to where Alistair slept in the middle and then back down at the arl.  She stepped over Eamon carefully and went to the man who still made her breath stop and her heart beat.

            Alistair rolled over and smiled sleepily as she approached him.  She noted he was sleeping in full armor.  “There you are, my love.  I thought you’d be wedged between Zevran and Leliana as they guarded you from any who would disturb your sleep.”

            She doubted he was aware of what he’d just called her.  If he was, he’d be explaining why she wasn’t his love anymore.  Instead, she addressed the second half of what he’d just said to her.  “Is that what Eamon is doing, keeping you from being disturbed?”

            “So, he claimed, before he fell promptly asleep.”  Alistair reached up and took her hand.  Then he used his grip to pull her down to his side.  “I’m afraid he’s getting too old for forced marches.”  He pulled her against him.

            She lay her head on his pillow and snuggled against him as much as his armor and her leather coat would allow.  “Didn’t you leave him in Denerim as seneschal?  What was he doing in Redcliffe when we got there?”

            “I asked him that,” Alistair admitted.  “He claimed that he had heard his city was in danger and rushed home.”

            “Leaving Denerim exposed,” she yawned.  She was already falling asleep.  “He’s going to owe the survivors of the capital and apology.”

Chapter Text

No disease is more dangerous than a bad husband, for if a woman catches that Pox, she’ll languish from it her entire life.  Anora couldn’t remember where she’d hear that advise, but she clung to it now as she stared at the top of the canopy of her bed.  She had contemplated marrying Cailan’s brother, but there was no way his pseudo uncle would let her near him.  Now the only way out of her predicament was to wed again and she hated it.  Why should her power be limited by her marital choices?  But she’d tried to grasp the power she had through her husband and lost her own.

            She’d been informed, the night she’d been locked in this room, that Gwaren would go to whomever King Alistair bequeathed it to and not to her.  She’d lost her inheritance, but not her position of birth.  She was still the daughter of a teyrn and a woman who had proved her worth to the bannorn.  It had been Eamon who had gloated to her about the loss of her family’s seat, so she couldn’t consider Teagan as a possibility.  He followed his brother’s lead in almost everything.  It was too bad, she liked his look and charm; although, he was rumored to be a bit of a coward.

            She rolled over onto her stomach and stared at the nearby stand, which held a small pile of books.  When the Blight was over, there would be plenty of widowers to choose from.  She just had to find a way to see them.  Perhaps Eamon would find himself in the Archdemon’s belly and she could set her sights on Alistair after all.  She heard he’d tossed aside his noisome fellow Grey Warden and he seemed biddable enough.

            Her stomach growled, bringing her attentions to other needs.  She stood and knocked softly on her door.  After several moments, it opened and a guard poked his head in.  “Yes, my lady?”

            “I haven’t received my breakfast yet and am famished,” she informed him.  “Could you see what is keeping Erlina?”

            “I’ll send someone.”  He voice was respectful, but he still shut the door firmly and relocked it.

            Neither Anora, nor the guard had any idea what had been happening outside the palace districts walls.  Erlina had gone to the Market district that morning.  She knew her lady liked the spiced rolls from a particular baker and there were rumors of a new tea that was being brought in.

            She had just added the rolls and other pastries from the baker when the gates burst open.  A huge ogre rumbled in.  It grabbed a nearby guard and crushed the man, armor and bones made a distinctive crackling sound.  Screams erupted and those around her ran; some for their homes, others were determined to find a way out of the city.

            Erlina knew she had to get to Anora and find a way to save her lady.  She maneuvered around those who ran in the opposite direction.  A beefy man collided with her, sending her to the ground.  The contents of her basket scattered as a ringing sound echoed in her head.  She forced herself back to her feet and turned back towards the palace.  She would make it.

            The Hurlock on her left didn’t care about her goals.  Nor did it care about her feelings or her love of another as it closed its teeth around her neck.

            Anora heard the shouts from outside her room and then running footsteps.  What had happened now?  Had the bannorn decided to come throw her in Fort Drakon?  She wanted her breakfast first.  She knocked on her door and waited.  Nothing.  She knocked harder, there still wasn’t an answer.

            She waited a few moments.  This was not acceptable.  She would not be treated like this.  “I order you to open this door!”

            There was a loud crash and the door opened.  An ogre lumbered in and grabbed her.  She screamed as it lifted her up.  He opened his mouth and screamed back, spraying her with spittle.  Then the mouth closed around her golden head.  He tossed the rest of her body back on the bed as he spit the head back out, against the glass of her window.

Chapter Text

“Every day is a negotiation,” Selene informed her troops.  “And sometimes it’s done with swords and magic!”

            The people cheered at her words.  They could see the gates of Denerim already and they were in flames.  The Darkspawn Horde was there.  She raised her staff and summoned a storm.  “Men, let’s go negotiate!”

            As she led the army to the gate, she saw an army waiting for them.  A genlock held one of the guards by the throat.  She saw the guard’s eyes widen.  Then the sword sliced and those eyes went dim.  She lifted her hand and lightning struck the genlock, frying it.  Her soldiers took it as their signal and they swarmed the darkspawn.

            It was more of an extermination than a heated battle.  The darkspawn who’d been left at the gates were easily cut down, but there were a lot of them.

            Then, in the middle of the battle, there was a roar.  The Grey Warden all looked up to see the Archdemon flying overhead.  Selene wondered if the weakest darkspawn had purposely been put at the gates to lull them into a false sense of security or to make them overconfident.  The Archdemon was trying to lure them in.  If he could sense them, as they could him, he likely knew that there were only three in Ferelden.  He just had to kill them.

            When the gate was swept free of the darkspawn, Riordan approached her.  She wondered if he’d thought of a way to make things worse.  “You managed to fight your way to the gate,” he stated the obvious.  “We’re doing better than I’d hoped.”

            Better than he’d hoped.  Was he expecting her to die against the gates of Denerim?  Did he secretly work for the Archdemon?  With her luck, he did.

            “That will change quickly,” Sten grumbled.

            Great, the Qunari expected her to die before she reached the Archdemon, too.  Did no one have any confidence in her?

            “Bloody nug runners!”  Oghren swore.  “We’re outnumbered three to one.”

            “What are we to do now, Riordan?”  Wynne asked the senior Warden.  “You have a plan, I assume.”

            Yep, it appeared that despite how far she’d come, none of her friends had any confidence in her.  Even Wynne, had thrown her over to follow Riordan.

            “The army will not last long,” Riordan declared.  “So, we need to move quickly to reach the Archdemon.  I suggest taking Alistair and no more than two others into the city.  Anyone else you can leave here to prevent anyone from entering Denerim on our tails.”

            It took Selene a moment to realize that Riordan was talking to her and not Wynne.  He had never said her name and seemed to defer more to the elder mage.  Selene realized she was still not quite eighteen, but that didn’t mean she had no idea what she was doing.  She also thought only taking three others with her to battle through the bulk of the horde was ridiculous.  “I’ll take care of that in a minute,” she lied.  “Do you have any advice before I go in to face the Archdemon, which you’re supposed to kill.”

            “Nothing has prepared you for what you face now,” Riordan claimed.  “There are two generals somewhere in the city.  You can try to slip pass them or take them on yourself.  You need to get to the highest point in the city to draw the Archdemon.  That would be Fort Drakon.”

            Selene really suspected that Riordan wasn’t planning to kill the Archdemon himself as he had claimed.  She would just have to do it herself.  She wondered if it would hurt when she died or if it would be a welcome relief.  Still, she wasn’t going to let the Senior Warden off the hook that easily.  “I’ll see you on the roof of Fort Drakon Riordan.”  She watched him walk away.

            “So, who are we taking with us?”  Alistair questioned.

            “We’ll leave Sten, Shale, and Oghren behind,” she decided.

            “Riordan said most of us were to stay at the gate,” Wynne protested.

            “When did Riordan suddenly become in charge?”  Selene had been trying to figure that one out.  There were times where Alistair and Wynne thought he was and Riordan, himself, certainly believed that was the case.  However, all he’d done was show up, not help kill Howe, and give them bad news.

            “He’s the Senior Warden,” Wynne argued.  “He’s been through this before.”

            “No, he hasn’t,” Leliana spoke up.  “It’s been hundreds of years since the last Blight.  He hasn’t fought an Archdemon before, either.”

            “The man showed up in Ferelden and was captured by Howe immediately,” Zevran added.  “Even I could tell he was taciturn when I met him.”

            “Wynne,” Selene’s voice was gentle.  “If you are afraid to go into the city with me, I understand.  I just wanted you there, because I could really use your healing powers right now.  We are going to face two darkspawn generals, and who knows what else, in there.  But it is very dangerous, it’s all right if you’re too shaken to go with me.  I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”  At least until she made that killing blow.  She wasn’t going to walk away from that, but it wouldn’t be Wynne’s fault.  It wouldn’t be anyone’s.

            “I… you think I’m afraid?”  Wynne squared her shoulders.  “I am not afraid to go in there with you.  If I were afraid, I would have stayed in the tower.”

            “You should have more warriors with you,” Sten insisted.  “Leave Zevran and Leliana here and Oghren and I will go with you.”

            Selene could have sworn that she saw a worried look pass between Alistair and Oghren.  Did they know something she didn’t?  Were they planning something that she was disrupting?  If they were, they should have told her.  “I have Alistair and Barkspawn.  They’ll be enough.”

            Barkspawn barked in agreement.

            “Why do the two squishy ones who take two hands to swing their puny swords want to go into the city so badly?”  Shale questioned.  Selene noted that Shale hadn’t protested.  Of course, she’d never been as close to the golem as she could have been.  Shale didn’t seem to like mages and had killed her last master, who was a mage.  She scared Selene.  Now Shale looked down at her.  “Have fun storming the castle.”

            Selene smiled at that.  “Thanks.”

            “Don’t get the elderly mage killed, I’d hate for the dragon to poop her out on me,” Shale added.

            Selene knew Shale and Wynne had formed a bond.  “I’ll try to avoid that.”

            Wynne, for her part, was staring at the gates.  “So, this is it then.  All that we’ve been through had led up to this.”  She turned to look at Selene.  “Whatever happens now, to either of us, know that I am proud, infinitely proud, to have called you friend.”

            “So,” Oghren let out a long breath.  “This is it.  May the Maker watch over you.”

            “And you, Oghren,” Selene wanted to pat his head, but resisted.  “Don’t get killed.  Felsi would probably find my ashes and spit in them if you do.”

            “You helped me get past Branka, so I could get back to the one woman in Thedas who might put up with me,” he responded.  “I won’t forget that.  Let the stones turn red with the blood of heroes.  We’ll show them our hearts and then show them theirs.”

            “I’m putting you in charge down here,” she smiled at him.  “Rip their hearts and spines out.”

            “That sounds bloody,” Sten approached her.  “Are you ready?  We have reached the battlefield at last.  When the Arishok asked ‘What is the Blight?’ I had no answer.  Now I look into its eyes and still I have no answer for him, but perhaps you do.  You have carried us this far, do not doubt that.”  He left to join Oghren where he was organizing their armies.

            Leliana looked after them.  “So, this is it?  This is the end?  We’ve come so far.  It feels strange knowing all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours.  I’m glad I’ll be at your side as this is finished.  I wonder if all heroes were this scared.”

            “I imagine they were,” Selene confirmed.  Did other heroes look towards their own deaths with a mix of trepidation and relief?  She just had to make sure she took the Archdemon with her to the Maker’s side.

            “Not that I’m terrified, I’m ready for whatever fate the Maker decides for me,” Leliana gave her a little hug.  “Just make sure you survive this.”

            “Leliana… I,” Selene wasn’t sure how to tell her friend that she didn’t have any plans to make it to the next day.

            “I’ll pray to the Maker for both of us,” Leliana decided.  “He might listen to me.”

            “I’m sure he does,” Selene confirmed.  “I’ll give you a moment to pray, then we’ll get moving.”

            “It will be fun,” Zevran confirmed.  “Selene…”

            He was cut off as Alistair stepped up to her.  “So, this will be finished, one way or another.”  There was fear in his eyes and she somehow knew it wasn’t for himself.

            “I’m sorry that it is ending this way,” she admitted.  She should leave him here, spare him watching her die; but she found she could face death easier with him nearby.  She wasn’t sure why that was and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

            “I…”  He coughed.  “I’m sorry, too, for a good many things.  I…”

            “I love you!”  It just slipped out.  She hadn’t meant to tell him that her feelings were unchanged.  It made no difference now.

            “And I you, always,” he swore.

Chapter Text

“There is nothing certain in a person’s life, but that he must lose it,” Selene declared as she entered the market district.  It was on fire and darkspawn were everywhere.  “Queen Moira said that when she chose to lead her armies against Orlais to save her kingdom.”

            “I don’t really fancy meeting my grandmother right now,” Alistair scanned the area.  “But if I must, this seems as good a day as any.”

            Barkspawn barked in agreement and then attacked a Hurlock.

            Selene eyed a large ogre that was approaching.  She threw lightning at it and then lifted her staff as she summoned a storm.  As it raged, she threw a fireball at the ogre and then dodged as it charged.  She spun to her right and then jumped on its back, ramming the sharp bottom of her staff into the back of its neck.  She dived, then rolled off of the creature as it fell to the ground. 

            She turned to see Alistair riding a second ogre to the ground.  He nimbly jumped off and smiled at her.

            “Guys, I think that’s one of the generals,” Leliana shot arrow after arrow into the largest ogre Selene had ever seen.

            “Sweet Maker,” Wynne swore.  She threw a crushing prison around it, reminding her companions she could do more than just heal.

            Selene’s tempest moved to focus on the creature, hitting it with bolts of lightning.  The bolts charged where Leliana’s arrows had already penetrated.

            Zevran flashed by them, swords flashing as he dispensed of any darkspawn that tried to come to their general’s aid.

            Wynne’s prison fell as the corpse of the general slithered to the ground.  His soldiers already rotting beside him.

            “This area’s done,” Zevran observed.  “Shall we go check on the alienage and make sure our elven friends got out safely?”

            Selene was afraid of what she’d find, but she had to save those she could.  “Let’s move.”

            Shianni greeted them.  Selene had met the fiery haired elf when she had visited the alienage before the Landsmeet.  She had refused to believe the lies of the Tevinter slavers that Loghain had let in.  They managed to save a good many elf, but Selene regretted not having gone sooner.  So, may had been sent to Tevinter to live out their years in bondage.

            “We were unable to get out,” Shianni explained.  “We were surrounded and there is a very well-organized group of darkspawn on their way even now.”

            “It’s probably the general,” Selene reasoned.  “This isn’t going to be easy.”

            “We need to escape!”  Another elf yelled.  That was apparently his plan and he thought everyone should go along with it.

            “You need to defend your homes!”  Selene knew these elves had extraordinarily little.  If they didn’t protect their homes, no one else would and it would likely be the last place the new arl, whoever they turned out to be, would repair.  She was sure the chantry would be the first and the thought left her bitter.  The chantry that ignored the elves and persecuted the mages.

            “Will you stand with us?”  The elf questioned.

            “I will until the horde on its way is gone,” she promised.  She lifted a horn she’d placed on her side.  It was supposed to summon one of the groups who’d sworn themselves to her cause.  She hoped they’d come.  Riordan and Eamon both seemed to think they controlled the armies.  She blew and waited. 

            Several minutes later she heard shouting, it was in elvish.  The Dalish archers appeared, ready to defend their cousins.  One of them looked around.  “Tell me the darkspawn did this.”

            “Welcome to the alienage,” Shianni crinkled her nose.  “It’s always this bad.”

            “It is,” one of the Dalish archers agreed.  Selene realized from his accent that he must have grown up in the city.  He wouldn’t be the last City Elf to escape to the Dalish.  She just needed to save the City Elves so they could make a run for it someday.

            Selene summoned a storm just outside of the gate.  The elves were between where the storm hovered and the alienage.  Leliana joined them, as they saw the horde approaching. 

            “Defend your homes,” she ordered the city elevens.

            Shianni took charge, ordering her people into place.  Selene regretted for a moment that she would not live through the day.  She would have liked to use whatever influence she might still have with Alistair to raise Shianni into a position of power.  She could do wonders for her people.  But what was to be, would be.  She was there to stop the Archdemon. 

            As the horde came into view, the archers launched their arrows.  If the archdemon hadn’t managed to block out the sun with his magic, the arrows would have done so.  They filled the sky before piercing the oncoming darkspawn.

            Selene unleashed her magic on the creatures, lightning and ice flashed through the air.  Wynne stood on raised ground, casting a heroic aura around the army that protected the city elves.

            Then the general exploded onto the scene.  He grabbed one of the Dalish and flung him to his troops where the archer was torn apart.  Wynne cast a crushing cage around the creature, but it only stopped him for a few minutes.  When he broke free, he was struck by Alistair’s shield.  The king then stabbed the creature through the chest, yet the general still stood.  Alistair lunged again, this time aiming for the neck.  He then leaped up and brought his sword down on the center of the creature’s head, ending its existence.

            Selene watched him, even as she exterminated three darkspawn with chain lightning.  He was a sight to behold and her heart fluttered as she watched him.  The horde, what was left of them, faltered as their general fell.  That opened them up to be pierced by another round of arrows.

            The darkspawn bodies soon littered the streets as the elves cheered.  There was hugging and praises to both the Maker and Creators. 

            “We need to get to Fort Drakon,” Selene scanned the skies.  “We need to end this sooner rather than later.”

            As they ran from the alienage, the archdemon flew overhead.

            Fort Drakon was in sight when Alistair and Selene had a nasty surprise.  Riordan fell out of the sky, landing at their feet.  There was no doubt that he was very much dead.  Alistair silently cursed.  It would have to be him, then.  He would not be living through the day.  He glanced at Selene, who was glaring at Riordan’s body as if she could light his pyre with just her gaze.  At least he’d had one last night with her.  She was with him now and he would get one more look at her before he joined the Maker.  Yet another fear brewed in him.  He suspected that she’d planned to make the Sacrifice herself.  He’d even talked to Oghren and Sten about it.  They were supposed to keep her from making the killing blow for him.  But she’d left them at the gates.

            “I just knew it,” Selene hissed.  “Of all the incompetent warriors in Orlais, the Maker sent us him!  I knew he would renege on his promise to take the killing blow.  I’ll just have to do it myself.”  Under her breath she added.  “Like everything.”

            Alistair’s blood chilled.  No, he couldn’t let her be the one to make the sacrifice.  He was not going to live in a Thedas where she wasn’t present.  He would just have to make sure he was close to the archdemon, close enough to ensure he made the last killing blow.  He comforted himself with the fact that Selene was more of a range fighter, even if she had begun practicing with Arcane magic, and he was a melee.

            He hefted his sword as drakes charged at them.  Selene blew her horn, summoning the dwarves this time.

            Zevran stopped to gawk for a moment.  “They really kept drakes in fort Drakon.” 

Chapter Text

After the drakes, Selene had faced shades, ogres, and specialized Hurlocks in the fort.  Her biggest shock had been when she ran into Sandal.  He was just standing there, surrounded by dead darkspawn, calm as could be.  She asked him why, how, his response had been “Enchantment!”

            She was beginning to believe that to Sandal ‘Enchantment’ meant more than just enchantment.  He had had some of his father’s supplies though, including some ingredients for Zevran to make a nice ice coating for his swords and some healing potions.  She actually felt pretty good as she reached the top of Drakon tower.

            That was until she saw Eamon’s men fighting the Archdemon.  She had no idea how they had made it there.  There was no way they’d easily gone through the tower.  There were so many dead bodies in it, though, that there could easily be more than just the soldiers who had been guarding it in there.  The archdemon was now carelessly flinging away any who tried to fight him.  She watched him swing his head, throwing an archer across the tower.  Then he shifted so he could bite the archer’s companion in half. 

            When Urthemiel spotted Alistair and her, he got down on his hunches and roared at them.  Yep, he knew who they were.  She brought all of her barriers back up and then raised her staff as she summoned a storm to target at the former old god.  She had learned Arcane Magic from an ancient elven spirit, but didn’t trust that she’d disciplined it enough to face this particular foe.  As Urthemiel roared yet again, she raised a horn to her lips and blew; summoning the mages to her.  She just hoped they arrived in time to be of help.

            She hit the archdemon with lightning and ice, even as she saw Alistair scoot around him and attack his flank; slamming his shield against the creature before he cut at it with his longsword.  Sweet Maker, he was going to get himself killed.  She realized he was staying near the archdemon to ensure that he would be the one to make the killing blow.  That was not going to happen.  She was going to save the man despite himself.

            Arrows whizzed by her as Leliana flanked the archdemon.  Then Zevran ran by, his dual long swords flashing in a whirlwind pattern.  He rolled under the dragon, cutting its belly.  Then he feigned death when the creature tried to turn on him.  There were so many dead bodies around, that it couldn’t tell if one of them was faking.  The turn cost him and Barkspawn jumped on his back, sinking in his fangs. 

            Urthemiel stumbled, bleeding out.  She sent a blast of freezing air and a lightning bolt at him.  He fell to the rooftop, shaking in his effort to get back up.  One good bolt should kill him, but Selene grabbed a huge two-handed sword; she would make sure the Maker and the fates knew that it was she who had killed the archdemon.  That spirit would know what direction to go.  She was thankful that her studies in the Arcane Arts allowed her to channel her magic into strength or the sword she now carried would have caused her to tip over.

            “Wait!”  Alistair called to her.  “Let me!”  He was looking at her across the archdemon’s body, his eyes pleading.  Damn, those big brown eyes.  “There’s no need for you to die.  This is my duty; I should be the one to kill it.”

            “Why?”  She demanded.  “Why should you be the one to kill it?  Your duty is to find a simpering noble woman to marry and have babies with.  You told me that the day you broke my heart, remember?”

            “I didn’t want to be king,” he reminded her.  “But you convinced me I should be.  And I want to be a good king.  And this right here is the best king I could be, my first and last act being to stop the Blight before it really starts.  No one could blame me for that, could they?”

            “I could!”  She yelled at him.  “You are using troll logic!  What is the real reason you want to do this?  Have you suddenly become suicidal?”  No, that was her, a little voice reminded her.

            “You’re right,” he conceded.  “I know how I feel about you; I won’t let you die, not when I can do something about it.”

            “Don’t you have a duty to your future queen?”  She reminded him.  “You’ve already rejected me for her, she’s what’s important.”

            “I was an idiot, of course,” he declared.  “I threw away the woman I love, the only woman I will ever love.  I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

            “No!”  She was not going to let her idiot die for her.  She ran at the archdemon, the sword ready to swing.

            “Selene!”  Alistair was charging from the opposite direction, sword held in both hands even as the creature tried to climb back to its feet.  He dived, cutting the archdemon’s under neck.

            As the creature’s head fell to the ground, Selene lifted the two-handed sword, almost the same instant that Alistair held his sword high above his head.  Both swords came down together.

            Light shot from the archdemon, filling the air and acting as a beacon of hope for those who still toiled away against the darkspawn.

            On the rooftop, both Grey Wardens stared at each other; their hands gripping their swords.  “Let go, Alistair,” Selene pleaded.  “Let me do this.  You have so much to live for.  I have nothing.  I don’t want a life filled with duty and empty of love.  That’s my only other choice now.”

            “No, it isn’t,” he argued.  “You have to let me be the one.  This is how I’ll protect my kingdom.  This is how I’ll serve them.”  He paused a moment.  “This is how I’ll protect you.”

            She shook her head vigorously.  “We left Anora in the capital, she could be dead.  I made you king so you would lead this people; not die needlessly for them.  Not when I’m here to make that sacrifice for you.  Don’t make me live without… don’t…”  Tears were streaming down her face.  “Just let go, my love.”

            “Never!”  He shouted back at her.

            There was an explosion, and each was thrown back.  On the ground, the darkspawn ran as the soldiers cheered their victory.

            On the rooftop of Fort Drakon, Alistair started coming to his senses.  His head hurt, his back hurt.  No!  The pain meant he was alive.  If he was alive, then she wasn’t.  Dear Maker, no; please, no.  He’d had a plan, Sten and Oghren would grab Selene back, guaranteeing that he would be the one to make the sacrifice.  Now… he had to get to her.

            He groaned as he made it to his feet.  He could see Selene laying on the other side of the archdemon’s corpse.  Her braids and bun were loose and her clothes torn.  He could see a cut on her leg and another on her arm, neither the leg nor arm moved.  She appeared lifeless.  “NO!”  He wasn’t even aware that he’d screamed it.  He leapt over his enemy’s dead body to get to the woman he loved.  “Selene!”  He gathered her limp form into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder.  “Please, no.”  He wasn’t aware of the tears that fell from his eyes onto her cheeks.

            There was a soft groan and Selene’s hand moved touching her cheek.  She reached out and Alistair’s hand shot to hers, gripping it.  “If this is the Maker’s bosom, why do I hurt so badly?”  She muttered.

            “Selene?”  Alistair’s voice broke on her name.  He clutched to her even closer to him and began rocking her.  “You’re… I thought I’d lost you.”

            “Alistair,” she pulled her head and blinked up at him.  “Are we both alive?”

            He nodded, unable to speak.  He sent a silent prayer of thanks up to the Maker.  He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but they were somehow both still alive.  “Yes.”

            “Is Wynne still alive, too?”  She laid her head back on his shoulder.

            “I’m here.”  Alistair felt her hand on his shoulder.  “Are you all right?”

            “Everything hurts,” Selene admitted.

            Wynne to work on both of them, but Alistair found himself unwilling to let go of the woman he loved.  He knew he’d have to eventually, but not yet.

Chapter Text

“Urthemiel is dead.”  The announcement came in a sad, heartbroken voice.  Killsin looked out at the other high priests of the Disciples of the Old Ones.

            “Is all lost then?”  Humility Bond spoke up.

            “There are still two more Old Ones,” Replenish reminded Humility.  “We will just have to be patient.  Perhaps, when we have restored the Old Ones left, they will tell us how to save their brethren and sisters.”

            “We have had interesting reports from Ferelden,” High Priestess Forsaken Guthrie interrupted.  “Both of their Grey Wardens are still alive.  There was another Grey Warden, a Riordan, but Urthemiel was seen disposing of him before the tragedy.  He did not take the life of the Great One.”

            Killsin steepled his fingers.  “Interesting, one of the other two would have had to give their lives.”

            “Not necessarily,” Beloved Thorpe spoke up.  “Our scholars have found reports of old and dark rituals that guarantee pregnancy.  If someone had intercourse with one of the Grey Wardens, likely the male.”  She looked at the others.  “His name is Alistair, isn’t it?”  When they nodded, she continued.  “If they had intercourse with him and conceived a child, Urthemiel’s soul may have gone to the unborn child.  The unborn child, if small enough, would not be destroyed.  Instead, Urthemiel would become part of it.”

            “Who would he have slept with?”  Killsin needed to know.

            “Wasn’t he involved with the other Warden?”  Humility recalled.

            “He dumped her, quite publicly,” Replenish told her.  “It was worse than when Submit threw you over for Honest Burroughs.  Besides, I’ve heard that it is extremely hard for two Wardens to conceive a baby together.”

            “It couldn’t have been worse than when Tribulation announced she would no longer receive you as a suitor,” Humility smirked at him.

            “Tribulation did not break up with me, I broke up with her,” Replenish insisted.  “It was a mutual break up.  She thought I was too demanding, and I thought her shepherd’s pie was an abomination to the gods… and told her so.”

            “Enough, you two,” Killsin hissed.  “This is not the place to discuss Tribulation dumping Replenish.  “We were discussing the most heinous Grey wardens!”

            “Our spies in Fereldan say that they were travelling with Flemeth’s daughter,” Forsaken announced.  “If anyone knows the rituals required, it would be Flemeth.  She could have told the daughter.”

            “I’ve heard of the daughters of Flemeth,” Humility leaned forward.  “Aren’t there more than one?”

            “I don’t believe she raises them together,” Forsaken disagreed.  “Our spies can find out who the daughter was.  Then we can find her.  I can guarantee you that she is the one carrying this infant.  If she doesn’t return to Flemeth, we’ll begin a search for her.  We’ll find her.”

            “Then we have hope,” Killsin nodded.  “The child will be ours.”

Chapter Text

“A wise woman once told me that it takes ten times as long to put yourself together as it does to fall apart,” Zevran whispered to Selene.

            They watched as Alistair walked down the main hall of the Palace of Denerim, as the nobles watched.  He was dressed in the red and gold of the House of Theirin.

As the destruction of Denerim had been cleaned, they’d found Anora’s remains, what were left of them.  They had found many dead.  They’d cleaned up what they could and began burning their dead.  The rebuilding efforts would be part of the duties of their new king.  That new king didn’t even look at her as he passed.

It had been a week since the Archdemon had been slain and Alistair had gone back to his hot and cold shifts with her.  The first couple of days, he had barely let her out of his sight and kept touching her as if to assure himself that she was still there.  Then Eamon had pulled him away from her to talk to him and he’d turned cold again, with flashes of heat. 

She’d been given her own rooms in the palace, which made her think Alistair meant to keep her around.  The question was how he saw their relationship.  She’d woken on the rooftop of Fort Drakon and found herself in his arms, with him holding her close.  He had apologized for his earlier actions and proclaimed himself an idiot.  He’d cradled her in his arms, as if she were the most precious thing in Thedas.  Then he’d slowly pulled away as his coronation had gotten closer.  She would have to talk to him when they found a moment alone again.  Perhaps she would have a chance at the Coronation Celebration that night.

Selene watched as the reverend mother placed a crown on Alistair’s head and the nobles cheered.  This had been what she’d wanted.  So why wasn’t she happy?  She turned back to Zevran and away from the newly crowned king.  “Is it that obvious that I’m about to fall apart?  I wanted this after all.”

“No,” Zevran disagreed.  “You wanted what was best for our Alistair and for Ferelden.  But this isn’t exactly what you wanted.  I know about the fight you two had over duty versus love months ago.  Heck, I was there for several of those altercations.  You told him that you were willing to fight for your love.  He said that duty was more important.  You were quite loud in your response to him.”  He smiled at the memory.  “I believed then that you would fight for your love through thick and thin.  You wouldn’t let the Bannorn stand between you, nor Eamon and his expectations.”

“Why should I face Eamon and Bannorn?  Why should I battle them when Alistair won’t?”  She bowed her head for a moment.  “A week ago, I would have said he was going to fight for me… for us.  Now, I’m not so sure.  He hasn’t talked to me in more than a day.  I can’t stand this; he’s treating me like a yoyo.”

“Then you must make him talk,” Zevran responded.

“That’s the plan,” she assured him, she turned her head back towards the throne.  Alistair was looking away, as he talked quietly with the reverend mother.

The nobles cheered again as Alistair waved to them. 

The party to celebrate the new king was perhaps a little too exuberant for a group who had only recently suffered through a Blight.

Selene went down into the main hall with Leliana and Zevran.  Her hair was held back by a series of braids and decorative comb with emerald leaves on it.  She’d found a box sitting on her bedside with a note that said from a secret admirer.  When she’d opened the box she’d inhaled deeply and then her breath caught as she’d stared at the gold and emerald hair ornament.  She didn’t know who it was from, but she loved it.  Her Highever styled gown was cream with green leaves embroidered on it and a green underdress. 

She stopped walking when she saw the band playing and a bard singing loudly in front of them.  There were people dancing in the middle of the room.  One man was on a table, dancing by himself.  He appeared to be trying to get a lady to join him, but she was shaking her head emphatically. 

Alistair was standing in the middle of a large group.  He appeared to have been waylaid on his way to the food table.  She spied several delicacies and plenty of cheese.  She would have to battle through the courtiers to get to him.  She glanced at her companions.  “We didn’t happen to capture some darkspawn that we could unleash on this party, did we?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Zevran’s voice was sad.  “It would be funny.  I could kill someone in this crowd and no one would notice.”  A dancing couple crashed into one of the tables and the woman fell to the ground laughing.  “See.”

“Selene!” Teagan swept to the trio.  He bowed low and then held out a hand.  “Come dance with me.”

She looked over to Alistair, but he was still in the middle of his circle of admirers.  “Very well.”

As Teagan whirled her around the room, Selene tried to smile politely at him.  He told her how happy he was that she and Alistair had both survived the battle.  He had ideas about what should be done differently in the defense of Denerim, so enemies would never get in the palace and kill those sheltering inside again.  He also had ideas about them going out on the lake together, just them and a little boat.  He wanted to take her to the Summerday celebrations in Denerim.

“This year’s celebrations will be grander than any in the past,” Teagan was proclaiming.  “We will just have stopped a Blight and we may be able to celebrate the King’s marriage by then.  It would be the perfect day for Alistair to wed, he just needs to find a bride first.  He is a very eligible bachelor and Eamon is determined to find him one as soon as possible.”

“Eamon is?”  That shouldn’t surprise her.  Would Alistair finally stand up to his uncle and fight for them or was he going to again meekly do his duty and follow the arl’s lead?  From what he’d said to her on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, he would fight for her.  But a little voice in her head whispered to her that Eamon would always hold more sway over Alistair than she did.  She turned a bit away from Teagan and looked to Alistair.  He was still surrounded by dozens of nobles.  Most of them young women. 

Their eyes met and his cheeks pinked a bit.  He gave her a hopeless look.  She needed to go rescue him.  She turned back to Teagan to tell him.

“Oh, there’s Eamon, to give our king a moment’s rest from his adoring suitors,” Teagan commented.  “He’ll have to choose one, but I suppose they don’t have to be Fereldan.”

She turned again to see Eamon easily extract Alistair from the crowd.  The two talked quietly, their heads together.  Sweet Maker, she should have left the arl in a coma.  It might have cost her an army, and let the Blight destroy Ferelden, but it would have been better for Alistair.  She couldn’t just let him get away with this.  She stepped back from Teagan.  “I think I need to talk to them.”

“They’re fine, Selene,” Teagan protested.

She slowly walked to Alistair, only to have Sten intercept her.  “What is the purpose of this?”

“The purpose of what?”  She was confused.  She also wanted to scream at Sten for intercepting her.  Was he purposely helping Eamon get his claws into Alistair?

“This gathering,” Sten tried to clarify.  “Wynne called it a party.  So, we buried the dead and now we dance?”

“Yep,” she nodded.

“And why are all those women flirting with Alistair?”  He continued.  “Wynne says that they are hoping for Alistair to make them queen.  Why isn’t he making you queen?  You have defeated the Blight and commanded an army.  Should you not be made queen?  He should step down and give the job to you.  Does he not, because you are a mage?  Should he not see your survival as some sort of indication that his Maker favors you?”

“It is because I’m a mage,” she confirmed.  “He…”

“I thought you were dancing with Teagan,” Alistair interrupted them.  He sounded a bit jealous.

“I thought I would rescue you from your admirers,” she admitted.  “But it appears that Eamon beat me to it.  Did he want a dance?”  No, he wanted to control the dancers, she realized. 

“He wanted to talk about tomorrow,” Alistair informed her.  He bowed to her.  “Dance with me?”

“Yes,” she happily went into his arms.  They were silent through the entire song.  Selene just enjoyed the feeling of being there, to moving in synch with the man she loved.

They continued into the next song.  Alistair let out a deep breath.  “We need to talk about the ceremony and parade tomorrow… and what will happen after.”

“What ceremony?  What parade?”  This was the first she’d heard of it.

“Tomorrow, you will be presented as the Hero of Ferelden,” Alistair grinned at her.  “The people are already calling you that and they want to give you a parade.”  His smile widened at the word ‘parade’.

“I don’t want a parade,” she objected.  Why were they giving her a parade?  Was it for defeating the Archdemon or failing to die as she did so?  She still had no idea how she was still alive.

“We all have to do things we don’t like.”  He stopped dancing, but kept her hand in his.  “Come with me.”  He led her out of the room and to a little window alcove.   There was a bench set behind a large curtain.  They sat so they were turned towards each other.  “We will be presenting you formally to the people as the Hero of Ferelden.  All you will have to do is walk down the middle of the main hall to me.  I’ll present you, as the Hero of Ferelden, to those gathered there.  Then we’ll have a little celebration before you go outside and wave to the people of Denerim.  They love you already.  Who can blame them?”

“So, I’ll just be presented as this hero?”  She didn’t like the idea of this all being planned without her.  She also didn’t like what he wasn’t saying.  “What about after that?”

“You’ll remain in the palace as one of my advisers, I hope.”  His smile was sheepish.  “I will give you the choice of acceptable boons, but that is the one I want you to pick.  I am afraid that I will greatly need your advice.  You’ll be my military adviser at the least.  I know I’ll be asking you about other things.  You may be the only one who can keep the palace from running out of cheese.  That would be horrible.”  He shuddered.

“Just as adviser?”  She looked down at her hands.  She hadn’t realized until then that Alistair was holding them.  “You told me you still loved me and that you’d been an idiot.  Yet…”  She took a deep breath.  “You’ve barely touched me in public and this is the only second time we’ve been in private.  How much of a dirty secret am I going to be?”

“I do love you,” he swore.  “And I am a fool.  But… Sweet Maker, it’s a miracle we’re both still alive.  I suspect Weisshaupt is going to send someone to figure that out.  It doesn’t mean that I am not going to have to marry and produce an heir.  I… Eamon thinks that I will have a harder time finding a suitable bride if they think I’ll have a mistress after we wed.  He had the reverend mother talk to me about it.  She reminded me that I have a duty to my people and… if we could have married, I wouldn’t think of being unfaithful.  Shouldn’t I give the woman who will be my wife that same consideration?”

Selene pulled back.  “So, you lied to me on the roof?”

“NO!”  He insisted.  “I do love you and I am a fool.  I’ll have you near me as an adviser.  You’ll know that you are the one who has my heart, even if you don’t have more than that.”

She felt the tears and didn’t know how to stop them.  Dear Maker, she prayed, don’t let me break down like I did last time.  Not again, I don’t know if I could put myself back together.  “So, you expect me to just stand by you… as a friend who knows you love them… while you marry another and start a family with them?  I will get to look on in envy as mages aren’t allowed to wed and the Chantry takes our children.  Oh, wait, the Grey Wardens have also guaranteed that I can’t have children.  Well, that solves that part, I wouldn’t have had your child anyway.  I can be envious of every woman who is so blessed.  I’m sure you’ll slap hands with me when I find some handsome knight to take to my bed at night to comfort me and ask me if he satisfied me.  Or will you tell the reverend mother that the mage adviser is defiling one of your men?  She is now making policies it seems.  She obviously has more of a say in your life than I do.”

“Selene,” Alistair reached out to her, but she pushed his hand away.  “I can give you my heart, even if I can’t give you the rest.  It will always be you I love.”

“So, you’ll just make sure you never tell this wife, whom you obviously already adore, that you love her; because that would be a lie?”  She gave a bitter laugh.  “She’ll catch on that you never said the words ‘Tair.”  She could already see him breaking that promise, letting his heart be swayed by the woman he took to his bed nightly and who gave him the family she couldn’t.  Worse, she couldn’t believe that he expected her to stand around and watch it.

What was her alternative?  To go to Weisshaupt?  She had never wanted to be a Grey Warden.  She could go back to the tower, but that was a gilded prison that she’d barely escaped before they made her tranquil.  She stood.  “I’m going to go get some punch.  Go back to your simpering suitors and their parents.

Alistair knew he’d just botched up things with Selene again.  He reluctantly left her side, trying to figure out how to get back there.  He’d meant everything he’d said on the roof of Fort Drakon.  He still loved her, he always would, and he’d been an idiot for pushing her away.  But after the battle, Uncle Eamon had brought him the news of Anora’s death and a reminder of his duties now that he was the ruler of Ferelden.  He still had to make a political marriage and produce an heir.  Perhaps after that, he could have found a way to be with Selene. 

One thing he knew, was that he couldn’t live without her by his side.  He had to at least keep her there.  He didn’t know how he was going to do so and not make it obvious to all of Thedas that she held her heart, but the thought of her not being there was unacceptable.  He’d talked to Denerim’s Reverend Mother about the problem. 

Andraste’s Knickers, the Reverend Mother had become livid.  She first, gently, reminded him that the nobles would never accept a mage as queen.  Then she again reminded him that Ferelden’s problems had been exacerbated by his ancestor’s decisions to have small families and the need for a political connection to a powerful house.  She assured him that no respectable family would tolerate a suitor who had a mage mistress.  She declared that it was even more shameful than having an elven mage for a concubine, which sounded a little too specific to him.  Her tirade ended with her declaring that he was endangering his soul, and Selene’s, by even caboodling with her.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t keep her near him, did it?

He walked back into the main hall by himself.  He would talk to her again when he presented her to their people as their Hero.  That would give her the rest of the night to cool down.  He knew he deserved her wrath, but he’d rather not face its full force.

Even as Alistair watched, Selene returned to the celebration.  There was fire in her eyes, but behind them were tears and that tore at his heart.  He’d put those there.  He saw Teagan moving to intercept her, but Zevran beat him to it.  The elf appeared to be walking past her, but smoothly pulled her into his arms as he did so.  He began moving her across the room in a complicated dance.

Chapter Text

“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”  One of Selene’s mentors had told her that before he’d transferred to Starkhaven’s Circle of Magi.  He hadn’t wanted to go, but the Chantry had insisted.  She would always hate the power the Chantry and its Templars held over the lives of mages.  They had created the mess she now found herself in, though.

She sat on her bed, tears pouring from her eyes.  She’d sworn that she would not cry over Alistair anymore, but that was a hallow lie she’d told herself.  She had returned to the main hall and enjoyed dancing with Zevran.  She’d felt safe dancing with her charming friend, who had tried to make her laugh and then gave up, giving her a companionable silence and a steady shoulder to lean on.

Her dear friend had promised to stay at her side, as her bodyguard.  But she knew that would mean it was easier to find him, if the Crows realized he was still alive.  Still, she couldn’t push him away, especially after the other conversations she’d had that night.  Wynne and Shale were leaving for Tevinter, hoping to find a way to turn Shale back into a dwarf.  Sten would accompany them part of the way, before he went to Par Vollen to report back to his superiors.

Leliana was off to guard the Urn of Sacred Ashes.  It was just one more reason Selene regretted finding the damned thing.  They had sat by the campfire, discussing how they could still travel after they defeated the Archdemon.  They planned to explore Ferelden and beyond.  Now the Chantry called and Leliana went, without a second thought to any of the plans they made together. 

Oghren was off to start a life with Felsi.  She supposed she should be happy for them.  What she felt wasn’t happiness, though.  How was it that she could find a bright, loving future for others and have her own end up cold and barren?

At least Barkspawn wasn’t leaving her.  She wasn’t sure where he was at the moment.  He was likely in the kennels, getting to know the local mabari and regaling them with stories of his fight against the Blight.  Alistair had been talking of breeding him.  He seemed to think he got their dog in their split.  Maybe he was and Barkspawn was leaving her.  Was he not with the other mabari now, instead of sleeping at the end of her bed?

Curling her legs to her chest, Selene let her head drop as the tears increased.  She’d been such a fool.  There had been an opening, somewhere, to get Alistair back; but she’d obviously botched it.  Now he planned to present her as the Hero of Ferelden the next day and was going to make her one of his personal advisers.  Not his wife, not even his mistress, just one of his advisers.  No one had even asked her what she wanted. 

Why would she want to be paraded as the Hero of Ferelden when the people had already rejected her for being a mage?  She sure as hell didn’t want to stay on as an adviser and watch as Alistair married someone else and started a family with them.  How could he think she would?

What were her choices, though?  She could write to Weisshaupt for an assignment or return to Kinloch Hold.  Neither held any appeal.  She didn’t want to be a Grey Warden, she never wanted it.  What had being a Warden gotten her?  It might have saved her from being a Tranquil, but it had taken too much from her.  You wouldn’t feel like this, if you were a Tranquil, a nasty little voice whispered in her ear.  She pushed that voice away.  No, she’d hold onto the pain, the anguish, the feeling that her heart could no longer beat right, rather than lose who she was.

She felt so unloved, so unlovable.  She had been betrayed by her mentor and her best friend in Kinloch Hold.  If it hadn’t been for Duncan, she would have been dead at best and a Tranquil at worst.  She shuddered at the thought.  Then she’d been dragged to Ostagar, where she’d met Alistair.  He’d been her companion from the first day, even if he’d been a bit taciturn at first.  She realized later, that he’d been afraid of becoming too attached to her only to watch her die in the Joining.  The only people he hadn’t minded joining them were Barkspawn and Wynne.  Now even those companions were leaving her.  There had never been anyone who fought to keep her.

Even as Selene had that thought, a long-buried memory emerged.

She had been young, only six or seven.  She was playing with several other children when a large boy had come and tried to take their ball.  Cyndi had tried to stand up to him and he pushed her down.  Then two of his friends joined him, laughing.  They held the ball high, so the smaller children couldn’t reach it.

Selene hadn’t known what she was doing.  She lashed out and lightning shot from the sky, striking the boy.  His friends had run away and she’d taken the ball back.  She and her friends had gone back to playing.

That night, she’d been washing up for dinner when there was a banging on the door.  Her father opened it and men in skirts and armor had walked in.  One of them grabbed her, pulling her away.

Her father had protested, but they said she was a mage and had to go away.  She cried to them that she wasn’t, so had her mother.  She remembered her mother crying out and trying to chase after the skirted men as they carried her away.  She reached back for mama, but the men took her.

More tears welled up at the memory, but one word stuck in her mind.  Kirkwall.  She’d been in Kirkwall when they took her.  She had no idea if her family was there, but it her was her only lead.  She didn’t know how they would react to seeing her, they might reject her as well.

Still, she’d heard one wise man talking to another in a book shop in Denerim.  He’d said ‘My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you can't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it.’  Now, the thought that they were out there and might want to see her was all that was keeping her going.

Selene realized that she couldn’t stay in Denerim a moment longer.  The thought of being presented to the people of Ferelden by Alistair the next morning was unbearable.  Those were the people who wouldn’t accept her as queen, because she’d been born with magic.  She wasn’t good enough for them, because she was born different than them.  The man she loved had rejected her, because she wasn’t good enough for those very people.  She’d be damned if those hypocrites cheered her for saving their bigoted asses.  She hadn’t saved Ferelden for them.  At the moment, she wasn’t even sure why she’d saved it.

She pulled out her trunks and began filling them.  She’d steal a horse from the stables, perhaps a cart as well.  She wasn’t sure if she’d find it ironic or idiotic if they tried to stop her, or even hanged her over it.  She ignored the tears that fell as she packed, telling herself that they were of self-pity and not because part of her couldn’t stand the thought of leaving certain people behind.  She piled her clothes in, and that which she had of value.  She’d keep her staff with her.  As she sorted through her belongings, deciding what to take and what to leave behind, she picked up a perfect red rose without even thinking.  She stopped and sat on her bed, holding it for a moment.  She’d placed a spell on it to preserve it, after Alistair had given it to her.  He’d compared her to the rose, something beautiful in all the darkness they were suffering.  She told herself to throw it away, as he’d thrown her and their love away, but she couldn’t seem to do so.

The door opened without her realizing it.  “I don’t suppose that I should be surprised.”  Her head shot up and she saw Zevran standing there.

“Zev, I…”  She looked at the trunks and then back at the rose. “I…”

“Were you planning to say goodbye?”  He closed the door and leaned against it.

“No,” she admitted.  Without thinking, she grabbed a long crystal box and placed the rose in it.  “I’m leaving tonight.  I can’t…”

“You are going to miss your own parade?”  He sounded shocked.

She didn’t even realize she put the box containing the rose in one of her trunks.  “That’s part of the point.”

“Ah, so you do not wish to be cheered by the mindless masses,” he observed.  “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you’d be the first mage many of them will have ever cheered.”

“It could,” she admitted as she added a few more items to the trunks.

“You know, as your bodyguard, I can’t just let you leave,” his voice was light.

“Try and stop me,” she challenged.

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” he assured her.  “I just need you to give me time to get my things together.  It won’t take long.  I…  Let’s just say this isn’t a surprise.  Not for me, I know my beautiful, deadly goddess.  The others are going to have a horrible surprise in the morning.  Let’s get you packed, and then we’ll take care of my things.”

She studied him for a moment.  She found she was relieved he wanted to come.  She wasn’t quite ready to be alone and it would be nice to have companionship on the road.  “It’s going to make it harder to sneak out.”

“My lady,” he bowed.  “I am an expert assassin.  It will be easier to sneak out if you are with me.”

She wiped away a tear.  And gave him a watery half smile.  “Good point.  Thank you, Zevran.”

Chapter Text

Barkspawn had spent a wonderful night in the kennels.  A cute little thing called Veronica had taken an interest in him and they’d snuggled, knowing that soon they would be bred.  He could already see the adorable puppies they would make together.

There was a spring in his step as he made his way back to the castle.  He planned to check on Selene and then beg sausages from the cook.  He knew Selene had been sad of late.  He’d stayed in her tent with her after her heartbreak following the Landsmeet.  But Alistair had made everything good again during the fight against the Archdemon.  He’d finally admitted that he was the idiot Morrigan, the witch who snuck him sausages, always said he was. 

Now things would be good.  He would stay at the palace with Selene and Alistair and be pampered and bred. He’d have a mate and litters of puppies to dote on. He was a war hero, after all.  He would…

His thoughts halted as he got to Selene’s room.  The door was closed, but he could tell from outside her door that she wasn’t there. The smell was all wrong. Where could she be?  He sniffed frantically around the door and, finally, picked up her scent.  It was hours old.  She hadn’t spent the night in her room.

He assured himself that all was well, she likely slept with the smelly king the night before.  Alistair was always smelly, he liked that about him.  Still, Barkspawn sniffed until he was sure he had Selene’s freshest scent. 

Following the trail, he was surprised to find that it led out of the palace.  Was Selene in trouble?   Had something happened to his herb scented mage?  He had to find her.  She got in a lot of fights, which meant she needed him.  He moved quickly through the royal district and realized, as he did so, that there was another scent there.  The overly suave elf had gone with her.

He knew that the elf who smelled of poisons, Zevran, didn’t understand the importance of sneaking sausages, tummy rubs, or guarding Selene in the night against the nightmares she constantly had.  Selene needed a mabari, not the elf that reeked of nightshade. Maybe the poison elf had taken her to his buddies; those crows who didn’t fly.  He increased his pace.

The trail ended at the docks.  There was no ship there now, it had already taken her away.  He could smell fish and birds, and there was still a trace of the lavender and ozone.  But the trail had ended where the ships loaded cargo and passengers and there was no ship there anymore.  It had gone, taking her with it.  He let out a howl, lifting his head to the sky to cry out his pain.  Then he stared at the horizon, there was no way he could swim after her.

Another howl rent the air and another.  She had left without him.  How could she?  Did she think he loved Veronica more than he loved her? He liked being with the bitch in the kennels, but he bonded with his mage. She gave his life a purpose. Veronica was a distraction. His mage was more important. There was another howl, as he proclaimed his sorrow to all of Thedas.

“There you are.”  He turned at the familiar voice and saw the smelly king rushing to him.  Alistair embraced him and rubbed his head.  “What’s wrong, Barkspawn?”

Barkspawn responded with a sad yip.  His mage had gone.  Was the smelly king the reason?

“Selene is going to be worried about you,” the smelly king told him.  “I think she slept in to conserve her strength for the parade the people are having for her today.  We need to get back to the palace to present her as the Hero of Ferelden.  You want to be there for that, don’t you boy?”

Morrigan was right, the smelly king was an idiot.  Did he not realize that the herb scented mage was gone?  Barkspawn realized he did not.  The poor smelly king, he would shortly learn the pain that Barkspawn knew.  He’d go with him for now, the king was going to need a mabari soon.

Alistair returned to the palace with Barkspawn.  The Kennel Master had rushed to him, telling him that the mabari had been seen leaving the palace.  He knew that Barkspawn had started spending his nights in the kennel and had thought he was returning to Selene’s rooms in the morning.  Perhaps he was just trying to settle into Denerim and was exploring the area, but he had been in the city before.  He hadn’t wanted to bother Selene with the matter and gone after their dog himself.  He was a bit concerned at the way Barkspawn had been howling at the Amaranthine Ocean.  It was heart wrenching.  The only thing he’d heard that was worse was Selene’s cries after he’d told her that he had to separate himself from her.

Maker, that memory alone made him feel like something a darkspawn had pooped out.  Then he’d admitted he still loved her, only to then have to still distance himself from her again.  He had no choice, though.  He had a duty.

Barkspawn stayed by his side as had made his way to the main hall.  He hoped he at least made it there before Selene did.  She would agree to be his adviser and all of Ferelden would know that she had the ear of their king.  His heart ached at the thought that he couldn’t let them know that she also had their king’s heart. 

Selene was not in the main hall when he entered.  It took him several moments to realize something was wrong, though.  Leliana looked upset and Wynne glared at him the moment he walked in.

“There you are.”  Eamon rushed to his side.  “I… someone is going to have to announce that there will be no parade today.  No, we can turn it into a victory parade, instead.  We can figure this out.  We’ll just send out Amell’s friends instead of her.”

“Instead of her?”  Alistair was confused.  He knew she’d been angry the night before.  “Is she refusing to meet those very people she saved?  If she’s threatening to put lightning bolts up all of their backsides, I can assure you that she won’t really do it.  At least, she hasn’t yet.”

“Alistair, she…”  Eamon paused and a sour expression pass over his face.  “She’s not here.”

“What?”  That didn’t make sense.  He’d just talked to her the night before.  Barkspawn made a sad little woof and he thought of the mournful howls he had been making on the docks.  She was…  He couldn’t even let the thought pass through his mind. 

“Alistair,” Wynne took his arm.  She led him to the throne, Barkspawn followed them.  She helped him to sit.  “Selene isn’t in the palace.  The servants haven’t seen her since she left the party last night.”

“She ran off with that elf,” Eamon joined them.

“Elf?”  She had run off with someone else?  Who?  Who had won her heart from him?   Wasn’t that what he should want, for her to find a new love; to find happiness?  Why did it hurt so much then?

“Zevran left also,” Leliana approached the group.  “Both of them are missing items and a coachman admits that he saw them leave together late last night.  We can go after them, make sure they aren’t in trouble.  I know the Crows will go after Zevran the moment they realize he’s alive.  They might have…  Well, why else would they just leave?”

Why indeed.  Alistair realized he might have been part of the problem and just what direction they had taken out of the city.  “I reminded Selene last night that I would still have to marry for duty’s sake.  I pushed her away again.  But… that isn’t a reason for her to leave.”

“Yes, it is!”  Leliana took a step back and then threw up her hands.  “I flew from Marjolaine, because she was a threat to my life, but I wouldn’t have wanted to see her every day after that.  Even if she didn’t want me dead, I wouldn’t have stayed by her side after...  Did you expect her to stay here with you and your new wife?  Sweet Maker, you did!”

“I…”  He had.  Was it wrong to still want his best friend around?  Now, she’d run off with Zevran.  No, he couldn’t be sure that Zevran was anything more than a bodyguard.  She hadn’t run with, she’d run from.  He stood.  “Eamon, figure out what to say to the people who are gathered.  You’re one of my advisers, think of what you’d advise me to say.”

“But Alistair…”  Eamon was ignored as Alistair marched from the hall, his friends behind him.

Alistair went to the room where Selene had been staying.  He opened the door and looked around, as Barkspawn ran past him and threw himself onto the bed with a howl.  The room wasn’t empty.  She’d left behind a few pieces of clothes, including her only set of mage robes.  She was obviously not going back to Kinloch Hold.

He sat down beside Barkspawn.  This was why the mabari had been at the docks.  Their mage was gone.  She was…  “Where could she be?”  He looked up at their friends, but they all shook their heads.  Did no one know where she might have gone?  He’d send out riders… and sailors, for that matter, to try and get word of her.  He had to at least be sure she was safe.  He… he needed to know.

A blue scarf lying on the floor caught his eye.  It was the color of her eyes.  He’d seen her wearing it when they were staying at the Arl of Redcliffe’s Estate.  He leaned over and picked it up.  A waft of scent hit his nose.  It smelled of her.  He crumpled it, holding it to his chest.  He wasn’t aware of his tears until they began to blur his sight.  Grabbing the pillow, he let his grief consume him.

The others slowly left the room, giving the bereaved king his privacy.  He curled up on the bed.  Barkspawn laid beside him with his head on Alistair’s chest, as if making sure his heart still beat and his lungs still took in air.  Together, they sorrowed.

Chapter Text

There was one truth in the universe that all leaders blessed by their Maker could agree to.  It was hard to find good minions.  Killsin looked out at his black hooded priests.  They should be discussing their sacrifice for Summersend, but there was a missing god out there and his people couldn’t get to him.  A stack of reports sat near him.  “I need an update”.

“Somehow Replenish managed to get Tribulation to let him court her again.  They will be attending the Summersend celebration together,” Humility announced.

“That wasn’t the type of update I was talking about,” Killsin groaned.

“Our spies in Southern Ferelden report that Flemeth has disappeared,” Forsaken admitted. 

“She disappeared?” Killsin wasn’t happy.  “Did the darkspawn over run her cottage?  She is powerful enough to take on part of the horde by herself.”

“She is likely also looking for Morrigan,” Humble surmised.  “She knows what her daughter is carrying.”

“We just need to watch her friends,” Forsaken spoke up.  “She will return to them if she is troubled.  I can’t see them just letting her disappear with the King of Ferelden’s child.  They have to know about the dark ritual and the child.  Otherwise, the Grey Wardens would have sent word to Weisshaupt wanting to know how they could both still be alive.  Neither of them has attempted any contact with the other Grey Wardens.  They likely know.”

“My source says that Warden Amell has left Denerim,” Forsaken added.  “We aren’t sure where she is at the moment, but we will locate her again soon.”

“How did you lose her?”  Killsin groaned.  Did he have to do everything himself?  He had a ritual sacrifice to plan as well.

“She likely went after Morrigan,” Humility soothed him.  “She’ll lead us right to her and her child.  It’s been, what, about six weeks, seven, since the Battle of Denerim?  She won’t be showing yet or slowed down that much by the child.  We’ll pray to the Old Gods that morning sickness will affect her and slow down her attempts to outmaneuver us.”

“It’s a good thing she doesn’t even know we’re after her yet,” Forsaken added.

“I have my people keeping an eye to the north,” Replenish spoke for the first time since the meeting’s opening prayer.  She seemed to be taking everything in and calculating… something.  “I’ll have my people keep an eye out for Warden Amell as well.”

“Good,” Killsin nodded.  “Is there any other business?”

“Can you make sure your people bring better refreshments for our next meeting,” Forsaken glared at Replenish.  “Who brings carrots and turnips for refreshments?  They didn’t even make a dip for it.”

“I wanted something healthier than pie for once,” Replenish countered. 

“I make the best pies you will ever have,” Forsaken hissed at him.

“Sure, you do,” Replenish rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t even eaten them,” Humility revealed.  “I’ve noticed that.  You stick your nose up and don’t even try.  You find anything enjoyable to be a sin and, thus, must be avoided.”

“I do not,” Replenish gasped.

“You told Tribulation that song and dance were both sinful just last week,” Forsaken revealed.  “She told me all about it.  You had to promise her you’d stop lecturing her about her singing before she’d take you back.”

“I… The woman talks to much,” Replenish hissed.

“Well, you aren’t going to be put in charge of refreshments again,” Humility declared.  “I brought tarts for after this meeting and you are going to eat one.”

“I will not…”  Replenish began.

“You will if I have to hold you down and shove one into your mouth,” Humility vowed.

“So, we’re going to keep an eye on Morrigan’s friends and then hold Replenish down so Humility can shove a tart in his mouth.”  None of it sounded that bad to Killsin.  “Very well, we are adjourned.”  He blew out his candle and stood.

Chapter Text

“If you want to disappear, Selene, you could do it almost anywhere,” Zevran complained.  “I thought we were heading for Kirkwall to find your family.”

“We will, eventually,” Selene assured him.  She knew he thought she was being a coward, putting off any confrontation with the family she thought should be required to love her, but might not.  It wasn’t that.  It wasn’t even an intricate plot to keep anyone from tracing her movements, either.  She had simply stepped foot on a ship at the docks in Denerim and realized that while she had travelled across Ferelden, she hadn’t been able to appreciate the country.  She would let Leliana go back to Haven to guard an urn.  She would explore Ferelden like they’d planned to.  As she explored, she would continue to work on her skills as an Arcane mage.  She had purchased a new sword and was already practicing with it.

She admitted that she missed her friend, although it wasn’t nearly as much as she missed her handsome prince.  That part yelled at her to return to Denerim and fight whoever she needed to for him.  She’d taken on an archdemon, and Eamon, this mysterious woman he was marrying, and the entire bannorn; they didn’t compare.  She told that part of her to shut up.  She would not humiliate herself like that nor would she stand by and watch Alistair pledge himself to another woman, to give the other woman everything she’d wanted from him; his heart, his affection, his smiles, his…  She told that part of her to shut up too.

Selene was now in a castle that overlooked the Waking Sea.  She found that many nobles would gladly open their homes to her when they realized exactly who she was.  She had visited several Alamarri ruins and planned to visit several more.  She wondered what it was like to be an Alamarri mage.  Were they feared, respected, both?  Many said that Andraste was an Alamarri mage.  She had been captured and enslaved by Tevinter, but released at some point.  That or escaped, she was never sure.  She’d married, even if her husband had been a jerk.  She’d had children and no one yanked them out of her arms and took them away.

It was the thought of children that caused her to mentally pause for a moment.  She belatedly realized she hadn’t had her monthly courses since before the Battle of Denerim.  She supposed it might have something to do with being a Grey Warden.

“Are you at least feeling better?”  Zevran interrupted her thoughts.

That reminded her of the nausea she’d experienced that morning.  She figured it had something to do with the bacon they were served with dinner the night before.  The smell had made her sick.  Zevran had insisted that it was fine, that it smelled good, but she couldn’t stand the smell.  She’d had the same problem with the Antivan drink someone had been consuming the day before.  They called it coffee.  She had gotten whatever it was, likely the bacon, out of her system.  “I’m fine.”  She patted Zevran’s arm.  My stomach is obviously not as strong as yours.

“Is that why you are avoiding going to Kirkwall?”  He teased.   “We sailed north and you decided you hadn’t seen enough of Ferelden.  You were just hiding that you were seasick.”

“No, I…”  She watched the crashing waves.  “Ferelden has been my home for so long, I’m going to miss her and just wanted to see more.”

Zevran studied her for a moment.  “Is it because Leliana had wanted to travel or because it’s his country?”

“His who?”  She batted her eyelashes at him, trying to act confused.

“Hmmm….”  Zevran pulled her close.  “Perhaps I can make that him who real, my little mint dollop.  I will…”  He paused.  “Don’t throw a lightning bolt at me for noticing this, but… I have seen you in this dress before, my Deadly Goddess.  Your… cleavage has increased.  More of it shows, I swear there is more of it.”

“My…”  She looked down.  Andraste’s Apples, they were bigger.  She’d noticed her breasts had been tender recently, but not that they had gotten bigger.  She’d dismissed the tenderness, thinking it must be from travelling or all the crying over He Who Must No Longer Be Named, because she wanted to cry when she heard his name.  Perhaps even that was just a side effect of whatever was wrong with her.  “Zevran, I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Is it a side effect of the Joining?”  He inquired.  “We could find a Grey Warden to ask.  The closest Grey Warden is…”  He stopped.

“The closest Grey Warden is in Denerim,” she supplied.  “I’m not going back there.  I don’t want to contact Weisshaupt, they’ll give me some assignment and expect me to Grey Warden for them, as Lieutenant Carroll would say.”  The mention of the Templar who had given her a hard time when she returned to Kinloch hold reminded her of someone else.  Someone who had made a strange concoction that she had drank at Soldiers’ Peak.  Was he concoction why she hadn’t died when she killed the Archdemon?

“Then we go to Orlais,” Zevran interrupted her thoughts again.

“No, there is one closer.  Or there is a former one,” she corrected herself.  “Let’s just hope that Avernus didn’t die from old age while I was dealing with the Archdemon.  We’re going to Soldier’s Peak.”

Chapter Text

“I was not expecting you to return here anytime soon,” Michael Dryden grinned at Selene as she approached Soldier’s Peak.  Zevran walked a few steps behind.  “Do you have time to forge staffs with me?  I could teach you to make a basic knife.

“I wasn’t expecting to return,” she admitted.  “I’m here to see Avernus, but I think we could find time for a knife lesson.” 

“Excellent, my lady,” he bowed.  “I look forward to it.”

Levy intercepted her as she started up the stairs to the Keep.  “What’s wrong, Grey Warden.”  When she glared at him, he coughed.  “I mean Selene.”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted.  “But I think it might have to do with something I drank while here.  Avernus mixed it.  I just need to talk to him.  He hasn’t, finally, succumbed to old age, has he?”

“No,” Levy assured her.  “We’ve been keeping an eye on him.  He’s behaved himself so far.”

“Good,” she nodded and continued in.  “Zevran, why don’t you see how well supplied the Drydens are?  I want to speak to Avernus alone.”

“Selene,” he objected.  “It could be bad news; I should be with you.”

“I… I think I need to be alone for this.”  She looked over at the tower.  “Whatever he tells me might include more Grey Warden secrets.  I promise to tell you everything I can.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Zevran pointed out.

“Yes, I do.”  She continued on.

Avernus greeted her warmly once Selene had made it to his chamber.  He listened to her concerns and had her list her symptoms.

“I admit that the potion was supposed to alter some of the effects of being a Grey Warden, but it shouldn’t have saved you from the Ultimate Sacrifice.  The Archdemon should have taken you into the Abyss with it when it died.  Yet, here you are.  I’ll let you look at my notes and…”  He hesitated.  “Some of the things I tried were inspired by a Grimoire.  I’ll let you take a look at that as well.  It was said to have been stolen from an ancient and powerful witch.”

“What else could it have been?”  She watched him slowly make his way to a bookshelf.  She wondered if Flemeth had lost more than one grimoire, but didn’t think the infamous Witch of the Wilds could be so careless.  “The Maker hasn’t interceded for any other Grey Wardens, so it couldn’t have been that.  There’s no reason he would love me more than those who ended the previous Blights.”

“If the Maker is interceding that much, you’d think he’d take a more direct route in destroying the Darkspawn… and possibly freeing his mages.”  Avernus handed her the Grimoire.

Its cover appeared eerily familiar.  She opened it and began reading a bit.  She might have been wrong, the ancient witch might be that careless… or crafty.  “This belonged to Flemeth, didn’t it?”

“So, the legend around it said,” Avernus admitted.  “I don’t think she still exists, though.  She must have died hundreds of years ago.”

“No, she didn’t,” Selene revealed.  “I met her.  I attempted to kill her, but I doubt it took.”

“Really?”  Avernus grinned, it was a freaky sight.  “I’ll let you keep it, then.”  He decided.  “After all, the ritual that I borrowed from when I added her stuff to my research was supposed to cause the person who performed it to become pregnant.  I wonder what happens if you add Grey Warden blood into the mix.  I guess it would make it easier to become pregnant.  Female Grey Wardens aren’t sterile, like some of the males like to believe.  Neither are the males for that matter.  There have been documented cases of Grey Wardens becoming pregnant, but the men like to encourage women to think that can’t happen; it makes it easier to get them into bed.”

“I can still have children?”  Selene’s hand went to her abdomen. 

“Obviously someone told you that you could not,” Avernus nodded sagely.  “I hope they didn’t manage to talk you into their bed.”

“That was before they told me,” she admitted.  “The Taint, though, even if it doesn’t really leave us sterile, it could harm a baby if I get pregnant.”

“If?”  He laughed.  “My lady, you already are pregnant.  You admitted to me that you have not had your courses for at least two moons.  Your appetite is off and your body is feeling the changes.  Have you had sexual intercourse since taking the potion?”

“Yes,” she admitted.  She made a sour expression.  “He talked me into his bed again.  It was the night before…”  She drifted off as the memories of the conversation with Morrigan came back to her.  Could the Dark Ritual described in the book have worked through the potion?  Did the archdemon’s soul go into a child she hadn’t been aware that she was carrying?  Was she carrying a demon child?  What if it was just a normal baby?  She was endangering it with her own blood!  “What about the Taint?”

“Yes, you asked before,” he reminded her.  “I will make potions before you leave and give you a schedule to take them.  I believe I know what herbs you need to make sure the Taint doesn’t hurt the child.  I’d like to keep an eye on you for a few weeks, to make sure they are working.  After that, I will send you with enough bottles to get you through this pregnancy.  “Should I congratulate you?”

“I… don’t know.”  She’d never dared dream of having a child.  If she’d conceived in a mage circle, the Chantry would have taken her baby from her the moment it was born.  She’d managed to get away from the Chantry Mage Prisons, but was then told she could no longer have children.  Yet, she was alone.  No, she wasn’t.  She still had a friend by her side and if she found her family, the child would have more than just her that he or she could turn to.

“What of the father?”  Avernus’ voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it.

“He’s also a Grey Warden,” she informed him.  “Will that endanger my baby more?”

“I’ll factor that in, but don’t doubt my abilities, Commander Amell,” he insisted.  Her head jerked up and he laughed.  “It would be Commander now.  Did you not lead an army to slay an Archdemon?  Even here, we have heard the news.”

“Of course,” she nodded.  “I’m placing the life of this unborn child in your hands, Avernus.  Believe me that I am trusting you.”  She wondered if she should tell him about it possibly being a demon child.

“What did he say to you?”  Zevran rushed to her side as she walked outside the fort.  He saw her face.  “How long do you have?”

“About another seven to eight months,” she muttered.  “We’ll stay here for one of those.”

Zevran drew her into his arms and held her.  “I’ll be by your side through it all.  Will you need me to bring you food and wipe your pert behind?”

“What?” She drew back a bit and blinked at him.

“And where would you like me to take your ashes after you succumb?”  He inquired.  “Antiva is beautiful, but it has too many Crows.  You said your family was from Kirkwall.  I could go there and release them off of one of their nearby mountains or into the Waking Sea.  I could also take them back to Denerim and let King Alistair… I mean that Ferelden King whose name I would never speak.  He might want to take them to the Deep Roads or something.”

“My ashes?”  She repeated.  “Zevran, I’m not dying.  I’m pregnant.  And if you dare take me back to Denerim, I will return from the grave and kill you.”

“Pregnant!”  He took a step back.  “It isn’t mine!”  He declared out of habit.  “I mean… but we haven’t…”  He stopped and paused, realizing she wasn’t saying he was the father and that he knew just who the father was.  “Oh.  Are you sure you do not want to return to Denerim?”  Her expression caused him to take several more steps back.  “Of course not, why would you want to do something silly like that.  We’re going to go to Kirkwall.”

“We’ll be staying for about a month, though,” she informed him.  She walked to Michael.  “It looks like I’ll be here for several weeks.  Let’s get to those knife making lessons.  Oh, and perhaps another sword for when I master more of my Arcane techniques.”

Chapter Text

“I have dreamed a dream.”  Killsin looked around the table.  Candles burned in the middle and the hooded priests all looked at him, their faces showing little of their emotions.

“You are still in charge of the annual human sacrifice,” Humility spoke.  “This dream will not get you out of it.”

“That isn’t our concern right now,” he waved off the worries.  “This is about Urthemiel’s fate.”

“Have you found Flemeth’s daughter?”  Forsaken asked.

“No,” he admitted.  “We know that she was with the Grey Wardens, though, and that both survived.  Dirthamen came to me last night, as I slumbered under the full moon.  He told me that Urthemiel’s soul survives.”  He referred to the Elven god of Secrets.  The one who was also Razikale and slumbered, aware, but bound in the Deep Roads. 

“As we suspected,” Replenish nodded.

“Dirthamen assured me that we would be successful,” Killsin continued.  “We will find this baby who carries our god’s soul and we will raise Him ourselves.  When He is old enough, he will free his surviving brethren and they will retake Thedas.”

“That has always been the plan,” Humility agreed.  “Yet we have yet to find him.”

“We will,” Killsin assured the others.  “Dirthamen gave me another command as well.  The Grey Wardens cannot be allowed to survive.  We must destroy them all.”

“Grey Wardens are not so easily dispatched,” Replenished warned.  “There were only two of them in Ferelden and they took down Urthemiel.”

Killsin banged his fist on the table.  “They must all be destroyed.  If there are only two in Ferelden we will start there.”

The doors opened and two figures in black robes entered.  “We will kill them all,” one of them pronounced.  “We can start with the two in Ferelden, but I suggest we also begin to eliminate those in Orlais, Navarra, and the Anderfels.”

“Do you have a plan, Modesty?”  Killsin asked as the missing two priests sat. 

“We will organize a choir for the Summersend sacrifice,” she decided.

“I mean about Urthemiel,” Killsin redirected her.

“We will send out the Five,” she proclaimed.  “Two will take care of the ones in Ferelden.  Undoubtedly it was their two best that they’d preserved in case of disaster.  I doubt they would have protected novices of any sort.  The others will slowly hunt the Wardens in the other three countries.  As soon as the two in Ferelden are dead, we can focus on the Free Marches as well.”

“We know one of those Wardens is now the King of Ferelden,” Recompense, the other priest who had come in late, added.  “He should be easy to kill.  We can easily figure out who the other Warden in Ferelden is.  They will both be dead within the year.  Our God will only be a few months old and we can move into Ferelden with him for his safety.”

“All will be well,” Killsin liked the plan.  “Thus…

“No,” Replenish spoke up.  “I don’t like the choir idea.  We can have musicians playing, but a choir is too much.  Nothing should distract from our ritual chanting.”

“We’re always chanting,” Recompense complained.  “We need some variety here.  You aren’t exactly the best chanter, either, Replenish.  You get off beat, and cause others to get behind also.  It makes the chanting sound bad.”

“I do not get off,” Replenish objected.

“I agree with Modesty,” Humility decided.  “We can have the choir sing something dark and somber to really set the mood before the sacrifice.  It will be great.”

“Replenish is right, a choir is too much,” Forsaken backed Replenish.  “I still object to whoever decided to have a cheese bar.  Cheese causes my stomach to hurt.”

“The seers have predicted that the vessel of Urthemiel will love cheese,” Killsin revealed.  “Therefore, we will have cheese.”

“What do those seers know,” Forsaken grumbled.  “They’re three old women sitting with candles and bowls of water.  They likely knit and gossip when we’re not around.”

“We will listen to their words,” Killsin’s voice brooked no argument.  “There will be a choir and cheese at the sacrifice.  We will also destroy all of the Grey Wardens, starting with those of Ferleden.  Thus, we have spoken.”

“We have spoken.”  The priests all spoke as one.

Chapter Text

“Hold on to things that make you happy and let go of things that make you sad!  Life is too short to be wasted on negative things.  So, enjoy it,” Zevran declared.

Selene Amell turned her attention back to Kirkwall as it grew larger.  They had passed under large chains and now there were statues of slaves all around her.  “This feels more like a prison than Kinloch Hold.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” Zevran cautioned.  “I overheard some of the other passengers talking and this may not be the best place for us.  There is a mage circle here, the Gallows.  They said the Knight Commander rules the Templars and Mages with an iron fist and she sees blood mages and Malificarum everywhere.”

“So, the city is full of Templars, Andraste’s Bloodied Tears,” she cursed.  She knew that Andraste’s tears weren’t bloody, she’d seen them for herself.  She left the country she loved and many could have beens to find her family, only to find they lived in a viper’s nest.  Her hand went to her abdomen, she had to find family for her baby.  It might turn out to be a horrible demon, but it was her horrible demon and she didn’t want to be the only person raising it.  Besides, the things that made her sad were also back in Ferelden.  She couldn’t let go of him… them… if they were a constant presence in her life.

“I’m here to protect you,” Zevran assured her.  “I can take you to the Dalish if you like, they’re nearby.  You know one clan; the others might be nice to you.”

“I’m a shem,” she reminded him.  “And I’d bring unwanted Templar attention to them.  No, I have enough coin to rent a room in a nice tavern until I find my family or a source of income.  I have a few ideas.”  She smiled sadly.  “I have skills that I’ve never been able to put to use.”

Zevran’s eyes widened.  “You don’t mean… weren’t you a virgin the first time you and Alistair… I’m sure you learned many things being with him, but… I can support us both, don’t go that way, especially not when you have a child on the way.  I told you what it was like growing up in a whorehouse before the Crows bought me.  I don’t care if your baby does have the soul of an archdemon, you can’t raise it in that type of surrounding.  You said you did want to… I mean…”

Selene looked down at her abdomen.  “It’s mine.  It’s mine and Alistair’s, I couldn’t… I… I’ve lost too much.”  She looked back up at him.  “And I wasn’t talking about that.  I mean artisanal skills.  You would think that I meant…?  I defeated an archdemon!”

“Of course,” Zevran gulped.  “I mean… of course.”

“Excuse me,” a man put a hand on her arm and Selene jumped.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.  I’m also from Ferelden.”

“How did you know that I’m from…”   Selene stopped and thought a moment.  “We left from Ferelden, most of us are Fereldans.”

“I’m not,” Zevran reminded her.

“I’ve seen you before,” the man confided.  “I know who you are.  I’m from Redcliffe, you see.  I lost most of my family when the undead attacked.  It’s just my daughter and I.”

“I’m so sorry.”  Selene wished she’d gotten to Redcliffe sooner.  There had been so much wasted life, all thanks to Loghain, Howe, Jowan, and a frightened boy.

“I saw you there,” he added. 

“You must be mistaken,” she insisted.  “I’m not from Redcliffe.”  She didn’t need her presence in Kirkwall becoming a well-known fact in Thedas. 

“You came and fought them off for us.  You made them stop.  You saved my Laurel.”

She smiled at that.  “I… I only did what I thought was right.”

“Why are you fleeing Ferelden?”  He pressed.  “I’d heard the Hero had disappeared, but I know it’s you.”

“I can’t stay,” was all she could tell him.  “Besides, I want to find my own family and the last memory I have of them was in Kirkwall.”

He nodded.  “I hope you find them.  I understand not being able to stay.  I couldn’t bear to be in Redcliffe any longer without my Heather or my other children; Jim, Lily, and Gabriel.  Every time I went into the tavern, I would remember eating there with Heather.  I started rebuilding my home, after the darkspawn burned it down and one day, as I put hammer to nail, I looked over at Laurel.  She was crying because her mother and siblings wouldn’t live there with us.  I knew we had to leave.  A friend of mine gave me a name of a woman who helps Fereldan refugees get settled and find work.  I can take you with me when I meet her.  There is no need for anyone else to know what you did for Ferelden, for Thedas, if you don’t want them to.  The rumors said you just disappeared right before some big celebration.  I figure that means you wanted to disappear and you don’t want people throwing parades for you.”

She nodded.  “That’s right.  Thank you.”

“Did you disappear from our nobles or the Grey Wardens?”  His curiosity was too much.

“Both,” she revealed.

Selene and Zevran followed Samuel, the refugee from Redcliffe, and his daughter Laurel from the ship.  “They kept our people trapped out here during the Blight,” Samuel revealed as they stood on the docks.  “They had to pay bribes to get in or they were sent packing, back to Ferelden.”

“But there was a Blight!”  Selene objected.  “They were sending them back to their deaths, depending on where the ships landed.  If the Archdemon hadn’t been defeated, they all would have been killed!”

Samuel nodded.  “At least things have gotten better since then.”

“Go back to Ferelden!”  A large burly man tried to get in their way.  “We don’t…”  He stopped, his eyes widening.  Then he dropped to the ground.

“Shit!”  Samuel looked around nervously.

“Don’t worry,” Zevran soothed.  “He is alive.  He’s just taking a nap.” 

Selene had seen him blend into shadows, but not what he’d done to the man.  “How?”

“I just nicked his arm with my dagger,” Zevran explained.  “There is a sleeping drought coated on it.  It seems he is very susceptible to it.  He should have been wearing armor.

Samuel nodded and continued on, leading them to Lowtown.  He stopped a man with a mabari beside him.  “I am looking for Lirene’s Fereldan Imports.”

“What is your business with Lirene?”  The man growled.  He looked down at Laurel and his aggressive posture eased a bit.  “I mean… I might know where it is, why do you want to know?”

“We just arrived from Ferelden,” Sam explained.  “You might say we are Ferelden Imports.”

“Is this your wife?”  The man indicated Selene.  “Why does she have a knife ear with her?”

“She’s a friend,” Sam assured him.

“The elf is a friend of mine,” she added.  “He had heard that Kirkwall wasn’t safe for Fereldans and wanted to make sure I was all right.”

Her Fereldan accent, along with Sam’s, must have assured the man.  “Me and my friends make this area safe for Fereldans, my lady.  I’ll take you to Lirene’s store.  Do either of you have any skills?”

“I was a Ferrier,” Sam revealed.  “I haven’t seen many horses around here, though.”

“The Templars have a stable and so do nobles,” the man revealed.  “She might be able to find work for you, something besides the Bone Pitt.  That place isn’t safe, but they do hire Fereldan.  And you, my lady?”

“She’s looking for her family,” Sam explained.  “They… she believes they are here now.”  She knew he meant to assure the man that she was not a Kirkwall native.

“I have some experience with metal working,” Selene added.  “I can carve a mean, yet pretty, quarter staff as well.”  She didn’t mention that she had only made one quarter staff, the rest were eventually made into mage staves.  The Tranquil liked to think they were the only ones who could craft such things, them and the dwarves that was.  One just had to learn to be careful and patient.  She suspected the Templars didn’t want mages making their own weapons, and planning to use them in an uprising, so they perpetuated the false beliefs. 

“She’s also pretty good in a fight,” Zevran spoke up.

Selene glared at him.  She didn’t want it advertised that she was a Grey Warden or a mage.  “I do all right.”

“There are mercenary groups and smugglers who hire if you’re good enough,” the man commented.  “The last time they took on a Fereldan, though, was an apostate and her brother about a year ago.  They’re working for themselves now, from what I hear.  They wanted the pair, because of the apostate.  The brother is handy enough with a sword, but an apostate is a real find.  It’s hard to find mages outside of the Gallows.  Meredith has an iron fist.  Few escape and they aren’t foolish enough to stick around.”

Selene tried not to react.  She wasn’t going back to the Circle, especially not now that she had someone else who had to be protected from the Templars.  She couldn’t fight right now, anyway, so there was no need for anyone to know she was a mage.  At least she couldn’t go looking for fights and battles right now.  She would give her Little Demon the best chance she could.  “I can’t fight right now, I’m… well, that will have to wait awhile.”

“Are you…”  Sam turned to her and looked at her abdomen as if she were already showing. 

“I’m a metal and wood crafter who is retired from fighting,” her voice was firm.

“We’re here,” the man smiled at her.  “Welcome to Kirkwall, just smell the blood magic and oppression.”

Selene had seen nicer shops in Denerim’s Alienage.  For that matter, the alienage was nicer than the area where the shop was located.  The shop had worn wooden walls.  The floor was also wood and even more worn.  A few tables were set up and there was a box on the wall.  A dark-haired woman in clean, but simple clothing was behind the largest table.  There were a few goods, but not many.

“I guess Ferelden isn’t exporting much these days,” Zevran murmured to her.

She looked around again, there were plenty of people in the shop.  They looked worn and sad.  Their voices all lacked any accents.  “Yes, she is, she’s exported too many of her people.”

“I’ll happily find passage on a ship back to her if you want to cut down on that number,” Zevran offered.  At her glared he added, “or I will take you all the way to Antiva.”

“Antiva isn’t safe for you,” she reminded him.  “Besides, I have a reason for being here.”

“And what is your reason for being here?”  The lady who had been behind the longest table asked her.

“Samuel,” Selene looked at her friend.

Sam stepped forward.  “My daughter and I have come from Ferelden.”  He put an arm around Laurel.  “We are here to start a new life.”

“I’d heard the Blight was over,” the woman pointed out.

“It is,” Sam assured her.  “Thanks to Gre…”  He’d turned to look back at Selene who quickly shook her head.  “Thanks to the two Grey Wardens who survived Loghain’s treachery at Ostagar.”

“Then why did you leave?”  The woman pressed.

“I’ve lost too much,” Sam told her.  He told her his story of loss, giving details of the nights that the undead had taken those he loved away from him.  “It’s just us now and we can’t…”  His voice broke.

“Shh,” the woman pulled him into a hug.  “I… I didn’t know that things were so bad there.”

“The Hero of Ferelden stopped it,” the man assured her.  “It was just too late for some of us, but that was Loghain’s fault, not hers.  I hope she knows how much her people appreciate what she did.”

“I’m Lirene,” the woman introduced herself.  “I’ll get you situated.”  She looked up at Selene.  “I’ll help you in a minute.”

“No, you should help…”  Sam began.

“She should first help the father and daughter who were kind enough to bring me here,” Selene insisted.

As Lirene took Sam to the table, Selene turned to one of the patrons.  “Is there any way to help?”

“You want to help?”  The man examined her dress and then glanced at staff she carried.  “First, I’ll give you advise.  Cover the gem on your staff, mage.  It isn’t passing as a quarterstaff and this town has more Templars than Ferelden does dogs.  There’s also a donation box right there,” he pointed to the box on the wall.  “A lot of people don’t hire Ferelden and our people are hungry.  I don’t suppose you’re a healer?”

“No,” she didn’t deny that she was a mage.  She’d gotten too used to the protection of the Grey Wardens and apparently wasn’t hiding well enough.  She’d have to reveal her status if the Templars came after her, but that meant the Grey Wardens would know where she was. 

“Ah,” the patron nodded.  “I’d hoped.  We dearly need one.  The only healers are in the Gallows and the Chantry controls them… and their prices.  Most of us can’t afford those prices.”  Sure, mages could take their golem friends to Tevinter, like Wynne and Shale planned, but they couldn’t go set up a clinic.

“Are they all in the Gallows?”  She would have to find a traditional midwife if they were.

“They are,” the patron confirmed.  “If you know any other apostates, perhaps you could tell a healer we really need them.  But I wouldn’t suggest anyone come here.”  He moved on.

Selene went over to the box and casually pulled out three gold pieces.  She slipped them in and turned back to where Lirene helped Sam.  She found the patroness watching her with interest. 

“Thank you for your help,” Sam took his daughter by the hand and walked to her.  “I hope to see you again.  I can never thank you enough.”

“What did you do for him?”  Lirene inquired.

“It was nothing worth talking about,” Selene assured her.  “He is the one who helped me, by bringing me here.”

“What does bring you and your elven friend to Kirkwall?”  Lirene pressed.

“I’m her bodyguard,” Zevran revealed.

“Really?”  Lirene raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you now in Lowtown, if you can afford a bodyguard?”

“I don’t exactly pay him.”  Selene immediately knew how that sounded.  “He isn’t my slave!  He’s a friend who accompanied me to Kirkwall, because he worries about my safety.  He is free to come and go as he pleases.”

“Does he have any job skills?”  Lirene inquired.

“I’m a former assassin,” Zevran disclosed.  “I am reformed now and only kill those who deserve it.”

“Too bad,” Lirene murmured.  “An assassin in Kirkwall, a professional one, could probably make a lot of money.  If you were in your old profession, I’d suggest you hang around the docks to find work.”

“And you…?”  She looked at Selene.

“Selene Amell,” she introduced herself.

“Amell?”  Lirene obviously recognized the name and Selene silently cursed.  Did all of Kirkwall know her name?  She’d only heard the person who’d killed the Archdemon called the Warden or the Hero of Ferelden. 

“Yes,” Selene sent a silent prayer up to the Maker that all of Kirkwall didn’t know her name and that someone wasn’t running to tell the Fereldan Royal Court where she was.  “My family is from Kirkwall.  I’m here to find them.”

“You are moving here?”  Lirene was surprised.

“I am,” Selene assured her.  “I have no intention of going back to Ferelden.  I… Sam and I have that in common, it’s too painful to be there after all I lost during the Blight.”

Lirene nodded.  “We had plenty of refugees fleeing here during the Blight.  Thank the Maker for the Grey Warden who stopped it, but you aren’t the first one who lost too much.  What skills do you have?”

“I have studied metal and wood working, although I didn’t have much time to develop a career out of it when I was… in my previous life,” she explained.  “I’ve spent the last year battling… involved in fighting darkspawn.”

“You fought darkspawn!”  Lirene’s eyes widened.  “What are they like?”

“They’re horrid, mindless monsters,” Selene informed her.  “I am in no condition to fight right now, though.”

Lirene scanned her quickly.  “I don’t see any injuries.  Did you take an arrow to the knee?”

“I…”  Selene swallowed.  “I have found myself in delicate condition.  I became… gravid… shortly before the Battle of Denerim.”

“You’re…”  Lirene’s eyes went to her abdomen.  She nodded.  “That would keep you from joining any mercenary groups or smugglers.  I was almost hoping you could join the guards.  The guard captain was recently arrested and has been replaced by a Fereldan woman.  It would be nice to see more of our women in the guards and in honorable positions.”

“I was more interested in opening a shop where I sold staffs and metal goods; jewelry and such,” Selene explained.  “I have made a sword before, but I feel I need more practice before I become a weapon smith.”

Lirene nodded.  “I can help you get set up.  “The gold you just donated has more than earned you that.”

“I…”  Selene had thought she was more subtle.

“Do you still have enough to cover rent somewhere?”  Lirene inquired.

“I do,” Selene assured her. 

“I’d heard the Amells used to be a proud noble family around here,” Lirene noted.  “And you’re obviously educated, so I can find you basic scholarly work while you get the shop set up if you need it.  You’ll need to go to the Gallows to find a healer for your pregnancy.  If you would prefer a midwife, I can get you one.”

“I would prefer a midwife, unless you can find a healer not at the Gallows,” Selene assured her.

“Not at the…”  Lirene’s eyes went to the staff Selene carried.  “Oh.  You might want to disguise that more as a walking stick and stay as far from the Gallows as you can.  Too bad you aren’t a healer.  I will have someone take you to the Hanged Man.  It’s a dirty dump, but it is a good place for your friend to find work and it’s safe.  I can send out feelers for your family if you’d like.”

“You can do that?”  Selene’s jaw dropped.  She hadn’t expected help so soon.

“You’re one of my imports,” Lirene patted her hand.

“I…”  Selene looked around the place again.  “Do you need help here?  I can try to find time to come here and help with our people.”  She found that she’d spent so long helping the people of Ferelden that she didn’t want to stop.  She didn’t want to be their Hero, but she would be there if they needed her.

“I would like that,” Lirene smiled at her.  “I can promise you that no Templars come in here and someone with your… education… would come in handy.  If only you knew how to heal.”

Chapter Text

They were out of cheese.  That was it, Alistair hated his job.  The cook had told him just that morning that they’d run out.  She claimed that their shortage had been mentioned in a report she’d sent to the seneschal and it wasn’t her fault if he didn’t get the message.  He was sure that this would never have happened if Selene had stayed as one of his advisers.  Life would be so much better if she had just stayed.

He reached down and scratched the top of Barkspawn’s head while half listening to Eamon and the other advisers gathered in this office.  He’d sneak out and go to a tavern for dinner.  They’d have cheese.

“We are going to have a ball and invite the eligible ladies of Thedas to it,” Eamon was saying.

“What?”  Alistair had no idea what he was talking about.

Barkspawn perked his ears up at the word ball, but then realized that Eamon wasn’t talking about playing and rested his head back against Alistair’s leg.  Alistair knew his dog had been as depressed as he had been for the last few months.  Maker, they both missed her. 

Gallagher Wulff groaned.  “Your Majesty, should we continue this at some other time, when you aren’t distracted.  What’s wrong?”

“Did we run out of cheese in the palace?”  Teagan teased.

“Yes,” Alistair moaned.  “We did.”

Elfstanna blinked at him.  “Seriously?  We’re planning a major social event and the palace kitchen can’t even keep cheese supplied?  Is this Ferelden or have I found myself in Orlais?”

“Orlais doesn’t run out of cheese,” Alistair declared.  The Empress of Orlais probably didn’t lose the woman she loved, either.  They were ruthless and could keep those they love at their side while playing their deadly Game.  “I’ll have to reorganize the palace so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Alistair,” Eamon’s voice was firm.  “The ball is more important.”

Alistair wondered when Eamon had gone insane.  A ball more important than cheese?  Was he really a Fereldan?  “OK.  Tell me about this ball.”

“We’ll plan it for six months from now,” Elfstanna declared.  “That will give us time to get out all of the invitations and for the ladies to have time to come.  We may want events leading up to the ball, so Your Majesty can get to know your guests.”

“Why?”  His heart was taken, it was gone.  Selene had taken it with her when she left him.  There was nothing left to give to another.  He was left cold, with his duty. 

“What was that?”  Eamon turned sharply on him.

“Who will be organizing these events?”  He’d go through the motions.  He’d find someone who would be a good mother to his heirs.  He did owe it to his future child to make sure they were happy.  He cursed the fates that that child could not be Selene’s as well. 

“We’ll bring your seneschal in,” Eamon decided.  “He will be organizing the palace for our guests, so he might have a say; but you are in charge, Alistair.”

“We will all help, though,” Gallagher offered.  “We want to attract a queen who will be good for Ferelden.”

“Of course,” Alistair closed his eyes for a moment and petted Barkspawn’s head again.  “As for the seneschal, we’ll bring in a new one.”

“A new one?”  Eamon was confused.

“We ran out of cheese,” Alistair pointed out.  Why did Eamon not see what a tragedy that was? 

“Agreed,” Alfstanna nodded.  “Let us know if you need help interviewing them.”

“I have to…?”  Alistair trailed off.  Of course, he had to interview his own steward.  If Selene had stayed, he could have asked her to do it; or at least, do it with him.  He trusted her opinion on people, even if she was foolish enough to fall in love with him.  “Of course, I will let you know.”

“We need to discuss the guest list as well,” Eamon turned the subject back to the ball.  “We have to invite Empress…”

The door opened and everyone’s attention turned to the messenger coming in.  He wore a Grey Warden uniform and had a messenger bag strapped around him. 

A guard came chasing after him.  “I told him he had to wait, but he came in anyway.  I don’t want to hurt a Grey Warden.”

“As if you could,” the messenger raised an eyebrow.

Eamon crossed his arms.  “This had better be important.”

Alistair leaned forward.  “What is it?  Do we have another darkspawn problem?  Is something wrong with Amaranthine?”

“I hope there aren’t more darkspawn raising out of the south a Ferelden,” the messenger confided.  “Weisshaupt has sent several letters to Ferelden, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t know why neither Amell nor I died when we killed the Archdemon,” Alistair sighed.  “I told you guys that already.  Yes, one of us should be dead, but neither of us are.”  He prayed to the Maker that Selene wasn’t dead.   He’d received no word from her since she disappeared months before. 

“Yes, so you both claimed,” the Grey Warden nodded.  “We have our mages researching that one.  We have sent several letters to Warden Amell.”

“Really?”  Alistair half stood up and Barkspawn’s ears perked.  “Where is she?”  He was desperate for any word.  “Is she all right?”

The Grey Warden looked at the others and then at Alistair.  “The last we knew she was in Denerim.  We only recently learned that our missives were undeliverable.  That curriers couldn’t find her.  We thought she was with you.  That’s when we sent you a letter.  Then another one.”  His gaze slid significantly to a pile of untouched papers on Alistair’s desk.

Alistair sat back down, his heart dropping with the loss of hope.  “I don’t know where she is.  She disappeared.”

Barkspawn gave a howl.  He still missed his mistress, that much was obvious.

“We want her to take control of our base in Amaranthine,” the Grey Warden set a metal tube in front of the king.  “In there you will find her orders and her promotion to the rank of Commander.”

“But I don’t know where she is,” Alistair protested.

“The Grey Wardens would like to remind you that you are one of us and ask you do this duty for us.  Deliver this to her.  We have a Warden from Orlais travelling to Amaranthine now to take charge until Commander Amell can be reached and reports for duty.  Find her, Your Majesty.  The Grey Wardens are calling on her.”

“You can’t bring an Orlesian in!”  Bann Wulff objected.

“Not after they did nothing to help us during the Blight!”  the Bann of the Waking Sea, Elfstanna, agreed.  “They sat at the border, eating snails and long loafs of bread, while we battled an archdemon!”

“I suggest you find your missing Grey Warden then.”  The messenger turned on his heal and left.

Alistair opened the tube.  In it was indeed orders and a promotion for Selene.  If he knew where she was, he would… What? He asked himself.  What would he do?  She had left him.  She’d chosen to go.  He’d learned that Zevran had gone with her.  She’d left him for Zevran, that’s what Eamon had told him.  Part of Alistair believed him, but part refused to.  He’d broken her heart, Zevran was better for her; that damned sexy elf.  Well, now he needed to find her for other reasons.  He didn’t know where to start, though.  He knew someone who might, though.

“She ran off with that elf,” Eamon grumbled.  “What was his name?”

“Zevran,” Elfstanna supplied.  “All we know is that they left together, there is no reason to think there was more between them.”

“She was a beautiful woman and he a sexy elf,” Wulff pointed out.  “Why wouldn’t she go for more?  I wouldn’t trust him around my daughter.”

“Sage!”  Alistair called out. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sage, one of his servants came in.  His head was held high and he nodded at the nobles.  “Does Barkspawn need his walkies?”

Barkspawn looked up, hopefully at that.  He liked the elven servant who took him around the palace district and snuck him sausages.  The servant had once told him that he remembered Barkspawn bravely helping to defend his family’s home in the Alienage during the Battle of Denerim.

“It appears that he wouldn’t object to that,” Alistair noted.  “You can after you send a message for me.  Tell the scribes that I need a letter summoning Leliana to the palace.  She was called to Val Royeaux recently by the Divine.  Have them tell her it’s important and it has to do with Selene Amell.  The name should get her here.”

“The Hero, did you find her?”  Elf perked up.

“No,” Alistair sighed.  “That’s why I need Leliana.  I might also need Wynne.  Have her summoned as well.  I hope she isn’t off in Tevinter.”

Chapter Text

Waiting could be a torture worse than being bludgeoned against a wall with a broodmother’s tentacles.  Alistair realized this as he waited for Wynne and Leliana, mostly for Leliana.  He planned to speak with both of them personally and then he would go to Amaranthine and check on this new Warden Commander.  He would get a feel for this Orlesian who was also a fellow Grey Warden.

Wynne had arrived at Denerim Palace within a few days of Alistair sending out his summons.  He had been sitting on the throne, listening to two merchants argue about which one of them had the right to sell bath oils.  One sold imported oils from Orlais, the other bought her oils from a woman in Highever who made them in her own cottage.

“Ferelden has a fair market system,” he declared.  He wasn’t sure what that meant, but his new seneschal gave him a thumbs up.  He’d recently hired Bonnie daughter, of the Cousland’s old steward, whose father had died when Arl Howe had attacked their castle.  She was obviously well educated and had explained the idea to him.  She encouraged him to open the markets to more merchants and to let them compete with each other, making sure the people of Denerim had a choice of which merchant or artisan to use; never letting one get control of any industry.  She also took over many of the preparations for the upcoming balls and promised to have spies look at his potential brides to see which ones might be a good match.  Plus, Barkspawn had seemed to like her and he’d had the final say.  “You are both free to sell your goods in Denerim’s market.  The people will go to the one whose product is best.”

“That would be the oils from Highever,” the royal steward confided to him.

Alistair smiled at her.  He realized it was the first time he’d smiled in weeks.  “I’ll have to send someone to the shops to compare.”

“I’ll be happy to try those products for you, Your Majesty,” Wynne declared as she strolled into the hall.  “Is that why I was summoned?”

“No,” Alistair’s smile disappeared.  “No, it wasn’t.”  He stood.  “Commander Selene Amell has been summoned to lead the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine.”

Wynne’s face brightened.  “You found her.”  The brightness faded and Alistair knew something in his face betrayed his grief and worry. 

He swallowed to keep his voice even.  “Let’s discuss this in my office.”  He stood; Wynne followed.           

Alistair sat behind his desk and put his head in his hands for a moment.

“What’s this?”  Wynne took a paper that lay on top of the desk. 

“No don’t…”  He knew what it was.  It was a drawing of Selene.  She was laying front first down on their bedroll, her face turned towards him and her hair falling to the side so her back was exposed.  It was only half sketched and her lower back was now blurred from his tears.

“Oh, Alistair,” Wynne gazed at the drawing, her voice was sad.  “It’s not easy to get over someone when you are once again in their presence all the time.  Are you sure you want me to find her?”  She lay the picture down.  “Perhaps you should try to forget her.”

“You once told me you have a son,” Alistair reminded her.  “You haven’t seen him since the Chantry took him from your arms.  Have you forgotten him?”

“Never,” she said before even she was aware the word had formed.

Alistair nodded once.  “What will you tell him about his father?”

“He…”  Wynne hesitated this time.  “He was a Templar at Kinloch hold.”

“So, you have forgotten his name?”  That did surprise him.  Was it possible?  He just could never see himself forgetting Selene’s name, not even if he forgot his own.

“No,” Wynne admitted.  “I… it will be up to his father to give him that information.  He was a Templar; he may not want anyone to know that he had a child with a mage.  I… I have seen him since our son’s birth.  He had been transferred away before I realized I was with child; it is likely one of his superiors realized our relationship.  He came back after I gave birth.”

“Does he know about his son?”  Alistair leaned forward.  He took back the drawing and slipped it under another piece of paper, exposing the edges of another drawing.  This one was just Selene’s head.  Her hair was up and she was concentrating.  His tears had smudged her pert nose and the freckles that were scattered across it.

“He knows,” Wynne was speaking of her child’s father.  “He returned to Kinloch hold… after.  He wasn’t happy when he found out I’d had a child and not told him I was expecting.  He… I made a choice and it had consequences.”

Alistair wonder what would happen if the woman he loved had a child and didn’t tell him she had been pregnant.  It was pure speculation, though.  He loved a fellow Grey Warden and everyone knew they couldn’t have babies together.  It was time to get to work and stop dwelling on the past, anyway.  “I’ve also summoned Leliana.  I have no idea where Selene and Zevran are.  We found witnesses who saw them leave on a ship together.  That’s all I know.  I will send Leliana searching north.  I am going to send you to the west.  I can’t see them hiding out in the Brecilian Forest and there is nothing east of us except a handful of islands.  I already had those checked.”

Wynne nodded.  “I don’t have nearly as many resources as Leliana, but I should manage.  It will be an excuse to go back to travelling.  You might want to consider contacting the Crows.  Let them know that Zevran ran off with someone you’re trying to find.  They might just find them for you.”

Alistair was shocked Wynne would suggest such a thing.  “They think Zevran is dead and I’m not going to tell them differently.  They would kill him Wynne, and possibly those with him for good measure.  They already attacked Selene once, when she wouldn’t hand him over.  I don’t know if they are… together… or not, but I wouldn’t do that to either of them.”

“They had a contract on her,” Wynne nodded.  “What will the Grey Wardens do if you can’t find her?”

“They’ve already sent an Orlesian Warden,” Alistair explained.  “It is not a popular decision among my advisers nor will it be with the people of Amaranthine.  I will meet with Leliana and then check on the Grey Wardens.”

Leliana arrived in Denerim two weeks after Wynne had.  Alistair was sitting at his desk, listening to Bonnie who was going over the tedious details of running the palace.

“I have had a long talk with the cook,” Bonnie was saying.  “We’ve determined that one of the servant’s has been stealing from the supplies and is especially fond of cheese.  She wants to set a trap for them to figure out who it is.  I suggested she just explain, in detail, why stealing cheese in the Denerim Palace is a very bad idea.”

“What sort of trap?”  Alistair wondered.  Zevran had stolen his Selene, now someone was stealing his cheese.

“It is rather intricate and involves a ball of twine, wax, and…”  She paused as the door opened.

“There’s my favorite king!”  Leliana rushed in.  She skirted around the desk and hugged Alistair.  She was dressed in casual clothes that reminded Alistair of a jacket and doublet.  He saw two prominent daggers.  He wondered why; he knew she was better with a bow.  “Your message said it was important, that it had to do with Selene.”

Bonnie groaned.  “We try not to say that name around here.”

“Which is hard with the Grey Wardens insisting I find her,” Alistair added.

“Why you?”  Leliana motioned to a servant who brought in her bags.

“I’ll see to those,” Bonnie stepped out with the servant.

“Leave that one,” Leliana motioned to a thin, tall wrapped package.  “Why don’t the Wardens look for her themselves?  Why do they expect you to find her?”

“I suspect they tried and failed to find her,” Alistair admitted.  “They may not want to admit that they’ve lost track of one of their Wardens.  Either way, they are installing an Orlesian Commander in Amaranthine until we locate her and give her their orders.  You can imagine how well that’s going to go over with the locals.”

“I was at the Landsmeet,” Leliana reminded him.  “Many backed Loghain’s irrational fears of Orlesians.” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s irrational,” Alistair muttered.  “They have their reasons and it will make things harder.  That’s why I’m leaving for Amaranthine at the end of the week.  I will meet this Commander and smooth feathers.  It will be easier to smooth them if I can assure them that a Fereldan Commander is on the way.”

“Alistair, she left on her own,” Leliana pointed out.  “She may not be willing to come.”

“You mean she might be living in blissful domesticity with Zevran,” he groaned.

“Zevran and domestic aren’t two words I would use together.”  A soft smile spread on Leliana’s face.  “Mother Dorothea wants me back as soon as I can manage, but I am worried about Selene, too.  I want to be sure she’s safe, that she’s happy.”

Alistair gulped.  He wanted her to be happy, too.  He needed to know she was all right and why she had left.  “Please, find her for me.”

“I will,” Leliana vowed.  “I… I don’t know if I should give this to you, knowing you don’t even say the name Selene around here; but I missed her.”  She grabbed the package.  “I was doing it for me at first, then I had a dream about you.  You were sitting in this office, drawing a picture of her, and crying.  You cried out to the Maker, asking him to send her back to your somehow.  But then things got dark and a voice boomed out, saying you chose duty and will never see her face again.  It was probably just a dream, because then I saw Eamon laughing maniacally as his wife stirred some large cauldron.  Teagan joined them, going off about how much he hates Grey Wardens; that’s the part that told me it had to be a dream.”

“One would hope so after two Wardens saved his life.  Not to mention saving the rest of Redcliffe more than once.”  Alistair wondered about Leliana’s dreams.  How many times had he found himself crying while in his office, while sitting at the very desk he was now behind?  He had almost been brought to tears that time he’d learned the palace had run out of cheese.  There were still times that he found tears falling as his thoughts strayed to Selene, which was why he steward and servants had declared her name was not to be mentioned.  Heck, he might have shed a tear thinking about all of those women he would have to play nice to as the royal ball approached. 

“I’ll leave this with you while I search,” she laid the painting on his desk.  “If you find you don’t want it, I’ll take it back when I return.”

Alistair slowly opened the package to find a painting of Selene.  It wasn’t a portrait and had to be painted from memory.  She wasn’t dressed in a gown, although he’d seen her in one plenty of times, but Grey Warden Mage Armor.  She grasped her staff in both hands and the wind, likely from a storm she’d called up, was whipping around her.  Her hair was in a long braid and it flew in the gusts.  There was a look of fierce determination on her face.  It was a reminder of the hero all of Ferelden had lost.  It was a reminder of what he had lost.  He touched the cheek of the painting and then leaned it against the wall behind him.  He would not be returning it.

Chapter Text

The Hanged Man was a shithole.  There was no way to deny that fact.  Selene called it home, though.  She had thought of purchasing a house and leaving the rooms, but for now they suited her purposes and she was still preparing to open her shop.

            Zevran, on the other hand, already had a flourishing business going.  Selene remembered when he’d mused, at camp, about going into business for himself when the Blight was over.  She didn’t ask about his business dealings, but he’d assured her that it was nice to keep the coin for his services.  There was, indeed, plenty of work for him at the docks alone, but he told her he was thinking of branching out to the rest of Kirkwall.  She had no doubt that there were plenty of business opportunities for professional assassins in Hightown, she just didn’t want him attracting the notice of the Crows.  Caesar had promised her that no more Crows would be coming after her, but he wouldn’t even acknowledge Zevran’s existence when he saw him; and that was being nice to him.

            Selene was renting a warehouse in the docks, where she set up a workshop and was storing goods.  She planned to have a shop opened up a shop within the month.  She had a couple of possible locations in mind.  She wanted a location in Hightown, but that was likely to attract unwanted Templar attention.  She could insist that her staffs were just quarter staffs, but she wouldn’t doubt they’d have the Grand Enchanter or Enchantress from the Gallows test one out.  Then she would have to answer some uncomfortable questions; which would lead to her only hope being proving she was actually a Grey Warden.  And she wanted to forget she was a Grey Warden.  Darktown was likely her best bet.  There were so many illegal activities and businesses there, she would blend right in.  The Templars might even be more interested in some of the other businesses.  She would also sell some of her goods out of Lirene already carried some of her stock and it was selling.

            She dressed in soft leather trews and a tunic that hid her baby bump.  Then she braided her hair in the Orlesian style.  She laid a hand on her abdomen.  “Ready to go, Little Demon?”  She was just beginning to feel the baby move.  It was a comfort; she wasn’t going insane; there really was something in there and a reason she hadn’t died when she and him had killed the Archdemon.

            The tavern had plenty of business, despite the early hour.  Her dwarven neighbor already sat at his favorite table, doing paperwork.  She made her way to Corff, the tavernkeeper.  “Any news?”

            “Your friend Lirene wants to talk to you,” he handed her a note.  She didn’t complain that he opened her messages.  He was less intrusive than the Templars and she trusted him more.  He would keep her secrets.  “I think she’s got word about your family.  She’s traced an Amell who came to the city during the Blight.”

            Neither of them noticed the dwarven resident had set down his quill and cocked his head, trying to listen in on their conversation.

            Selene reminded herself not to get her hopes up.  “During the Blight?  Were they in Ferelden for some reason?”  Had one of her family come looking for her?  But they had to know she was imprisoned in a Mage Circle.

            “Most of those who came during the Blight were from Ferelden,” Corff pointed out the obvious.

            “True,” she conceded.  “I’ll find out more from Lirene.  Do you have any Antivan Coffee?”

            “Let’s make a deal, if you bring it in, I’ll get it ready for you in the morning,” Corff shrugged.  “Otherwise I might have a weak tea.”

            “I’ll pick something up while I’m out,” she assured him.  “Have you heard any rumors?”

            “You hear about the Arl of Redcliffe? Some say that Andraste Herself reached down and cured him so he could unite the land.”  Corff shook his head.

            She sighed.  So, Eamon was getting credit for uniting the land.  All he did was make a speech.  “I should stop asking.  Ashes from the Urn of Sacred Ashes were used to cure him and the Hero of Ferelden did it because she needed his army to help fight the Archdemon.”

            “That’s not what I heard,” Corff insisted.  “And I heard the Hero of Ferelden was a man.  Who is your source?”

            “I spent some time in Redcliffe,” she told him.  “I was there when the Hero of Ferelden came through.”  She turned and noticed that she had the dwarf’s attention.  He was studying her with interest.

            “Who is that exactly?”  She asked Corff quietly.  She tilted her chin to the dwarf in question.

            He followed her gaze.  “That’s Master Varric Tethras.  He lives here, too, and keeps trying to buy the Hanged Man from me.  His brother’s planning some big expedition into the Deep Roads if you’re interested.”

            “Not in my condition,” she patted her lower abdomen.  “Besides, I have absolutely no desire to go near the Deep Roads.  I have seen more darkspawn than I ever wanted to.”

            Corff nodded.  “I expect many of your countrymen have also.  Master Tethras is also an author.  He likes telling stories, he watches people.  They give him ideas for his characters.  Watch, one of his stories will soon feature a refugee who has found herself in the family way, while she searches for what relatives she has left.”

            “Won’t that be interesting,” she glanced back at him.  As long as the words ‘hero’, ‘mage’, or ‘Grey Warden’ didn’t show up, she was fine.

            “Oh, those Qunari who landed during that bad storm that hit about a month before you got here are building an even bigger base nearby.  Be careful of them when you go out,” Corff warned.

            “How is it no one has tried to get them to leave?”  Selene remembered Sten’s warning about how the Qunari planned to conquer all of Thedas one day.  “Doesn’t Kirkwall have a Viscount?”

            “He’s playing nice with them,” Corff answered.  “No one wants a city of rampaging Qunari.  I know you don’t with your little one on the way.”

            “No, I don’t,” she agreed.

            Selene eyed the Qunari barracks as she hurried by.  Nothing good would come of that, but she had other problems.  She hurried on to Fereldan Imports.

            Lirene greeted her with a smile.  “There you are!”

            “How are things going?”  Selene inquired.

            “We’re getting more locals coming in to shop,” Lirene confided.  “They like your goods.  We’ve sold out of the armbands you made.  And only have two of your walking sticks left.  I have rebranded them as walking sticks,” she confided.  “Even ‘quarterstaff’ might get some Templars in here and we don’t want them asking questions.”

            “If I’m going to cause problems with the Templars, I can stay away,” Selene offered, even though she’d come to greatly enjoy the time she spent there.  She liked helping her people without fancy titles and without them looking at her with fear.  These weren’t the Bannorn who would back her in battle and then reject her as a leader because she was a mage.

            “No, you can’t,” Lirene disagreed.  “I need your help too much.  Besides, you aren’t the only one trying to avoid the Templars for one reason or another.  Things have gotten worse in this city since Knight-Commander Meredith took over the Gallows.  She’s very… militaristic minded and Viscount Dumar won’t stand up to her.  Grand Cleric Elthina, in fact, supports her.”

            “Of course, she does,” Selene muttered.  A Chantry Head backing a knight-commander was no surprise.  She would have expected to see more Chantry representatives around Low-Town, helping the poor and downtrodden, but hadn’t seen a one.  She arranged one of the displays and then grabbed a broom to begin sweeping.  “Have you convinced the Guard Captain to hire another Fereldan woman yet?”

            “Not yet,” Lirene admitted.  “I just haven’t seen any possibilities coming through.  Isn’t Ferelden supposed to be full of people who know what end of a sword to hold?”

            “It is,” Selene confirmed.  “I have a feeling we have mostly farmers and widows and orphans.  Those who knew what they were doing stayed home to give others a chance to flee or guarded the other refugees.  They would have been among the first to fall.  There were so many refugees during the Blight.”  She’d seen so many on the road while travelling and found caravans that had run into darkspawn.  She still had nightmares occasionally about them.  They were mixed into all of the other nightmares. 

            “The mine, the Bone Pit, is the biggest employer of Fereldan immigrants,” Lirene confided.  “There are some disturbing rumors about the history of that place and I’m not sure it’s safe.  However, too many people won’t hire Fereldan around here and there is no farmland.  Food is imported.”

            “What can we do about that?”  Selene took a broom and began sweeping out Lirene’s shop.

            “We need more of our own opening shops and businesses, who will hire their former countrymen.  Perhaps we can get those still in Ferelden to help,” Lirene suggested.  “I don’t suppose you know any nobles who want to open up businesses here?”

            Selene did know a handful of nobles, but she wasn’t willing to talk to them.  Those were the very people who would not accept her as his consort and then started throwing their daughters at the new king, determined that they be the new queen.  For a moment, she wondered who he had ended up picking or if he’d let Eamon choose for him.  It was likely a matter of the latter.  “No, I’m afraid I spent most of my life in Kinloch Hold.  I doubt they are allowing mages to open businesses up here.”

            “Perhaps you can find your new family connections.”  Lirene grinned at her as she rushed behind the counter and retrieved a slip of paper.  “I traced a family of refugees who came to Kirkwall during the Blight.  They got into the city with the help of a relative.  It was a pair of siblings and their mother, from Lothering.  Their name was Eagle.  No, that’s not right.”  She stopped and looked down at the paper.  “Hawke, it was Hawke.  The sibling’s uncle got them in.”  She paused for dramatic affect.  “His name is Gamlen Amell.  He’s their mother’s brother.  He spends most of his time at the Blooming Rose.”

            “The Blooming Rose?”  Selene had never heard of it.  “It is a tavern?”

            “It’s…”  Lirene stopped and coughed.  “It’s a brothel.”

            “Great,” Selene put a hand on her abdomen.  “Not the type of man I want around Little Demon, then.”

            “They also sell drinks, so maybe he’s just a lush.  His sister and the siblings are living with him,” Lirene handed her the paper.  “She would be an Amell by birth.  You might want to check them out.”

            Selene took the paper.  It was the first lead she’d gotten.  She might as well look into it.  “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

            Secret ceremonies in which malevolent men and women cloaked in hooded robes, hiding behind painted faces and chanting demonic incantations while inflicting sadistic wounds on innocent children lying on makeshift altars and inverted stakes with fake flames, like those that killed Andraste, sounded like fun; but these things took plenty of planning and so many things could go wrong.  Not that Killsin would ever use a makeshift altar.  No, the previous members of the order had carved one out of marble and it had stood for hundreds of years.  Things has still gone wrong.

            He entered the sacred valley used for the order’s Summersend celebration and listened to a choir sing praises to the Old Gods.  He had found a teenage girl in a nearby village who was perfect for the ceremony.  She had been in a Chantry orphanage.  He gave the Reverend Mother who was running it plenty of coin for her.  He had told her that he needed a housemaid for his poor, ill mother.  The Reverend Mother didn’t ask many questions and seemed somewhat relieved to see her go.  She was already on the altar.  Chains went from either side of the altar and held her hands stretched over her head and kept her legs together.

            He and the other priests were clad in black robes.  As he approached the altar, he wondered if they shouldn’t trade them out for a different color, and lighter material, for the summer.  The robes got hot.  He held an athame and approached the altar.

            The girl, Kitiara, struggled as he stood over her.  He began his speech, praising the Old Gods and their strength and love.  The speech went over the purity of their sacrifice and the gifts that they could expect as a result.  He ended it with ‘All praise!’.

“All praise!”  The people repeated.

That was when Kitiara began to laugh.  It caused him to stop.  He had never had a sacrifice laugh before.  He might need to switch to infants and toddlers.  Infants were dignified enough to cry.  The teenagers, he had just learned, laughed.  He lifted the ceremonial dagger, ready to end her, especially since those gathered were looking nervous and not just because Renewed’s turnip salad was sitting out in the sun.

Then the athame began to move in his hand, as if it were trying to escape.  He clutched it tighter.  He noticed Kitiara’s eyes on it before she spoke.  “You think I’m a virgin?  Why do you think Reverend Mother Sheila was so eager to get rid of me?  I seduced one of the Templars.”

Killsin’s eyes widened.  Was it true?  He hadn’t had her virginity confirmed.  He learned there were ways to fool the examiners.  Patience Hopkins had proved that when it came out that she’d been having a long-time affair with Fidel when she was wed to Assurance.  “You lie!”  He made sure his voice rang out across the gathered crowds.  He hoped it went to the Gods ears.  He didn’t have time to find a new sacrifice.  If he didn’t sacrifice Kitiara, he would have to get a volunteer from the crowd and finding a voluntary sacrificial human was harder than it sounded.

“How else do you think I hid this from them!”  The sacrifice moved her hands and pointed her fingers down.  The robes became a benefit as the air around the altar became cold.  The chains froze and shattered.  Kitiara sat up and continued blasting cold air at her feet.  When her feet were free, she stood on the altar.  She looked around at the group as if judging her chances against them.  Then she jumped and ran, knocking over the table holding the refreshments.

“My custards!” Continent cried.

“The sacrifice is escaping!” Abstinence objected.

“She wasn’t even a virgin,” Creedence reminded him.

Killsin sighed.  The day was not going as planned.  He scanned his followers.  “Would anyone care to volunteer?”  For some reason, no one did.  He sighed.  “We shall draw lots.”

As Forsaken went to get sticks, he turned to Humility.  “Have we found the one who carries Urthemiel yet?”

“No,” Forsaken admitted.  “But it appears that we may have a way to infiltrate one of our Ferelden targets.  We’ll be moving Lydia Rogers in.”

“That’s good,” Killsin nodded.  Perhaps the entire day was not a tragedy.

Chapter Text

The Hero of Ferelden was a coward.  That is what Selene admitted to herself.  She’d had the name of another Amell in Kirkwall for a month and she had yet to go visit them.  She’d made the excuse that she needed to get her shop going and income coming in.  Then it was that she was getting settled into working in Darktown.  There was so much shady business going on in there, that whether or not some of her wares included mage staffs was not a Templar’s immediate concern.

            The other denizens had been a bit wary of her at first, then Tomwise, a purveyor of poisons, had noticed her profile while she’d been setting up her shop and come to talk to her.  He’d explained that Darktown was not the best place for a baby.  However, her condition had caused the other shopkeepers to become protective, no matter how many times she’d assured them that she could take care of herself.

            When a smugglers group had come to harass her, for cutting into their market with the metal works she carried, she’d used one of the swords on them.  As it began to turn into a battle, she’d resorted to her magic, killing most of the group in a storm she’d summoned.  After that, no one tried to interfere with her business again.  The survivors of the smuggler’s group had also received scorn, derision, and anger from their comrades in the underworld for attacking a pregnant woman.

            Now, she sat at her booth, discussing an arm cuff with the top lieutenant of a mercenary group, who was interested in it.  “It’s nice to have such items available down here,” the lieutenant commented.  “Although, you could probably get more for your wares in Hightown.”

            “I have no interest in working in Hightown,” Selene assured her.

            The woman eyed her for a moment.  “Is that because there are too many Templars?”

            “I don’t know what you mean?”  She smiled sweetly.  “I admit I’m not big on the Chantry or their army, but why would I avoid them?”

            “Besides some of your wares?” The lieutenant inclined her head towards the staves.

            “Those are just walking sticks and quarter staffs,” Selene assured her.  “Sometimes, one needs a staff to lean on.  Oh, some are also bows.”

            “That one has a crystal on top,” the lieutenant motioned to a staff Selene had thought she hid in the shadows.”

            “It’s an old aiming trick I learned when I visited a Dalish clan, old elven trick that many don’t understand,” Selene assured her.

            “My group used to have a mage among them,” the lieutenant kept her voice casual, as she dug in her bag for payment for the armband.  “She was rather handy to have around.  We had to take on her brother as well, but he wasn’t that bad with a sword.”

            “Interesting,” Selene happily took the payment.

            “She only stayed with us a year and left months ago,” the customer sighed.  “It would be nice to have another mage on the team.  Raven Hawke left after her one-year contract was up.”

            “If I meet a mage, I’ll let them know,” Selene’s voice was easy and non-committal.  Then the name caught her attention.  “Raven Hawke?  Does she have an uncle named Gamlen Amell?”

            “She does,” the customer confirmed.  “He is the one who arranged her position in our group.  He… owed us.”

            “So, she payed?”  Selene didn’t like what she’d heard of this guy, but was interested in learning that his niece was a mage.

            “Just remember my offer.”  The lieutenant put on the arm band and left. 

            Selene vowed she would stop by this Gamlen Amell’s home after she packed up her shop for the night.  Someone should be home at that hour.

            She had faced and killed an arch-demon; Selene reminded herself as she stared at the dilapidated home in the Lowtown district.  Hell, she’d faced a brood mother and nothing could be scarier than that thing had been; multiple sets of breasts and tentacles stayed with you.  She slowly walked to the door and knocked.

            A dark-haired man with very blue eyes answered.  He was much too young to be Gamlen.  He smiled when he saw her.  “Well, hello, my lady.  What can I do to help you?”

            She supposed this must be the nephew, Raven Hawke’s brother.  She tried to recall his name.  Was it Carter, Charter, Martyr?  “I need to talk to Gamlen Amell,” she told him.

            “Uncle Gamlen?”  He frowned.  “What would someone like you want with him?  You aren’t from the Blooming Rose, are you?”

            “Carver,” a soft voice snarked from behind him.  “No woman who works at the Blooming Rose would just tell you they worked there.”

            “Oh, they would, Raven,” Carver assured the woman behind him.  “They would just likely be wearing less clothes.”

            She suddenly didn’t want Carver looking at her clothes.  “I don’t work at the Blooming Rose.  May I come in?”

            “Oh,” he jumped back.  “Of course.”  He studied her as she moved past him.  “I guess the babe’s father wouldn’t like it if you worked there.”

            She placed a hand on her abdomen, her profile was beginning to give her and Little Demon away.  “The babe’s father has no say in anything I do.”

            “Oh, so you are a…”  Carver stopped when his sister kicked the back of his leg, hard.

            “My brother’s foot likes to live in his mouth,” the woman she took to be Raven Hawke glared at Carver.  Raven’s hair undoubtedly had an influence on her name, as it was a similar color to the wings of that creature.  Her eyes were as piercing blue as Selene’s own.  And she had a swipe of blood on her face, Selene wondered if she was aware that she hadn’t gotten all of the blood from her day off.  She knew she personally didn’t like it when she got a lot of blood on her.

            “I have a shop in Darktown,” she divulged.  “I came looking for Gamlen, after a friend gave me his name.  He has nothing to do with my condition and I don’t talk about my babe’s father.”

            “You’re not seeking advice for your shop from him, I hope,” Raven commented.

            “No,” Selene assured them.  “I…  I have some questions for him.”

            “Oh, is he the father!”  Carver sounded a bit too thrilled at the idea.

            “No,” her tone was firm and definite.  “I haven’t actually met him before.  The questions are about…”

            She was cut off when the front door banged open.  “Where’s my dinner?”  A grey-haired man stumbled in, looking like he’d spent his entire life at the bottom of a bottle.

            “I told you that you would need to pick something up, Gamlen,” an older woman followed him.  She was tall and looked as if she’d avoided the sun most of her life.  It didn’t take Selene to figure out that this was Raven’s mother.  “The kids are busy working and I haven’t had time to start anything.”

            “If you’re all staying under my roof, the least you could do is cook my food,” Gamlen grumbled.

            “It’s my food, uncle Gamlen,” Raven corrected, her voice both stern and condescending.  “I’m the one who gave mother the money to buy it.”

            “And who are you?”  Gamlen demanded of Selene.  “I don’t have room for more refugees.  Carver, are you trying to bring your strumpets home now?”  He studied her a moment.  “Oh, I see now, you knocked this one up.  Well, I’m not providing for her and the brat.”

            This was her family?  Selene hoped not.  “I just met Carter today.”

            “Carver,” the man in question corrected her.

            Gamlen burped and then slapped Carver on the back.  “You work fast, my boy.  Good job.”

            “I think I’m related to you,” she added.

            “Oh, Carver, we don’t knock up relatives,” Gamlen groaned.  “Who is she anyway?”

            “I… didn’t get her name,” Carver admitted.  He flushed.

            “It’s Amell,” Selene informed him.  “Selene Amell.”

            “Not another relative,” Gamlen moaned.  “Look, I’m already putting up with Leandra and her brats.  I don’t have room for you and your brat.  Your accent is Fereldan.  I suppose you’re another refugee.”

            “You can’t throw her out,” Leandra protested.  “She’s in delicate condition.  We have to provide for her and her baby.”

            “I’m already providing for you and your babies!”  Gamlen exclaimed.

            “I’m doing most of the providing,” Raven interjected.

            “But…”  Leandra protested.

            “I’m not here for a handout,” Selene objected.  Did she look delicate and helpless?  “I have a room at the Hanged Man and am happy enough there.”

            “You can’t have a baby there!”  Leandra objected.  “That place is filthy!”

            “We’re fine,” Selene insisted.  She calmed her temper.  Was the woman suggesting she couldn’t take care of her own child?  Besides, a look around the hovel she was currently in showed that while an attempt at cleanliness had been made, the grime was still in control.    “Although, I may occasionally need a babysitter after the baby comes.  I can take care of myself.  I made it through a Blight, after all.”

            She saw Leandra blanch, but Carver looked impressed.  “You stayed in Ferelden through the Blight?”

            “I did,” she confirmed.

            “I guess you’re pretty good in a fight, then,” Raven eyed her speculatively.

            “I can hold my own.”  Selene wasn’t going to tell them that she was a Grey Warden.  That was something she didn’t want to get out. 

            “Except that you’re in delicate condition right now,” Leandra reminded her.  “You can’t fight while gravid.”

            “That doesn’t mean you can’t help me with a little mission I need to take care of,” Raven countered.  “Have you ever had dealings with the Dalish?”

            “I have,” Selene confirmed.  “It was a group in the Brecelian Forest.”  She didn’t add the part about the werewolves.

            “Aren’t those forests haunted?”  Carver’s eyes widened with admiration.

            “They aren’t a picnic, that I can assure you.”  Selene hadn’t seen any ghosts, but it had plenty of spirits.

            “So, what did cause you to darken my doorstep,” Gamlen steered the conversation back. 

            “I’m looking or my family,” Selene admitted.  “I was… taken… from them when I was a child.  I remember we lived in Kirkwall.  Even if I was…”  She stopped.  There was no way to hid that she was a mage if she kept going.  She knew what the mercenary lieutenant had said about Raven, but she couldn’t be sure it was true and that she could be trusted.

            “They sent you to a different mage circle?”  Raven held her hand and a blue flame danced on her palm.  “It seems magic runs in the family.  I thought I’d just gotten it from my father.”

            “No.”  It was Gamlen who spoke up.  “Leandra, you might have run off with a mage, but that was only the beginning of the family’s bad luck.  Five years after you eloped with Malcom Hawke and moved to Lothering, Aunt Bethann passed away from her second bout of cholera.  Then Uncle Aristotle died of the same disease.  Then Cousin Revka and Damien both met with disaster.  Damien was accused of smuggling and his, and Revka’s, father, Fausten, spent most of the family fortune trying to exonerate him.  Our parents managed to hold on to their portion of the fortune, but Fausten became mixed up with the Counsel of Five.  Damien was imprisoned and Fausten waisted away and died.  While he was in the process of wasting away, Revka’s oldest was discovered to be a mage.  The Templars came and took her away.” 

            “Sweet Maker,” Leandra looked around and then sat on a nearby stool. 

“It’s your fault for running off with Hawke, you started this,” Gamlen accused.

“Don’t ever say that she was wrong to fight to be with the man she loved,” Selene’s voice quivered as she took a step towards Leandra as if to protect the noble who had been willing to give everything up to be with her mage.  “What happened to Revka?”

“You mean, what happened to your mother?”  Gamlen crossed his arms.  “You are her mage child, aren’t you?”

“It sounds like it,” Selene confirmed.  “I grew up in Kinloch Hold, on Lake Calenhad.”

He shrugged.  “She disappeared.  No one is sure what happened to her.  After that, her husband took their children and moved.  He wanted to escape the Amell Curse.  You might want to return to Ferelden to do the same.”

“I left Ferelden for a reason.”  It was all she was going to tell them.

“Does that reason have to do with the father?”  Raven pried.

“It does,” Selene confirmed.  “But it isn’t the only reason, far from it.  Let’s just say I don’t want to be found.  Well, I do by my family, but not other people.”  She blew out a long breath.  “I have a reason for leaving.”

“Kirkwall isn’t the safest place for mages,” Gamlen warned.

“Yet, you told half the city that I was one when we arrived,” Raven revealed.  She turned to Selene.  “How are you at Wicked Grace?”

“I’m pretty good,” Selene admitted.  “It’s amazing what skills you pick up while being imprisoned in…”  She stopped when the door opened again.

“Waffles!”  It was Varric.  “I’ve confirmed that a shady character who is staying in the Hanged Man is looking for you.”

“Would that be me?”  Selene recognized her dwarven neighbor.  “My rooms are near yours and you think I’m shady?”

“Everyone who stays at the Hanged Man is shady,” Varric confirmed.

“She’s my cousin,” Raven revealed.

Varric eyed her.  “What about the shifty elf?”

“He’s shady,” Selene assured him.  “He has a really shady past and his work isn’t exactly legal.”

“Neither was Waffles’ last job,” Varric confided.

“I, however, am now running a shop in Darktown and am innocently looking for my family,” Selene explained.  “I left Ferelden for my own reasons, but they weren’t exactly shady.”

“Exactly?”  Varric grinned at her.  “Is there a story here?”

Selene closed her eyes.  “It’s one full of heartaches and betrayals.  I doubt your friends would want to read it.”

“You’d be surprised,” Varric assured her.  “Heartbreak and betrayals sell.  Varric Tethras, Master Author and member of the Merchant’s Guild.  I hang out with Hawke.  Perhaps you should come on some of our little adventures with us.  They might help you fund and stock your little shop.”

“She’s in delicate condition, Varric!”  Leandra reprimanded.  “You both stay at that horrid, dirty tavern.  I would think you would have noticed.”

“Delicate?”  Varric eyed Selene.  “You look healthy to me.”

“I am, for the most part.”  Selene thought the taint might make her less than healthy.  Although, she wasn’t sure the full extent of what Avernus’ potion had done to her.  Little Demon seemed to be thriving, but she had yet to find a midwife and she wasn’t going to go see a healer in the Gallows.

“What do you know of the Deep Roads,” Varric pressed.

Selene couldn’t contain the groan that slipped out.  Her memories of that place weren’t pleasant.  Not all of them were unpleasant.  For some reason, he had found them to be quite… stimulating… at night.  There had been several times he’d led her away from their companions for a bit of a tryst.  “I’ve been in them before, but they are far from my favorite place.”

“You’ve been in the Deep Roads!”  Varric seemed excited.  “We have to take her with us, Hawke.”

“I don’t know if she’ll have given birth by then, Varric,” Raven lifted an eyebrow.

“Birth?”  Now Varric took a good look at Selene.  “Oh.  The Deep Roads would be a terrible place to go into labor.”

“The Deep Roads are just a terrible place,” Selene informed him.

“Still, it would be fun to have you around on some of my adventures,” Raven admitted.  “And you said you had dealt with the Dalish before.  Why don’t you come see the local clan with me?  I’m sure it won’t be too dangerous.  It will be a pleasant walk in the mountains.  Carver can watch your shop and you can meet my friends.”

Selene didn’t want Carver near her shop.  She didn’t trust him enough, yet, to allow him to see some of her products; even if his sister was an apostate.  She did miss her adventures from the Blight, though.  “I’ll just not open while we’re gone, but I think I’d like to visit the elves and hike the mountains.”

“Good,” Raven smiled at her.

“But you aren’t moving in here,” Gamlen spoke up.

Selene made a concentrated effort not to roll her eyeballs.  “I’m fine at the Hanged Man, the worst I would do is ask Leandra to babysit.”  She wasn’t asking Gamlen to, that was for sure.  “I should get going.”

“Do stay for dinner,” Leandra insisted.

“No, that’s all right, I’ll get something at…”  Selene stopped as she heard a bark.  A mabari came bounding from the backrooms.  She felt a sudden longing for her Barkspawn.  “Oh, who are you, you a beautiful girl?”

“Fereldans,” Gamlen grumbled.

“This is Apawstate,” Raven introduced them.

“Hello, Apawstate,” Selene crouched down to rub the dog’s head.  “It’s good to meet you.”

“I thought all Fereldans had their own mabari,” Gamlen admitted.  “Don’t they issue them at birth?”

“I wish,” Selene confessed.  “Mabari tend to pick their own people, though, not the other way around.  I was lucky enough to have one for a while, but… I left him in Denerim with… someone else.”

“Oh?”  Varric was interested.  “And what is this someone else’s name?”

“He was being bred with another mabari, named Veronica.”  She wasn’t going to say his name, especially since it was too much of a clue as to who she exactly was.  She turned her attention back to the mabari.  “Are you going to visit the elves with us Apawstate?  The elves in the Brecilian forest didn’t like Barkspawn, but we didn’t care what they thought; because mabari are the best.  Aren’t you, girl?”

Apawstate barked happily and nudged her hand to get her to keep petting her.

“I guess I could stay for dinner,” Selene decided.

Chapter Text

Things with Veronica were never right after the Morning of Loss.  Barkspawn couldn’t look at her without thinking that he should have been curled up on the bed of his Herb Smelling Mage, instead of with her.

            He had been unable to touch her when the Kennel Masters had tried to get them to breed.  Instead, he’d thought of his mage and cried for her, howling his pain into the night.  They’d thought, at first, that Veronica must have hurt him.  But she couldn’t hurt him like his losses had.  They instead introduced him to Lady Fuzzybottom.  She was sweet and had come to him with comfort and timidity.  He had done his duty by her and they were expecting puppies in a matter of months.  He would be a father.

            Yet he didn’t spend time with the mother of his pups, Lady Fuzzybottom was fine with that.  She liked to sleep in a pile with her own siblings.  He slept with the smelly king.  He spent a lot of time with the king.  He stayed in the king’s office more, now that there was painting of his mage hung there.  He wondered where she was now and if she had found another mabari to keep her warm on cold nights.  Would the other mabari wouldn’t know to guard her from the nightmares, though or to put their head on her stomach when she dreamed that Templars were chasing her?

            Now, he put his head on the smelly king’s stomach when he dreamed of darkspawn and on his chest when he dreamed of their mage.  The king was worried about an upcoming ball.  The nobles were trying to find him a bitch to mate with.  He still didn’t understand why the smelly king hadn’t just mated with the Herb Smelling Mage.  She had the best pedigree, no matter what the Old Musty One claimed.

            The potential mates who were gathering for some mating dance had already began to gather.  There were women with all sorts of looks and smells.  Some stuck their noses up at him, but others gave him scratches and two even gave him belly rubs.  One of the two smelled like death.  The other one, though, smelled of jasmines and cloves.  She had arrived with her guards and something reminded him of his mage, she sometimes had an indescribable smell about her that his mage did after the Landsmeet.  It was salty, but not salt.  It was salt and sorrow.  Someone was making her sad.  While the others vied for his Smelly Cheese King’s attention, she didn’t.  Instead she explored Denerim and gave Barkspawn tummy rubs. 

            The Jasmine and Clove noble was most often in the company of one of her guards when she left.  The guard smelled of leather and freesia.

            Then another came.  She had hair like the sun and eyes like grass on a dewy morning.  She smelled of old blood and poisons.  He thought she might be there to hurt the Smelly Cheese King, instead of mating with him.  He couldn’t let that happen, he had responsibilities.  He would protect the king.

            Alistair kept Barkspawn close as the guests for the ball began to arrive early.  The ball itself was still months away.  His steward was already planning games and entertainments for the ladies.  She promised he would only have to attend a few of them.  Still, the ladies kept harassing him.  He decided to let Barkspawn judge the women for him.

            The mabari had already rejected the daughter of a bann, two Orlesian countesses, and Navarran princess.  There were a couple he seemed disinterested in.  There were a handful that seemed to like.  He seemed unusually interested in Lydia, a minor noble from the Free Marches.  He let Gwendolyn, another Free Marcher lady, give him tummy scratches.

            Gwendolyn met with Eamon’s approval and that of Fergus Cousland, the most powerful of his own nobles.  He even threatened to send his younger brother down to Denerim to the ball to find a bride and told Alistair he wouldn’t mind if his brother scooped her up.  The lady was lovely and kind, but there was something sad about her.  Morosely, he found himself drawn to that sorrow.  It was as if his own aching heart sensed a kindred soul, one it might seek comfort with.

            Still, he wished he was away from all of the women.  Perhaps he should find an excuse to return to Amaranthine.  He’d met up with some overly self-important Templars on his way there.  They were hunting a mage.  For a moment, he’d been afraid they had been hunting his mage.  No, it was a blonde man who was more cheerful than his mage had ever been. 

            There’d been trouble at Amaranthine.  Darkspawn had killed the other Templars, but the mage had destroyed them all.  He and Oghren, of all people, had held the darkspawn off until the new Warden Commander had arrived.  The new Warden Commander seemed nice enough and, at Alistair’s less then veiled hints, had conscripted the mage to the Grey Wardens to save him from the Templars.  He thought his mage would appreciate that.

            He now received reports that the Warden Commander was dealing with some Arch-Darkspawn and a Brood Mother that made the others seem tame.  He would much rather be helping them than avoiding title seeking women while trying to keep an eye out for the future Queen of Ferelden.

            “Do you ever yearn for the old days, Barkspawn?”  He scratched the dog’s head.

            Barkspawn let out an agreeing grumble.

Chapter Text

Selene was taking a day off from the shop.  She’d already asked the other shopkeepers to let any potential customers know that she would be back the next day.  They knew not to talk to any Templars or guards.  There were reasons they were in Darktown, after all.

            She’d invited Zevran to come with her as she visited the Dalish with Raven, but he insisted he was too busy.  He wouldn’t be surprised if soon offers for jobs for assassins were soon posted to the Chantry Board.  Kirkwall had all sorts of problems.  Her friend was still in the Hanged Man when she emerged from her rooms.  He was leaning against the bar and chatting up a familiar woman.  She knew that woman.  She almost went up to them and said something, but then thought better of it.  Isabela might let it out, among her other sailors, that the Hero of Ferelden was in Kirkwall. 

            “Are you ready to go Lady Amell?” Varric stepped up to her.  He followed her gaze.  “Is your friend interested in sailors now?”

            “If it breathes and doesn’t say no, he’s interested,” she confided.

            “I’ll be careful around him,” Varric gave Zevran a long look.

            “He knows no means no,” she assured him.  “The poor thing traveled with four women, three other men, and a dog during… when we were travelling once and the drunken dwarf was the only one, he had a chance of getting to say yes, but he was never sober enough to truly give consent.  Underneath it all, Zevran’s a good man.”

            “How did you meet him?”  Varric pried.

            Selene smiled at him.  Varric was always prying and part of her hoped he never stopped.  There was so much she wanted to talk about, so many stories; but she still didn’t know if she could trust him.  “Maybe I’ll tell you some day.”

            “There’s my favorite metal worker,” Corff greeted her as she passed by.  “I don’t suppose you could make pewter cups with the Hanged Man’s logo on it?”

            She considered it for a few moments.  “I could probably do it.”  She would make the mold, with the logo and the cast the pewter.  “We would have to discuss my fee before I make the first half dozen.  If you like them, we could see about making as many as you like.”

            “I think I should approve the logo,” Varric decided.  “So, I’m sure it’s something I’d want to keep when Corff sells me the Hanged Man.”

            “I am not selling you the Hanged Man!” Corff growled.  “And stop asking.”

            “Do I have any messages?”  Selene tried to change the subject.

            “Only that Lirene still hasn’t found you a midwife yet,” Corff told her.  “You’d think there were some among the Fereldan refugees.”

            “The last one turned to a life of crime,” Selene confided.  “When she realized it was more profitable, she decided to do it full time.  Any rumors?”

            “"People say Meredith's the real power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. Even Dumar answers to her,” Corff told her.

            “All the more reason to avoid the Gallows,” Selene sighed.  How had she ended up in a Templar town?  She would consider leaving, but she had a business there and the closest family she could find.

            “Let’s go find Hawke,” Varric led her away.

            “You seem keen on avoiding the Gallows,” Varric observed as they walked to Lowtown.  “Would it have anything to do with why you felt that Darktown was a better place to set up shop than Hightown or the Docks?”

            “Not everything I sell is legal Varric,” Selene admitted.  “I would think you of all people would appreciate how careful an artisan has to be.”

            “Now I have to stop by your shop, perhaps your workshop as well,” Varric mused.

            “I have a dagger that you would love,” she promised him.  “Bring Raven, as well, I might have an item or two that she might find of interest.  It might save her a trip to the Gallows and some uncomfortable questions.  I didn’t want to mention them in front of Carver, though.  He strikes the type who might slip the nature of some of my wares to Templars or guards.”

            “You can count on me,” he promised. 

            They stopped at Gamlen’s house.  Selene looked it over for a moment.  “Do you think you could find out where my parents lived before my mother disappeared?  You seem to have contacts that I don’t.”

            “I think I could find that out.”  Varric knocked.

            The door opened and Raven stood in the doorway.  She wore a black embroidered leather bodice and black leather pants.  She didn’t look like she was expecting trouble, but she was ready if it came her way.  “You’re here!”  She grinned at them.  “We’ll go by the Viscount’s Keep and pick up Aveline.”

“Aveline!”  Raven greeted her friend with a bright smile. 

“Hawke,” Aveline’s face reflected a mix of affection and exasperation.  “Let’s get this over with.  I owe this debt, too.” 

“Ah, Aveline, I thought you enjoyed spending time with me,” Raven teased. 

“I do,” Aveline gave her a warmer smile.  “No matter how much you irritate me.” 

“What debt?”  Selene knew Hawke hadn’t said anything about a debt.  

“I don’t believe we know each other, even though you do look familiar,” Aveline studied Selene.  “How long have you been in Kirkwall?”

“I just arrived a few months ago,” Selene saw no reason to lie.  She didn’t want anyone tracing her whereabouts, but plenty of Fereldans continued to come to Kirkwall.

“After the Blight?”  That surprised Aveline.  “The Blight…”  Aveline’s eyes narrowed.  “You were also in Ferelden…  Were you at Ostagar?”

Andraste’s Ample Ass.  Did she lie or tell the truth?  Survivors of Ostagar were rare.  “You were at Ostagar and survived?  You weren’t with the traitor, Loghain, were you?  I hear he abandoned the field and left King Cailan to die.  Then he tried to frame the Grey Wardens for his misdeeds.”

“You heard, but didn’t see?”  Aveline studied her a moment.

She had been lighting the beacon in the Tower of Ishal, so she hadn’t seen.  Flemeth had told her of the events later, after she’d recovered from her wounds.  “That’s correct.  So, who is this debt to?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Aveline assured her.

“It’s to Asha ‘Bellanar,” Raven told her.  She began leading the way out of the Viscount’s Keep.  “She saved us outside of Lothering.  She appeared as a dragon, killed the darkspawn closing in on us, and then gave us a medallion to take to the Dalish.”  She continued to lead us out of the city.  “Then she got us out of Ferelden.”

“How kind of her,” Selene murmured.  A woman who could turn into a dragon sounded too familiar to Selene.  She told herself it couldn’t be Flemeth, but Lothering was the closest city to Flemeth’s hut.  What if it was Flemeth?  Selene now carried the child Morrigan had wanted. 

“Hawke kept trying to get her to teach her how to turn into a dragon,” Aveline recalled.  “She wouldn’t.”   

Chapter Text

Getting to Sundermount had not been as easy as it should have been.  One would think that travelling with the Guard Captain would dissuade bandits from attacking, but the moment they were near the mountain, that is exactly what happened.  Varric had protested, that they had a pregnant woman with them, but Selene had just unsheathed her sword and fought.  Her decision to release an ancient soul who, in turn, taught her the techniques of Arcane Sorcery were right ones.  She easily helped kill the bandits without showing her magic.  Raven, however, had no qualms about using her magic in the open.  She’d thrown fireballs and invoked cold magic with no problems at all.

The first differences between the Dalish Clan near the Brecilian Forest and the one at the base of Sundermount that Selene was that the one near Kirkwall didn’t have a werewolf curse that they expected her to fix for them.  They also weren’t led by a bald elf who had some deep seeded hatred for humans and dogs.  Apawstate was treated well.

Raven spoke with Keeper Marethari.  Marethari gave her a guide to navigate to the paths of Sundermount to a sacred place where she would need to perform a ritual on the amulet Asha ‘Bellasar had given her to carry to them.

“Where in Ferelden are you from?”  Aveline pried as they waited for Raven.

“Near Lake Calenhad,” Selene revealed.

“She was born in Kirkwall, though,” Varric informed Aveline.  “She’s Hawke’s cousin.”

“Selene Amell,” Selene gave a little courtesy.  “I came to Kirkwall looking for family.”

“When you had some near you in Ferelden the entire time?”  Aveline mused. 

“They weren’t that close,” Selene insisted.  “Although, I admit that they were likely in Ferelden when I travelled through.  Who knows, I might have met Bethany.  I would never have known.”

Raven moved to them.  “We’ll meet the Keeper’s First a little further up the mountain.  She has been expecting me, it appears.”

“How would she know to be expecting you?”  Varric wondered.  “I thought you said this Asha ‘Bellasar stayed in Ferelden.”

“They were in Ferelden at the beginning of the Blight,” Raven confided.  “They had trouble with some Shem, though, and one of their clan disappeared near ancient elven ruins.  The woman he’d been with came back to the camp, carrying the Blight.  She picked it up from a mirror that she says the man disappeared through.”

“That can’t be good.”  Selene had found enough strange and spooky things in ancient elven ruins.  That didn’t include the dragon.

“They also came to Kirkwall,” Raven explained.  “Maybe she managed to visit them.  She did have impressive powers.  Let’s get moving.  We should be able to get back to Kirkwall in time for dinner.”

“We could eat then play a nice round of Wicked Grace, at the Hanged Man,” Varric suggested.

“Or we could go to someplace cleaner with better food,” Aveline countered.

As Selene followed Raven up the mountain, she saw someone crouched.  They were studying something on the ground, something that glowed.  The light disappeared and the person stood and turned.  “Oh, I didn’t hear.  You must be the ones the Keeper told me about.  Aneth ara.”  The person turned out to be a dark-haired elf with large eyes who looked nervous. 

“You’re going to lead us to some sacred place to perform a ritual of an amulet.  Right?”  Raven looked at the elf with some concern.

“Yes, yes,” the elf quickly said.  Follow me.

They’d followed her for half a mile when she suddenly turned around.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name.  Unless… it’s not rude to ask a human their name, is it?  I’m Merrill.  Which you probably knew already.  I’m rambling, sorry.”

“I’m Raven Hawke,” Raven’s voice was gentle.  “This is my brother, Carver.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Carver stepped to her and bowed. 

“My cousin, Selene Amell,” Raven continued.  Selene just raised a hand to wave, saying nothing.  “And my friends, Varric and Aveline.”

“You’re Varric,” Merrill pointed at him.  “And you would be Aveline.  I’ve never met a dwarf before.  Do you know many of them, Raven?”

“A few,” Raven was taken back by the question.

“And you?”  Merrill looked at the others, with wide eyed innocence. 

“I know too many,” Varric assured her. 

“Orzammar has more dwarves than you could imagine,” Aveline commented.  “Perhaps you should go there some day.”

“King Bhelen is trying to open Orzammar up, but there are guards at the gates who don’t let anyone in who doesn’t have any business there,” Selene warned.  “It can get really violent there, too.  I’ve seen people bludgeoning each other in the streets.”  She noticed the look Varric was giving her.  Of course, Grey Wardens were the only surfacers always welcome in Orzammar.  Andraste’s Swollen Ankles, pregnancy was making her careless.

“Your Keeper said you are leaving the Dalish for Kirkwall.  Is that right?”  Raven changed the subject.

“I have to,” Merrill insisted.  “Let’s leave it at that for now, all right?”

Oh, good, someone else was trying to keep secrets.  It should help Selene keep her own.

“I get the feeling you’re in trouble,” Raven pressed.

“It’s not like that!”  Merrill maintained.  “Not exactly, anyway.  The Keeper and I have disagreements, but it will sort itself out in time.”

Raven paused.  “Did you hear that strange noise?”

“Oh… I didn’t hear anything,” Merrill claimed.

“You seem awfully nervous,” Raven persisted.

“I’ve never met a human before,” Merrill revealed.  “Dalish mothers frighten their children with stories about you, you know.”

“They frighten them with stories about Raven?”  Varric gave her a cheeky smile.  “She can be scary.”

“No, not Hawke personally, of course,” Merrill waved her hands.  “I’m sure they don’t have any tales about you.  Or not scary ones, at least.”

“Wait,” Aveline muttered.

“Not that you’re not notable enough to have a story…”  Merrill hesitated.  “I’ll stop now.”

“You’ll have to work harder than that to offend me,” Raven assured her.

“Thank you,” Merrill sighed.  “I’m afraid I’m not very experienced with your kind.  I grew up in Ferelden, I heard you had as well.  Have you been in the Free Marshes long?  Do you like it here?”

Raven sighed.  “I miss the cold.  Kirkwall’s not brown enough for me.  But hey, no darkspawn.”

“Ferelden wasn’t that brown!”  Merrill objected.  “And the dirt gave it character.”

“You were from Lothering,” Selene spoke up.  “I’ve been to Lothering.  It was rather green.  And I… I know the Grey Wardens that survived Ostagar stopped the Blight and got rid of the darkspawn.  And I hadn’t seen any since the Battle of Denerim.”

“Were you at the Battle of Denerim?”  Varric inquired.

“Word gets around,” Selene shrugged.

“We should go,” Merrill insisted.  “Your task is for Asha ‘Bellanar.  It’s not wise to make her wait.”

“Do you know the witch who sent me here?”  Raven pressed.

“No,” Merrill’s answer was fast and harsh.  “Not personally.  My people tell stories of her, though.  You’re very lucky.  Most people who meet Asha ‘Bellanar wind up in pieces… hanging from the trees.”

“I guess you’ve been waiting for this amulet along time,” Raven deduced.

            “The Keeper brought us here to wait for you,” Merrill explained.  “I don’t know much more than that.”

            Selene wondered if it was too late to go back.  This Asha ‘Bellanar sounded too much like Flemeth.  She tried to tell herself that Flemeth was now dead, but she didn’t quite believe it.  Besides, she had questions for the Witch of the Wilds.

            “I will perform a ritual on a sacred altar on the mountain top,” Merrill repeated her purpose.  “Getting there is the tricky part.  Our hunters haven’t been able to reach the summit.  Dark things are about.

            “Let’s get this over with,” Raven sighed.

            “We have a pregnant woman here!”  Carver reminded them.  “You and Selene stay here, Raven.  I’ll take care of this.”

            “Let’s just get going,” Selene began walking.  “I’ve faced things darker than you can imagine.”

            “Oh?”  Varric stepped closer to her.  “Do tell.”

            They were halfway up the mountain when the undead attacked.  Skeletons rose from the ground and shambled from nearby caves.

            “What are these?” Carver hefted his sword, eyeing the skeletons warily.

            “Who was dumb enough not to bury their dead all over the mountain instead of burning them?”  Selene grumbled as she threw down the walking stick, she brought and drew her sword. 

            “You’ve seen these things before?”  Merrill’s eyes widened.  “Have you been on Sundermount before?”

            “No,” Selene beheaded one of the skeletons.  “There were a bunch in an ancient elven ruin in the Brecilian Forest, though.  There were also a lot in Redcliffe, but that’s because the arl’s son was possessed by a demon and was killing the people of the castle and town and raising them back up to prey on their own families and friends.  Yet he said I was wrong to kill the kid he was raising those monsters,” she muttered.  She was still mad about that.  He refused to lead and then looked at her like she was the monster when she did what she had to in order to save a village full of people.  She’d thought she was over it, but then he had to follow the arl’s commands and dumped her like she’d been a brood mother in disguise.  Why had she lost her heart to a man who expected the impossible from her and wouldn’t fight for what he wanted? 

            “Do you have to tell these stories while I’m busy, Enigma?” Varric shot a bolt at one of the creatures.

            “Enigma?”  Selene asked as she cut down another of the undead.

            “Yes, you’re…”  Varric stopped as one of Merrill’s fireballs went wild.

            The elven mage had been throwing fireballs, but this one was aimed at a skeleton near Raven.  As they watched, Raven stepped back to cast an ice blast and right into the path of the fireball.

            “Hawke!”  Varric called a warning.

            Selene lifted her hand and cast at the fireball.  It froze midair and dropped to the ground. 

            “Is there something you want to tell us?”  Aveline asked as she beheaded one of the undead.

            “Screw this!”  Selene sheathed her sword.  She picked up the walking stick and tapped it on the ground three times.  A staff slid out of it.  She summoned a thunderstorm.  The lightning struck out at the remaining undead, frying them where they stood.  They dropped to the ground.  She then held the hollowed-out stick and placed the staff against it.  “Conflent.”  The walking stick once again hid the staff.  

            “As I was saying,” Varric spoke.  “You’re an enigma.”

            “You’re a mage?”  Merrill stared at Selene.  “Why were you using a sword then?”

            “I learned Arcane Magic from the spirit of an Ancient Elf,” she explained.

            “Can he teach me too?”  Merrill’s expression became excited.

            “Sorry, I released him from the crystal where he’d been imprisoned,” Selene informed her.  “Hopefully, he has moved on to a happier afterlife.”

            “So,” Aveline spoke as they began moving on.  “You’re an apostate, Selene.”

            “Not exactly,” Selene was purposely evasive.

            “Let me rephrase that,” Aveline’s voice was irritated.  “Is there someone hunting you that I need to be aware of before they come bursting into my city or go to Meredith, who will then send more Templars out from the Gallows to find you?”

            Was anyone hunting for her?  Selene pondered that question.  Had Alistair come looking for her or was he glad to get rid of a mistake?  He would no longer have a reminder that he’d entangled himself with a mage and was free to find his precious queen without her around as a possible source of gossip.  Were the Grey Wardens actively hunting her?  There was a good possibility that they were.  They had conscripted her, after all.  She decided to go with the vaguest answer she could, that might reassure the guard captain.  “There shouldn’t be any Templars looking for me.”

            “Who might be looking for you, Enigma?”  Varric caught on to her evasiveness. 

            “Who besides the Templars might come after a mage outside the Circles?”  She answered his question with a question.

            Varric just studied her for a moment as they continued up the mountain.  “I’m not sure.  Hawke, is anyone but Templars after you?”

            “The Templars aren’t after me,” Raven reminded him.  “I didn’t escape from a Circle of Magi.”

            “Neither did I… exactly,” Selene informed her.

            As they continued on, Raven glanced at Merrill.  “You almost hit me with that fireball, by the way.  Be more careful in the future.”

            “Sorry, Hawke,” Merrill murmured, her eyes large and pleading.

            “Crap,” Raven muttered.

            They finally reached the ancient graveyard, after battling yet more of the undead.  “Here it is,” Merrill announced.  “Put the amulet on the altar.”

Raven followed her instructions.  Placing the amulet down.  “What happens now?”

Merrill stood in front of the altar and began reciting in elvish.  When she was done, flames appeared swirling in the air above the amulet.  Then it appeared that an elderly, well dressed woman, slowly emerged until she was standing on the altar.

Selene recognized her, although she was much better dressed than the last time, they had come face to face.  That was when Selene had made an effort to kill her before she could possess Morrigan, stealing her body.  She wasn’t sure how Flemeth would feel about seeing her again, but it was her dark ritual that Morrigan had wanted to use to have a baby with Alistair; a baby who would contain the soul of an old god.  Except, she was the one Alistair had gotten pregnant, not Morrigan and she needed to know what might be happening to the life developing inside her.  “Flemeth!”  She called.

Flemeth stepped down from the altar.  “Ah, and here we are.”  She was looking at Raven, not Selene.

Merrill stepped forward, bowing.  She spoke elven, giving some traditional elven greeting.

“One of the people,” Flemeth acknowledged her.  “I see.  So young and bright.  Do you know who I am, beyond that title?”

“I know only a little,” Merrill admitted.

“Then stand,” Flemeth commanded.  “The people bend their knee too quickly.”

Flemeth then turned to Raven.  “It’s so refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain.  I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant’s pocket.”

“You were inside that amulet the entire time?”  Raven was incredulous.

“Just a piece,” Flemeth assured her.  “A small piece, but it was all I needed; a bit of security should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan, it already has.”

It had; Selene could confirm that.  All that effort fighting a dragon had been all for not.  Although, Morrigan had said her mother would likely find a way to escape death.

“Is that someone I should know?”  Raven ordered.

“She’s a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I or anyone,” Flemeth answered.  “And why not.  I raised her to be nothing less.”

Now Selene stepped forward again.  “She learned how you extend your life.  Is she really your daughter or did you steal her as an infant?”

Flemeth paid her heed now and laughed.  “Oh, she is all mine.  How did you end up here, Warden?  I imagine you danced to Morrigan’s tune and I am sure you fulfilled the path I put you on.  Otherwise, these good folks would be busy running from the Blight instead of keeping their end of the bargain we made.”

“I stopped dancing, but not before…”  Selene wasn’t sure how to tell Flemeth that she had, indeed, killed the rest of her. 

“Before what?”  Flemeth laughed.  “What did my dear Morrigan do?”

“She abandoned me right before the Battle of Denerim, when I couldn’t convince Alistair to perform a dark ritual with her,” Selene enlightened her.

“So, the old god’s soul is lost,” Flemeth sounded regretful.

“Not exactly,” Selene found that she couldn’t tell Flemeth that she likely carried the child she wanted.  She feared the witch might come for her baby and she wasn’t sure she could kill her a second time, not without Alistair by her side.  “What would the child who carried that soul have become?  Would it be a demon?”

“A demon?”  Flemeth laughed.  “The child will never be, so why the questions?”

“I need to know,” Selene insisted.  “I… just tell me what the baby would have been.”

“It would have been a baby, but more,” Flemeth gazed at her a moment.  “How could you, of all people, not be able to persuade your Alistair?  He danced to your tune most of all, and most happily.  He looked at you as if you were the sunrise after a difficult night.”

“Not anymore,” Selene lowered her head.  “He… I… I made him king and…”

“He broke your heart child,” Flemeth’s joviality disappeared for a moment.  “I see it in your eyes.  The same pain I have known.  Sigh no more lady, sigh no more.  For men were deceivers ever.  I learned that lesson long ago and now have you.  Your story is not done yet.  Don’t let someone else write the end, it’s your story alone.”

“Is there some way I could find you, talk to you, if I have more questions?”  Selene pressed.  She didn’t want Flemeth to realize she carried the child Morrigan wanted, but she might need help.  She had no idea what she would give birth to.  Flemeth had said it was a baby, though.

“I’ll find you if I need you,” Flemeth told her.

“Is this Morrigan your daughter or your enemy?”  Raven wanted to know.

“Both,” Flemeth assured her.

“Why did you need me to bring you here?”  Raven continued to question.  Not realizing that Selene had her own history with Flemeth.

“Because I had an appointment to keep,” Flemeth explained.  “And because I did not want to be followed.  You smuggled me here quite nicely.  Even if you brought one of those who likely killed me with you.”

“This is no time to argue about who killed who,” Selene insisted.  “Obviously, you got better.”

“I don’t understand.”  Raven was confused by Flemeth and what was going on between her and her cousin.  “Are you some kind of vision?”

Flemeth laughed at that.  “Must I only be in one place?  Bodies are such limiting things.  I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole.  A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm.”

“A fragment?”  Raven repeated.

Flemeth stepped up to her.  “You don’t need to understand, child.  Know only that you may have saved my life, just as I once saved yours.  An even trade, I think.  Unlike those who will repay my saving of their life with swords and arrows.”  She looked significantly at Selene.

“You wanted your daughter to shag my ex-boyfriend,” Selene pointed out.  “That’s worse.”

“You what?”  Raven looked from Flemeth to Selene and back.

“You have to tell me the whole story, Enigma, please,” Varric begged.

Raven turned back to Flemeth.  “You have plans I take it.”

“Destiny waits us both, my dear girl,” Flemeth assured her.  “We have much to do.  Before I go, a word of advice.  We stand upon a precipice of change.  The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss.  Watch for that moment, and when it comes do not hesitate to leap.  It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Raven demanded.

“You’re welcome,” Flemeth retorted.  She then turned to Merrill.  “As for you child, step carefully.  No path is darker than when your eyes are shut.”

Merrill answered her in elven.  Selene wondered if it was time to pick up the language.  Alas, Zevran didn’t speak it, she’d have to learn it from Merrill and she was pretty sure she’d seen the elf practicing blood magic earlier.  Jowan was more than enough blood mage to last her a lifetime. 

Then Flemeth looked back at Selene.  “And you Warden, you have defied everyone’s plans for you, haven’t you?  Keep defying them.  Fight for the future you want, not the one others have planned for you.”  She studied Selene’s figure for a moment.  “And I hope your daughter isn’t as defiant as mine.”  She took in Aveline, Varric, and Carver as well.  “Now the time has come to leave.”  She turned to Raven again.  “You have my thanks and my sympathy.”  She glowed for a moment and then turned into a dragon, soaring into the sky.

“It’s easy to leap when you can turn into a dragon!”  Raven called after her.

“I guess that’s the last we see of her,” Aveline shrugged.

“Not if she realizes the full truth about the dark ritual and what happened the night Morrigan left,” Selene confided.  “Then she might be back.  I hope I’ll be able to kill her again if that’s the case.”

“Kill her again?”  Merrill’s eyes widened.  “No one can kill Asha ‘Bellasan!”

“Not permanently, it would appear,” Selene sighed.

“Yet you did temporarily, didn’t you?”  Varric’s eyes were pleading.  “Please tell me, Enigma.”

Chapter Text

There were too many women in the Denerim Palace.  The ball was still three months away and the palace was bulging with noble women and their escorts.  Alistair didn’t know how he was supposed to dance with all of them.  Eamon told me he didn’t have to.  He just had to dance with enough to decide who he wanted as his bride.  Alistair had already eliminated half of them without ever talking to them, but they wouldn’t go away.

Now he found himself in the field behind his palace, enduring one of the many games and entertainments that would lead up to that dreaded ball.  His unwanted guests were knocking pins down by rolling balls at them.  He couldn’t see the point.  Several groups were heatedly competing with each other.  He noticed Teagan trying to teach Gwendolyn how to play.  They were alone in front of one of the sets of pins and she seemed upset again.

Alistair walked slowly towards the pair.  Gwendolyn threw her ball.  It veered off to the right and hit one of the pins in another groups area.

“Hey, watch it clumsy!”  One of the other women yelled at her.  Then they noticed Alistair nearby.  “I mean… be more careful next time.”  She laughed nervously and then tittered.

Alistair couldn’t remember the tall blonde’s name and didn’t bother to acknowledge her.  “What is this?”

“Beatrice called it bowling, Your Majesty,” Teagan answered.

“It’s ridiculous,” Gwendolyn insisted.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know how to play,” Teagan assured her.

“I don’t, either,” Alistair admitted.

“You aren’t being forced to participate,” Gwendolyn muttered. 

“You weren’t forced,” Teagan reminded her.  “I found her arguing with Lance, her head guard.  I guess he told her she had to, but no lady lets her guards give her commands.”

“That wasn’t exactly what we were fighting about,” she admitted.  “It’s… life’s hard.  One can be born a peasant and struggle for security, but at least they are free from duties that… that take from them what they truly wanted.  Security and power come with duties that are too difficult, that ask too much.”

“They don’t have to,” Teagan insisted.

“Yes, they do,” Alistair sided with Gwendolyn.  “What did it take from you, Gwen?”

She shook her head.  “I may be able to tell you someday, but…”

“I understand,” he smiled at her.  “Why don’t we have Teagan teach us how to play this silly game?”

Soon they were both throwing the ball across the lawn at the pins.  At one point, Alistair managed to knock down ten pins.  Those pins belonged to three different groups.  He and Gwendolyn laughed together as the other groups, who were seriously competing with each other all hissed at once.  Alistair and Gwendolyn just laughed harder.

“Nice!  Ten!”  Gwendolyn whooped.

“You’re supposed to hit your own pins, Alistair,” Teagan shook his head.

Gwendolyn was up next.  She took her ball and rolled it.  It rolled down the lawn and knocked over two of her own pins.  “I got one!”

“Good job!”  Alistair gave her a brief hug, grinning at her.  “They were even one of ours.”

“It looks like you could use my help, Your Majesty,” the tall blonde from the nearby group approached them.  She was almost the same height as the king.

“We’re doing fine,” Alistair insisted.

“I’m very good at this game.  If you notice, I’ve scored two-fifty.”  The newcomer’s smile was smug.

“Are we keeping score?”  Alistair looked at Teagan.

“I think you two need more practice before we learn to keep score, Alistair,” Teagan insisted.

“Nonsense,” the newcomer insisted.  She glanced at Gwendolyn and Teagan.  “I’m Giliana Peletier, the oldest daughter of Comte Peletier.”

“That’s nice,” Gwendolyn gave her a sardonic smile and blinked a few times.  Somehow, Alistair knew she didn’t care. 

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know, Your Majesty,” her voice was a purr.  “Let me show you how to hold the ball.”  She put her arms around him and then stopped, her back going stiff, before she crumpled to the ground.

Teagan rushed to the woman.  He pulled a dart out of her neck, sniffing.  “I’ll have this checked, but I have no doubt she’s been poisoned.”

“Obviously, these women are too cut throat,” Alistair pointed out.  “We should send them all home.”

“This dart could have been meant for you, Alistair,” Teagan insisted.  “She likely just got in your way.  None of the other women have been attacked yet.  We’ll increase the guards and I’ll bring in someone to investigate this dart.”

“Selene and Zevran would have been the perfect pair to help with this,” Alistair commented.  “They could have told you whether it was poisoned and what the poison was in less than ten minutes.”

“Unfortunately, they decided to run off together,” Eamon approached.  He’d obviously heard the last part.  “I’ll get the Court healer.  Hopefully, he can save Lady Peletier and tell us what poison was used.”

“I’ll have the guards check for assassins,” Teagan added.

The assassin cursed silently from where she hid behind a nearby cart.  Lydia had almost had the Grey Warden King, but that simpering Orlesian debutant had blocked her dart with her body.  She’d just had to get handsy and gotten in the way.  Lydia prayed an apology to the Old Gods and then emerged from her hiding place as if nothing had happened.

Sure enough, everyone was still crowded around the simpering fool who had blocked her shot.  She hoped the woman died, an offering to the Old Gods.  She’d have to plan better next time.

The assassin returned to her group.  “Did I miss something while I was taking care of nature?”

“I think it’s just an Orlesian being over dramatic,” one of her companions responded.

Chapter Text

Selene was regretting the night before as she crawled out of bed and put on her clothes.  She’d been helping Raven with small jobs during the nights lately.  She insisted that as long as Raven wasn’t going out and seeking fights she could help.  Raven was grateful to have an arcane mage along and ignored Aveline’s constant insistence that a pregnant woman shouldn’t be taken into dangerous situations. 

Raven was trying to raise enough money to invest in an expedition that Varric’s brother was heading.  Selene was all for helping her, she just wasn’t willing to go into the Deep Roads with her.  She hoped to never see the Deep Roads again, the broodmother she’d encountered there still haunted her dreams.  Worse, she’d dreamed that the broodmother would get one of those tentacles around Alistair.  She’d crushed the life out of him in the dream.  Selene found herself looking down at his lifeless body.  She’d sent a lightning storm at the broodmother and the creature had laughed before wrapping a tentacle around Selene’s neck and snapping it.  She’d woken crying.  Part of her had yearned to send a letter to Denerim to ensure he was all right, that he was still out there, alive.  She didn’t have anyone she could trust, though, not to do that at least.  Besides, she was trying to forget him; not ask after him.  What would she learn, that he was happy, that he’d found his queen, that he had produced the heir he so badly wanted with someone else?

The nightmare had been a few nights before.  She’d been asleep when her head had hit the pillow the night before.  The job she’d done with Raven had gone sideways.  It was supposed to be a simple retrieval of some smuggler’s goods.  There had been no goods, just a broody elf with strange lyrium tattoos covering his body.  He’d had a deep voice that Raven had practically swooned over.  Selene hadn’t been impressed.

It turned out that he was behind the job and had a different one for them.  They were to break into a house, looking for his old master.  He was an escaped slave from Tevinter, which meant he blended in well with the rest of the group.  The Tevine was long gone, but had left some nasty traps in the house or them.  He’d obviously been messing with blood magic.  The last Tevinter Magister she’d met had been as well.  She wondered why they kept turning to blood magic, it wasn’t like they were imprisoned like their southern brethren.

Once they’d finished the job, the elf, his name was Fenris, had thrown a fit about her and Raven being mages.  Raven had told him to deal with it.  Selene had opened here mouth to tell him just what it was like to be a mage in Southern Thedas, when Aveline had gone off on him about endangering a pregnant woman.  Fenris’ skin had paled, causing his tattoos to become even more pronounced, under Aveline’s disapproval.  It had been fun to watch. 

When she’d returned, Corff had a message that Lirene wanted to see her.  She hoped her friend had located a reliable midwife or a healer outside the Gallows.

She wondered if Corff had any Antivan coffee as she slugged out of her room, grabbing her walking stick.

Selene emerged to see Zevran talking to another of the Hanged Man’s patrons.  It was another pirate.  They were by the docks and Kirkwall was a major port city.  It attracted trade, that meant it also attracted pirates.  This pirate looked familiar.  She took a closer look.  Andraste’s dirty socks, it was Isabela!  Did Zevran have no decorum?  The pirate knew him, there was no way she wouldn’t recognize Selene if she saw her with the elf.

As she watched them, Zevran leaned in and whispered to Isabela, his mouth just a little too close to her ear.  This was what she got for leaving with a friend with a libido like Zevran’s.

She sat in a stool across from Corff and leaned the walking stick against the bar.  “Coffee.”

“We’re out,” he answered.  “Perhaps you should just start ordering from the source.”

“Tell me the source,” she countered. 

He wrote the information down for her and slid the paper over.  “There.”

“How long has Isabela been here?”  She wondered.

“You know her, too?”  Corff snorted.  “I didn’t think you were the type.  Couldn’t you resist seeing what was below those decks?”

“I did resist,” she assured him.  “Although, Zevran went off for a tour.  I met her in Ferelden.  She seemed upset with Zevran, it had something to do with something that happened in Antiva, but they did spend the night together.”

“And you?”  He prompted.

There was no reason to lie.  She patted her abdomen.  “I enjoyed a blissful night with Little Demon’s father.”

Corff smiled at her.  “That’s the first time you’ve mentioned him to me.  Who was he?”

“He was someone who didn’t love me as much as I thought he did; nor as much as I love him.”  She didn’t realize she’d used the present tense, not even when Corff raised an eyebrow. 

Then he just nodded.  “Hold on a moment.  I do have something special in the back for you.”

She watched him leave.  Her gaze slid back to Zevran and Isabela.  The pirate looked in her direction and she turned her head.  She didn’t want anyone hearing any titles ever used for her and prayed that Zevran would say something.

“Here you go,” Corff slid a mug with something brow in it to her. 

She sniffed at it.  It wasn’t coffee, this was sweeter.  She took a sip.  Her eyes closed and she savored it.  She thought to ask him where he got it, but didn’t dare.  She wanted him to keep supplying it.  The taste was like the blessing of Andraste.  “Thank you.”

“Anything for you and your Little Demon,” he assured her.  “Back to your earlier question, Isabela’s had a room here for a few months now.  I’m surprised you two haven’t run into each other before.  She and your elven friend have been out here, getting drunk together, several different nights now.  They also like to play Wicked Grace.  Perhaps you should play with them.”

“Isabela cheats,” she revealed.  “I’ve caught her before.”

“Of course, you have,” Corff nodded.  “Don’t say that too loudly, she causes enough damages.”

“She was in a fight in a brothel the first time I met her,” Selene recalled.

“What were you doing in a brothel?”  Corff wanted to know.  “You are too skilled in other areas to have had to work at one of those places.”

“I was doing a favor for someone, a guard captain to be precise,” Selene revealed.  “It was a vertical favor, not a horizontal one.  Do you know any knew rumors?”  She changed the subject.

“The craziest thing. Apparently, the pigeon population has taken a nose dive in Ferelden. Weird, huh. What kind of sick individual preys on those innocent things?”  He wiped the bar.

Pigeons.  She did know someone who hated pigeons, who would prey on them.  So, Wynne and Shale were back in Ferelden.  That was good to know, she guessed.  She wondered if they’d had any success in turning Shale back into a dwarf.

“I should get to work,” she sipped more of the delicious brown drink.  “The shop won’t open itself.”

“At least have some porridge before you go,” he urged her.

Corff’s cooking was on par with his.  “I’ll pick something up on the…”  She was cut off when a man marched to Isabela.  There was going to be trouble.

The main door opened and Raven walked in with Aveline and Merrill.  The new guy, Fenris, was with them.  She waved to Varric, who was in his customary seat, when she did.  There was really going to be trouble.

“You owe us Isabela,” the man who had approached the pirate told her.

Isabela didn’t even acknowledge the man, but she did speak to him.  “Well, Lucky, I’ll tell you what… since the information you gave me was worth nothing…”  She took a deep drink, despite the earliness of the hour.  “… that’s what I’ll pay you.”

Lucky slammed Isabela’s drink down as she was about to take another swig.  Obviously, no one had told him not to get between a pissed off woman and her alcohol.  “Me and my boys will get our money’s worth, bitch.”

Selene sighed, as she watched them.  “Go get the rags, Corff this is likely going to get bloody.”

Isabela now looked at the man she called Lucky.  “Oh, you poor, sweet thing.”  Her voice was too sugary.  She moved towards him, as if willing to give him a good time in exchange for his efforts.  Then she pulled him near and butted his head before punching him.  She kneed his groin as he went down.

One of Lucky’s men made the mistake of attacking Isabela from behind.  Another charged at her with a glass bottle.  Selene took another sip of her morning drink, as Isabela head butted the man holding her and then dodged so the second man hit his friend with the glass bottle.  Selene realized she might be late opening her shop, but she was enjoying her entertainment.

She watched as Isabela beat up two of Lucky’s henchmen.  Then she turned as a third pulled out a sword.  Isabela’s dagger was at his throat before he’d finished unsheathing it.  “Tell me, Lucky, is this worth dying for.”  Selene realized that was Lucky, the first man must have just been yet another henchman.  There seemed to be plenty of people selling their sword arms in Kirkwall, it was hard to keep track.  It was great business for a metal worker, though.

Lucky slowly backed up and then helped his men away.

Selene turned in her stool, planning to know get to work, but then she noticed Raven approaching Isabela.  It appeared the morning’s entertainment wasn’t over.

“Do you ever feel like the world’s getting simpler?”  The man beside her asked.  “Like everything from eating to fighting is a lot less complex than it used to be?”

“No,” she answered.  “The baby gives me heartburn and life used to be less of such a fight to get through.”

“Hello there,” Raven was now beside Isabela.

“My, and here I thought the only pretty women in this dump were already knocked up and avoiding me.”  Isabela spoke to Raven, but glanced in Selene’s direction.  So, the pirate had noticed the mage.

“You think I’m pretty?”  Raven smiled at her, ignoring the growl that came out of Fenris.  “It’s nice to be thought so by such a beautiful woman.”

Selene’s eyes raised over the rim of her mug.  Fenris was becoming a bit territorial already.

Isabela bowed to Raven.  “I’m Isabela.  Previously ‘Captain’ Isabela.  Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow.  You’re Fereldan, aren’t you?  You have that look about you.  I was in Denerim not too long ago.  You know, you might be just what I’m looking for to solve a little problem I have.”

“Denerim?”  Corff repeated.  “Is that where you met the captain without a ship?”  He asked Selene.

“It was,” she confirmed.  “I had business in the capital.”

“Can’t anyone fix their own lives around here?”  Raven bemoaned.  After last night, Selene couldn’t fault her for the complaint.  Now the latest problem was following her around and shooting broody warning looks at Isabela.

“It must be something in the water,” Isabela shrugged.  “Someone from my past has been pestering me.  I’ve arranged for a duel… if I win, he leaves me alone.  But I don’t trust him to play fair.  I need someone to watch my back.”

Selene hoped she didn’t mean Zevran.   She couldn’t see Zevran pestering anyone who said no, not unless he was trying to convince them not to kill him.

“Who’s this person you’ve arranged to meet?”  Raven pried.

“His name is Hayder,” Isabela replied with a name Selene was unfamiliar with.  “We worked together back in Antiva.  He never liked me.  He’s been asking about me all around Kirkwall.  Thought I’d get it over with and meet him face-to-face.”

“You wanted information from Lucky,” Raven had been paying attention to the fight.  “What was it?”

“I asked Lucky and his boys to track down something I lost,” Isabela answered.  “They failed to do it.  It’s nothing to worry about, and this is much more important.”

Selene knew she should leave, but she was interested to see if Isabela could seduce Raven.  Trying to seduce those around them seemed to be the Antivan way, after all, and Isabela was giving signals.  She realized the pair were discussing duels and decided to pay attention again.

“What makes you think I’m right for this job?”  Raven took a step forward and Isabela smiled at her.

She purred at Raven.  “You saw me talking to Lucky, didn’t you?  Those boys couldn’t handle simple information gathering.  I can’t trust the riffraff in this place to do anything right.  But you’re… you’re different.”

“Should I be insulted?”  Selene asked Corff.

“You’re hardly the riffraff in here,” Corff assured her.  “You’re busy with your own stuff.  Are you sure you’ll still have time for breakfast?  You should have left by now.”

“I’m enjoying this,” she held out the mug.  “I want to see if Isabela can seduce Raven,” she added.  “I’ll bet you a silver she’ll try.”

“She’s usually the one having others hit on her,” Corff mused.  “You’re on.”

“I think I can manage watching your back,” Raven was saying.

Isabela chuckled seductively.  “I’ll bet.  I’ve arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown after dark.  I’ll meet you there.”  She walked away.

“Nope, that wasn’t seduction for her,” Selene tossed Corff a silver.

“It wasn’t?”  He was doubtful.

“I’ve seen her attempts,” Selene assured him.  “That wasn’t it.”

“Have fun in Darktown,” he said cheerfully. 

Selene slid off the barstool.  “Thanks.”

“Selene!”  Aveline called to her before she could make her way to the door.

“Yes?”  Selene turned.  Aveline had yet to ask her what she sold in Darktown.  She’d never seen a single guard there, so she wondered if the guard captain cared.

“Is everything all right?”  Aveline seemed concerned.  “I’ve heard rumors that someone has been asking after you.  They are just rumors, unsubstantiated.  It’s more of a whispered echo, but… is there are reason someone might be asking about you?  You can tell me.  Are you in trouble?”

“I can take care of myself,” Selene assured her.  Yes, there were reasons someone might be looking for her.  She hadn’t seen any Grey Wardens in town, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.  She knew there were plenty of Templars.  She grabbed the walking stick.  “Separatum”.  Her staff emerged.  She handed the stick to Corff.  “Watch that for me, will you?”

“Who’s after you, Selene?”  Aveline pressed.

“I wish I knew,” Selene answered as she left.  It would make things easier if she knew who to prepare for.

Chapter Text

The question of who might be looking for her weighed on Selene’s mind as she set up shop for the day.  It continued to as she talked to customers.  She sold two swords and three pieces of jewelry before she had someone asking about her special walking sticks.

“I heard you could help those who would like to avoid the Gallows,” a woman told her.  “I have decided to leave Kirkwall, but do not wish to make the journey unarmed.”

“I have swords,” Selene held one up.  She thought she was beginning to show a talent in sword making.  She wasn’t as talented as Michael Dryden, who had made her Starfang, but she made a blade that would serve its master well.

“I was more interested in your staffs,” the customer nodded to Selene’s own staff, which she had propped near her display table. 

“Oh, that’s a bow,” Selene told her.

“I’m interested in such bows,” the woman looked around and then let sparks play along her fingers for a moment, before closing a fist.  “I heard you could help someone with my… archery… talents.”

“Indeed, I can,” Selene stood.  “Come this way, she led her into the back of her little shop.  This half,” she gestured, “are walking sticks.  They’re just walking sticks.  These, however… you know what they are.”  She indicated the mage staffs.  “They for people who have… archery talents… like us.”

The customer ran a gentle finger along one of them.  “They’re nicer than the ones at the Gallows.  Perhaps not more than Grand Enchanter Orsino’s, but still…” 

Selene smiled at the compliment and helped her customer pick out a new staff, one for her new life as a free mage.

Business continued to be good and Selene hadn’t seen a guard or a Templar all day.  She never did, but Aveline’s warning had made her nervous.  “This isn’t what I expected to find in Darktown,” a rather rugged, handsome man examined one of her long daggers.  He had dark hair and a close-cropped beard and mustache.  They caused his bright blue eyes to seem even bluer.  “Tomwise recommended I stop by your shop.”

“So, you were down here for poison?”  She wondered what he’d need with poisons.  “Do you coat your swords and daggers?  I have a friend who does.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted.  “I’m hunting a dangerous prize, but can’t find them.”

“Really?”  She swallowed hard.  “Is it anyone I know?”

“I doubt it,” he assured her.  “A beautiful woman like you wouldn’t get entangled in the likes of them.  It is a member of a dangerous, evil group who want to destroy the beauty of Thedas.”

“It’s a darkspawn?”  She guessed.

He laughed.  “No, not one of the Unfortunate,” he assured her.  “If you don’t mind me asking, when is your little one due to come?”

She patted her abdomen.  She found the question personal, but was asked it a dozen times a day.  “It will still be a couple of months, at least.”

He grinned as he tested the edge of the dagger, then put his now bleeding finger into his mouth for a moment.  He looked into her eyes as he gently sucked the blood.  “Your husband is a lucky man.”

“Hmm,” she made a non-committal sound. 

He studied her for a moment.  “I am Percy, by the way.  I’m new to Kirkwall.”

“Are you also new to coating your daggers?”  She questioned.  “I suggest you not put your hand in your mouth if you wound yourself on the edge of one you coated or poisoned.”

He laughed.  “Point taken.  Speaking of which, I’ll take this point,” he held up the dagger.  He pulled out his bag.  “I don’t know if you could suggest a good place to find a home around here.”

“I’m still staying at the Hanged Man,” she confessed.  “I would imagine you could find something around the Chanter’s Board.  It’s by the chantry in Hightown.  That is the only chantry in Kirkwall.”

“In Hightown,” he repeated.  “That doesn’t seem personable.  I imagine they have gold leaf throughout the place.”

“I… I actually haven’t been in there,” she admitted.  “I hate to admit that I haven’t been in a chantry since before I set foot in Kirkwall.”

“Your accent is Fereldan,” he observed.  “Are you one of the refugees?”

“I am,” she lied.  Well, half lied, she corrected herself.  She was a refugee from the Circle and Grey Wardens, not to mention from fleeing Ferelden’s king.

“I don’t suppose you ever met the Grey Warden who defeated the old god,” he inquired.

She had never been asked that question.  It hit a little too close to her true identity.  “We have never been introduced to each other.  Have you met them?”

“No, he and I have never met either,” he smiled sweetly.  “I haven’t even been to Ferelden.  Although, a friend of mine is there now.  She’s there for the King’s Bride Finding Ball.”

“The King’s Bride Finding Ball?”  She repeated.  Her heart fluttered and then sank.  He was having some ball to find a wife.  He was so anxious to find that all important wife, the one he’d never disgrace by carrying on with her, that he was throwing a ball to just pick the woman.  She wondered which woman would win.  Would it be Percy’s friend?  What would she look like?  She had no doubt that they’d immediately wed and start trying for their heir.  She had a flash of a vision.  He was wrapped around the faceless woman, swearing his love to her and tenderly caressing her in a very intimate way.

“He is,” Percy confirmed.  “Breeding and heir making seem to be all that the nobility cares for.  I wonder if they realize something like love exists.”

“If they do, they don’t put much importance in it,” she assured him.

“I almost pity them,” Percy confided.  “I would if they weren’t such greedy sots.  I’d take the little family you’re starting over any title any day.  You and your baby’s father are very lucky.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.  She didn’t know why she was telling him the truth, except for the news about her baby’s father.  “He’s a noble sot and isn’t involved in my life or that of the baby.”

Percy’s eyes widened.  “No.  I’m… I… I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”

She shook her head.  “It’s OK.  I think we’re still lucky.  I would rather my child know they’re loved than have them think they were created out of a sense of duty.”  She didn’t think about the fact that her child was not only not planned, but possibly an evil demon.  It did carry the soul of an old god, after all.

“Perhaps,” he blushed a little.  “Perhaps you’ll let me come back in a couple of days and take you to dinner?”

Part of her rebelled at that.  Her heart reminded her that it still belonged to another, but her head told it to shut up.  That person was planning a ball to find someone who wasn’t her.  He didn’t want her or her heart.  “I might like that.”

“Until then,” he bowed over her hand, before taking his purchase and walking away.

“I like the way you did your hair.”  The voice caused Selene to stop in her tracks.  She’d been showing an arm cuff to a customer, a rogue who preferred short sleeves.  It looked stunning on the rogue and Selene thought she had very good taste in jewelry.  She’d gone from being lighthearted to feeling her heart stop and then drop into her stomach.

She turned to the newcomer.  “Leliana.”  It wasn’t her imagination.  Leliana stood in front of her.  The rogue had ditched the armor Selene was accustomed to seeing her in.  She wasn’t in the clothes of a Chantry sister, as she’d been the first time Selene saw her, either.  She now wore leather and a doublet.  There were two large daggers on her back.  That was a shame, she was better with a bow than daggers.  Still, it was a good idea to be armed if one was walking the streets of Kirkwall.

“Selene,” Leliana smiled at her. 

Selene could see the hesitation behind it, though.  She wondered when they’d reached a point of discomfort with each other.  She’d loved Leliana like a sister, she still did, but there was hurt now associated with her; hurt and fear.  She turned back to her customer, wildly hoping she was just hallucinating and one of her closest friends wouldn’t be there when she turned back.  “I can hold this for you for two days if you want to think about your purchase.”

“No, I want it!”  The rogue assured her.  “I was just…”  She lowered her voice.  “Do you take commissions?  Perhaps a bracelet that holds poison?”  The last part was in a practical whisper.

“I would be happy to take commissions,” Selene assured her.  “Why don’t you draw up what you’d like and I’ll be happy to make it.”

“I’ll bring my specification by tomorrow,” she promised as she paid for the arm cuff.  “I’ll let you catch up with your friend.  It sounds like you haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“It’s been months,” Leliana told the other woman.  “Selene has obviously been quite busy.”  She waited until the customer had left.  “I do hope you’re using your real name and I wasn’t supposed to call you something else.”

“I’m using my real name,” Selene assured her.  “No one around here associates the name Selene Amell with a Grey Warden who killed an archdemon.  Few even associate it with a Circle Mage and Darktown is a place for mages to hide.”

“Don’t I get a hug?”  Leliana appeared distressed.

“Of course,” Selene went to her and let her friend enfold her in her arms.

Leliana held her close for a moment.  “I missed you.”

“I do miss you, too,” Selene confessed.

“Good,” Leliana’s voice lightened, becoming more of the happy minstrel Selene had known.  “Then you won’t mind telling me how far along you are.  Those clothes don’t quite hide your condition and that hug assured me that I was feeling what I thought I was feeling.  I think it tried to kick me.”

“She does that now,” Selene blanched.  There were certain people she didn’t want to know about her baby.  “I’m in my sixth month.”

“Is it Zevran’s?”  If her best friend couldn’t be blunt who could be.

Still, Selene’s answer was laughter.  She doubled over as much as she could, holding her abdomen as the laughter took her.  Zevran had hit her on her plenty of times, but she could no longer take his advances serious.  Their relationship was more of that of siblings than lovers.  “No, it is definitely not, Zevran’s.  Boy, that would ruin a very good relationship.”

“So, you didn’t run away with him,” Leliana began looking around the shop, as if it would offer her some sort of answer.

“He left with me,” Selene admitted.  “He promised to be my bodyguard and…”  She looked down for a moment.  “He knew I was leaving.  He wasn’t going to let me go on my own.”

“How did he know you were leaving and I didn’t…”  Leliana trailed off.  “I was excited about my new assignment, guarding the Urn of Sacred Ashes.  You had tried to talk to me that last night, after you and Alistair had gone off together.  What did he say to you?”

“We don’t say that name here,” Selene’s voice grew faint.  Just hearing his name caused a pang.  It was best not even to think of him.  “What does it matter what he said, he told me what he wanted from me and reminded me what he was no longer willing to give.  I couldn’t give him what he wanted, either.”  To stand by his side while he… no!  No one should be asked to do such things.

“You left six months ago,” Leliana kept her voice casual, even as she studied a dagger for a second.  “You are in your sixth months.  Tell me one thing.”

“I’ve already told you one thing,” Selene pointed out.

“Touché,” Leliana nodded.  “You wouldn’t lie to your best friend, though.”

“Are you my best friend?”  She’d been once, but Selene wasn’t sure anymore.  She needed to know why Leliana was here.  How and why had she tracked her down?

Leliana’s face fell.  “I thought I was.  Are we not friends?  I guess Zevran is your best friend, he’s the one you told that you were leaving.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Selene informed her.  “He was just the only one paying attention.  And yes, we are friends, but you can’t blame me for being cautious.  How did you find me?”

“Not with your phylactery,” Leliana grimaced.  “Wynne beat me to thinking of that.  But apparently it no longer works.”

Selene paled.  Why would Wynne look for?  Did she get the Circles and Chantry involve?  “Did Wynne involve the Templars?  Is the Chantry looking for me?”  She glanced at her staff.  Would she have to go on the run?  She was building a life here, she’d found a cousin, if nothing else.”

“I found you first, so the phylactery obviously doesn’t work,” Leliana assured her.  “I doubt they work on any Grey Wardens.”

The Joining, the Joining had changed her blood.  It could be enough to confuse a phylactery.  “Why is Wynne looking for me?  Why are you?”

Leliana moved on to the walking sticks.  She ran a finger along one.  “As to how I found you, I’m a bard, I have my ways.  Not that it was easy, I’ve been looking for months.  As for why, it is the Grey Wardens who are looking for you, not the Chantry.”

“Andraste’s soiled drawers!”  Selene cussed.  “I killed an archdemon for them!  Why can’t they leave me alone?”

“They want you take over the command of Amaranthine,” Leliana explained.  “They assigned an Orlesian when they couldn’t find you.  Then they told the King that if he wanted a Fereldan Warden as commander, he’d have to find you.  He sent Wynne and I out.”

“Damn them,” she closed her eyes a moment.  She was in no condition at the moment to lead Grey Wardens against darkspawn or anyone else.  Nor did she have a desire to dance to the Warden’s tune.  They had sent one man, Riordan, into Ferelden when they lost contact with the Fereldan Grey Wardens.  Now they blackmailed Her king.  So, he would suffer, because she left.  The new Wardens would suffer.  She couldn’t go back, though.  Yes, he suffered due to the Wardens manipulations, but the last thing he needed was her showing up at Landsmeets with her very prominently baby belly, while he searched for his new wife.  “I’m not going.”

“Could you at least go to Denerim and explain to Alistair…”  Leliana stopped at the look Selene shot at her when she said his name.  “Wow, you really don’t want to hear his name.  Could you go back to Denerim and explain why you can’t take over Amaranthine?”

“No,” Selene insisted.  “And it isn’t just because I would go into labor before I got back.”

“You could make it,” Leliana insisted.  “It isn’t that far.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Oh, why didn’t you tell him after the Landsmeet about the baby.”

“I wasn’t pregnant at the Landsmeet,” Selene pointed out.

“From the look you shot me, I thought Alistair was the father and you didn’t want to tell him,” Leliana gave a little laugh.  “Who is the father then?  Teagan?”

Selene sighed.  Teagan had made advances, but she expected her friend to know her better than that.  “I do not just jump from one bed to another, Leliana.  I’ve only had sex with… I don’t bed hop.”

“You’ve only… then it is Alistair’s baby!”  Leliana proclaimed.

“Why don’t you just tell all of Kirkwall?”  Selene grumbled.  She looked nervously at the door, as if a customer was about to walk in and that customer was then going to run to Denerim to tell the King of Ferelden that she was carrying his child.

“When?”  Leliana wanted to know.  “You said you weren’t… and he… well, I was there.”

“No, you weren’t there,” Selene assured her.  “It was that night in Redcliffe, before the forced march to Denerim.”

“You… after he…”  Leliana’s eyes widened.  “And then he just…”

“Please, don’t tell him,” Selene begged.  “I can’t have him know.  It wouldn’t do any good and it would just hurt both of us more.”

“He’ll know when he comes here to see you,” Leliana pointed out.

“Please, don’t tell him where I am,” Selene pleaded.  “I’m not going to Amaranthine, that is all you have to tell him.  Do you plan to walk into the middle of his ball and tell him that you found his pregnant ex in Kirkwall’s Darktown and she’s about to give birth to his bastard?  You can add that she isn’t even sure what she’s giving birth to as both of its parents are tainted and Morrigan kept going on about the Archdemon’s soul going into the baby she wanted to make with Alistair.  I think… it’s the only way we’re both still alive, the soul went into my baby.”

“What are you talking about?”  Leliana picked up one of the walking sticks and leaned against it.

“Fears that I don’t want to share with him and that would take a long time to explain to you,” Selene sighed.

“Fine, I’ll treat you to dinner and you can explain them to me then,” Leliana decided.  “You didn’t have plans for tonight, did you?”

“Raven is helping Isabela with some suspicious duel tonight, so not really,” Selene admitted.

“Who’s Raven?”  Leliana pressed.  “Did you replace me with someone named Raven?”

“There is no replacing you,” Selene assured her.  “She’s a cousin of sorts.  I’ll go to dinner if you promise not to tell Al… him… where I am or about the baby.  Just tell him you found me and I’m not coming back.”

“Fine,” Leliana agreed.  “But only if you say his name.”

“What?”  Selene blinked at her.  “Why?”

“I need to know something,” Leliana studied her.  “Just say it.”

“Al…”  Selene swallowed.  Maker!  Why was it so hard?  She’d been away from him for six months; she’d thought that should be enough time to put him behind her; even if she was carrying his child.  “Alistair.”  Her voice broke in the middle of his name.  Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, trying to suppress a sob as tears welled up in her eyes.  They slowly fell.  Maker, when would the pain end?  Would it ever end?  “Damn it!  Is this what you wanted?  Does it help anything?  Does it cancel that ball he’s throwing to find a wife?”

“You know about the ball?”  Leliana grimaced.  “I’m sorry, I just needed to know.”  She leaned the walking stick against the rack and pulled her friend into her arms.  “I won’t tell anyone where you are and I won’t tell them about your baby.  I’ll just tell them that I found you and you aren’t coming back.”

“Thank you,” Selene tried to pull herself together.

“I will also tell them you didn’t run off with Zevran, because Arl Eamon is telling anyone who will listen that you did,” Leliana added.  “The man’s a worse gossip than his wife.”

“He never really liked me,” Selene confided.  “I wouldn’t try and convince Alistair and Anora to marry, which messed up his plans.  He really didn’t like that his nephew was sleeping with a mage.”

“The jerk,” Leliana agreed.  She glanced at Selene’s other stock.  “What are those?”

Selene followed her gaze to the mage staffs.  “Bows.”

Selene went to Fereldan Imports as soon as she’d closed her own shop.  Lirene tended to stay open longer than others.  There was no telling when one of the refugees she helped would need her aid.  There were two men in the shop when Selene entered.  There was also a woman, Leliana.

“She says you know her,” Lirene indicated Leliana.  “She also claims to be Fereldan, but she doesn’t sound like one.”

“She grew up in Orlais, but she is Fereldan,” Selene vouched for her.  “And yes, I know her.  We’re eating dinner together tonight.”

“Not at the Hanged Man, I hope,” Lirene blanched.  “That isn’t a memory anyone should have of Kirkwall.”

“I’ve had some nice recommendations in Hightown,” Leliana assured her.

“Just be careful of bandits on your way back to your inn,” Lirene advised.

“I can take care of myself,” Leliana assured her.

Lirene looked to Selene who nodded.  “Speaking of Hightown, I found the Amell Estate.  It took a while, since there is more than one Amell estate.  There is the estate that Gamlen lost that was rumored to actually belong to his sister.  Then there is the one his cousins lived in.  The one that is said to harbor the ghosts of the Amells and no one will live in, as it is cursed.  That would have been your parents.”

“Cursed?”  Selene repeated.  She glanced at Leliana.  She’d seen places said to be haunted, many were where the veil was weak.

“The family, your family, went through some very rough times,” Lirene revealed.

“So, I heard,” Selene admitted.  “It was apparently how I ended up in Ferelden.”

“The good news is that it was never sold, it’s still technically belongs to the Amell family,” Lirene handed her some paperwork.  “That means it belongs to you.  You might want to go check it out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Leliana insisted.  “I can stay a bit longer.”

“Thank you,” Selene nodded.  “I want to check this out.”

“It’s better than the Hanged Man to raise your baby in,” Lirene insisted.  “Even if it’s haunted.  At least the ghosts are family and not riffraff.”

“The Hanged Man isn’t that bad!”  Selene insisted.

Chapter Text

Viscount Marlowe Dumar had had problems with the Hawkes, but not their cousins, the Amells.  For one thing, there were few Amells left.  He’d only been aware of two, one was a drunk who was too pissed to cause problems most of the time.  The other was his prim and proper sister who, despite having given birth to Hawke, was a stellar member of the community.  That was about to change.

“You can’t just go in there,” Bran was arguing with someone, Dumar could hear him.  Bran was always arguing with people. 

He dismissed the ruckus outside until his door opened.  “I suspect you took care of whoever was going to bother me, Bran.”

“I’m afraid Bran wasn’t up to the job,” Leliana pranced in, Selene following her.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s very good at his job.  It’s just that we’re so much better.”

Dumar sighed. “Is this something the guards can deal with?  Aveline is excellent.  Just stay out of Darktown next time.  If a blood mage threatened you, speak with Meredith.”

“I have a shop in Darktown!”  Selene objected.  “Why are you trying to keep people out?  Do you think we can’t take care of ourselves?  And why would you send someone to the Templars who had a problem with a mage?  Do you think that mages and rogues can’t solve their own problems without involving the Templars?  Guards and Templars; that’s what’s wrong with this town.”

Dumar tried not to roll his eyes.  So, he had a business owner and a redhead who made him nervous in his office.  He looked at them closer.  He had a pregnant business owner and a scary redhead in his office. “What do you need then?”

Selene took a deep breath.  “I’m the daughter of Revka Amell.  I am here to reclaim my ancestral home.  She handed him the information Lirene had given her.  I understand that my mother disappeared while I was in Ferelden and my father moved away with my siblings.”

“Revka’s oldest child was taken to Ferelden’s Circle of Magi by the Templars,” Dumar recalled.  “Are you claiming you’re that child?”

“I am Revka’s oldest,” Selene stood, leaning against a staff. 

He realized it was likely a mage’s staff.  She was definitely related to Hawke, she also strolled around town with a staff.  That family didn’t have enough sense to be cautious.  It was as if they were taunting the Templars.  “And what would you do if Meredith walked in here?”

“She would dare challenge the Grey Wardens by taking one of their members?”  Leliana’s eyebrows rose and her head tilted as if she thought Meredith a fool.

“Leliana,” Selene’s voice was warning.

“You’re a Grey Warden?”  That would explain why she didn’t fear Templars.

“That’s between me and the Wardens,” Selene growled.  “But yes, I’ve gone through the Joining.  That has nothing to do with my birthright, however.”

He wasn’t going to challenge a Grey Warden mage.  Even Meredith didn’t even mess with Grey Warden mages.  They were outside the laws of the Chantry.  “I’ll get the deed for you.  Be warned, though.  It is said the mansion is haunted.  I don’t know if you want to raise your baby in a haunted home.”

“She’s staying at the Hanged Man,” Leliana informed him.

“I’ll get the deed for you; a haunted mansion is better than that place.”  He stood to prepare her paperwork.     

“What were your plans for tonight, before I interrupted your day?”  Leliana asked Aveline as they exited the Viscount’s office.

Selene stopped, watching as Raven approached Aveline.  The guard captain was just getting off for the day.  “I would have probably gone to see Raven.  She is helping Isabela in some duel tonight; Isabela expects her opponent to cheat.  Of course, Aveline would have insisted that I go back to the Hanged Man and put up my feet.  She panics about Little Demon.”

“Little Demon?”  Leliana repeated.

“Oh, it’s my nickname for the baby,” Selene admitted.

“Because it has the archdemon’s…”  Leliana groaned.  “Are you sure you’re alright?  Should you be having this baby?  I’m sure Zevran could have…”

She stopped as Selene wrapped her arms protectively around her abdomen.  “I’ve made my decisions Leliana.”  She already loved the little life growing in her.  She didn’t know what influence the old god’s soul would have.  Would it be more than the influence of its father’s seed, of coming from her?  Didn’t it have its own soul, to combat that of the old god?  This would likely be her only chance to have a child of her own, though.  It was the only one she could ever have with him.

“Of course, why don’t we… is that Zevran,” Leliana pointed.

Sure enough, Zevran was walking to Raven and Aveline.  He spoke with them, quietly.

“He’s never gone with me when I’ve helped Raven before,” Selene frowned.  “He was talking to Isabela this morning, though.  Perhaps she asked him to go along.”

“Are we talking about Captain Isabela?”  Leliana’s eyes widened.  “The pirate from the Pearl.”

“The one who talked you and Zevran into exploring the lower decks of her… ship… with her?”  Selene said ship in a way that emphasized that she knew it was a euphemism.  “Yep, that’s her.  Were you hoping to catch up on old times with her instead?”

“Not with her, but we should take Zevran to dinner with us,” Leliana decided.

“You want to go with him, don’t you?”  Selene accused. 

“It would be fun,” Leliana decided.

“Fine, we can have dinner later,” Selene sighed dramatically.  “Little Demon and I will just go hungry.”

Leliana was ignoring her, though.  She was rushing down a set of stairs to Zevran.  Selene watched her friends’ faces light up as they looked into each other’s faces and embraced.  She wondered if there was more to their relationship than she’d realized.  She slowly followed Leliana, wondering if she should still abandon her friends and go back to the Hanged Man for her own dinner.

“There you are Selene,” Raven smiled at her.  “I didn’t realize you were friends with Captain Isabela.”

“I’m not as good of a friend as Zevran and Leliana are,” Selene assured her.  “When Leliana heard she was in trouble, she wanted to help her.  Although, she might just be making an excuse to spend more time with Zevran… or hoping for a repeat of the Pearl.”

Leliana gasped and Zevran chuckled.  “I know I’ve always wanted to do it again,” he purred to Leliana who blushed.

“I have to hear what happened at the Pearl,” Varric joined the group.

“It can’t go in one of your books, Varric,” Selene warned.  “No one would ever believe it.  I’ve counted myself lucky to only know the basics.”

“You aren’t coming,” Aveline insisted.  “There could be trouble.”

“Selene is wonderful in a fight,” Raven reminded her.

“She’s in her last trimester of pregnancy!”  Aveline objected.  “And we’re swinging by to pick up Fenris from his old master’s mansion.  You know Selene and Fenris don’t get along.”

Fenris didn’t like her?  Of course not, she was a mage.  She still didn’t know why he seemed to like Raven so much.  “It’s true.  I brood enough for myself; I don’t need someone even broodier around.”

“You’ve been brooding?”  Leliana pouted at her.  She looked at Raven.  “Did you know she used to sing as she walked in the woods and picked herbs?  She especially likes elfroot.  I’ve seen her stand up and dance in the middle of camp, I wasn’t even playing music some of the times.  Once she grabbed Al… one of our friends… hands and pulled him up to dance with her.  They were both laughing so merrily when they were done.”

“What happened?”  Raven pried.

“It’s hard to dance when you’re carrying around another person,” Selene patted her belly.  It was true, though.  She had been prone to sing and dance since Duncan had rescued her from Kinloch Hold.  She’d reveled in her freedom and being out in nature had been a special treat.  She’d been imprisoned for so long and to be among the Maker’s other creations had been wonderful.  Yet much of her cheer had been shattered with her heart. 

“That must be it,” Zevran sent a warning look to Leliana.  “Let’s go get your friends.  Will Carver be joining us?”

“You know Carver?”  Raven was surprised.

“He often comes to the Hanged Man to play cards,” Zevran explained.  “He gripes about you while he does, so everyone knows he’s your brother.  When he isn’t playing cards, those that are toast your name.  You are now Saint Hawke and are toasted with gin.”

Raven nodded.  “I can live with that.”

“I keep telling them it should be whiskey,” Varric sighed.

“You’re bringing the mage again,” Fenris said as way of greeting.

“We could go get Merrill instead,” Aveline offered.  “I’m sure you would prefer the blood mage.”

“No,” she growled.  He looked at Zevran and Leliana.  “Are these two mages, too?”

“Would it make your day worse, my handsome, deep voiced drop of deliciousness?”  Zevran purred at him.  “I could then try and make your day… better.”

“They’re both rogues,” Selene answered.  “Leliana is the best archer you will ever meet.”

“Pardon me,” Varric sounded offended.

“Even better than you with Bianca,” Selene insisted.  “If she was staying around longer, I’d have you two have a contest.”

“I’ve been gone from my Chantry duties longer than I should have already,” Leliana insisted.  “I wouldn’t have gotten away with being gone this long if I wasn’t doing the King of Ferelden a favor.”

“You know the King of Ferelden?”  Aveline sounded impressed.  “I met his brother, King Cailan, but I didn’t know him well.”

Selene sent Leliana a pleading look.  She didn’t even want this group of friends to know that the King of Ferelden had a reason to look for her, much less what her connection to him was.  Aveline might tell Alistair where she was, and about her baby, out of a sense of duty.  Varric wouldn’t be able to resist writing her story once he knew half of it.  She’d have the Grey Wardens coming down on her, while she fought off Ferelden.  Part of her feared Alistair would come after Little Demon as a backup, in case his new queen couldn’t give him an heir.

“I happened to run into Selene during the mission,” Leliana shrugged.  “We’re good friends and I missed her.”

“You’re the one who took the assignment from the Chantry,” Selene reminded her.

“You still knew how to contact me,” Leliana countered.

Chapter Text

Selene and Raven’s Team met Isabela in front of the Chantry. 

“This is the last place I would have expected to see you, Isabela,” Leliana commented.

“Oh, this is where the chantry is,” Selene observed.  “I wonder how many Templars are in there.”

“Too many,” Raven answered her.  

“I’ve been here for hours,” Isabela told them.  “Hayder hasn’t shown up.  No one has.  I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like this?”  Varric stepped up to Isabela.  “That’s up there with ‘What could possibly go wrong?’.”

“That’s the wench we’re looking for!”  And armed mercenary, with two heavily armored minions beside her, came running up.  “Gut her!”

“Really?”  Selene tsked.  She turned to Aveline.  “Do you want to take her in alive?”

Aveline shook her head.  “Too much paperwork.”

The rest of Raven’s group had engaged the attackers.  Selene nodded to Leliana who produced a massive bow and shot one of the minions.  The arrow easily pierced through the armor.  Zevran sliced the head off of the other.  When Raven hit the woman, who was obviously in charge with a cone of cold, she stopped for a moment.  Selene hit her with chain lightning.  Smoke was coming out of the top of her head, but Zevran still cut it off to be on the safe side.

“You guys need practice,” Selene told them.

“I know how to fight,” Fenris insisted.

“Oh, I’m sure your master let you have plenty of swords every day,” Selene rolled her eyes.  “Once I have this baby, we’re practicing three times a week.  I’ll find a place.”

Aveline eyed them.  “Agreed.  I think the guards get more practice in than you guys.”

“I’ll also teach you how to brew health potions, Raven,” Selene added.

“If we can get back to my problem, I’m sure Hayder sent these guys,” Isabela interrupted.  “We need to search the bodies and see where he’s hiding.”

Leliana was already holding a piece of paper for her.  “You were nimbler than this the last time I saw you, Isabela.  Is something bothering you?”

“Just missing you, Sweet Thing,” Isabela assured her.  She took the paper.  “Hiding in the Chantry and sending thugs to finish me off?  Coward.  He’ll not get away with this.  Come on.”

“Wait!”  Raven insisted.  She went through the thug’s clothes, looting.  Then she followed Isabela, only to be ambushed after a few steps.

Raven unleashed a fireball, as Selene summoned a storm.  Then she unsheathed her sword and began moving into the melee.

“Stay back, expectant mother!”  Aveline demanded.

Selene sighed, watching her friends use swords and daggers against the brigands.  She had to console herself with watching lightning hit her foe.  Then she unleashed chain lightning on them.  “You get to fight sword to sword,” she muttered.

“I’m not gestating!”  Aveline shouted at her.

Raven hit one of her foe with a staff and Fenris managed to behead one.  Soon those who’d sprung the ambush were all dead.  Raven immediately went to looting.

“You know a lot of combat magic, Enigma,” Varric noted.  “When did you get so much practice?  I doubt the Templars would have let you.”

“She’s…”  Isabela began, then stopped when both Zevran and Leliana took steps towards her.  “Good question.  Why aren’t they supposed to know?”  Her hissed question was a little too loud.

“Know what,” Varric wondered.

“I’ll tell you someday, Varric,” Selene promised.  “After things settle down.  Helping Isabela is our priority now.”

“Let’s get moving,” Isabela led them into the chantry.

Raven looked around as they walked into the chantry.  Selene tried not to.  It had been over a year before she’d been in a chantry, but this one was a palace compared to others.  She was gazing at large statues, gold inlay and candlesticks, and enough candles to light every home in Lowtown and Darktown for at least a year.  She could smell expensive incenses and oils.

“Keep your eyes peeled for trouble,” Raven advised.

“Isabela,” a rugged man who looked like he needed a good night’s sleep stepped out of the shadows.  “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“Tell your men to burn the letters next time,” Isabela advised.  Selene wondered why she was spouting Hayder’s mistakes to him.

“Don’t tell him what he did wrong,” Leliana hissed at her.  “Dumb enemies are easier to foil.”

“Castillon was heartbroken when he heard about the shipwreck,” Hayder told her.  “You should’ve let him know you survived.”  A woman with a large axe strapped to her back creeped out of the shadows behind him.

Isabela shrugged.  “It must have slipped my mind.”

Hayder laughed.  “Where’s the relic.”

“I lost it,” Isabela claimed.  “Castillon’s just going to have to do without.”

“Lost it?”  Hayder repeated.  “Just like you ‘lost’ a ship full of valuable cargo.”

“They weren’t cargo, Hayder, they were people!”   Isabela took an aggressive step forward.

Maker, what was Isabela getting herself entangled in?  Selene wondered.  She should have insisted she and Leliana just have a nice, quiet dinner and catch up.

“Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head, and you let them scurry off into the wilds.”  Hayder wasn’t even trying to hide what he’d been up to.   He didn’t seem to hear Fenris growl somewhere behind Raven.  “And now the relic’s gone.  Castillon won’t be happy to hear that.  I promise you.”

“Will someone explain what’s going on,” Raven demanded.

“Isabela’s been a very bad girl,” Hayder announced.  “Ruined a perfect business deal and then ran away.  She didn’t tell you?”

“I told her enough?” Isabela insisted.  “I said I arranged for a duel, which I did.  I also said you wouldn’t play fair, which you didn’t.”  Isabela looked back at Raven and then at Leliana.  “We can talk later if you want.  Right now, we have other problems.”  She turned to Selene.  “Do we need to talk as well?”

“Probably not,” Selene shrugged.  “Come by my shop in Darktown the day after tomorrow and we can go over just how much we both don’t need to talk about… to anyone.”

“Agreed,” Isabella nodded.  She turned back to Raven.  “You and I can talk later tonight.”

Raven stepped closer to Hayder and cocked her head.  “Castillon isn’t a very happy person, is he?”  Maybe he needs a new hobby.”

“There’s only one way to settle this.”  Isabela threw one of her daggers.  It embedded in the chest of the woman with the big axe.

Hayder pulled out his sword and more shapes moved out of the shadow.

“I haven’t had this much fun since I left Ferelden!”  Zevran whooped.  He made a punisher move and easily killed one of the henchmen.  “Have you Leliana?”

“I’ve spent months trying to track someone down for… someone powerful,” she informed him.  “But it hasn’t been this fun.  I should have known things would have been more interesting once I caught up to you two.”  She put several arrows in another thug.

“Does this person you are tracking have a large bounty on them?”  Raven inquired.  “I’m not trying to take away your paycheck, but I’m trying to raise money for an expedition.”

“I work for the chantry,” Leliana informed her.  “I am looking for someone as a favor for someone else.  The payment is a heartfelt thank you, maybe a hug.”

“Oh,” Raven threw a fireball at one of the thugs.

“Who’s looking for you?”  Varric asked, as he and Bianca released bolt after bolt.  “You’re looking nervous, Enigma, and I don’t mean just glancing around like you think Templars will jump from the rafters next.  You’re afraid your friend will let something slip.  She was looking for you.”

“She is my friend, Varric.”  Selene shot a bolt of lightning, felling another thug.  “Why would she be looking for me?”

“For the mysterious person who would pay for information on you with a hug?”  Varric continued to shoot bolts.

“She won’t tell you either.”  Selene unleashed chain lightning.  Hayder and two more thugs went down.  “Go ahead and use your spy network to find out.  Then ask me why I would want to talk about it.  It won’t help you in business or your expedition.  And I’ve been meaning to ask since Raven told me about it… who willingly goes into the Deep Roads?”

“The Grey Wardens, Enigma,” he assured her.  “Ask one of them when you finally meet one.”

“I’ll do that.”  He hadn’t been enthusiastic about them and she knew she hated them.  Maybe there was just something different about the two of them.  Maybe they missed a meeting on the wacky fun of the Deep Roads.

Zevran and Leliana killed the last thug together.

“I guess we’re done here,” Isabela stepped over the bodies as the others looted them.

Raven faced her.  “I was trying to talk him down.

“Trust me.  It’s better this way,” Isabela assured her.  “Castillon won’t hear about me from Hayder, but he’ll find out eventually.  I just have to get the relic.  It’s as simple as that.”

“Who is Castillon,” Raven wanted to know.

“He’s a powerful merchant in Antiva,” Zevran answered for her.  “He’s fond of hiring assassins to take out his business rivals.  He prefers using the Crows.”

“He also has ties to the Felicisima Armada,” Isabella added.  “I used to work for him.  The jobs mostly involved smuggling lyrium, jewels, or the occasional criminal acquaintance.  He paid well.”

Selene had to admit that she’d been happy to find her own lyrium smuggler in Darktown.  She didn’t use the stuff much and had plenty.  It was amazing how much one could find looting during a Blight… and after when you hung out with the Hawkes.  She realized she could be looking for some hidden in the chantry even now.  It was amazing what you found hiding in the buildings.

“What’s so important about this relic?”  Hawke was asking.

“I don’t know exactly what it is,” Isabela claimed.  “Except that it is ancient and worth my weight in gold.  Castillon has me chasing it as punishment for freeing his slaves.”  She let out a dramatic sigh, just as Selene found a stash of lyrium, coins, and a frayed scarf.  Who would stash a frayed scarf?  “To be honest, I think he just wants me dead.  But that would be letting me off easy.”

“Do you need me to kill someone for you, my darling?”  Zevran volunteered.

“I don’t think you will be able to easily get to him,” Isabela warned.

They went on to discuss Lucky and how he couldn’t find the relic as Selene continued to search the chantry.

“We should take the gold candle sticks,” Zevran suggested.

“You can’t rob a chantry,” Leliana objected.  “They need those candlesticks.”

“They don’t need gold ones,” Zevran disagreed.  “I say we donate them to the refugees.”  He blew out a couple of candles and swiped the candle sticks.

“Zevran!”  Leliana objected.

“It isn’t like the chantry is helping the refugees, Leliana,” Selene told her.  “Let Zevran force them to help.”

“I think I should stop him,” Aveline commented.  “But, technically, I’m also a Fereldan Refugee and I’ve seen how my people are treated.”

“Lirene’s wanted me to talk to you about that,” Selene mentioned.  “Is there a way you could hire more Fereldan guards?”

“I’d get some push back, but if they’re good with a sword and can follow orders, I’ll take a look at them,” Aveline promised.  “Or if they’re as good with a bow as your friend Leliana over there.”

“No one is as good with a bow as Leliana,” Selene assured her.  “I just don’t think you can talk her out of going back to the Chantry.  I know I couldn’t.”

Selene turned her attention back to Isabela and Hawke for a moment.  Now they were talking about the storm that wrecked Isabela’s ship and about the men she’d lost when the ship sank.  That would be the same ship where Leliana and Zevran had seen too much of the captain’s quarters.  She turned her attention back to going through chests as the conversation turned to Isabela freeing slaves.  They had been Fereldans who had payed Castillon to take them away from the Blight, he’d sold them into Slavery.  “Leliana…”

“I’ll tell the Fereldan authorities,” Leliana promised.  “I won’t use your name.  They’ll put an eye out for this Castillon.”

“Thank you,” Selene nodded.

When she turned her attention back to the two women, they were discussing how Raven would help Isabela get the relic back.   Then Isabela was telling Raven she’d hang out with her and that she had a room at the Hanged Man if Raven was interested in joining her later.  Selene had thought she’d planned to have Zevran and Leliana with her later.  Selene looked at the pair.  “Let’s go get dinner now.  Little Demon needs fed.”

Chapter Text

“Home is where you go to find solace from the ever-changing chaos, to find love within the confines of a heartless world, and to be reminded that no matter how far you wander, there will always be something waiting when you return.”  That is what Gregoire had once told Selene when she asked him what it was like to have a home.  He was trying to convince her that the Circle was her home.  She’d never felt that at the Circle, though.  She hadn’t felt safe with the Templars always watching her, there had been no solace. 

Now she realized she’d only felt that solace once before.  Ironically, it had been during the Blight.  She’d gone to a tavern near Lake Calenhad with Oghren and taken Leliana and Zevran with her.  They had been helping Oghren win Felsi back.  She’d felt that solace and love when she’d returned to their camp, as Alistair had scooped her up into his arms.  The Templars had ripped that from her when they took her from her family and deposited her in the Circle of Magi.

She felt the solace again as she approached the estate she recently acquired. This was where she was going to have her baby and build a new family.

Gazing up at the house, she determined that this was where she would build a home for her baby.  She would give them the home she never had and Maker help any Templar who tried to take her child from her.

“Are you going in?”  Leliana stood behind her.  Her friend had declared that she wasn’t leaving until she was sure Selene was settled.  Alistair could wait to hear that his ex-lover wasn’t going to come when he whistled and had started a life somewhere else.  A life without him.

Selene took a deep breath and pulled out the key, it had been with the rest of the paperwork the Viscount had given her.  She unlocked the door and walked in.  There were a few lit candles.  The danced, causing strange shadows.  “Who lit candles?”  She didn’t like that.

“Do you have squatters,” Leliana scanned the shadows.  “Maybe you should have sold me one of those bows.”

“They weren’t your style,” Selene assured her.  Her friend had two long daggers, but she would have felt better if Leliana had a bow.  She had her magic.  She pulled out a staff and used the crystal to add light.

“Get out!”  A voice cried.

“Either a ghost or squatters,” Leliana confirmed.

“I don’t feel a thinning of the veil,” Selene assured her.  She looked around.  The place was still furnished.  Sheets covered the settees and tables.  She pulled a sheet and revealed a chaise with carved cherrywood and deep red cushions.  “It’s still furnished.”  She pulled another sheet to reveal a cabinet with the same cherrywood details.

Fog billowed from the hall, causing the shadows to increase. 

Selene followed the source of the fog, determined to find the creature.  A skeleton popped up in front of her.  She sent a lightning bolt through it, blowing the bones to pieces.  She squinted at it and knelt.  “This is a fake.  I’ve fought enough of the undead to know the difference.”

Leliana put a finger to her lips and took the lead.  They quietly crept forward, passing several bedroom doors.  The estate was large.  They found a door that revealed a set of stairs leading down, but that didn’t seem to be the source of the fog.  They continued to the end of the hall they opened a door to reveal a laboratory of some king.  A large cauldron was in the middle of the room.  There were book shelves and a stand with a large tome on it.  A table stood nearby with parchment, quills, and a glowing orb.  A telescope was at one of the windows.  An old man stood behind the cauldron and was waving a giant fan to get the fake fog to move out.

Selene waved her hand.  “Liquet.” 

“Get out of my house!”  The old man ordered.

“This is my house,” Selene insisted.

“Dumar can’t sell my home,” the old man insisted.  “Now get out.”

“He didn’t sell it, I inherited it.  This is the Amell estate,” Selene countered.  “Well one of them.  I’m an Amell, of this estate’s Amells. What are you doing here?”

            “Is Gamlen trying to take this estate since he lost his family’s?”  The man scoffed.

            “This place has been officially empty for over a decade,” Selene pointed out.  “You’re a squatter.”

            Leliana’s eyes narrowed.  “Selene…”  She began.

            “I am not…”  The old man stopped and blinked at her.  “Selene?  Selene Amell?”  He rushed at her and threw his arms around her.  “How did you escape the Templars?”

            She blinked at him in shock, then she realized that he looked familiar.  That voice…  Sweet Maker!  He was still holding on to her and her own arms wrapped around him.  Her voice broke as she uttered a single word.  “Daddy?”

            He nodded.  “It’s me, baby.”

            “I… I thought you disappeared with…”  She stopped.  She vaguely remembered names, names she thought belonged to her siblings, but she wasn’t sure.  Maker, how much did Templars take from their victims?  “With the others.”

            “I fled Kirkwall after Revka… your mother… disappeared,” he confirmed.  “I took your younger siblings away when Emedee began showing signs of magic.  I managed to keep her safe for a few years, but the Templars still caught up with us.  By then, Xavier’s magic had also begun to manifest.  I fled again, but… They found Eusede as well.  He… accidentally… caused a blizzard in the middle of the summer.  It had been a hot summer,” he sobbed, and her arms tightened.  “You’d think the villagers would have been grateful for a blizzard.  I returned to the only place I’d truly known, hoping Revka would somehow reappear.  But then I’d have to tell her that I failed our children.”

            “You didn’t fail anyone,” she assured him.

            “Maybe, if I’d trained as a warrior, instead of an alchemist, I could have held the Templars at bay,” he straightened and released her.  “I didn’t tell anyone I was back.  What if the curse affects them to?  What if it does you, Selene?”

            “I think it already did,” she pointed out.  “I was taken away by Templars.  Then…”  She stopped and shook her head. 

            “Tell me,” her father urged.

            “It is a tale of dragons, bloodmages, and archdemons,” she enlightened him.  “It has a handsome prince and dark rituals.  It is a tale for a late night in front of a warm fire.”

            “Then we’ll get you moved in and have that fire and late night,” he hugged her again.  Then he looked over at Leliana.  “Will your friend be staying?”

            “Only for the night,” Leliana told him.  “I just wanted to make sure Selene was settled before I left.”  She turned to Selene.  “I’ll help you get your stuff from the Hanged Man.”

            “You’ve been staying in that dump?”  Selene’s father objected.

            “Her shop’s in Darktown,” Leliana confided.

            “Well, of course.”  His voice indicated he approved of the location.  “It’s easier to avoid Templars there.  The estate has a secret passage that exits in Darktown.  Many estates in Hightown have them.  Be home in time for dinner.”

            “Yes, dad,” Selene smiled.  “Do I need to bring my dates home, too?”

            “You have a date?”  He didn’t sound happy.

            Selene’s father insisted she take the Master suite as she technically now owned their estate and he would never sleep in it again.  He really wanted answer when he learned she would also be using the nursery.

            As she unpacked her things, she lifted the rose she’d frozen in stasis.  It was the perfect rose from Lothering, the one Alistair had given her.  She still remembered how sweet and nervous he’d been as he’d presented it to her and the little speech he’d given her about how she was a bright spot in the darkness.  Now she felt like she was part of the darkness, there was so little light left.  She put a hand on her abdomen and looked around.  She would cling to what light she had found and would find more… one day.

            She continued taking out her clothing and her hand wrapped around an amulet and froze.  It was an Andrastian amulet that had been shattered and pieced back together; Alistair’s mother’s amulet.  She’d taken it from Eamon’s study, meaning to give it to Alistair.  She’d never found the right time and then… the Landsmeet.  She supposed she should have just left it in his room for him to find when she’d left Denerim. 

            Sitting on her bed, a beautiful canopied king-sized bed, she held up the amulet for several moments and let herself think of the man it had once belonged to.  She couldn’t return it to Denerim, not without a lot of questions.  She decided she would give it to Little Demon someday, something of their father passed to them.  Not just his or her father’s, but their grandmother as well.  It would be the only connection they had.

            Perhaps she would pass on the rose as well.  A token of the love that had produced them, the token of a handsome prince passed on to a poor mage who was cast aside because of the powers she was born with.  They would know that they weren’t the product of a single foolish night, but of a love that had been real, if not strong enough to sway their father from duty.

Chapter Text

“Whose idea was it to show Orlesian Opera at the Denerim palace?” Alistair hissed at Teagan.  There was some woman wailing on a makeshift stage.  He had no idea what was going on in the story.  He wasn’t even sure who the wailing woman was.

            “Eamon felt we needed more culture leading up to the ball,” Teagan explained.  “We don’t want your potential queens to think that Ferelden is full of barbarians who wallow in the mud with their dogs.”

            Barkspawn barked his objections from where he sat at Alistair’s feet. 

            “Barkspawn’s right,” Alistair agreed.  “Fereldans love our dogs and we don’t want a queen who does not love them as well.”  He looked down at his dog. “Take note of those who are actually enjoying this.  I’m going to try to sneak out.”

            The mabari barked in agreement as Alistair headed to the door.  He stepped out to a more interesting scene than that which was on the stage.

            “Why don’t we go walk in the gardens instead?”  Gwen seemed to be begging her guard.

            He looked regretful, almost sad.  “Gwen, you have to stay, you know that.  Make nice with the other women vying for the king’s attention and… Your Majesty.”  He saluted to attention.  “What brings you out here?  I thought you were enjoying the opera.”

            “Only Orlesians enjoy Orlesian Opera, Joshua,” Alistair was fairly sure the guard’s name was Joshua.  No, maybe it was James.

            “Good point, Your Majesty,” Joshua, whose name might be James, gave him a little smile.  The smile disappeared when he looked at Gwendolyn again.  “I see you’re in good hands, my lady.  I’ll leave you for now.”

            “Jim…”  She objected, but he walked away.

            Alistair felt as if he’d just deprived her of her best friend.  “I’m sorry, Gwen.  Did you still want to go out into the gardens?  I’ll go with you.”

            “Don’t you have to stay here and suffer?”  She looked back into the room.  “I’m sorry, you probably like this stuff.”

            “No,” he assured her.  “Even Orlesians just pretend to like this.”  He got an idea.  “Eamon would probably yell at me for leaving my guests.  Why don’t you come back in with me and we can try to figure this out together… or just make up what is happening.”

            “That could be fun,” she conceded.  “The Maker knows I have no clue what is happening in there.  Who is that man?”  She indicated the new player on the stage that they could see through the door.  “And why is he attacking the woman with a feather?”

            “That is what we must figure out together,” he held out a hand to her.

            “Ah, I see.”  She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back into the room.

            “Yes, such as the man with the feather, he is obviously a mage healer who has escaped from a mage tower,” Alistair decided.  “The feather represents his more offensive powers.”

            “Oh,” she sat down.  “Then the woman is obviously a Templar.  She is wearing that ridiculous outfit as a penance for all the mages she’s persecuted.”

            “And because it’s more fashionable than her uniform,” Alistair added.

            “What about him?”  Gwen wondered as another man burst on the stage, a prop sword in his hand.  “Wait, he’s the royal jester.  Notice that the sword is absolutely a fake.  He was the jester before he was driven insane when the Templars forced his sister into a Circle.  Now he’s sworn to kill every single one of them, even though he has no idea how to fight.”

            The two men faced off to fight.  As the danced, almost literally, around each other, the woman wailed and clutched a handkerchief to her chest.  Then another woman came out to comfort her.

            “That’s her secret Chantry lover,” Alistair confided.  “She’s taken vows but can’t deny her passionate love for the Templar Woman.  See how they cling together, it’s because they’re afraid of those who are pro-mage.”

            Gwen nodded.  “They’re bigotry blinds them.  They fear the powers of those they can’t control.”  She studied him for a moment.  “Are you pro-mage?  Do you believe they should be freed from the Circles?”

            His thoughts shot to Selene.  He hoped she hadn’t been forced into one of those prisons.  “I wish there was a way I could help them.”

            “You’re king,” she reminded him.  “If you can’t find a way to help, who can?  Oh, no!  Our jester has been stabbed!”  She had still been half watching the stage.  “Oh, look, the Templar is going to try and help him.  But look, her lover is trying to pull her off.  I bet she’s afraid she’ll get blood on the dress.  Blood is so hard to clean sometimes.  She should have just worn her uniform.”

            “That will teach her, she’ll remember her mistake every time she looks at the ruined silk,” Alistair agreed.

            The other man made a gesture and turned.  When he was fully facing the audience, the man on the ground jumped up.  “Oh look, he healed him.  It must have been one of his powers!”  Gwen laughed.  “Or can all mages heal?”

            “No, they can’t,” he assured her.  “I know for sure that Sel… that a mage I used to know couldn’t heal.”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  He couldn’t even think of her without there being pain.  Maker, when would it ease?  He found himself talking about her without realizing it.  “She could call up a mighty storm and smite her enemies and she could channel her magic into strength, using a sword; but she couldn’t heal.”  He wondered if she’d healed the pain of their breakup.  She’d vanished from his life without a word, so it seemed likely.  She was probably thriving without him.

            “Sometimes I wish I could shoot lightning at my enemies,” Gwen confided.  “But then I’d have the Chantry chasing after me and locking me up.  Oh, look,” she indicated the stage.  A group of people came out with large, feathered fans.  “I wonder what they’re supposed to be.”

            “They’re obviously darkspawn,” Alistair told her, grateful for the distraction.  “See, the Chantry Sister is shrinking back, away from them.  She obviously wishes she’d joined the Grey Wardens instead of the Chantry.”

            Lydia stood on the balcony that overlooked the throne room and its makeshift stage.  She couldn’t help her snort of disgust.  She hated Orlesian opera.  She swore it was written by a room full of toddlers whose parents hadn’t enforced bedtime for weeks.  And even if it weren’t bad, it would be wasted on Fereldans.  If it didn’t have a dog in it, they weren’t interested.

            She could see the Grey Warden King sitting in the back with the brunette he’d become interested in.  Too bad for the little brunette, the king would soon be dead.  She reached for the bag at her feet, the one containing a crossbow.  Everyone was absorbed in the opera, no one would notice her until it was too late.

            “Lydia, isn’t it?”  A voice spoke from just behind her. 

She jumped and dropped the bag.  She turned to see Teagan behind her.  “Um, yes,” she tried to smile.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with any of the other women?”  He was being nosy.

“We’re each other’s competition, aren’t we?”  She inquired.  “If we became friends, it would just hurt them more when the king chose me as his bride.”

“Ah,” he nodded.  “But you aren’t trying to spend more time with the king, either.”

“I don’t want to come off as desperate, like all the others,” she wished he’d go away so she could go back to her deadly duties.  Urthemiel was counting on her.

“Is that your bag?”  Teagan pointed to the bag at her feet, the one containing a crossbow.

            “No,” she assured him.  “Someone must have just left it here.  All these would-be queens are so rich, that they don’t even bother to keep track of their things.  It’s probably just their smalls.”

            “I’ll take care of it.”  Teagan reached down and took the bag.

            “Why would you want a woman’s private things?”  She laughed.  “It’s best to just leave it there.  I’m sure the owner will be back.  We don’t want someone walking around here without their smalls.  What will the others think?”

            “If they come looking, tell them I have them.”  He cocked his head.  “Unless you’d like to come with me?  Some of the men are going to lock themselves away from all these women and tell dirty jokes and fart while practicing their dance moves for the ball.  It will be fun, for the men at least.  You might enjoy it.  What do you say?”

            “I’ll stick with the opera,” she lied.

            He shrugged.  “Have it your way.”  He took her bag with him.

            She walked away.  She was going into the city.  Perhaps there was someone who sold poisons in the Market District.

            Alistair and Gwen stared at the stage as the finale of the travesty they were watching took place.  They looked at each other and shook their heads.

            “It looks like the darkspawn won,” Gwen sighed dramatically.

            Alistair laughed.  “I guess that’s what happens when you leave the Orlesians in charge.”

            “It only took two Fereldans to repulse the last Blight,” Gwen recalled.  “Did the other Warden die while killing the archdemon?  That’s what I heard.”

            “No, we both lived through the Blight,” Alistair assured her.

            “Oh, will I meet her at your ball then?”  Gwen grinned at him and her voice grew more excited.  “I would love to talk to her!  She has the title of the Hero of Ferelden, doesn’t she?  And she led the army?”

            “She did and she did,” Alistair confirmed.  Sadness washed over him, just thinking about her.  “She…”  She left me.  She left me here alone and I have to go on without her and it’s all my fault.  “She’s not in Denerim.”

            “She’s not even in Ferelden,” a soft voice interrupted them.

            Alistair turned.  “Leliana!  She’s not… did you find her?  I received a report from Wynne last week.  She has found no trace of…”  His voice softened and broke for a moment.  “… no trace of Selene.  She even tried her phylactery… nothing.”  His hands clenched into fists for a moment, fighting the tears that welled in his eyes.  “I’m afraid… afraid that she’s…”

            “Why don’t we go talk about this alone, Alistair?”  Leliana glanced at Gwen.  “If you’ll excuse me, Lady…?”

            “Gwendolyn,” she supplied.  “Is there anything I can do?”

            “No,” Leliana gave her a sweet smile.  “It’s just a private matter.”

            “Nonsense!”  Eamon rapidly approached them, with Teagan at his side.  “If you have word of Lady Selene Amell, we’d all like to hear it.”

            Leliana glowered at them a moment and then plastered a smile on her face.  “Fine, I’ll report in front of the entire Landsmeet and their guests.  I found Selene.  She’s fine, but she will not be returning to Denerim… or Ferelden for that matter.  She refused to report to Adamant and doesn’t wish for the Grey Wardens or the Fereldan Court to know where she is.  She asks that her privacy be respected.  She’s done enough for the lot of you.” 

The last part wasn’t actually part of Selene’s message.  Alistair could tell that, it was Leliana’s sentiment.  At least he hoped it was just Leliana’s sentiment. But if he were being honest with himself, it was likely that it was Selene’s sentiment as well.  Wasn’t that what she was saying by refusing to come back, refusing to take the mission the Grey Wardens had given her.

“And her elven lover?”  Eamon pressed.

“She doesn’t have an elven lover,” Leliana narrowed her eyes at Eamon.  “If you mean her elven friend who also left, because he cared enough to keep her from travelling alone, he’s fine.  We should all be lucky enough to have a friend who’s there for us and wants nothing more.  So many of those in our lives seem to be more interested in what we can do for them or what they think we should be.”

“Then why couldn’t her phylactery…” Alistair began.  He noticed Gwen and Eamon both looking at him intensely.

“She has a duty to the Wardens,” Eamon reminded him.  “Leliana needs to tell us where she is, so we can tell them.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Leliana promised.

Chapter Text

“Thedas’ most beautiful flower for Thedas’ most beautiful woman!”  Selene looked over from her wares to where Percy now stood in her shop with a small bouquet in his hand.  “They’re Crystal Grace,” he told her, as if she couldn’t see that for herself.

            “So, they are,” she slowly moved to him.  It had developed into a bit of a waddle as she had entered her third trimester.  “They’re lovely.”  They were not, however, the prettiest flower in Thedas.  That would be the rose, but she had a feeling she’d always associate that flower with… someone else.  “Where did you even find flowers in Kirkwall.”  Maker, sometimes she missed Ferelden.

            “I found someone in Hightown with a greenhouse,” he confided.  “He has managed not to have his greenhouse destroyed by bandits falling from the sky.  What is up with that around here?”

            “I think they’re jumping from the rooftops, but it does seem like they are falling from the sky sometimes.  I have a theory that they’re moving along the building roofs of Kirkwall to avoid the guards and Templars,” she disclosed.

            “It has to be the Templars,” he decided.  “The guards in town aren’t bad, but those Templars are a bit too enthusiastic.  They suspect every other citizen is an apostate and the rest have escaped from their circle.  Of course, they’re all blood mages.  Meredith probably suspects her own seamstress is a blood mage.”

            “Does she have a seamstress?”  Selene wondered.  “I thought she only wore uniforms.  There is nothing under that armor, except muscle and disdain.”  Truthfully, she was very careful to avoid Meredith and her Templars; but they practically paraded around Hightown.  She was grateful that her estate had a tunnel that led to Darktown.  Most of the estates apparently did have tunnels.  Raven had confided that she’d broken into the estate her uncle had managed to lose; a home that, it turned out, had been left to Leandra.  What dark history did the city truly hold?

            “She has to wear something under that uniform,” Percy insisted.  “Imagine the chaffing if she didn’t!”

            “That chaffing is in the Maker’s name!”  Selene declared.  “It makes her even more holy!  Templars love pain. They have contests and everything. Andraste gives them a medal if they win.”  

            Percy laughed.  “You might be right.  Why don’t we discuss it over dinner tonight?”

            “Dinner?”  She’d just had dinner with him a few nights before.  It was becoming a habit.  Still, she enjoyed his company well enough.  It was someone outside of Raven’s circle of friends that she now knew in the city.  She did have casual friendships with her fellow merchants in Darktown, but she missed having good friends around.  Zevran had left town for a few months, the Crows were getting too close and he thought she was now safe with her family.  He promised to come back to see Little Demon.  She suspected that was after he had confirmation whether she was carrying a baby or some sort of demonic being.  Who knew, it could be both. 

            “You aren’t getting tired of the Maker’s Table and Minrathos are you?”  He actually looked a bit hurt.  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take you to the Golden Nug tonight.  It’s supposed to have a wonderful minstrel and they occasionally have a juggler.”

            She gave him a little smile.  “I’ll tell you what, we’ll have dinner at the Golden Nug on Friday.  I’ll be out late helping Lirene tonight.  She said she needed to see me about something, that usually means Ferelden Refugee business.  I’m playing Wicked Grace with friends tomorrow.”

            “Friday night then,” he handed her the flowers.  “After the baby’s born perhaps we should go hiking along Sundermount.”

            “We’ll discuss it,” she promised.  “We’ll have to decide who’s bringing the weapons.”

            “Fine, we’ll take a walk along the Storm coast, perhaps have a picnic lunch, out among all that fresh air… and sand,” he wrinkled his nose at the thought of sand.

            She laughed.  “I’m sure there are areas along the coast without sand.”

            He took her hand, bowed over it, and kissed it.  “I shall see you on Friday, my lady.”

            She watched him leave.  Hand kissing is as far as he’d gotten with her.  She looked after him and then turned back to her stock.  Her shop was doing a steady business.  She did find it strange that she got such a high number of apostate and escaped mages coming in for staves.  The Gallows must be worse than she though, which made it a lot worse than Kinloch hold had been.  What was… the thought escaped her mind as another customer came in.

            “How are things with Percy going?”  The question was Lirene’s greeting to Selene as she entered Ferelden Exports.

            Selene shrugged.  “He’s nice, but…”

            “But…”  Lirene shook her head.  “But he isn’t the father of your baby and you still have feelings for that man?”

            “I…”  Selene closed her eyes.  Damn him!  Even from another country, he was influencing her life.  Why did she give him so much power over her?  Things between them were over and she needed to move on.  She sighed and slumped against the counters.  “I know I need to move on and… Percy’s a nice guy.  I just…”

            “Selene, it’s all right to still be mourning,” Lirene assured here.  “You’re still carrying the man’s child, whoever he was.”

            “I already have a new person in my life,” she rubbed her abdomen.  “I’m moving slowly before I fully let anyone else into it.”

            “I have a new person for you to bring into it,” Lirene was excited.  “He’s setting up a clinic in Darktown even as we speak.  He’s also from Ferelden and is avoiding the Templars.  Oh, and his smile… you were made for each other.  At least, I can guarantee he’s what you’ve been looking for.  He’s a healer, Selene, a healer with no ties to the Templars.”  She handed Selene a piece of paper.  “You’re not helping me tonight; you’re going right back to Darktown and you’re going to see him.  Perhaps get him a new staff as payment and a welcome present. We’re lucky to have him.”

            “Yes, we are,” Selene agreed.  She looked down at the address.  Lirene was right, it wasn’t far from her own shop.

            “Oh, and when you seem him smile, you might find your heart lightened,” Lirene gave her a dreamy smile.  “You may find yourself mourning your Little Demon’s father less.”

            “That would be nice,” Selene sighed.

            Selene made her way back to Darktown.  She encountered one hapless thief who was willing to go up against an armed and pregnant woman.  A fireball took care of him.

            Soon she found herself outside a building in Darktown with a lit lantern.  She knew that was how some of those who worked the area liked to signal if they were in or not.  She’d been considering getting one for herself.  When the baby came, it would be a very good idea to implement such a signal.  She opened the door and found herself in a building that wasn’t much different than her own shop in set up.  There was a single bed and furs thrown on the ground.  There were several lamps lit, but there still plenty of shadows.

            A handsome blonde man stood by one of the beds and was examining a young girl.  She sat on the bed and he held her hand gently in his left as his right moved slowly over it.  “How big was the boy you punched?”

            “He was twice her size,” her father grinned at her, while her mother wrung her hand.

            “Don’t encourage her Logan,” the woman chastised her husband.

            “We just need to teach her how to punch correctly, Logan,” the man answered.

            Both of their names were Logan? 

            The woman turned to her. “My Lady, would you want your little girl punching boys?”

            “Maybe she is having a boy, Logan,” the husband pointed out.

            “I don’t know what I’m having,” she admitted.  “I have tried using a midwife.  This is my first time seeing a healer since I learned I was pregnant.  I did use a healer once before I knew I was pregnant, but that healer only healed a war wound.”

            “War wound?”  The wife gasped.  “This is what happens when you teach your daughter to punch!”

            “They learn to defend themselves and fight darkspawn?”  The husband countered.

            “How did you…”  Selene began.

            “You’re also Fereldan and had a war wound,” the husband pointed out.  “What else would you have been fighting?  Loghain?”

            “Him too,” she confided.

            “You’re all done Jasmine,” the healer told her.

            The girl jumped from the bed and ran to her parents.  Then she ran back.  “Thank you, Ser Anders.”  She stood on her toes. 

The healer leaned down so she could kiss him on the cheek.  “No punching people for at least a week,” he ordered.  As the girl left with her parents, he turned to Selene.  He flashed her a smile.  Maker, that was quite the smile.  The smile faded, though.  “How did you find me?”

“What?”  Wait, she did know him.  He had been in Kinloch Hold with her.  He was famed for his frequent escapes.  She’d thought he’d died in Ulrich’s uprising.  “Anders?  Find you?  Do you think the Templars would send a mage to hunt another mage?”

“No, but the Grey Wardens might,” he answered.  “I remember you from the tower, Selene Amell.  You feel different than the other Wardens do to me, but I heard you left with one.  His name was Duncan, wasn’t it?  I heard you were performing Blood Magic.”

“I was not performing Blood Magic!”  She protested.  “Jowan was.  I was supposed to be watching him and reporting back to Irving.  When Jowan decided to destroy his phylactery and escape, he left me holding the bag.  The Templars accused me of helping him and Blood Magic.  Irving didn’t even try and explain.  So, yes, Duncan helped me.  He conscripted me and I found myself in the middle of the Blight, with everyone looking at me as if I knew what I was doing.”  She gave a little laugh and shook her head.  “One moment I was forced to drink from a chalice of badness, Duncan killed the recruit who tried to refuse, and then I was fighting through a tower full of darkspawn to light a beacon.  A swamp witch saved Al… the other Grey Warden with me and myself.  Then sent us off to stop the Blight, because the rest of the Grey Wardens were dead.  Not once, during all that time did, I use Blood Magic.”

“Sorry,” he sighed and motioned for her to sit on the bed.  “I’ve become a bit paranoid, hiding from the Templars and the Grey Wardens.”

She sat.  “You aren’t the only one.”

He gave a little laugh.  “How did I forget?  You’re the one they were waiting for at Amaranthine.  You were the Warden Commander they had originally assigned, but you were delayed for some reason.  They sent an Orlesian until you could come.  I’m guessing you weren’t delayed and that you never came.”

“How could I just be delayed?”  She snorted.  “They couldn’t find me to give me the orders.  Well, they finally did get those orders to me about a month ago.  I refused.  Luckily, the person who brought them was a friend of mine and not a Warden.  She won’t tell them where I am.”

“Are you really the Hero of Ferelden?”  He pressed.

“There are those who call me that,” she admitted.  “I left Denerim before some big celebration in my honor, those hypocrites.  I’m good enough to be their hero, but not their…”  She just shook her head. 

“Lay back,” he ordered her.  “I should have realized why you were here to see me when you walked in.  I was too panicked over my own problems.  How far along are you and when is the last time you saw a healer?”

“I have one to two months left.”  She did the math in her head.  “I became pregnant shortly before the Battle of Denerim.”

“You went into battle pregnant!”  He began examining her.

“I didn’t know!”  She would have gone into battle anyway, but now was not the time to discuss that.

Anders nodded.  “Lay back.”  She obeyed and he continued his examination.  “And since then?”

“Just a few skirmishes here and there,” she admitted.  “I’ve been hanging out with a cousin who seems to attract trouble.  And well,” she shrugged.  “This is Kirkwall.  It isn’t the safest city in Thedas.”

“Hmmm…  You noticed that too?”  He gave her a little smile.  “You seem healthy enough.  So, when is the last time you saw a healer?”

“Wynne worked on my injuries after the Battle of Denerim,” she recalled.  “Since then… I haven’t.   I talked to Avernus, an ancient Grey Warden mage who used to experiment on people at Soldier’s Peak.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Are you joking?”

“No,” she sighed.  “I’d drank one of his potions just a week or so before I became pregnant and…”  She took a deep breath.  “The baby’s father is also a Grey Warden.”

“I recall the Warden Commander at Amaranthine telling Velanna that it was very hard for two Grey Wardens to have a baby together,” Anders told her.  “Of course, he was trying to get her into bed at the time and he said hard, not impossible.  He was the one hard at the time.”

Selene nodded.  “Avernus gave me some herbs to help the baby fight off any side effects of having blighted parents.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you now,” he promised.  “But Selene, you don’t feel like another Grey Warden now.”

“I don’t?”  She blinked at him.  “How…”  She trailed off.  Had the baby done something to her?  It did have the soul of an old god, after all.  “There is something else you need to know, just… promise you won’t hurt the baby.”

He laid a gentle hand on top of her head.  “Why would I hurt an innocent baby?  Or any innocent for that matter?  Is your baby going to come out a Templar?  There can’t be anything worse than that.  They don’t recruit future soldiers before they’re born do, they?”

She laughed at that. “No, it isn’t a Templar.  Although, its fath…”  Dang, why did even that hurt?  “His or her father… was trained as a Templar.  He was conscripted into the Grey Wardens before he took his vows, though.  He swore he’s never hunted a mage.”

“The father was…”  Anders continued to scan her, but he looked sharply at her face.  “If the father was killed at Ostagar, you’d have had this baby by now.  There was only one other Grey Warden in Ferelden right before the Battle of Denerim.”

“Yes, there was only one other,” she admitted.  She closed her eyes for a minute.  Shit.  She had to tell him.  If you couldn’t tell your healer, who could you tell?

“I met him once,” Anders recalled.  “It was really his idea to have me conscripted.  The Templars were going to take me and this time… well, several of them had been killed by darkspawn and they wouldn’t believe I had survived when they didn’t.”

“Templars are weak,” she made a face.  “Did you see Kinloch hold during Ulrich’s uprising?”

He shook his head.  “I escaped right before it.”

“It’s good you did, there were abominations running around everywhere,” she informed him.  “A desire demon was making Templars her little pet.  Only one of them survived; one of the Templars that was locked in the Circle that is.  I killed the desire demon and all her little pets.  The tranquil had a better survival rate.”

“So, the father was a Grey Warden, as well,” Anders nodded.  “But you’ve been taking herbs and you don’t feel exactly like a Warden anymore.  What has you worried?”

“Has anyone told you how an archdemon is killed?”  She decided her explanation was going to have to be a mix of Riordan and Morrigan.”

“Oh, I got that explanation right before we had to fight the Architect,” he told her.  “There is nothing like an Orlesian throwing all non-Grey Wardens out of room and then telling you he doesn’t know if there is a difference between how archdemons and arch-darkspawn are killed, but one of you might be meeting a rather horrible death.”

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you how both Grey Wardens who were in Ferelden when the archdemon died are both still alive,” she confided.

“Actually, Nate asked about that,” he remembered.  “The Warden Commander told them that the continued existence of the Hero of Ferelden had to be a bunch of propaganda and you were dead.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “What would he have done if I finally reported in for duty?”

Anders shrugged.  “Oghren called him a blasted lying fool and the biggest idiot he had ever seen.  He told him he’d been at the Battle of Denerim and seen the King and Hero both stab the archdemon at once.  He swore you were both alive afterwards and anyone who said differently was a nug brained swamp rat who needed to be stepped on.  Then he and the Commander somehow ended up in a fistfight together.”

“Oghren was there.”  Selena felt like marching to Adamant and giving the Commander a piece of her mind, but then they’d make her take the post… and she was likely to go into labor on the trip.  She smiled at the thought.  “Did he fart in the Commander’s face during the fight?”

“He did.  I reminded him that we all knew Oghren was indeed there and had been part of the Grey Wardens’ team during the Blight,” Anders admitted.  “The Commander didn’t like that.  How are you both alive?”

She put a hand on her abdomen and slowly rubbed it.  “The night before we marched on Denerim, Riordan told Al… the other Warden and I how an archdemon was killed.  I decided that I would take the killing blow.”

He pulled up a stool and sat beside her.  “Why would you do that?”

She looked down at where her hand still moved slowly on her abdomen, stroking her unborn child.  “I…”  She swallowed.  “I made the mistake of falling in love with someone who couldn’t love me.”  She laughed bitterly.  “No, that’s not quite right.  I wouldn’t have… we wouldn’t have… not if I didn’t think he really loved me.  He swore he does, more than once he has; but that didn’t stop him from…”  She tried to blink back her tears.  “I’m a mage, I’m not an acceptable queen or consort or whatever to the King of Ferelden.  That’s who I foolishly lost my heart to.”

He took her other hand.  “I figured that part out.”

“When he became king…”  She shook her head.  “If it was love, if he was telling the truth about how he felt; then it wasn’t enough.  He picked duty over love, over me.”  Her voice softened and the tears began to flow.  I wasn’t enough, not to fight for.  He…”

“I get the idea,” Anders wiped at her tears.  “We shouldn’t have to live like this and being a mage shouldn’t lead to your being willing to give your life to kill an archdemon, because others think that’s all you’re good for.”

She nodded.  “Well, after Riordan told us, I decided…”  She shook her head.  “Anyway, when I got to my room, Morrigan was there.  She’d been waiting for me.”

“Who’s Morrigan?”  He pressed.

“She’s…”  How did one describe Morrigan?  She was scary and had been a close friend until Selene said no.  “She is a Witch of the Wilds.  She’s the Daughter of Flemeth.”

“I thought the daughters of Flemeth were a legend,” he confided.

“So, did she,” Selene recalled.  “She’d never seen one of her sisters.  Then she learned it was how… well, one of the ways… Flemeth extended her unnaturally long-life span.  Flemeth possesses their bodies.”

“Ouch,” he grimaced.  “Does that have anything to do why she was in your room?  Morrigan, I mean, not Flemeth.”

“No, yes,” she corrected after she thought about it for a moment.  Flemeth likely wanted the child, and here she’d mentioned her baby to Flemeth.  The Witch of the Wilds was distracted when she told her, though, and she hadn’t come back for Selene or the baby.  “I’m not sure.  She told me that she had a loophole to the whole dying with the archdemon thing.”

“So, that’s why you’re alive,” Anders concluded.

“No, not exactly,” she corrected.  “She told me that she had a ritual that would guarantee that she would become pregnant and that the archdemon’s soul would go into her baby instead of Al… either of the Grey Wardens on the field.   We could kill the archdemon and no one need die.”

“Except her baby,” Anders pointed out.

“No,” Selene shook her head.  “She assured me that the baby wouldn’t die, either.  She said that since it would be so small, the spirit or soul of the old god would become part of the baby, it wouldn’t kill it.”

“You’re telling me that there is a Witch of the Wilds walking around with an Old God Baby?”  Anders leaned forward.

“No, there’s not,” she assured him.  “Not exactly.  She needed a Grey Warden for this ceremony of hers.  It was the only way for the baby to attract the Old God Soul, one of its parents needed to be a Grey Warden.  Obviously, I couldn’t get her pregnant.  She asked me to convince Alistair to have sex with her.”  The entire memory was still so shocking that she didn’t even realize she’d said his name. 

“You convinced him?”  Anders had become intrigued with the story.

Selene laughed bitterly.  “Oh, no.  How was I supposed to convince the man who had thrown me aside the moment he became king to sleep with a woman he despises?  I obviously don’t have that type of persuasive influence.  If I did, he wouldn’t have broken my heart, because I’m…”  She shook her head as the tears began to well up again.

“Because you’re a mage,” Anders supplied.  “If he couldn’t see past your powers, or cherish you even more because of them, then he never deserved you.”

She smiled at him, it was a sad and watery smile.  “Thanks.  Anyway, no, there was no way he was going to sleep with her.  I wasn’t going to humiliate myself further by asking.  I told her that and…”  She let out a long sigh.  “She turned into a dog and left.  She left right before a big battle.  I… I thought we were friends; she’d become protective of me after Al… he broke my heart; but the moment I told her no she was gone.”

“Then how did you both live?”  Anders had become absorbed in the story.

Selene grimaced.  “I had drunk a strange concoction at Soldier’s Peak, Avernus thinks it did whatever was necessary to enable the important components of the dark ritual.  Although, he thinks it was an act of the Maker that I ended up pregnant.  I’m not sure he believes in the Maker, but he declared it an act of the Maker.”

“A potion made you pregnant!”  Anders began to stand up.

“No!”  She took his hand and pulled him back down on his stool.  “That would have been…”  She shook her head.  “Al… he came to see me shortly after Morrigan left.”

“I will assume that he is Alistair,” Anders cocked his head.  “You aren’t going to be over him until you can say his name, Selene.” 

She gave him a sidelong look.  “I don’t think saying his name is going to help with that.  I may never be fully over that man.”

“I would offer to help you,” Anders confided.  “But I’d only hurt you in the end.”

“At lease you admit it,” Selene grumbled.  “He swore he’d always love me.  Even as he crushed my heart, he claimed he’d always love me.  That isn’t stopping him from his hunt for an acceptable bride.  He claimed he’d always love me that night, too.  He came to my room and kissed me, he told me how much he needed me.  We didn’t think we’d both make it through the coming fight and… I needed his comfort,” she finished quietly. 

“Of course, you did,” Anders soothed.  “I can only imagine what it was like knowing what you were about to go up against.”

“I became pregnant that night,” she finished.  “It can be presumed that the Old God Soul went into the baby.”

“Well, your magical and supernatural offspring seems fine,” he assured her.  “I plan to deliver a healthy baby from you within two months and we’ll see if there are any surprises in store then.”

“Thanks,” she groaned.

He flashed her that charming smile of his.  “It will be fine.  I’m not detecting anything that isn’t a baby in there.  I’m a Grey Warden, remember.  The baby isn’t giving archdemon, or even darkspawn vibes, off.  I’ll see you next week.  Just stop by after you close up your shop.  You said you work nearby, didn’t you?” 

“I do,” she confirmed.  “I’ll bring you a present next week.  For now, I’ve got your payment.”

“I… if you can’t afford it…”  He began.

“I can,” she assured him.  “Don’t refuse payment if you don’t have to.  I should be paying extra to use a healer who isn’t in the Gallows.”

He shuddered.  “I don’t want to go near that place.”

“Neither do I,” she agreed.

Chapter Text

Killsin Durant, the high priest of the Disciples of the Old Ones, sat at the head of a large table.  “…And we shall return the world to the Old ways and our gods shall be returned unto us.”  He finished reciting his prayer.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  Those around the table exclaimed in unison.

“Do we have any word on the search?”  He looked at those gathered around the table.

“We look even now,” Forsaken assured him.  “We will find the one who bears Urthemiel and the other Warden.”

“How goes the attempt to rid Thedas of the Warden King?”  He knew, but he wanted to make the others say it.

“Lydia has… had difficulty fulfilling her mission,” Humility admitted.  “But I have no doubts that she will succeed, given enough time.”

“Send me, High Priest,” Modesty stood and bowed.  She was one of the newest priestesses.  “I am much more efficient than Lydia and can take out this king.  I am willing to die training.  Lydia is weak and cares too much for her own life.”

“Not yet, Modesty,” Killsin decided.

The door opened and a woman in red rushed in.  “I’m sorry to disturb your meeting, but one of our members swear they have spotted the Witch of the Wilds.”

Chapter Text

Alistair walked down the halls of his palace.  The ball was only a month away and yet more women and their entourages had come to Denerim.  He couldn’t sneak into the kitchen at night for a snack without tripping over some of them.  Two nights before, he’d been returning to his room, with a plate of cheese and crackers and encountered a small gaggle of overly perfumed and overly dressed ladies.  He had no idea why they were wearing such elaborate robes or were so smelly, but they tried to waylay him and started talking about getting wine for his cheese and crackers.  Like he would share his cheese with them.  He’d called for the guards and rushed to his room.

Now, he looked cautiously around every corner.  That still didn’t keep him from almost running into Barkspawn. 

The mabari had been lying in wait for him and now barked at him. 

“What is it?”  Alistair scratched his head.

Barkspawn grabbed his sleeve gently in his teeth and then led him to an alcove, where Alistair could hear soft crying.  He pulled back a curtain to reveal Gwendolyn curled up on a little bench, tears were streaming down her face.

She looked up at him.  “Sorry, I thought I’d finally found some privacy.”

Alistair glanced at Barkspawn and then sat on the little bench beside her, pulling her against his side.  “Right now, that’s in short supply in this palace.”

She nodded and laid her head against his shoulder.  “It isn’t much better at home.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He suggested.  “Maybe I can help.”

“Nothing can help what is wrong,” she assured him.

“Where is your guard?”  He looked around.  There had been strange things happening in the palace and two of his guests had been killed in random accidents.  He thought he should be looking into those, but Eamon just handed it off to the captain of the guard and assured Alistair that if there was any foul play, it was overly ambitious families taking out the competition and that he should, therefor, find a bride sooner rather than later.  “Joshua isn’t it?  He should be with you, where is he?”

“James and I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “We’re… he decided he needed some alone time.”

“He’s your bodyguard,” Alistair pointed out.  “He should be by your side.  He can get alone time when you aren’t in the middle of a bunch of rabid women who think they’re a group of wyverns fighting over the last quillback in existence.”

She gave a watery laugh.  “Yes, well, I don’t want part of that scene.  Yet Bann MacCiri insists that’s exactly where his daughter should be.”

“No, one should be there,” Alistair protested.  “I wouldn’t want my daughter there!”

“Your daughter?”  She sat up.

“Well, when… when I have one,” he stumbled.  “I don’ yet… but hopefully… you, know… someday.”

She smiled at him.  “Oh.”

“Why were you two fighting?”  Alistair pressed.

“I wanted to walk through the gardens, with just… him,” she fumbled.  “And he insisted that I had to watch the new court jester, with the other ball guests.  Jesters tend to freak me out a bit, especially if they use too much makeup.”  She shuddered.

“When did I get a jester?”  Alistair wondered.  “Why do I have one?  I hate jesters.  They’re creepy.”  He wondered which of his advisers was behind this.  “I’ll get him out of my court,” he swore.  “Why don’t we go walk through…”

“There you are!”  Leliana interrupted, glaring at him.  She had yet to return to her Chantry duties, stating that the Chantry would want to know what happened at his ball.  He kept arguing that Reverend Mother Perpetua was invited, but Leliana just told him there was no way the Reverend Mother would know what to look for or what to report.  She had also managed to find something wrong with every woman who had arrived as a perspective bride and explained, in detail, why they weren’t suitable.  All she’d said about Gwen was that she didn’t think Alistair could ever truly win the woman’s heart.  That was OK, his own heart was no longer his own; why would he want someone else’s?  He might hurt theirs, like he’d hurt Selene’s.

“Is there somewhere else I should be?”  He was afraid of the answer to that question and realized he shouldn’t have asked it.  He should have just taken Gwen’s hand and run.

“Two reasons,” Leliana informed him.  “One, there is some clown performing in the main hall.  I suggest you get rid of him before he finds a dagger in his back.  The second is that Wynne just arrived.  She says she has a report for you concerning Selene’s whereabouts.  Alistair, I told you I know where she is and she isn’t coming back.  Why did you have Wynne still searching?”

“I…”  Alistair swallowed hard.  “You won’t tell me where she is.”

“Alistair if this friend of yours doesn’t want to be found, you should respect that,” Gwen admonished him.  “Perhaps she had her reasons for disappearing.  Maybe she’s happier where she is and is afraid someone is going to drag her back against her will.”

Gwen didn’t understand, she’d left him.  He reminded himself that it was the Grey Wardens who had commanded him to find her.  She obviously wasn’t interested in fulfilling her duties to them.  They conscripted her, he reminded himself and she had more than enough reason to believe she’d done enough.  She’d sacrificed herself; Maker knew why she was still alive.  Still, he had a driving need to know where she was, to know for himself that she was all right.

“Bring Wynne to my office,” Alistair commanded.  “I’ll talk to you to in private about this matter.”

“Eamon thinks he has a right to be there,” Leliana informed him.

“This doesn’t concern him,” Alistair insisted.  He stifled a bitter laugh.  If Eamon had just stayed out of his life, he would still have Selene at his side.  He turned to Gwen.  “I guess that walk will have to wait.”

“What walk?”  She wondered.

He bowed and kissed her hand.  “Since your guard will not accompany you on a walk through the gardens, the duty will have to fall on me.”   He turned and went to his office.  The painting of Selene was the first thing he saw.  What would she think of him taking another woman for walks through gardens?  Was another man taking her on such excursions?  He found he didn’t like that thought, but he’d lost the right to have a say on such matters.   

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Wynne curtsied in front of Alistair’s desk and lowered her head as she straightened.  “I have been unable to find Lady Amell.  I have her phylactery and even had a Templar use their skills to aid me in my search, but could not even pick up her trail.  I doubt she’s in Ferelden.  Perhaps she went to Tevinter, mages are treated better there and many who run away from the tower dream of going there.”

Alistair looked to Leliana, but she didn’t even flick an eyebrow.  She did however glower at Wynne.

“You used a Templar!”  He was glaring at Wynne as well.  “What would they have done if they found her?  The mage hunters aren’t trained to be gentle and I received a report from Amaranthine several months ago that a Templar there had tried to seize a Grey Warden mage.  Why would you…”  He trailed off.

“How did you even get her phylactery, Wynne?”  Leliana demanded.  “You got to it before I could request it through Chantry channels.”

“I…”  Wynne actually flinched.  “I explained the situation to the Templars at Kinloch Hold and they gave it to me.”

“What did you tell them?”  Alistair was afraid of that answer.  He trusted Wynne, but her methods might have endangered Selene.

“I told them that Amell was in danger and I was looking for her for the Grey Wardens,” Wynne answered.

“So, the Templars now know that Selene is not with the Grey Wardens,” Leliana pointed out.

“Then she will hopefully run back to the Grey Wardens, where she belongs,” Wynne defended her decision.  “She has a duty to them.”

“She’s having…”  Leliana shook her head.  “It should have always been her decision.  Duncan conscripted her for good reason, but he didn’t have to force her through the Joining.  She told me some of the details while… while we were having dinner the last time I saw her.”  She turned to Alistair.  “He really shanked one of the recruits during the ceremony?”

“It was too late to back out.”  That was the only answer Alistair was going to give.  He wasn’t going to go into the details of the Joining and wondered just how much Selene had revealed.  He also wondered where she’d been when she revealed it and what she and Leliana had been talking about.  He was beginning to realize that Selene’s location wasn’t all the Chantry Sister was hiding.

“We don’t always get to choose our duty,” Wynne continued to argue.

“Then is it really our duty or are we slaves forced to serve others,” Leliana retorted.  “If we don’t get to choose where and how we serve we are no freer than those who are enslaved in Tevinter and such places.”

It reminded Alistair of the arguments that Gwen made about their birthrights and wondered how she and Leliana had not become fast friends.  It was because she was a candidate for a position that would have been Selene’s if people were not slaves to their birthright, he answered himself.

“You know where she is!”  Wynne’s realization interrupted Alistair’s thoughts.  She glanced at Alistair to Leliana and then bac to Alistair.  “And you knew that she knew.”

“Yes,” Alistair sighed.  “But she won’t tell me where Selene is.   I was hoping you would.”

“I would if I could,” Wynne grumbled.  The expression on her face made it plain that she was not happy that Leliana had found Selene when she could not.  She looked back to Leliana.  “Is she even in Ferelden?”

Leliana raised an eyebrow.  “That is for me to know and you to never find out, not until I’m sure you, too, would be willing to keep her secrets.”

Alistair heard the plural in her ‘you’.  So, she was keeping more secrets.  What didn’t she want him to know?  No, what did Selene not want him to know?  Leliana swore repeatedly that there was nothing going on between Selene and Zevran, they were just friends.  Would she hide a new man in Selene’s life?  Was there something else?

“Wynne, could you stay until after the ball,” he requested.  “I want your advice on who I should choose as queen.”

“You haven’t already picked Gwen?”  Leliana obviously thought the matter was over.  “You spend more time with Lady Gwendolyn than any of the other women and Barkspawn approves of her.  I think you should just stay single, but if you were to choose one of them, I thought it would be her.”

“I need an heir, Leliana,” he reminded her.  “I have to choose one.”

“Perhaps you should start auditioning them for sexual compatibility,” Wynne suggested.  “You don’t want your attempts to create an heir to be a chore.”

Leliana’s jaw hit the floor and Alistair turned a beet red.  He swallowed.  “I’m not that type.”

“Wynne, I never thought you the type to…”  Leliana just shook her head and looked at Wynne as if she’d grown a second head.

“I’m practical, Leliana,” Wynne stated simply.  “If Alistair is going to be having sex with someone he doesn’t love, there is no time like the present for him to get started.  He needs to get over his squeamishness before the wedding.”

“He wasn’t squeamish with Selene,” Leliana countered.

“He isn’t marrying her,” Wynne reminded her.  “He’s decided to do his duty to his country and is making a match with a queen the Bannorn will approve on.  He needs to remember that his next step is to produce an heir.”

Something flashed in Leliana’s eyes, something she was quick to hood.  “The poor babe.  I mean… to be conceived in ice, duty and obligation.  That’s no way for anyone to begin a life.”

“It’s a happier way than most bastards have,” Alistair spoke up.  He wondered why Leliana suddenly paled.  Had she learned something about her father?  “Now, I believe I should be the one to decide who I have sex with and when.”

Wynne turned and looked Alistair in the eye. “If you can’t do it now, young man, then you need to rethink your plans. Marriage makes nothing easier, Even this. Or so I’ve been told.”

Chapter Text

Morrigan had emerged from the Crossroads a few weeks earlier.  She had quietly inquired after Flemeth and found no trace of her.  It had made her feel safe.

She was then determined to find out what had happened to Selene and Alistair.  She was afraid to learn that her friend had died fighting the archdemon, but had to know.  She found no word of Selene, but Alistair was apparently having some sort of repugnant ball to find an appropriate wife.  That elusive acceptable woman that he’d broken Selene’s heart for.

A chill ran through her as she realized that if Alistair was alive and throwing his insipid ball, then Selene must be dead.  A chill ran through her.  Her friend had sacrificed her life for the man who had crushed her heart under his boot like an errant boy a precious rose growing underfoot.  She thought of going to Ferelden and ruining his little dance, but what good would that do?  She needed to find a way to defeat her mother, whom she was sure had found a way around the inconvenience of death.

As Morrigan found her way to the cartographer’s shop, she didn’t notice that she was being followed.

When she moved from the Cartographer to a local book shop, however, she did notice a shadow detach and follow her.

Chapter Text

“I thought I had seen the scariest sights in Thedas, but I think you just beat me,” Selene declared.

Anders laughed.  “I’m sure it wasn’t scarier than the archdemon.”

“A brood mother who talked?”  Selene shook her head.  “I’ve seen a brood mother, I killed it.  But at least she didn’t talk!  It was more a hissing and then tentacles sort of deal.”

“This one didn’t have tentacles, so you may still win.”  He was standing over her as he examined her.  “We did kill that one as well.  She was producing darkspawn that could talk too.  That was unnerving.”

Selene shuddered.  “I just kill them; I don’t talk to them.”

“Good idea,” he nodded.  “Keep that policy.  Actually, you’re about to become a mother.  Forget your policy and just be done fighting darkspawn.”

“Sounds good to me.”  She sat up on the clinic bed.  “Oh, I brought you something, think of it as a bonus.”  She picked up a package she’d wrapped in a blanket and carefully removed it from hiding.

“You brought me a new staff?”  He gently took it from her and examined it.  “Thank you!”

“We’ll have to find the perfect time for you to try it out on some Templars.”  She appreciated the way he was looking at her creation.  “You know, give it a test run.”

“Neither of us should be seeking out Templars,” he reminded her.  “Still, it’s best to be armed if we run into any.”

“Then let me show you this!”  She pulled out a carved walking stick.  She took his staff and held it against the stick.  “Merge.”  They shimmered and just the stick showed.  She twirled the walking stick one then set it before her.  “Separatum.”  The stick and staff separated again.  “I’m working on a disguise spell so you don’t have to go back for your walking stick after you’re in a fight, but I haven’t figured out how to get it to fool the Templars yet.  It would help if I had someone Templar Trained to work with.”

“Don’t go chasing Templars,” he pleaded.  “Not when you have that baby to protect.”

She rubbed her abdomen.  “I won’t,” she promised.  “I can’t even chase a snail right now.  Little Demon is getting heavy.”

“That’s good,” he assured her.  “You want the baby to have a good weight when it comes out.”

“Unless it is a dragonling,” she muttered.

“The father is also human,” he laughed.  “No matter what mystics came into play, you are having a human infant.  I promise.”

She smiled at him; she liked his laugh; it lightened her heart a bit.  “Thank you.  I don’t know how I would have made it through these last couple of months without you.”

“It is nice to have someone to talk to,” he agreed.  “Speaking of which, how was your dinner and moonlit walk with Percy?”

“It didn’t happen,” Selene sighed.  “I don’t think my father likes him.  He keeps muttering ‘He’s not a Templar, but… there’s something I don’t like there’.  Then he gets this look as if he’s trying to make up his mind about something.”

“I like your father.”  Anders had gone to dinner at her estate one night and had stopped by a few times to check on her.  They had decided that was where she would give birth and she had shown him the tunnels between her estate and Darktown.  Too bad her parents hadn’t known about them when her powers had manifested.

“He likes you, too,” she admitted.  “I should…”  She trailed off as a group entered the clinic, it was a group she knew well.

Anders grabbed the staff she’d given him and whirled around, confronting Raven and her entourage.  “I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation.  Why do you threaten it?”

“Hello, Raven!”  Selene waved.

“You know these people?”  Anders looked at her.

“She’s my cousin, Raven Hawke,” Selene introduced them.  “That’s Aveline, Captain of the Guard with her.  She claims that she can’t do anything about all the power Meredith wields.  I think she is too afraid to stir up the sea.  The grumpy elf beside her, the one with the lyrium, is Fenris.  He hates us mages.  The grumpy human, is Raven’s brother, Carter.”

“Carver,” the man in question corrected her.

“Carver,” she parroted.  “The dwarf with the impressive chest hair is Varric.  He’s an author, you’ve probably read one of his books.  He also has something to do with the Merchants guild and secretly owns businesses that he doesn’t want anyone to know about, because it would make him seem less macho.”

“It isn’t because I’d be less macho,” Varric insisted.  “If you want to come helps me with my books, please do so.  I’d love the help.”

“We could have a book keeping party,” she brightened.  “It would be fun.  We should hold off until I have Little Demon, that way I can drink as much as I like.”  Anders insisted she couldn’t drink heavily while pregnant.  She’d heard other healers at Kinloch say the same thing to pregnant mages.

“What are you doing here Selene?”  Raven wanted to know.

“Anders is a healer and I’m pregnant,” Selene reminded her.  “So, I’m here having a dress made, of course.  That’s after we plan our next weekly Bunco tournament that is.”

“Selene loves dice,” Anders smiled at her, while still maintaining a combat position towards Hawke.  “She cut an old woman who took too long to roll, though.  The poor thing kept shaking the dice and the next thing you know, there was blood everywhere.”  He tsked.

“She had it coming,” Selene insisted.  “At least she finally rolled.”

“So, why are you invading a place of healing?”  Anders repeated his earlier question.

“Strange occupation for a Warden,” Raven commented.  “Aren’t you about taint and death, not healing and salvation?”

Anders and Selene exchanged a look.  Raven missed it, but out of the corner of her eye, Selene saw Varric tense for a moment.

“Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?”  Anders demanded.  “I’m not going.  The bastards made me get rid of my cat.”  Anders voice left no question that that was an unpardonable sin.  “Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot.  He hated the Deep Roads.”

“Who doesn’t?”  Selene and Varric muttered at the same time and then exchanged a glance.  She’d let too much slip in front of the dwarf.  She’d have to talk to him privately later.

“You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot?  In the Deep Roads?”  Raven apparently thought this was strange.

“He was a gift,” Anders was apparently irritated.  “A noble beast.  He almost got ripped in half by a genlock once.  He swatted the bugger on the nose.  Drew blood, too.  The blighted Wardens said he ‘made me too soft’.  I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine.”

“So, you came to Kirkwall just to escape the Wardens?”  Raven asked.

Selene was a bit surprised at her cousin’s surprise.  Hadn’t she, herself, come to Kirkwall to escape Grey Wardens?  Not that Raven knew that, but it wasn’t unreasonable.

“You say it like it’s a small thing.”  Anders also thought Raven should know the Grey Wardens better than she apparently did.  “Yes, I’m here because there’s no Grey Warden outpost, no darkspawn, and a whole host of refugees to blend in with.  The biggest danger from the Blight here is Selene’s baby.”

Raven and her friends turned and stared at Selene, wide eyed.

“I hadn’t actually told any of them some of my secrets, Anders,” Selene informed him.

“What about her baby?”  Raven asked.

“Childbirth is dangerous,” Anders shrugged. 

“Then what’s the secret?”  Varric pressed.

“He knows who the father is,” Selene revealed.  “And yes, we met because of the Blight.  I would not be here, pregnant, if it weren’t for the Blight.”

“And I’m here for some other reasons of my own,” Anders pulled the attention away from her.

“I’d always heard joining the Wardens was for life,” Raven pointed out.

She has no idea, Selene sat back down on the clinic’s bed.  She rubbed her lower back. 

“That’s only partly true,” Anders insisted.  “The ‘hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn’ and plagued by nightmares about the archdemon’ parts don’t go away.”

Selene stilled for a moment.  When was the last time she had a nightmare about the archdemon?  It had been months.  She hadn’t thought about it.  Her nightmares now featured Eamon finding out that she’d had Alistair’s baby and him sending an army to steal her child.  They didn’t have anything to do with darkspawn or archdemons.

“But it turns out if you hide well enough, you don’t have to wear the uniform or go to the parties,” Anders was saying.

Raven finally got to her point.  “I’m part of an expedition into the Deep Roads.  Any information you have could save people’s lives.”

“I will die a happy man if I never think about the Blighted Deep Roads again,” Ander’s informed her.  “You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through to get here.  I’m not interested…”  He paused, hesitating.  Then he crossed his arms.  “Although… a favor for a favor.  Does that sound like a fair deal?  You help me, I’ll help you?”

“Selene?”  Raven looked to her cousin for help.

“Hey, I’m just a patient, and a friend, here,” Selene held her hands up.  “I have no interest in Grey Warden business and I can’t go into the Deep Roads.  I am not having my baby there.”  The baby would probably rise up and begin commanding a darkspawn army right there and then.  The darkspawn would be bringing it a change of diapers and stuffed animals.  She could see it now.

Raven turned back to Anders.  “Let’s be more specific.  I don’t do anything involving children or animals.”

“I have a Warden map of the depths in this area,” Anders revealed.  “But there’s a price.”  He paced away.  “I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend, a mage; a prisoner in the wretched Gallows.”

“And you didn’t ask me for help?”  Selene protested.

He glanced over at her.  “You are hardly in a condition to sneak into the Gallows.  You know what happens to our kind when they give birth in those damned Circles.  I would not chance you or your baby.”  He moved towards Hawke.  “The Templars learned of my plans to free him.  Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps.”

“What do the Templars know of your plans?”  Raven wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Anders admitted.  “I had been exchanging notes with Karl through a maidservant in the Gallows.  Then the letters stopped coming.”

“You want to make your friend an apostate?”  Raven sounded like that wasn’t the goal of every mage trapped in the Circles.

“That’s such a weighted term,” Anders growled.  “Yes, Andraste said magic should serve men, not rule over him.  But I’ve yet to find a mage who wants to rule over anything.  It goes against no Will of the Maker for mages to live as other free men.”

“Forcing mages into servitude is not the way to prevent the rise of another imperium,” Raven agreed.

“That’s not usually the response I get,” Anders was pleased.  “Perhaps we will work together better than I expected.

“Tell me about your friend,” Raven’s voice had also become more friendly.  Neither of the pair saw Selene frowning at them.

“His name is Karl Thekla,” Anders explained.  “He was sent here from Ferelden when Kirkwall’s Circle needed new talent.  His last letter said the Knight Commander was turning the Circle into a prison.  Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made Tranquil for the slightest crimes.  I told him I would come.”

Selene curled herself around her abdomen, as if she could protect her unborn child from what Anders was saying.  When he’d told Raven that Kirkwall needed new talent, she’d wondered why.  The answer was that mages were being made Tranquil.  Did no one notice an unusually high number of Tranquil or did no one care?  She hadn’t been to the Gallows, so she hadn’t seen for herself.  This needed to be brought to the Viscount’s attention and that of the Grand Cleric.  She looked at Aveline, but the Guards Captain wasn’t reacting.  The damned elf beside her looked pleased.  She hadn’t felt so helpless over a situation since she left the Circle herself.  Too bad Duncan wasn’t there to just conscript every mage in Kirkwall.

“Are these accusations true?”  Apparently Raven had her doubts.

“Ask any mage in Kirkwall,” Ander’s voice became tense.  “Over a dozen were made Tranquil just this year.  The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become.”

“How do you plan to break him out of the Gallows?”  Raven wanted all of the details it seemed.

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” Anders admitted.  “I sent Karl a message to meet me at the chantry tonight.  Maker willing, he’ll be there alone.            But if there are Templars with him, I swear, I’ll free him from them.  Whatever the cost.”

“I would help any mage in such circumstances, maps or no,” Raven revealed.”

“Better make this good,” Carver grumbled.  “We’re risking a lot if we anger the Templars.”

“I welcome your aid,” Anders voice did indeed sound welcoming.  “I have already sent word for Karl to meet me in the chantry tonight.  “Join us there, and we’ll ensure that no matter who is with him, we all walk away free.”

“I’ll meet you there tonight,” Raven swore.  As she and Anders set up a time, Varric leaned in towards Selene.  “Why don’t we start a card game at the Hanged man while they make an excursion into the chantry?”

“Aren’t you going to go with them?”  If she hadn’t seen Varric working on paperwork at the Hanged Man several times, she would have thought he was always at Raven’s side.

“Nah, Raven will take Isabela instead,” Varric confided to her.  “She’s wondering if one of these times, the chantry will literally fall down or blow up when Isabela enters.  Perhaps a sister or reverend mother will literally explode from the evil… or at least blead from their ears or eyes.”

“That is almost worth going to see,” Selene agreed.  “But I don’t want to go anywhere near the Templars.”

Chapter Text

“Varric, you didn’t have to come shopping with me,” Selene protested, even though Varric was now carrying several wrapped packages; which contained baby clothes.  They were presently hovering over a cradle.  “This can’t be the most thrilling thing for you.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, Enigma,” Varric ran a finger along the railing.  “Or should I change that to Warden?”  When Selene paled, Varric pushed a bit.  “Perhaps Hero.”

“I’m no one’s hero,” she insisted.  She stopped at another cradle.  This one was made of a dark wood and hand carved.  There were a pair of griffons carved into it.  It was perfect for the child of Ferelden’s last two Grey Wardens, even if they no longer served the Wardens.  She moved to speak with the proprietress of the shop and made arrangements to have the cradle delivered to her estate.

“Where to next?”  Varric followed her.

“I need material for the bedding,” she informed him.  She walked out of the shop and then stiffened.  “What is he doing here?”

Varric followed her gaze, even as she tugged him into a nearby shop.  “Selene, why are we afraid of Curly?  I know he’s a Templar, but Hawke’s had dealing with him and he’s not bad for a Templar.”

“She has?”  That surprised Selene.  She realized she was in a glass shop.  There were vases and bowls, along with less practical art pieces.   They were just as beautiful, though.  She found herself staring at a perfect rose. 

“I was surprised she would help them, too, but she’s a helper,” he shrugged.

“She’s going to find people will start demanding she solve all their problems,” she cautioned.  “First it’s Find the body of this boy’s mother and fight off the bandits, then it’s save their entire town from the undead.”

“And they will want you to be their hero?”  He brought their conversation back.  When she didn’t answer, he went another route.  “So, how do you know Curly?”

“He was a Templar Guard at Kinloch Hold,” she informed him.  “I… used to be one of the residents there.  So was Anders, I need to warn him.”

“I thought being a Grey Warden protected you from Templars,” Varric pointed out.

“Some Templars think they’re above such laws, or the Chantry is, or some such bull shit,” she confided to him, even as she continued to examine the rose.  “Anders told me that a group of Templars tried to set a trap for him, using his phylactery, from Kinloch Hold.  They were upset that… the king… had the Wardens conscript him to save him from them.  They were ready to execute him.  The Templar actually claimed, before she died, that Chantry law superseded that of Ferelden and the Grey Wardens.  They’re zealots.”

“Including Curly?”  He started examining a set of bowls.

“He was nice before… Ulrich’s rebellion,” she confided.  “He was kind to me and payed me attention.  He was sweet sometimes.  When I found him at the top of the tower, when I was saving Irving from Ulrich, he was different, angry, bitter.  He… he said some very nasty things to me.”

“You went to save Irving from Ulrich, during a rebellion,” Varric nodded.  “Would that be the time I heard about, when abominations had over run Ferelden’s Mage circle.”

“It would,” she confirmed.

“I heard the Circle was saved by the Hero of Ferelden,” Varric confided. 

“I’ve heard many crazy rumors out of Ferelden,” she countered.  “Some I know are lies.”

“Because you were there,” he nodded.  “Because you are the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.  “The Hero of a Ferelden is a myth, one who obviously died with the Archdemon.  After all, only a Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon and they die when the archdemon does.”  Great, now she was revealing Grey Warden secrets.  “Besides, I hear he was a man.”

“I’m sure you heard that from a man,” Varric rolled his eyes.  “I have reliable sources in Ferelden.  I wonder what would happen if I have some liming made of you, and passed it around my contacts in Ferelden, who would they come back saying you are?”

She paled.  “Varric… don’t.  I am Selene Amell.  I haven’t lied to you about who I am.  I can introduce you to my father if you want.  I make weapons and am about to have a baby.”

“And who were you in Ferelden?”  He pressed.

“I was a mage, kept in the circle most of my life,” she responded.

“Until…?”  He prompted.

She sighed.  “If you want the full story, we’ll need to be at the hanged man and you’ll want a very large ream of paper and plenty of ink.”

“Very well, as soon as we find fabric, we’ll go there.”  He took the rose.  “Payment for the story.”  He also took the bowls and went to the shop keeper.

As they stepped out of the shop, she looked towards the chantry.  “Shouldn’t we wait for Hawke?  The Templars could have laid a trap.”

Varric nodded.  “We’ll wait for tomorrow, if you answer one question now.”

“Very well,” she agreed.

“There were only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight,” he stated.  “Were you one of them?”

“Yes,” she admitted.  “I was.”

“And the other is now the king?”  He added.

“That’s two questions Varric,” she pointed out.

“It wasn’t a question, I have great sources,” he smiled at her.  The smile faltered when he saw her face.  “What did he do to you?”

“What he thought was right,” was her only answer. 

“Let’s stop by another shop before we go,” he decided.  “You can start your story while we stand guard.  I have a feeling this is going to be a long story.”

“So, you went to Irving about your friend Jowan and his Chantry Hussy?”  Varric was writing her story down.  Selene knew he would.

“I didn’t trust her,” she admitted.  “It turned out that my friend was just as untrustworthy, he had become a blood mage.  He was afraid of the Harrowing, but he was willing to turn to blood magic.”

“Whoa spoilers,” Varric held up a hand.  “Give me everything between going to the Grand Enchanter and finding out your friend was messing with forces he didn’t understand.” 

“Irving wanted me to pretend to go along with Jowan, presumably so we could stop him,” she continued.  “In retrospect, it feels like a set up, but I don’t know why.”

“What are you doing here?”  Anders walked up to them.  They were sitting on a bench near the chantry.

“Enigma is telling me her story,” Varric admitted.  “I’m going to have to find a new nickname for her.”

“You can’t go telling everyone, Selene,” Anders objected. “If they know, it ruins the fun of being the one who knows your secrets.”

“It will only be you two,” she assured him.  “You know I don’t want my whereabouts being known in Denerim.”

“Oh?”  Varric became excited.  He held up a hand.  “Don’t tell me yet.  No spoilers.”

She laughed.  “I’m surprised you haven’t pieced it together.”

“We’re just here for when you and Waffles get in trouble, Blondie,” Varric assured him.  “Don’t worry, we won’t ruin your fun.”

“You think…”  Anders sighed.  “Selene, you’re pregnant.  If we run into trouble, it will be with Templars.”

“And you will protect me and the baby, won’t you?”  She knew that would actually reassure him.

“Of course,” he admitted.

“So, think of it as further incentive to fight if you need to,” she told him.   She didn’t remind him that she’d taken down an Archdemon and could take care of herself.

“Very well,” he walked up the stairs to the chantry.

“Aveline was also at Ostagar,” Varric commented.  “Did you see her?”

“No,” Selene shook her head.  “Most of the army was in the camps.  She was likely there.  I’d ask her, but I’m still pretending I wasn’t there.”

Varric nodded.  “So, you went to find this… you never did say the name of the Grey Warden you went looking for.”

“I didn’t?”  Selene asked with a faux innocence.

“What are you two doing here?”  Raven was standing in front of them, with Isabela and Aveline.

“We’re just waiting until you’re done helping Anders,” Varric told her.  “I thought we’d have a game of Wicked Grace afterward.  You could bring Anders and his maps.”

“Right,” Raven gave him a suspicious look.

“We might also come in and back you up if you get in trouble,” he offered.

“I’ll remember that,” she walked up the steps to the chantry.

“Do you have maps to the Deep Roads?”  Varric questioned when Raven walked into the chantry.

“No,” Selene assured him.  “I never want to go into those Deep Roads again.  I’ll get to what happened to me when I visited them.  I’ll apologized for the nightmares now.”

“That bad?”  Varric leaned back.

“Oh, yea,” she assured him.

“So, what was the other Warden’s name?”  He pressed.

“Al…”  She stopped and swallowed.  “Alistair,” she said quickly, pushing the name out; bracing for the pain.  There was a small stab in her heart, just as she knew there would be.  She’d, actually, expected it to be bigger.

“Alistair?”  Varric narrowed his eyes.  “That would be the Warden who is now the King of Ferelden?”

“That’s him,” she confirmed.

“What was he like, when you met him?”

“He…”  He was sweet, funny, awkwardly charming.  That’s the wonderful thing about the Blight, the way it brings people together.  She could still hear his voice.  I know I’m counting on you to save me.  They’d known each other less than a day when he’d said those words.  She’d managed to save him, just as he’d counted on, but would still never see him again.  She didn’t even realize tears were streaming down her face.  “He was… fine.”

“Tell me,” Varric’s voice was gentle and he pulled her close to his side. 

“He was funny, I lov… I appreciated his sense of humor and he had his…”  She shook her head.  “He had this…”  She broke off.  Now she realized the tears were flowing.  She tried to tell herself that she didn’t miss him, she was doing fine without him.  She had friends, she had a blossoming business, she had family, she was about to become a mother.  “He was very devoted to Duncan; the recruiter was like a father to him.  He sent Al… the other Warden and I out into the Korkari wilds, with two other recruits.”

“The forest that was filled with darkspawn?”  He became distracted by her story… or so she thought.

“Yes, we were told to fill three vials with darkspawn blood and then to find an old ruin and recover treaties left there,” she continued.  “They were Grey Warden treaties.  I don’t know how he knew how badly we would need those.  It’s likely he just wanted them back.  But…  He knew Cailan was being foolish and, like Loghain, didn’t understand that it was truly a Blight they were facing.  He’d told them multiple times; they just didn’t truly believe it.  Thank the Maker Maric had brought the Grey Wardens back to Ferelden, otherwise there would have been no stopping it.”

“You’ve said the Grey Wardens were necessary before and now you’re telling me you were sent for darkspawn blood, why?”  Varric had caught on to some of the nuances of her story.  She wondered just how much he’d caught on to.

“That may need to wait for a place with less prying ears,” she cautioned. 

“If there are prying ears around here, they are setting a trap for Raven and Blondie in the chantry,” he told her.

“That’s a good point,” she acknowledged.  “Then I’ll just tell you that that information will be revealed later in my story.”

“Morrigan, who it turned out really was a Witch of the Wilds, took us to her mother,” Selene revealed.

“So, her mother was also a Witch of the Wilds?”  Varric guessed.

“She was Flemeth,” Selene informed him.  “The Witch of the Wilds.”

“Wait, the same Flemeth Hawke freed from that amulet?”  Varric’s eyes widened.

“That’s her,” Selene confirmed.  “Where did Raven get the amulet anyway?”

“Outside of Lothering,” he revealed.  “She was escaping the darkspawn horde that over ran…”  He stopped as shadows moved and turned into Templars who were creeping into the chantry.  “And there’s the trap.”  He looked at Selene.  “With stealth.”

“As much stealth as I can manage in my present condition,” she blanched.

“This is the apostate,” a Tranquil was indicating Anders as Varric and Selene snuck in behind the Templars.  Selene had a horrible suspicion that the Tranquil was Karl.

“No!”  Anders screamed.  His eyes growled blue and something swirled over them.  He fell to his knees, curling up for half a moment, and then raised.  Blue veins ran across him, even across his clothing.  She had seen Wynne use the spirit the inhabited her, but never seen the spirit take over.  She was pretty sure that was what was happening here.  Anders didn’t become an abomination like those in the Circle, but this was more than she’d seen Wynne ever do.  The spirit had more control.  It wasn’t Ander’s voice that came out of his mouth.  “You will never take another mage as you took him!”  He attacked.

Raven sent a fireball at the Templars as Isabela laughed and engaged another.  “Ever been pierced by a captain, big boy?  You’re about to be.”  She tipped her opponent off balance before burying one of her daggers in his neck.

Selene pulled out her sword and moved to fight the Templars.

“Not in your condition!”  The spirit in Anders yelled at her.

“Fine,” she sighed.  She would have to make sure they killed every single one of the Templars to keep her secret.  A wind picked up around her, despite being inside.  The Templar she was going to use a sword on, was caught in a crushing cage, even as his companions were caught in her storm; lightning zapped them.  The Chantry Soldiers jittered in their metal as lightning hit it.  Then they fell dead on the floor of the chantry.

“Bianca has never had so much fun in a chantry before,” Varric commented as he put bolts through those who thought to trap Anders.

Fenris hadn’t moved, until one of the Templars made the mistake of attacking him.  Then his large sword came out and he began fighting the Circle Skirts.  She wondered if Raven had noticed.

She turned her attention back to the Templars, but it seemed that Fenris’ attacker had chosen him, because he thought him the easy target.  His friends were all dead at their hands.  She zapped the last standing Templar with a bolt of lightning, taking Fenris’ kill.  He deserved it.

The Tranquil was looking at them, blinking in confusion.  His features had become more animated.  “I… Anders, what did you do?  It’s like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world.  I had already forgotten what that feels like.”

Selene stared at them.  Was that the key to stopping Tranquility?  What would happen if a Sloth Demon encountered one of the Tranquil?  She had been sent into the Fade by one, she’d heard a story of a group of Grey Wardens who had been sent into the Fade by one they encountered in the Deep Roads, in Ortan Thaig.  She’d found the evidence of the story when she’d visited the Thaig, including the bodies of the dwarves.  If a Sloth Demon could send a dwarf into the Fade, couldn’t he send a Tranquil as well?  Would it cure them?  She’d have to find a Sloth Demon to find out.  She wondered if she could stay awake long enough to sic it on the Gallows.

“What did you do?” Raven demanded to know.  “Not the Fade part, the angry glowing bit.”

“It’s like a gateway to the Fade inside you,” Karl added.  “Glowing like a beacon.”

“I have… some unique circumstances, yes,” Anders admitted.  “But Karl, what happened?  How did they get you?”

“The Templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden,” Karl explained.  “They…”  He trailed off and looked to Selene.  “You?  How did you end up here?  The Templars can’t just take you back to the circles again, blood mage or no.”

“Blood mage?”  Fenris growled and his tattoos began to glow as he turned to Selene.

“I’m not a blood mage,” she guaranteed him.  “One of my friends was and I was caught up in his… troubles.”

“Then how did you escape the Templars?”  Fenris challenged.

“Yes, Jowan was sent back to the Circle,” Karl confirmed, ignoring Fenris, as did Selene.  “He is now like me.”

“Shit.”  Selene felt a pang for her friend.  She should have just let Isolde execute him.  She’d tried to give him his best fighting chance, but now he faced a worse fate.

Karl turned back to Anders.  “They found a letter I was writing you.  You cannot imagine it, Anders.  All the color, all the music in the world, gone.  I would gladly give up my magic, but this?  I’ll never be whole again.  Please,” he was begging.  “Kill me before I forget again!  I don’t know how you brought me back, but its fading.”

“Karl, no.”  There were tears in Ander’s eyes.

“Maybe we could find a cure,” Raven suggested.

“Can you cure a beheading?”  Anders demanded to know.  “The dreams of a Tranquil mages are severed… there is nothing left of them to fix.”

“There might be ways to send him into the Fade,” Selene suggested.  “I’ve seen dwarves who have been sent there, perhaps Tranquils can as well.”

“I would rather die a mage than live as a Templar mage,” Karl insisted.  He looked to Selene.  “What do you think would have happened to you if Duncan hadn’t saved you?  Would you want to live like that?”

“I would rather die than be Tranquil,” Raven agreed.  She gazed at Anders.  “Do it.  Help him.”

Anders bowed his head.  “I got here too late.  I’m sorry, Karl.  I’m so sorry.”

“Now!”  Karl shouted.  He shook his head, fighting the loss of his dreams, his emotions, his identity.  “It’s fading…”  His voice dulled; no inflections left.  “Why do you look at me like that?”

Tears began to flow down Anders cheeks as he approached Karl.  “Goodbye.”  He stabbed him.  Karl merely gasped before he slumped to the floor, dead.  Anders looked at the others.  “We should leave, before more Templars come.”  He turned and looked at Selene.  “Don’t cry, you’ll upset the baby.”

She gave a watery laugh.  “He was wrong, but for the grace of the Maker and Duncan, that could have been me.”

“Who’s Duncan?”  Raven wondered.

“It’s Enigma’s business,” Varric’s voice was gentle.  He put an arm around Selene as they exited the chantry.  “Let’s go to the Hanged Man and create some alibis before someone wonders how many Templars ended up dead.”

Chapter Text

“If everyone comes to the Hanged Man, I can’t tell you more of my story, Varric,” Selene pointed out as they continued towards the docks.

“I’m your cousin, why don’t I get to hear your story?”  Raven objected.

“Someday,” Selene assured her.  After she was sure her cousin did blab the story to her own family.  She didn’t trust Leandra or Gamlen, for different reasons. 

“Who else knows?”  Raven pressed.

“I do,” Anders admitted. 

“Then you’re coming to the Hanged Man with us.”  Hawke put her arm through Anders’.  “I’ll get you drunk and you’ll tell me.”

Selene looked sharply at Anders, who just shook his head at her.  “I’ll go, but I’m not telling you anything about Selene.”

“Fine,” Raven kept her arm through his, which bothered Selene.  “Then you can tell me about your little light show.”

Raven looked up from her cards to gaze steadily at Anders.  Selene wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like all of the attention Raven lavished on her healer.  Fenris, obviously, didn’t like it either.  He kept making little growls, as if he really were a little wolf.

“Are you going to tell us Selene’s secrets now, Anders?”  Merrill played a random card.  Selene wasn’t even sure she had any strategy at all.

“No, I’m not telling you any of them,” Anders assured them.

“How do you know some of them, Rivaini?”   Selene hadn’t told Varric about meeting Isabela yet.

“We met in Ferelden when I was there during the Blight,” Isabela admitted.

“Oh?”  Carver leaned back and played a card of his own.  “And what was she doing when you two met?”

“She was being impressed by my fighting talents, naturally,” Isabella smiled.  “And being a little put out because I was hitting on her man.  He was a handsome thing.”

“Your man?”  Raven leaned forward.  “Do tell.”

“He’s obviously not my man, as I’m alone.”  Selene looked away for a second and Isabella blanched, realizing she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

Raven brought the conversation back to Anders’ secrets.  “Let me guess.  This is the part where you distract us from whatever you know Selene is hiding by telling me you’re an abomination.”

Fenris’ growls grew louder.  Selene didn’t react at all.  Not only did she already know about Justice, but Wynne was also possessed by a spirit.  She’d never gone crazy and hurt anyone because of it.

“You’re wrong,” Anders informed Raven.  “But not far wrong.  I… this is hard to explain.  When I was in Amaranthine, I met a Spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade.  We became friends and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day.”

“Mage rights!”  Selene lifted a fist.  She noticed three gazes turn sharply towards her.

“And that’s… different than a demon?”  Raven played a card, despite being distracted by Anders.

“Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues,” Anders explained.  “Spirits of compassion, fortitude… justice.  They are the Maker’s first children, and they have all but given up on us.”

“What about love and hate?”  Selene wondered.

“What?”  Anders glanced at her.

“Are there spirits of love?”  She now wondered that.  “I have heard of no demons of just hate, but it makes you wonder if there are.  And it makes you wonder why they don’t exist if they aren’t.”

“Have you ever been in love, Selene?”  Merrill pressed.

“I have,” she admitted.  She still didn’t want to talk about the man she’d foolishly lost her heart to.

“What happened?”  Merrill seemed excited.

“I had my heart shattered into a million pieces,” Selene informed her.

“But you’re still here,” Merrill blinked innocently.

“Yes, but that’s because a little fragment of my heart still beats,” she told her.  “It hurts sometimes, because of the damage; but it wouldn’t stop working, even when I wanted it to.”

Anders reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing it gently.

“What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?”  Raven brought his attention back to her.

“To live outside the Fade, he needed a host,” Anders continued.  Although, the answer should have already been obvious.  “I offered to help him…  We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle.  But… I guess I had too much anger.  Once he was inside me, he… changed.”

Selene laid a hand on her abdomen.  “It’s strange that we’ve never had an army of mothers marching on the Circles to get their children back.”  Had they been too well indoctrinated by the Chantry, that they would never stand up to them; not even for their children?  She knew she couldn’t sit idly by if they took her baby.

Anders read her expression.  “We won’t let any Templars near your Little Demon, we swear.”

She nodded and went back to playing cards.

“So, you have this spirit of justice inside your head.”  It was obvious that this was the first time Raven had encountered something like this.

“It’s not like that,” Anders assured her.  “He’s gone now.  He’s part of me now.  It’s not like we can… have a conversation.  I feel his thoughts as my own.  Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and he begins.”

“That really didn’t look like a happy, benevolent spirit from where I was standing,” Raven insisted.

“The Templars will think the same,” Carver put in his two copper pieces.  “We’re friends with a monster.”

Great, wait until her cousin somehow found out her baby was carrying around the soul of an Old God who was once an archdemon.  If he thought Anders was a monster, he’d think worse of her baby.

“Since when is justice happy!”  Anders leaned towards Carver.  “Justice is righteous, Justice is hard.  But my anger now… when I see Templars now, things that always outraged me, but I could never do anything about… He comes out.  And he is no longer my friend Justice.  He is a force of vengeance.  And he has no grasp of mercy.”

“Can Justice ever be separated from you?”  Raven barely noticed that she’d lost the hand and cards were being dealt again.

“I don’t think so,” Anders casually began picking up his new cards.  “The only way a spirit has ever been separated from a living host is by its death.  The curse is of my own making.  All I can do now is hope to control it.”

“Can you bring him out at will?”  Raven threw a few coppers onto the table, starting the bid.

“No.”  Anders saw her bet.  “He only comes when I’ve lost all power over myself.  It’s a madness, a frenzy.  I only find out after what I have done.”

“So,” Raven drew out the word.  “That explains your whole sexy tortured look.”

Aveline began to cough.  Carver was so shocked, he dropped his cards, showing them to the table.  Fenris somehow managed to brood at the pair, even as he saw the bid.  Selene looked at Carver’s cards and then her own.  Well, there was one person she could beat.

Anders smile became a bit cheeky.  “Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often.  I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I had just said.”  Selene felt a bit of jealousy again, but reminded herself that he was not only possessed; but she was still in love with someone else.  “My maps are yours,” Anders continued.  “As am I, but just not in this expedition.  I would, for you, but Selene would never forgive me.  I can’t… I can’t just hand the delivery and care of her baby over to another.  Not when… I’m needed here, unless you want to wait until after she gives birth.”

Raven and Varric both looked pointedly at Selene.  “You’ll understand after I finish my story, Varric.  I do need him.  He’s a fellow… mage and he’s also a Grey Warden.”

Varric just gave her a single nod.  “Understood, Enigma.”

“Well, I don’t,” Raven protested.  “Why can’t you just use a midwife like everyone else?”

“If you do want to wait… well, I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have need of me… I’ll be there.  We just have to wait until my little patient decides to be born.”

“Does your baby have something to do with the Grey Wardens, Enigma?”  Varric asked casually.  It was still too pointed a question for Selene’s taste and Isabela’s eyes widened.

“I have no intention of my baby ever tangling with the Grey Wardens,” she assured him.  The baby’s parents were Grey Wardens, but that was her business alone, not even its father’s business.

Chapter Text

The Smelly Cheese King continued to have more guests arrive.  Barkspawn only liked a handful of them.  His favorite was Bel Cousland.  He heard Fergus, Bel’s older brother, call him something else once.  It was a longer name, but everyone just called him Bel.

Bel had noticed how sad Gwen was and started to ask questions of the servants to ask why.  He also spent a lot of time with her when the smelly king wasn’t there.  Some whispered that the king would get mad about that, but Barkspawn knew he wouldn’t.  Although, there was talk that the king planned to marry Gwen.  Barkspawn wondered why, when the king should be looking for his Herb Scented Mage.  He guessed the king’s nose wasn’t good enough to get her scent.  Barkspawn’s wasn’t either, she was too far away.

He was beginning to give up hope of seeing his mage again.  He told this to Ser Barkivere, Bel’s mabari. Bel’s Mabari had told him a harrowing tale of escaping his castle one night with Bel.  The rest of the family hadn’t been there, but Ser Barkivere’s human was very skilled and brave and had gotten him out; like a good human should.  Then Barkspawn had told him about his mage.

Ser Barkivere wondered if two mabari noses might be better than one, but didn’t know where to start, either. 

So, instead, Barkspawn had taken him to see his puppies and introduce him to their mother, Lady Fuzzybottom.  They had gotten along well enough.  Bel and the king had come to see the puppies as well.  They seemed to get along very well.  Barkspawn heard them talking about Gwen.

Bel had an idea of why she might be so sad, but wanted to be sure before the king.  The king was thinking she would make a good queen.  Barkspawn knew she wouldn’t be as good of a queen as the Herb Scented Mage would have been.

Chapter Text

“So, you have the maps for me?”  Bartrand was practically salivating as Varric walked into the room.

“Yes, and no,” Varric informed him.  He thought about leaving it at that.  He was doing all the work and Bartrand wanted to take all the credit.  Wasn’t it like that in all dwarven families, though?    

“You either have them or you don’t!”  Bartrand threw up his hands which is it.

“I know a Grey Warden,” Varric sat down and threw his feet up on Bartrand’s table, crossing them at the ankles.  “He can’t leave just now, however.  And he will only go if Raven Hawke accompanies us.  She’ll be our new partner, by the way.”

“There is no way…”  Bartrand was beginning to turn red.

“Oh, you’ll agree to this or you’re going down without those maps,” Varric smiled at him.  “The delay won’t be long.”  He hoped Enigma’s baby didn’t wait long to deliver.

“Very well,” Bartrand growled.  “This had better be worth it, I have a team already set up.”

Varric was whistling when he walked into the Hanged Man.  Selene was sitting with Corff, showing him the pewter tankards, she’d made for the tavern.  It had stylish writing with the tavern’s name as well as its insignia.

“I like them,” Corff was saying.  “I’ll have to get them checked by the owner, though.  Once I have his approval, I’ll make an order for more.”  He took one.

Varric reached over her shoulder and began examining one.  “Very nice.  We’ll still use these after I buy the Hanged Man.”

“It isn’t for sale!”  Corff insisted.

“Have you heard any rumors?”  Selene hoped to distract him before he got in an argument with Varric.

“I heard rumors of a healer in Darktown who’s looking after the sick for free, imagine that?”  He was obviously shocked.

“Yes, well…”  She glanced at Varric; whose face was blank.  He really was good at keeping secrets.  “Kirkwall obviously needs someone like that.  I hear the prices at the Gallows are astronomical, especially for refugees.”

“Not to mention all the mages in hiding,” Corff agreed.  “Kirkwall seems to have more than any other city.  “Meredith knows it to and it is making her even crazier than she already was.  So many probably wouldn’t stay in hiding if the Gallows weren’t such a nightmare to live in, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Selene turned to Varric who was still examining the mugs.  “Why don’t you leave these with me, Enigma?”

“You’re going to buy all those tankards from me?”  She wondered.  “Or are you just borrowing them?”

Varric just walked silently to his table and started writing something.  He covered it when Isabela came over.  “Well, sweet thing, you still haven’t popped out that little one yet?  You look like you’re ready to.”

“I am,” Selene confirmed.  “She just isn’t ready to come out yet, though.”

“Will you be sending word to her father once she’s born?”  Isabela wanted to know.

“So, her father’s still alive?”  Varric leaned forward.

Selene thought he’d already caught on to who the father of her baby was.  Isabela certainly had it figured out.  After all, she had seen her with Alistair.  Then again, she’d must have also heard about their breakup.  Selene was sure all of Ferelden had heard about it.

“The only father who will be informed, is my own,” Selene decreed.  “And he’ll probably realize it the moment it happens.  Unfortunately, my baby is a bastard.”  Like its father before it.

“Who exactly is the father, though,” Varric wasn’t taking ‘bastard’ for an answer.  “I have a wild theory, but I need to hear it from the source.  He picked up his notebook.  Where were we?”

“We were still in Ostagar,” Selene leaned back and continued her story.

Isabela had gone from listening to Selene’s story to draping herself between two very large, chiseled men as she smiled seductively at the woman who sat across from them.

Varric glanced over at her and then returned his attention to Selene.  “So, Loghain not only betrayed the king, he sent his men to hunt down any surviving Grey Wardens.”

“Yes, he did,” Selene confirmed.

“And your new companion prayed for those men’s souls before you killed them,” he added.  “Only to then tell you the Maker had told her to join you.”

“That’s right,” Selene confirmed.  “She wasn’t any crazier than the other people we ended up picking up.  Barkspawn was the only sane one in the group.”

“And where is he now?”  Varric slid the piece of paper he’d written on earlier to her.

“I left him in Denerim, when I snuck… when I left,” she explained.  She missed that dog.  She picked up the paper Varric had slipped to her, to distract herself for a moment, and then shook her head, trying not to roll her eyes.  She pushed the rest of the tankards over to him.  “Is Corff going to just leave the one he has for you somewhere and you anonymously pick it up?”

“I’ll send a runner for it,” Varric grinned.  “And then I’ll mention wanting to buy the Hanged Man again next week.  I take my fun where I can find it.”

Selene laughed and shook her head.  “And you don’t think he’ll catch on?”

“He’s not the brightest thing if you haven’t caught on.  Watch this.”  Varric motioned for Corff to come to their table.

            A barmaid came instead.  “Yes, can I get you something?”

            “Ask Corff if he’s heard any rumors,” Varric told her.  “For me, please, pretty lady.”

            The barmaid shook her head and left.

            Selene was almost afraid of what she would say when she returned.  “The rumors about the pigeon population declining in Ferelden is probably true.  I met Shale shortly after I left Denerim.”

            “Shale?”  Varric’s eyebrows raised.  “That name sounds dwarven.”

            “She was a dwarf, before she became a golem,” Selene confirmed.  “All of the golems have the souls of dwarves in them.  The way they’re made…”  She shuddered.  “We’ll get to that.”

            “Really?”  Varric leaned forward.  “It’s a good thing I got Bartrand to delay the expedition.  I’m going to have to start visiting your shop during my down time to get this full story.  So, after Leliana joined, what happened…”  He trailed off as the barmaid returned.

            “He’s heard the Hero of Ferelden married Queen Anora, but is keeping an elven lover. Scandalous,” she reported.

            “Tell him that Queen Anora was killed when a darkspawn horde descended on Denerim during the Blight,” Selene told her.  “That was the very beginning of the Battle of Denerim and that King Alistair would never keep a lover.”

            “I will,” the barmaid nodded and left.

            “You aren’t going to tell him the Hero of Ferelden is a woman?”  Varric looked at his empty tankard.  “I should have asked her for a refill.”

            “No,” Selene shook her head.  “It’s amazing how many people are sure the Hero of Ferelden is a man.  I’m not going to correct them.  It makes it easier to hide.”

            “Is it true that King Alistair won’t keep a lover?”  Varric was surprised.  “I thought he was single.”

            “He is,” she confirmed.  “My sources say he’ll pick a bride at a Winter Ball he’s hosting, for that specific purpose.  He has a duty to his people to find an acceptable queen and make little heirs with her.  I have that last bit about the duty from the source.”  She kept her voice light, but there was a slight hitch at the end.

            “He told you that himself,” Varric nodded.  “He was your fellow Grey Warden and companion through the Blight.  There was a reason he told you this personally.  When was it?”

            “The first time he talked to me about it was right after the Landsmeet,” she recalled.  She still cursed that day.  “We’re a long way from that part of the story.”

            “Was this before or after you became pregnant?”  Varric wondered.

            “I wasn’t pregnant yet,” she closed her eyes.  She would have to get to how weak she was that night her Little Demon was conceived, how in need of comfort she was.  Not just any comfort, she’d needed the man she loved.  There were still nights she thought she needed him, but none so much as that night.  Maker, every time she thought about going into labor and having her baby without him, part of her wanted to run back to Denerim.  Luckily, the rest of her knew what a bad idea that was.  Would Alistair take her baby and pass it off as his new bride’s?  Eamon would likely suggest it to him.  No, she told herself, he wouldn’t.  He’d been raised without his parents; he wouldn’t do that to his own child.  Besides, he knew she’d fry his butt if he even tried.

            “Oh, I thought…”  Varric began, then he really looked at her face.  “Oh.  Well, let’s get back to this story.  Leliana’s the friend who… has enjoyed Isabela’s company.”

            “So has Zevran,” Selene revealed.  “She’s very generous, you know.  But we aren’t there yet.”

Chapter Text

Alistair sat in his office, staring at the painting of Selene.  Barkspawn was beside him, sound asleep.

            “You have a duty to your people,” Wynne’s voice caused him to jump.

            He spun around to look at her properly.  “I’m aware of that.  Bel Cousland has found out why Gwen is so sad.  I…  I’ll be riding out with her later, to… talk to her.  I just have to find out how she feels, preferably before the ball.  I can’t just declare that I’m going to marry a woman without asking her first.”

            “Actually, I believe you can,” Wynne pointed out.  “Is that not what they’re all here for?”

            “Many,” he didn’t like thinking about it.  “Then there are those, both women and men, who are here for other reasons, less sinister reasons. People like Bel, who just came to enjoy the ball.”

            “Bel’s brother is hoping he finds a wife as well,” Wynne revealed.

            “Hmmm…”  Alistair considered.  “I wonder if that’s why he’s been spending so much time with Gwen as well.  Then again, he must be very loyal then to tell me what’s going on with her.”  He slowly stood.  He took one last glance back at the portrait of the woman who would have been his dance partner in another world, another life.  He almost wished she was here with him now, but that wish was selfish; cruel even he realized.  No, it was better that she was off making her own life, one without him in it.

            Lydia slowly crept into the stables.  She had heard that the king was going to go riding with one of his suitors.  The other women were moaning about it.  As if they were second choice and the love of their lives were being snatched away.

            She still rolled her eyes at that.  She waited carefully until the stableboy who tended Brie, the King’s horse, had moved out of sight.  Sure enough, the horse had been prepped to be ridden.  She removed a large thistle from her satchel and moved to the mare, where she would slip it under the blanket beneath her saddle. 

            As she reached under the saddle, she heard voices and a loud bang.  Brie reared up and threw her back against the stable wall.

            “What was that?”  One of the stable boys ran out.

            “It’s an explosive powder that a magister’s daughter brought with her from Tevinter,” Alistair explained.  “I think her father has an inventor working on something to counter the Qunari’s gatlock.”

            “You aren’t thinking of marrying a Vint are you?”  One of the Stableboys dared ask.

            “No,” the king assured them.  “If the people wouldn’t accept a mage from Ferelden as Queen, they won’t accept a Tevine, either.”

            Lydia wondered what he was talking about.  She hadn’t seen a Fereldan mage among the pompous primping nobles who vied for the king’s affections.

            “What is this about a mage?”  The voice belonged to Gwen. 

            “Is your guard coming with us?”  Alistair opened his stall door.  He saw Lydia there.  “What are you doing with my horse?”

            Lydia’s heartbeat sped up.  She dropped the thorn in the hay.  Then she knew what to do.  She threw herself forward and clutched the king’s legs.  “Please, you must give me a chance.  I heard you were going to marry this little Free Marcher and we haven’t had any time alone, to get to know each other.  I know that I am the woman you truly love, I’m your perfect mate.  You just don’t know it yet.”  You’re spreading things too thick, she told herself.  She didn’t want to get thrown out of the palace before she’d succeeded in killing the Grey Warden King.  “I mean… I really like your horse and anyone who has horse as happy as yours, must be a wonderful person.  If I couldn’t get to know you, I could at least get to know her.”

            “What were you doing with her?”  The king looked at her as if she were going to do something lewd and unspeakable to the horse.

            “I just came to talk to her,” Lydia swore.

            “Remember, neigh means neigh.”  Alistair led his horse out.

            “No, my guard isn’t coming,” she assured him.  “James felt I was perfectly safe with you and…  he thought we should be alone.”

            “That’s too bad,” Bel walked in.  “I’m going to accompany you to the lake.”

            “Then I’m even safer,” she smiled at him.

            Bel looked to Lydia.  “If you’re such a horse enthusiast, why don’t you come riding with us?  We can race while those two talk.”

            “I…”  She didn’t actually like horses, but she had been on them.  Perhaps this would give her an opportunity.  “I, but my horse isn’t saddled.”  She’d brought one from the Disciples of the Old Gods’ stable.

            “We’ll wait,” Bel motioned for a stable boy and then proceeded to make small chat with her, bringing in the king and Gwen.  She waited patiently while she learned that the king was obsessed with cheese and Gwen liked something called chocolate that she’d had out of Antiva and liked reading mysteries.  She sent up a prayer to Urthemiel to spare her from having to spend too much time with such vapid people.

            Alistair fidgeted in Brie’s saddle as he came to the lake.  He was really going to do this.  A part of him yelled at him to stop.  He thought it might be his heart, but how could it yell at him?  It had gone with Selene when she left.  Now he had duty.  He looked over at Gwen.

            He studied her for a moment.  She was a very attractive young woman.  Her soft brunette hair was pulled up and bound with braids.  He didn’t know if it fell in waves or curls, but it seemed nice enough.  Her eyes were hazel and kind.  She was quite voluptuous, which both Eamon and Teagan had pointed out to him.  He might have to tell them to stop looking, if he was marrying her.  Well, he’d ask Teagan, the man was having too much fun with so many eligible ladies around.  Alistair realized that needed to make sure Teagan wasn’t doing anything… untoward… with the ladies. 

Teagan had made a few comments about hoping Selene would come back so he could court her.  He’d actually said this to a group of ladies he’d escorted on some walk through Denerim.  He wasn’t sure what they’d done on the excursion, just that they liked to walk through the city.  Maybe they were hoping to become Denerim’s new arl.  He had yet to replace the Kendalls.

“Is everything all right, Alistair?”  Gwen studied him.

“Yes.”  He coughed.  “Let’s ride out a little more, away from any prying ears.”  He looked studiously ahead as he guided Brie.  “I… I heard… what exactly is your relationship with your guard, James?”

“What’s your relationship to the woman whose portrait hangs in your office?”  She countered.  Then her shoulders slumped.  “That’s not fair.  It’s none of my business.”

“Her name is Selene Amell.”  He looked down at his reigns for a moment.  How much did he tell her?  “She’s the Hero of Ferelden.  I met her near the beginning of the Blight.”  He smiled a little at the memory.  “She was one of Duncan’s new recruits.”

“Who is Duncan?”  Gwen leaned forward.  “You’ve mentioned that name before.”

“He was my mentor.”  Alistair still felt a pang of loss.  “He recruited me to the Grey Wardens and… he was closer to being a father to me than my own father was.”

“King Maric wasn’t much of a father?”  She was surprised.

He wondered if she didn’t know he was a bastard.  “He might have been to Cailan,” he shrugged.  “I was not the queen’s son.  She died years before I was born.”  At least he knew that his father had been a widower when he decided to start tupping chambermaids. 

“Oh, I… I’d heard rumors,” she admitted.  “But I didn’t know if they were true.”

“Does that make a difference to you?”  He wondered.

“No,” she assured him.  “It must have been rough on you.”

“It was,” he confirmed.  “Being a royal bastard isn’t easy.”  He quirked his lips at the double entendre. 

“I imagine,” she agreed.  “First, you’d have the lesser nobles and commoners getting their smalls in a bunch, because you’re royalty.  But then the rest of the nobles, at least their true born sons, would remind you that you were born a bastard.”

“You understand people well,” he confirmed.

She smiled, but the smile was brief and replaced with a deep frown.  “I’m in love with James… my bodyguard.”

He was not sure what he’d been expecting, but that was… not bad.  He felt sorry for Gwen and James but understood why they couldn’t be together.  “I’m surprised no one tried to stop you from bringing him with you to Denerim.”

She gave a tiny little snort.  “There was no danger that I would run off with him.  He keeps reminding me of my duty and that my family would disown me if we were together.  He insists…”  She looked down at her hands for a moment.  “He insists that he loves me too much to let me throw away my future, even if that means I find myself in a loveless marriage.”  She looked up at him quickly.  “I… you’re a wonderful man.  You’re kind, brave, funny…  handsome and…”  She shrugged.  “Life with you wouldn’t be horrible.  It’s just… I don’t want to live a lie.  I would make you a dutiful wife, I’d have your heirs if you were my husband, but… I don’t think I can love you, because…”  She trailed off, looking down again. 

He gently placed a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his, but she still refused to look at him.  “Gwendolyn, I… you asked about Selene, the woman in the portrait.  Then we got off topic talking about Duncan.  I agree that you would make a good queen.  That’s why I brought you out here to talk.  Selene… she wasn’t just a fellow Grey Warden.  Duncan met her in Kinloch Hold, Ferelden’s Circle of Magi.”

“I know that mages can be Grey Wardens,” she reminded him.

“Yes, they can be Grey Wardens, but they can’t rule a country.  They can’t be queen,” he pointed out.  “If they could…”  He gulped and then shook his head.  He took a deep breath before beginning again.  “Her portrait is there, not because she was my companion, it’s there because I love her.  I likely will always.  My heart is just as damaged as yours.  I can’t ask for your heart because I don’t have my own to give in exchange.  That doesn’t mean I don’t find you to be kind, beautiful, and easy to be around.  You have made me smile when I thought I couldn’t again.  I…  I will be loyal, if you take me as your husband.  It’s why Selene and I no longer… I could never have a mistress.  That wouldn’t be fair to my wife.  I think I could be content to have you as that wife.”

“Content?”  She rolled her eyes playfully.  “Be still my heart,” she put a hand on her chest.  “I guess I should ask James if it’s still.  He’d lie and say it is beating fast and I should scoop up your offer.”

He smiled sadly.  “It’s there if you’ll have me.  If you won’t, I might have to pick from that mob back at the palace.  I don’t want to do that.”

“What about Lydia, she isn’t back at the palace, and I don’t think she likes the Simpering Mob either,” Gwen pointed out.  Her voice wasn’t very convincing, though.

“Did you see her face when I was talking about cheese?”  Alistair was affronted at the memory.  “I don’t think…  I don’t think she likes cheese!”  He put a hand on his chest and gasped.

Gwen laughed.  “Then you can’t marry her.  I guess I’ll marry you to keep you from such a horrible fate.  It has nothing to do with my family devising some horrible form of torture, and possible death, if they find out you asked, and I said no.  So, are we engaged?”

“No, you just agreed to say yes,” Alistair assured her.  “We’ll make an announcement at the ball on Saturnelia.  That will give you time to back out if you want to.  If James changes his mind and decides to run off with you before it’s too late.”

“Or you decide to go find Selene and beg for her forgiveness,” Gwen added.  “She isn’t in Denerim, so I assume you did something that needs forgiveness.”

“I don’t even know where she is,” Alistair admitted.  “Even if I did… I am king.  I have a duty to my people.  She is… well, she isn’t… I can’t abandon my duty and the Bannorn would never accept a mage as queen.  I swear I won’t make your miserable.”

“I won’t make you miserable either,” she promised.  “Hey, we could put that in our vows.”

Alistair and Gwen were walking along the lake, hand in hand, when Bel and Lydia rode up.

“You two look happy,” Bel observed.  “I wanted to give you more time, but Lydia seemed anxious to get back to you.  She tried to sneak over here without me about a dozen different times.  I think she might be restless to get back.  I know the ladies had some card tournament planned for this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes, I must beat Bann Edgehall’s daughter,” Lydia insisted.  “She thinks she’s a better card player than I am, and I have the honor to uphold.  We should be off.”

“Can you keep the announcement secret?”  Alistair worried about word getting out and having some of the other ladies plotting some drama at the ball.

“What announcement?”  She genuinely seemed confused.

“Exactly,” Bel threw an arm around her.  “We know nothing!”  He smiled brightly at the king.  “Now come, love birds, let’s go plan in secret exactly how the announcement that doesn’t exist will go!”

Chapter Text

“All hail the Old Gods!”  Killsin stood outside, leading the morning ritual on Satinalia. 

“All hail Zazikel!”  The Disciples of the Old Gods added.  After all, it had originally been His holiday.  They all wore different colored masks, but still wore their black robes.  There had been snow the night before and the ground was white.  It was a sign of the gods’ blessings to their faithful.

Nearby, a table was heaped with breakfast foods.  Humility had made something she called a spice nug and tater casserole that she was especially proud of.  Several of the disciples looked towards the table, obviously impatient to be done with this ritual and to get on with their celebrating.  There would be another ritual at sunset.  That was when they would have their human sacrifice… and pie.

“We, the Faithful of the Old Gods, do honor one above the others,” Killsin lifted his hands.

“Praise be!”  The others also lifted their hands up.

“Zazikel shall have his day every year,” he continued.

“So, speak we all!”  The others intoned.

“On the other days, we will honor all others!”  He declared.

“Except for their own holy days,” Forsaken added.

“Yea verily so,” Killsin agreed.

“Verily so!”  The other repeated.  Although, he noticed Modesty glancing at the breakfast table again.

“We thank our gods, and on this day especially Zazikel, for blessing us to know their ways,” Killsin continued droning on.  “For we are blessed to be their blessed.  We are glorified to bask in their glory.  We are hallowed through their mercy.  Bring us this season thy blessing, oh Zazikel.  For on this plane, your brother, Urthemiel, doth dwell now.”

“It is so!”  The others proclaimed.

“Help us to bring Him to rule over us, so we might glorify you as well as him more thoroughly.”

“Let us glorify you!”  Humility declared.  “And glorify us in return!”

“Indeed,” Killsin agreed.  “Glorify us!  As we will all exalt you!”

“So be it!”  The others waved their hands about three times.

Killsin lowered his arms.  “Before we enjoy our breakfast, there is something we must discuss.”  He ignored the groans around him.  “Our seers have foreseen that the babe that carries the soul of our beloved Urthemiel will be born today.”

“It’s true,” Remember, one of the seers, confirmed.  “The mother will deliver before the watch calls the last hour of this most blessed day.”

“All hail Urthemiel and Zazikel!”  The people shouted.

“Now, let us feast!”  Killsin hadn’t gotten the last word out before the people descended on the breakfast table.

“If the witch is going to give birth today, we need to find her,” Killsin told Forsaken as they scooped eggs onto their plates.

“I have men who were tracking her,” Forsaken insisted.  “They lost her somewhere near Cumberland.  They didn’t think she would go to the College of Magi there, but it makes sense she might consult with them if she was about to give birth to a child who carries the soul of an Old God.  They might not turn her over to the Templars.”

“They wouldn’t,” Constance passed them, carrying a pewter plate and goblet.  “Mages don’t turn over their own.”

“Especially in Kirkwall,” Humility added.  “Our agent there is sure he has found the other Fereldan Grey Warden.”

“Has he struck the wretch from this world yet?”  Killsin hoped that was the case.

“No,” Humility let out a long breath.  “He wasn’t sure until he overheard that the mage was from Ferelden.  The second Warden, the one they call the Hero of Ferelden, was a mage, wasn’t he?”

“He is,” Forsaken assured Humility. 

“Then this mage is definitely our man,” Humility was certain.  “He left the Grey Wardens and is hiding in Kirkwall.  He is running some sort of clinic there.”

“Excellent, now our agent needs to rid Thedas of this menace,” Killsin declared.

“It’s to help the poor,” Humility added.

“All the more reason, he is working to help the unworthy,” Killsin insisted.  “He must die.”

“Of course,” Humility nodded.

“Who’s in charge of the sacrifice tonight?”  Constance changed the subject.

“I am,” Forsaken revealed.  “It’s all taken care of.  I’m sure my sacrifice is still a virgin and not a mage.  Well, if he is a mage, he’s too young for his powers to manifest.  There will be no incident.  I picked him up from the same orphanage but insisted on a toddler.  They think I’m a grieving widow who lost her husband and toddler to a terrible fever and am trying to replace them.”

“You a mother?”  Killsin raised an eyebrow.  “That would be something to see.”  It would be a thing of horrible beauty.  Before the end of the coming night, however, a Witch of the Wilds would be the one to become a mother.

Chapter Text

As soon as she walked into the Hanged Man, Selene noticed that the Satinalia celebration was in full swing.  Corff was behind the bar with a big grin on his face.  She imagined that Varric had a similar smile.

            Her own smile faltered a bit as she noticed the large number of Templars who were assembled there.  They had tankards before them, but they were all also armed.  She found herself calculating their force and strength, even as she laid a protective hand on her very extended belly.  The baby would be coming any day now and she still had a very real fear that Meredith would come for them when the little one was no longer safe in her womb.

            She put one hand on her abdomen and was startled at the ripple she felt.  Her Little Demon had been kicking up a storm lately, but this was something else.  With her other hand, she cradled the present she’d brought.  She made her way through the Templars, keeping her eyes on Corff.  The bartender was wearing bright colors; all of the colors of the rainbow, it seemed.    It was almost as if he’d been attacked by a rainbow and colors were randomly left behind.

            “Your friends are waiting for you,” Corff pointed to a table farther back in the room, as far away from the Templars as possible.

            “Thank you,” Selene smiled at him.  “Is Zevran with them?”  She tried to look around the crowded room.

            “He still isn’t back from that well-paying mission he went off on, all mysterious,” Corff casually wiped the bar.  “As if the rest of us don’t know how he’s making his money.  Still, it pays for his room.  And where is the justice in it?  He can be open about his… work, yet you have to be careful with yours.  You provide goods.”

            “They’re goods half your clientele in here would be very unhappy to learn I provide,” she pointed out.  “They would rather keep my people defenseless.”  She glowered at the Templars for a moment, not thinking about the consequences if they saw her.  “They probably want to keep the general populace unarmed as well.”

            “They appreciate your other goods, well enough.”  Corff lifted one of the tankards that bore the Hanged Man’s new logo.  “I swear everyone in Kirkwall has paid to take home at least one Hanged Man’s tankard.  We’re running low.  I don’t suppose you’ve been contacted about new orders.”

            “I have,” she confirmed.  “There will be a delay as Little Demon is coming any day now.”  She felt a little twinge, as if her baby were reminding her that they were there.  “I have Isabela watching my shop for at least a few weeks after I give birth.”

            “You aren’t afraid she’ll help herself to some of your wares?”  Corff was shocked.

            “No, I know her… I met her before I came to Kirkwall,” Selene confided.  “She cheats at cards, but she does have a code.  Besides, most of the people I can trust are going off to the Deep Roads soon.”  She was distracted for a moment by a woman set in the middle of the Templars.  She carried a lute and was singing.  For a moment, she missed Leliana.  “They brought their own minstrel?”  The woman was singing something about the foundation of a castle being strong, so she and her love could weather any storm.  The fool.  Could her love outlast the demands of duty? 

            Perhaps it could, Selene decided after a moment.  After all, she and Alistair had slept in tents, not castles, most of the time.  Perhaps, that was a sign that their foundation wasn’t strong.  Love wasn’t enough, but perhaps the minstrel and her muse had more.

            “And what’s that you have on your shoulder?”  Corff interrupted her morose thoughts.

            “A Satinalia present for a friend,” she informed him.

            “Go give it to him,” Corff grinned at her.  “And happy Satinalia.”

            Selene turned and found herself face to face with a familiar Templar.  He frowned at her; her brow furrowed.  “It is you, Selene.”

            “Cullen,” she nodded to him, her heart pounding.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.  I… I thought you were still in Kinloch hold.”  The last part was a lie, she’d seen him before; but she didn’t want him to know that.

            “Knight Commander Gregoire and the grand clerics thought it best that I leave… that place,” he shuddered at the mere memory of Kinloch.  Then his eyes narrowed.  “I would have thought that you would have returned there after the Blight.”

            Her heartbeat sped up.  This was what she feared.  She ordered herself to at least appear calm.  She was aware that both Anders and Hawke had stood up.  She didn’t want Hawke to show her powers in front of all of the assembled Templars.  She reminded herself that she and Anders were technically untouchable by the Templars, even if the Chantry objected to the rule.  “You know what order I belong to; I left the Circle when I was conscripted.  We all knew I was not going to go back.  Those of my order don’t.”  She didn’t want to announce in front of the entire room full of the Hanged Man’s patrons that she was a Grey Warden.  She didn’t want the Wardens to know where she was.  She knew Anders didn’t either, but neither of them was above invoking the order to protect themselves from the Templars.

            “There is no Grey Warden base near here,” Cullen countered.

            So much for keeping that secret.  “There are no bases that you know of, which isn’t any of your business.  I’m not one of your escaped mages and I’m not exactly an apostate.  I know how you feel about mages, me particularly, but I take comfort in knowing that you aren’t allowed to try and wipe us out; no matter how much you wish you could.”

            “Selene,” his shoulders slumped.  “I know I said… what happened… there… I was harsh… I was out of my mind.”

            “I know, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t mean you weren’t serious when you said it,” she retorted.  “It doesn’t change what you wanted.  I had thought we were friends, until then.  I should have realized that people like you aren’t friends with people like me.  I was just your prisoner.  However, I was lucky enough to be freed by Duncan.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join my friends for a bit of Satinalia cheer.  They’re actual friends, not just a jailer who happened to be nice to me once.”  Her heart began to beat more evenly as she moved pass the Templar who’d once tried to insist, she kill every mage at the top of Kinloch Hold.  Her stomach twinge as she moved.

            “Are you all right?”  Anders moved to her, keeping a wary eye on Cullen.  He slipped an arm around her and led her to their table.  His concern turned to a smitten look as he spied the creature she cradled against her shoulder.  “Who’s that?”

            She moved the kitten off of her shoulder and placed it gently on his.  “Happy Satinalia.  I know the Wardens made you give away Ser Pounce-a-lot and I think you need a new companion.”

            Anders gently petted the kitten.  “What am I going to do with him when I go into the Deep Roads?”

            “Her,” Selene corrected him.  “I’m sure you have a friend who would love to keep an eye on her.  My father pouted that the kitten wasn’t going to stay with us.  She’ll be welcome until you get back.”

            Anders lifted the tiny creature to check, it was indeed a ‘she’.  “You’ll have a tiny one of your own to care for,” he reminded her.

            “Then maybe you should stay,” she suggested.  She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stay because having her healer about would make her feel better or for other reasons.

            “Raven is counting on me,” he insisted.  He led her to the table.

            She felt another twinge before she sat down, but dismissed it.

            “What’s this?”  Raven ran a gentle hand along the kitten’s back when Anders sat down beside her.

            “A mage’s familiar, no doubt,” Fenris grumbled.

            “She’s a present from Selene,” Anders cuddle the kitten.  “I’m going to name her Queen Purreviere.”

            Isabela looked over to the Selene and raised an eyebrow.  “Let’s get back to discussing what we are going to do to celebrate today.”

            “Oh, were you planning to do something other than drink today?”  Fenris dug.  “Perhaps you’d planned to grab a male and female of every race you can find and have a huge orgy.”

            “That’s not a bad idea,” Isabela grinned at him.  “Are you asking to be included?  For someone with your eyes, I’ll find a place… I’ll even share.”  She turned to the others.  “Anyone else in?  You’re no longer trying to protect your boyfriend from me, Sweet thing,” she grinned at Selene.  “Perhaps now you’ll come to see what’s below decks with me.”

            Selene gave a little laugh.  “I’m about to give birth at any moment.  Even if I were the type to… participate… in such things, I wouldn’t be up to it.  I hope you enjoy yourself and that your decks get a good scrubbing.  And if any of them mess with you, use this.”  She pulled out a silverite dagger.

            Isabela’s breath caught.  “It’s beautiful.”  The metal gleamed and the guard swirled in a complicated pattern, that still protected her hand.  “The hilt is so comfortable.  Oh, and the balance… oh, baby,” she crooned at the dagger.

            Selene grinned in delight.  “I’m glad you like it.  It took a few tries, but… I wanted something personal.  Something to say that I appreciate your friendship.”  Isabela had not only been a stalwart ally, but she’d kept Selene’s secrets.  She knew the pirate could have made a pretty penny revealing where she was and that she carried the King of Ferelden’s bastard.  Yet she was sure Isabela hadn’t thought of breathing a word to those who would use the information against her.  Plus, she was even watching Selene’s shop rather than venture into the Deep Roads.

            “What boyfriend?”  Merrill had picked up on Isabela’s comment.

            “What?”  Isabela blinked innocently.

            “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Selene assured her.

            “Boyfriend?”  Carver hadn’t caught that part of the conversation.  “You weren’t married to the baby’s father?”

            “The Chantry forbids mages from marrying,” Anders hissed at him.  “It takes a lot of effort to get around their oppressive decrees.”

            It wasn’t just the Chantry, Selene reflected.  It was apparently the entire Bannorn and the other people of Ferelden.  She wasn’t good enough for them.  Sure, they’d welcome her as their hero, but not the wife of their king.  Not as the mother of that king’s heir.  She laid a hand on her abdomen and felt a twinge, even as the baby kicked.

            “I got something for you for after the baby is born,” Isabela reached under the table and then placed a pair of long black leather boots on it.  They were soft and there was an intricate pattern in the Highever style on their sides.  “When you’re back on your feet, put them in these.”

            “Thank you,” Selene reached over and took them.  They were as soft as butter.  She ran a loving hand over them. 

            “I’m sure Percy would like you to wear those on your next date,” Raven commented.

            “Perhaps she doesn’t think Percy is worth dressing up for, Hawke,” Aveline suggested.  Selene knew that Aveline didn’t like Percy, they’d discussed him before.  Aveline claimed he was hiding something.  She didn’t know what, but she would figure it out.

            “Percy and I are just friends,” Selene assured her.  “He’s nice, but… my father doesn’t like him for some reason and… well…”  She wasn’t sure how to finish.  She was still in love with the father of her baby.  She knew she had to move on from him, though.  While he wasn’t dead like some of her friends thought, he might as well be as far as she was concerned.  She’d certainly never see him again.  Perhaps it was that Percy was one of those who thought he was dead.  She didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth about how she’d come to be pregnant and alone in Kirkwall.  She didn’t even trust him enough to tell him who she really was.

            “He’s not the one for you,” Anders interjected.

            She smiled.  The smile faltered a moment and she felt another twinge.  Anders did know who she really was, he knew everything.  There was nothing she’d hidden from him.  He was also kind and funny.  He had a dark, angsty streak as well, but so did she now.  Perhaps she should…

            “Here,” the man in question interrupted her thoughts.  He handed her a carved wooden box.

            She opened the box to discover a pair of gold hair combs with what looked like emeralds in them.  “They’re beautiful.”  Her breath caught.

            “Yes, they are.”  Raven sounded a bit tense.  Selene wondered why.  Perhaps Anders had given every woman at the table the same present and Raven was upset at not getting something more personal.

            “I thought they’d look nice when you put up your hair,” Anders explained.  “You’ll need to once you have the baby.  Otherwise, he’ll be spitting up in it.”

            “Some Dalish cut their hair when they have newborns,” Merrill helpfully interjected.

            “Don’t do that!”  Anders insisted.  “It would be a shame to cut those beautiful curls.”

            Selene smiled at him.  “They’re beautiful.”

            “Yes, they are,” Isabela grinned.  “All he gave me was a voucher for a free health exam.  And I’m pretty sure he really means a checkup.”

            “With everything you pick up, you’re my best customer, Isabela,” Anders pointed out.  “I know you’ll use the voucher.”

            “I will,” the pirate admitted.

            So, he hadn’t given everyone the same gift.  Selene smiled at him.  “Thank you.”  She leaned in and kissed his cheek.  When she straightened, she noticed Raven was glowering at her.

            “Here,” Raven shoved something at her.  “It’s from my mother.  She says you’ll need it.”

            “What is it?”  Selene held up a piece of fabric.

            “It is a sling for the baby,” Raven explained.  “So, you can keep her close to you while you work.”

            Selene thought there were times she would use it, and didn’t want to point out that there were other times, when she didn’t want the baby right up against her.  “Thank you.”

            “For those times when you need Little Princess to be near, but not too close, I got you this.”  Varric reached under the table and produced a basket.  He placed it in front of Selene.  Her breath caught as she gazed at it.  The basket was large enough to hold a baby and had a hood.  The hood, along with the rest of the basket, was covered in white eyelet and sea silk.  Green ribbon ran along the hood and formed bows on the handles.  There was a stuffed nug and a silverite rattle also tucked into the basket, just waiting for her baby.  There was also a white sea silk blanket.

            “It’s beautiful.”  Selene stood and hugged Varric. 

            “I…”  He swallowed and hugged her back.  “I thought she needed a place to sleep in the shop.  The rattle and nug are from Aveline.”

            “I had the stuffed nug imported from Val Royeaux,” Aveline explained.  “I found the rattle in a small shop.  It’s from Ferelden and came with a very interesting history.  Come by the barracks and I’ll tell you all of it.  I also have a bigger gift for you there.”

            “Now these don’t seem as awesome,” she pouted.  Then she handed Varric a heavy leather quiver.  Inside were two dozen bolts, they were made from obsidian and gleamed black even in the Hanged Man’s questionable lighting.

            “They are awesome,” Varric grinned at her. 

            “Did you make those?”  Merrill asked, reaching over to take one.

            “I did,” Selene confirmed.  “Each one was made with the intent of killing one of Varric’s enemies.”

            “That’s a sweet thought,” Varric assured her.  He placed them by a gold quill and sheaths of parchment.  Selene imagined those had been gifts from Hawke.  “The only better gift you could have given me was permission to publish your story.”

            Selene thought for a moment, ignoring a twinge that ran through her.  Varric had told her that he’d love to publish her story, after she’d finished telling it to him.  She’d automatically said no.  She didn’t want people knowing who she was or that the so called ‘Hero of Ferelden’ was in Kirkwall.  Now that she thought about it, though, there was no reason for anyone to put two and two together.  Except, no one associated the name Selene Amell with the Hero of Ferelden.  Most of the Free Marches thought the Hero was a man.  She was safely anonymous.  “How about I let you ask again on your birthday.  I’ll consider it.  Maybe I’ll just have you change my name.”

            “Is there a reason you want people to think you have another name?”  Merrill wondered.  “Do you not like it?  I like the name Selene; it reminds me of an old Alamarri legend I once heard.”  She waited, as if expecting someone to ask her about the legend.

            “What…”  Selene stopped as she felt another twinge, this one was stronger and it hurt.  She reached out and clasped Ander’s hand.  “Ander’s, I think you need to take me home.”

            “What do you mean he needs to take you home?”  Raven stood; her eyes narrowed.

            Selene stood as well, then her legs buckled as a cramp hit. 

            Anders caught her.  “Raven, help me.  She’s in labor.”

            “Labor?”  Raven jumped back as if stung.

            “For the Maker’s sake, Raven, she’s in labor.  It’s not like she’s a Templar!”  Anders rolled his eyes and ignored the Templars who all turned to look at them.

            Aveline jumped up and slid an arm around Selene.  “I’ve got you,” she assured her friend.  “Let’s take her home, Anders.”

Chapter Text

“Knight-Commander, she’s a mage and her baby is likely a mage.”  Cullen paced in front of Meredith; his hands clutched into fists.

            “You told me she is a Grey Warden,” Meredith reminded him.  “I thought they couldn’t have babies.  Either she’s a Warden and we can’t touch her without bringing the entire group down on our heads or she isn’t one and she became pregnant.”

            “She is a Warden,” Cullen confirmed.  “I was there when that Grey Warden recruiter… Dougal… or something like that recruited her.  She was one of the Wardens who fought the Fifth Blight.  I… encountered… her again while she was doing so, at… she was at… she is the one that rid… the tower in Ferelden from the abominations.”  He couldn’t bring himself to say the tower’s name.  He couldn’t bear to remember what had happened there.  Seeing… her... again had brought back to much.  It was where he’d last seen her.

            “If she can destroy a tower full of abominations and demons and live, we might be lucky to have her in Kirkwall,” Meredith considered for a moment.  “I don’t like having a mage slinking around the streets of Kirkwall either, Cullen,” she assured him.  “But we must be cautious.  We’ll keep an eye on her and her baby, don’t worry on that account.  We just need to be careful.”

            Selene wondered what Cullen would say to his Knight-Commander about her.  She had no doubt that he had gone running back to the Gallows with news that a mage was loose in Kirkwall.  She guessed she should be grateful to the Grey Wardens; they were likely the reason the Templars weren’t at her door even now.  She wasn’t exactly in any condition to fight them, either.

            She now lay in her own bed, with a birthing chair nearby.  Anders was outside the room talking to her father.  Her father had popped in a couple of times, but then went back to his laboratory where he brewed his chemical mixtures.  It appeared he was back out now.

            Anders had been in the room for several minutes, but then he’d started singing to her to keep her calm.

Wolves asleep amidst the trees
Bats all a swaying in the breeze
But one soul lies anxious wide awake
Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

Selene had sat up in the bed, her eyes wide.  She knew how the rest of the song went.  “Are you trying to scare me and the baby before it’s even born.  Are you trying to keep me awake at night?”  She didn’t tell him the real reason she didn’t want to hear the song.  Alistair used to sing it to her, when they were alone in their tent.  She would snuggle close to him as shivers would run down her spine.  She could still hear his deep baritone and his faux evil chuckle as she snuggled in. 

“It isn’t that bad, Selene,” Anders laughed.  She just glared at him until he walked into the hall.  He’d said something about getting the rest of her things from the Hanged Man.

“I’m not familiar with that song,” Aveline admitted.  She had stayed at Selene’s side since helping her home.

“I’ll sing it for you sometime, when I’m not in labor,” Selene promised.  “Why don’t you sing something less cheery.”  Perhaps the music would help, Anders had seemed to think so.  It might keep her mind off the excruciating cramps that hit her every few minutes and her fear.  She had a healer nearby, but childbirth was dangerous and she still wasn’t sure what she was giving birth to.  Anders had assured her the baby was just a normal, healthy human; but she couldn’t forget that there was a good chance it carried the soul of an old god that had become an archdemon.

“I don’t sing as well as Anders,” Aveline confided.

“I don’t care,” Selene assured her.

“Very well,” Aveline stopped a moment and then began a song of her own.  Her voice was not as melodious as Anders, and far less so than Alistair’s, but it was far from the worst she’d heard.

Farewell to you dear love

Your time in this world is done

Spread your wings and fly

The true journey has just begun

Selene couldn’t believe Aveline was singing the song to a woman in labor.  Why didn’t she just sing ‘you’re both going to die, tough luck.  I hope you like the Maker’s side’.  “I don’t think that’s the best choice, either.  Do you know something a little more cheerful?”

“I don’t know any cheerful songs,” Aveline admitted.  “I know that one, because my father used to sing it.”

Her father was a widower, Selene recalled.  She had never wished to see Leliana as she did at that moment.  She had to find another way to distract herself.  “You said there was a story behind the rattle you’d gotten for the baby.  What is the story?”

“Oh,” Aveline blinked for a moment.  “The rattle is from Ferelden.  The shopkeeper had several valuable items from refugees and said that he confirmed many of the stories behind them.”

“The baby’s parents are from Ferelden, so that works out well,” Selene commented.

Aveline smiled at that.  “I suppose it does.  This particular rattle was said to belong to Queen Moira, the Rebel Queen, when she was an infant.  Her old nanny had saved it when she fled the castle and it is said that King Maric had used it as well.  It’s made of silverite, so it is possible and it even has the Theirin family crest on it.  If it is a replica or a fake, whoever created it did a good job.”

Great, it was Queen Moira’s rattle, or at least some member of the royal family.  There was something serendipitous about the entire thing.  Alistair resented his father and that he carried Theirin blood, blood that he had passed on to his baby.  She had no intention of telling him of the child’s existence or even that it, too, carried Theirin blood.  Yet, it already had a rattle that bore their family crest.  The Maker had a sense of humor.  She gave a little laugh.  “What made you buy Queen Moira’s baby rattle?”  She could have just bought a silverite rattle and put the Amell family crest on it.

“We’re Fereldan, the baby is Fereldan,” Aveline reminded her.  “We may be in Kirkwall, but we can’t forget where we came from.  Besides, I admire Queen Moira.  She stood up for her people and fought back against the Evil Orlesian Invaders.”

“That she did.”  Selene rubbed her stomach, even as another contraction took her.  The baby was a direct decedent of Queen Moira, her great grandson or great granddaughter.  Perhaps the baby had a right to know that.  They at least had right to learn about their progenitors and it was sweet that they’d have a rattle that belonged to one of them.  Maker knew, they had nothing else of their father’s.

“What are we talking about?”  Anders walked in.

“The rattle Aveline gave the baby,” Selene explained.  “Could you go bring it to me?”

“Of course,” Anders left.

“I think he likes you,” Aveline commented.  “I’m not particularly good at these things, but there seems to be something there.  Of course, he also seems to have something going with Raven.”

“Oh, does he?”  Selene found she didn’t like that, although she’d already suspected.

“Raven definitely has a thing for him, she finds his entire dark and tortured persona to be very attractive,” Aveline confided.  “She has… interesting tastes.”

“I thought she had something going with Fenris,” Selene confided.  “He’s got feelings for her and hates that he does.”

“That would explain his attitude towards her and Anders,” Aveline conceded.  “Although, it doesn’t explain why Carver’s feelings seem similar.”

“He just enjoys being grumpy.”  She gave a little laugh that ended on a groan as another contraction hit.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent Anders away.

Her healer soon came back into the room, carrying a silverite rattle.  “Here it is.”  He handed it to Aveline, not Selene, and then began examining Selene.  “You’re close to being ready,” he informed her.  “Everything seems to be going well.”

“Sure, if you’re birthing a demon spawn,” Selene growled.

“What?”  Aveline looked from Selene to Anders and back. 

“She’s in labor, every woman giving birth feels that way,” Anders soothed.

“I wouldn’t know,” Aveline confessed.  “Wesley and I never got the chance to…”  She trailed off and Selene reached over and squeezed her hand.  She didn’t know if Aveline would want to trade places with her, but she knew that part of her preferred knowing that Alistair was still alive, even if she would never see him again.  He was probably happy; he was having his big ball that night.  He would pick his bride and start his own family.  She would hopefully have an addition to her own little family soon.  She told her for what seemed the hundredth time, that this child was hers and who sired it didn’t matter.  Yet, even as she told herself that, she felt an ache in her heart.  To distract herself, she held her hand out for the rattle.  “May I see it?”

“Of course,” Aveline handed it to her. 

Selene took the rattle and could almost swear she felt a connection to Alistair for a moment.  He was petting Barkspawn and wondering if there would be enough cheese at his ball.  She ran her thumb across the crest.  It was indeed the Theirin Crest.  The marking was deep and appeared to have always been on the rattle.  It was definitely Ferelden at least.  She found she liked the thought of the baby having something that it connected it to its father’s family.  Then a harder contraction hit her and she cried out.

Anders placed a hand on top of her head.  “Breathe.”  Then he went to the foot of the bed and lifted the blanket covering her.  “It won’t be long now.”  He began coaching her through the worst of the labor.

“You know, where I grew up, this is when the midwife would ask single mothers who the father of their baby was,” Aveline confided.  Selene just glared at her.

“So would the Templars,” Anders revealed.  “The Knight-Commander wanted to know if it was one of his men.  There was a rumor that he’d gotten a mage pregnant once, himself, and she didn’t tell him until the Chantry had already taken the baby.” 

Selene opened her mouth to respond.  She was fairly sure she knew who that mage was.

Anders continued.  “And we know who the father of Selene’s baby is.”

Aveline gave her a sideways look.  “You do act like a widow, there is no doubt you are mourning someone, but…  I talk about Wesley all the time.  You… you won’t even say the father’s name.”

“Aveline,” Ander’s stared her down.  “I know who the father is.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Is it you?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “I wish, but no it isn’t.  I’ve only ever met him once.”

“Ander’s…”  Selene hissed through another contraction.

Aveline let out along breath.  “Was he another rebel mage, one who wants to combat the Templars?”

Selene let out a little laugh, but it turned into a moan as another contraction took her.

Anders helped her out of the bed and moved her to the birthing chair.  “Let’s meet that baby.”

Selene found herself crying.   “What if…”  What if she gave birth to some arch-Tainted creature?  What if something went wrong when she tried to push her baby out?  She breathed through the contractions.  Then she felt the urge to push.  As she began pushing out the person, who didn’t seem so little at the moment, out of her, she had an overwhelming yearning to have Alistair by her side.  She hadn’t stopped aching for him, but this was more… she wanted him there while she gave birth to their child.  At that moment, she needed him more than anything.  He wasn’t there, though.  As she pushed again, his name slipped out her lips.  Aveline’s eyes widened, but Anders reached up and took her hand.

“It’s all right,” he promised her.  “I’m here with you.”

Yes, he was.  She told herself, she wasn’t alone.  She’d chosen to come to Kirkwall and to not go running back to Denerim.  She’d chosen to have her own family and not be the King’s Castoff and Mother of His Bastard.  She wasn’t alone and she concentrated on Ander’s kind, handsome face even as she cursed the part of her that wished he was Alistair.  For one thing, Alistair would be helpless in birthing a baby.

Anders gently squeezed her hand.  “Just one more big push.”

Selene nodded and then screamed as she pushed again.  She screamed in defiance against her fears and heartbreaks.  Then she heard a hiss and a growl.

Chapter Text

Selene’s heart stopped at the sound of a hiss and a growl.  Was that her baby?  Then she realized it was Aveline.

“Aveline,” Anders hissed at the other woman.

“I am never having a baby,” Aveline proclaimed.  Her eyes were wide and she was staring at the blood covered form in Anders’ hands.

Anders carefully wiped the blood and other fluids off of the baby.  “Help Selene to the bed, Aveline,” he ordered.

Selene wondered if something was wrong, and why he hadn’t already handed the baby to her.  “Anders…”

He smiled gently.  “Everything’s fine.”  He took a nearby blanket and wrapped the baby.  Then waited until Aveline had assisted Selene to the bed before laying the infant in her arms.  “It’s a girl.”

She looked down at her daughter.  A pair of dark blue eyes looked back up at her.  They were intelligent and perfectly human.  They were framed in the most adorable face she’d ever seen, if the face still had evidence of the struggle, they’d both recently been through on it.  Her cheeks were pink and rounded, she had the cutest little button nose, and well-formed ears that reminded Selene of Alistair’s.  She also had a light mop of blonde hair on top.  She wondered if her daughter would have her father’s light reddish blonde hair.  She also wondered if her eyes would stay blue like Selene’s or if she would have Alistair’s amber eyes.  She moved the blanket and counted ten perfect fingers and toes.  She seemed strong and healthy, but there was still one fear left.

Selene tried to since any taint in her daughter, but sensed nothing.  Did that mean she was free of the Taint her parents carried or that something was wrong with Selene.  She turned to Anders, but sensed nothing either.  She had to admit to herself that she’d never tried to sense it in another person, she just felt it in darkspawn.  Maybe she was just bad at this time.  “Anders… does she have the Taint?  I can’t feel anything?”

“Why would she have the Taint?”  Aveline looked from one of them to the other.

“I’ll explain it later,” Anders promised.  “It’s a secret that Grey Wardens don’t like getting out.”  He moved to Selene’s bedside and gently put a hand on the baby’s forehead.  He smiled, almost as if in relief.  Then he frowned as his gaze moved to Selene.  He reached out and put a hand on her head.  “I don’t sense the Taint in either of you.”  He shook his head.  “She seems perfectly healthy, though.  There is no sign of sickness or… anything else.  She’s a healthy, normal, but very beautiful, baby.”

“She’s all red and wrinkled,” Aveline pointed out.

Anders laughed.  “Everyone is when they first come out.  Don’t worry.  Could you go get me warm water and cloths, so I can get them both cleaned up.”  He waited until Aveline left the room and then turned back to Selene.  “Selene, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you weren’t even a Grey Warden.  There is no Taint.  Not only do I see no sign that she carries any part of an archdemon in her, but I also don’t sense any Taint in either of you.  I’ve heard of rumors of a Grey Warden once losing their Taint.  They were another mage and they ended back up in a Circle.  You’ll need to be careful.”

Selene held her daughter even closer and the babe whimpered in protest.  “I promise we’ll be careful; I’m not letting the Templars near her.”  She wondered if she should contact Alistair and ask him for protection for their baby, but that would mean telling him that she’d given birth and hadn’t bothered to tell him she was pregnant.  It would mean having him know about their baby, when he was picking out a wife and starting a family with the other woman.  Maker, despite that, part of her still wanted him with her at that moment; a large part cried out to him.

“Good.  I… I’ll…”  He swallowed.  “I’ll help protect her, and you.  You aren’t alone, Selene.”

She smiled at him, her heart easing.  Thank the Maker that they’d found each other.  Who knew what else she was going through?  He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be separated from a man you love; not like you love Alistair.  She pushed that thought away.  He’d lost his Karl and Karl’s fate was worse than Alistair’s.  What was important was that she had a friend to lean on, one who’d protect her baby. 

“What are we going to name this little Taint free non-arch-demon?”  Anders wondered.

“I decided to name her Siobhan,” Selene revealed.  She’d contemplated names.  She thought of naming the baby after her mother, but the Amell’s had faced too much tragedy to tempt the fates.  She’d also gone through Theirin names.  There was no way she was naming the baby Goldanna after Alistair’s shrew of a sister.  She’d also rejected Rowan, the name of Maric’s queen.  The woman was rumored to have some sort of sordid romance with Loghain.  She wasn’t naming her child after anyone who had spread their legs for that weasel.  She’d considered Moira, she admired the Rebel Queen.  Looking at her daughter, she saw strength and the potential to be a warrior; but Moira had been friends with Arl Rendon Guerrin, Eamon’s father.  Selene doubted she could ever forgive Eamon’s interference in her relationship with Alistair and how he had driven them apart.  She definitely couldn’t name her daughter after someone associated with the family that had taken the girl’s father from them.

“Siobhan?”  Anders tested out the sound.  “I like it.  It reminds me of Highever.”

“It means the Maker is gracious,” she informed him.  “He has certainly given me a precious gift.”  She studied her daughter, her perfectly formed and untainted daughter.  “So much could have gone wrong, but here she is; alive and well.”

“No Taint,” he agreed.  “I think it’s perfect.  Although, I would have gone with Carlotta.  It means free.”

Selene looked down at her baby.  She just wasn’t a Carlotta.  Besides, while she would fight to keep her baby free, she wasn’t going to forget what a gift from the Maker she was.  “It’s Siobhan,” she insisted.

The baby in question cooed in agreement. 

Then it is settled.  Anders leaned in and gave Selene a kiss on the cheek.  Selene smiled at him, quenching the feeling of sadness.  Her heart ached that it wasn’t Alistair beside her now, kissing her cheek and reveling in the birth of their daughter.  She was grateful to have Anders and thanked the Maker for bringing him into their lives.

Siobhan either sensed her mother’s heartache or agreed with the wish that her father was there, for she took that opportunity to begin crying.  Selene began to gently rock her, hoping she was doing it right. 

“She’s probably hungry,” Anders assured her.  “Let me show you how this is done, she’s not my first delivery.”

Selene smiled at the healer’s patience as he showed her how to position Siobhan as she fed her and how to get the babe to latch on to her breast.  Siobhan was a natural and was soon greedily feeding, it reminded Selene of Alistair.  She wondered if their daughter’s first word would be cheese.  Siobhan’s little hand fisted and lay on top of the breast she fed from and it was as if she’d grabbed Selene’s heart when she did so.  Selene felt it go out to the infant, what was left of it.

“Selene…”  Aveline stepped into the room and then stopped.  Selene hadn’t even remembered Aveline leaving the room.  She supposed she’d been rather absorbed with Siobhan that she wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. 

She wasn’t sure what made Aveline so uncomfortable.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Aveline assured her.  “It was just a moment of… the possibilities in another life.”

Selene figured that the regret had to do with the loss of Wesley.  She had enough regrets about the possibilities of in another life of her own.  She wondered if Aveline’s pain was even worse than hers.  Her Wesley hadn’t thrown her away.  He’d been ripped from her by darkspawn and the Blight.  Selene almost let out a pained laugh, but she was distracted by Siobhan who pushed away from her breast and looked up at her.

“You need to burp her,” Anders explained. 

Selene moved the baby on to her shoulder and patted her back, hoping she was doing it right.  She looked back at Aveline.  Was it better to lose the man your love in battle or to know that he was still out there, but didn’t want you anymore?  Either way, they’d lost the man they loved.

“Oh, I should tell you that your father ran out and found a messenger,” Aveline distracted her from her thoughts.

“What?”  That surprised Selene.  “Why would he…?”

“Leandra Hawke and several others are just outside wanting to see you and the baby,” Aveline explained.

“But I want to take a nap,” Selene pouted.  She welcomed Leandra’s presence, though.  The woman had birthed three babies and could probably tell her if she was burping Siobhan correctly.

Raven obviously had no interest in a baby.  Selene would have wondered why she’d come, if her cousin hadn’t been fawning over Anders and how he had valiantly delivered a baby into Thedas without any harm coming to mother or child.

“We all know who did all of the work,” Isabela muttered to her.  She studied Siobhan for a moment.  “She’s cute.  She’s a bit wrinkly, though.”

“She’ll plump up soon enough,” Leandra assured her.  She was in the middle of showing Selene how to pin a diaper.  “She’s beautiful.  My babies were all blue eyed and dark haired.”  She lifted Siobhan up and studied the baby for a moment, before putting her on her shoulder.  She touched the baby’s reddish gold fuzz.  “Was Siobhan’s father blonde?”

“Reddish blonde,” Selene answered.  She wondered for a moment if he still wore the front in a spiky manner.  Perhaps it was all close cut now, maybe it was longer.  He’d probably think the latter kinglier.  She wondered if the woman he planned to marry had a preference and if he cared.  Of course, he cared.  Had he not dumped her for the woman before he’d even met her.  He was supposed to pick a bride that very night.  She told herself she didn’t care if he did.  He could have his proper queen; she had her daughter and her friends.

After a few hours, Selene found herself enjoying peace and silence.  Her friends had left, as had Anders.  He had promised to check in on her and Siobhan the next day, kissed her cheek, and then left with Raven.

Leandra had double checked to make sure she knew what she was doing when it came to feeding and burping her baby.  Then she’d had her repeat to her how to change a diaper.  Selene was truly grateful for the help.  Leandra had also promised to come back the next day and check on them.  Selene already had more questions.  Leandra had also promised to babysit.  She’d managed to keep Raven Hawke alive, so she obviously knew what she was doing.

Selene now rocked Siobhan gently in her arms.  She again felt a pang that Siobhan’s father wasn’t with them.  She so wanted to show him the beautiful infant they’d created together.  How could a love that had produced the dazzling creature in her arms be wrong?  How could it not be enough to fight for, to fight the prejudices of all of Ferelden and the Chantry for?  A soft voice reminded her that she’d retreated from that battlefield.  Now, she just had to protect the prize she’d retreated with.

Gazing at her daughter, Selene began to sing.

Don’t be afraid to be weak

Don’t be too proud to be strong

Listen to your heart, let it speak

For your heart is never wrong

It will bring you back to innocence

Chapter Text

“Have you ever done the right thing, but had your heart scream at you that it is wrong?”  Alistair scratched Barkspawn behind the ears.

Barkspawn gave a single bark and put his head on Alistair’s lap. 

Alistair sighed and patted his head.  He stared at the clothes he would wear that night to the Satinalia ball, where he would present Gwendolyn as his fiancée and future queen.  He’d dreamt of Selene the night before.  He had passed it off as guilt, but part of him knew it was his heart battling against his head.  She’d been looking away from him, leaning on her staff while she cried.  When he’d reached for her, she’d moved her body away from him.  Then she’d disappeared.

There was a soft knock on his door and he called for his visitor to come in.  Leliana poked her head in.  When she saw Alistair still fully dressed, with Barkspawn’s head on his lap, she came in.  Barkspawn gave her a welcoming yip.  She sat on the other side of the mabari and scratched his head.  “You don’t have to do anything tonight, Alistair.  You don’t even have to go to the ball.  You’re the king, after all.  That gives you more power than you seem to realize.  No one can force you to marry.  Look at Empress Celene, she’s still unwed.”

“She also wrestled her crown away from one of her cousins,” Alistair informed her.  “She has to keep one eye on him at all times.  An heir would at least put another person between her cousin and her throne.  She really needs to marry and produce an heir, too.”

“Sure, you want her to endanger a baby,” Leliana muttered.

“I don’t want to…”  Alistair broke off flustered and gave a little laugh.  “Not even the Orlesians would look the other way if someone went after an innocent babe.  Perhaps she should have a dozen children then.”

“It’s bad enough to have sex with someone you don’t love and aren’t even attracted to for duty, much less have so much intercourse with that other person that you have a dozen children,” Leliana growled. 

“I may not love Gwen, but that doesn’t mean there is no attraction there,” Alistair assured her.  “She’s very pretty and she’s nice.  Just because I’ve wished she was Selene once or twice when I kissed her, doesn’t mean that… doing my duty with her… is going to be horribly unpleasant.”

“I was talking about Celene,” Leliana revealed.  “She… let’s just say she’d only due duty with her husband to make an heir.  Then she’d go back to the arms of the beautiful, very female, elven lover that she is rumored to have.  If her mistress were able to get her pregnant, her bastards would likely inherit.  That’s the difference between a king and queen, you can be sure the queen is really the mother of any children she has.”

“I’m sure Gwen wouldn’t…”  Alistair began.  He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.  He wasn’t that comfortable talking about sex, much less speculating about the fidelity of the woman he had decided to marry.  No, they didn’t love each other, but she wasn’t…fornicating… with her guard; the one she did love.  He’d given up the woman he loved for her and she was doing the same for him.  Neither would stray from their vows.  Something else struck him, though, distracting him.  “We found evidence that Cailan was in talks about a possible marriage with Celene.”

“They did both need an heir,” Leliana reminded him.  “Neither had any children.  She has that warmongering cousin and he had a bastard half-brother.  They needed an heir, and an alliance would have helped against the darkspawn.  What they really needed was more Grey Wardens, though, especially here in Ferelden.  That’s not what we were talking about, though.  I was addressing the possibility that you just not marry and put your own bastard on the throne.”  She flinched. 

He wondered if it was because she didn’t like calling anyone a bastard, even if it applied to them in a literal manner, or if she just remembered that he didn’t have any bastards.  He intended to never have any.  “I know what it’s like being a royal bastard, I wouldn’t put anyone through that.”  Besides, the only woman he’d ever want as a mistress had left and… having mistresses was dishonorable.  He needed a queen and he wouldn’t have another woman on the side.  That was… wrong.

“You’re sure you’ll never have one?”  Leliana studied him.  He wondered what was going through her mind.  It was almost as if she knew something he didn’t.  He admitted to himself that there were likely many things she knew that he didn’t.

“Yes, once Gwen and I are married, I’ll be true to her.  I am not going to take another woman as a mistress nor am, I going to have flings with chamber maids, any maids!”  Alistair insisted.  “I…” 

Alistair!  He stopped speaking and looked around.  Someone had clearly called out to him.

No, it wasn’t just someone, he clearly heard Selene’s voice.  He may not have heard that voice in several months, but he would never forget it.  “Selene?”

“So, you have heard,” Leliana seemed relieved.

“She’s here?”  That made his heartbeat race.  He dearly wanted to see her, but another part didn’t want her present.  Not that night.  He didn’t want to present his choice of bride in front of her.  He tried to ignore why that was.

“Selene?”  Leliana’s eyes widened.  “No.  She’s all the way in…  She isn’t anywhere near Denerim,” she caught herself.

Alistair glared at her.  Wynne had insisted they keep looking for Selene, because it was clear that Leliana would never tell them her location.  She’d gone back to her duties at the Chantry, returning for the ball.  He’d almost hoped she’d bring Selene back with her, there were several matters of state that he’d dearly love to discuss with her.  He’d prayed that she would at least be convinced to tell him where Selene was.  He didn’t know if he’d go himself to convince her to come back or if he would just send spies to make sure she was really all right.  Maker, he needed to know that she was all right.  If Selene wasn’t there, what did Leliana think he knew?  “What did you mean by…”

“I don’t think you two being in here alone is a good idea,” Wynne reprimanded them.  She stood in the doorway and glared at them.  “What will others think.  What will your intended think, Alistair?”

“She isn’t my betrothed, yet,” Alistair didn’t know how Wynne was making him feel guilty for sitting in his room with a good friend.  “And you know Leliana and I are friends.”

“That’s right,” Leliana lifted her chin and gave Wynne a look that made Alistair wonder if she was possessed by Morrigan.  “I wouldn’t do that to Selene.”

“You mean Gwen,” Wynne corrected her.

“No, I don’t,” Leliana stood.  She gave Alistair a soft smile.  “I’ll see you tonight.  Save me a dance, won’t you?”  She looked back at Wynne.  “Don’t talk him into anything he’ll regret later.  I’m leaving tomorrow.  I want to vis… I’m going to leave Ferelden for a bit before I return to the Chantry.  Oh, and I’d totally do that to Gwen.”

Leave Ferelden.  Alistair wondered why for a moment and then realized that there was one person who might care about the outcome of tonight’s ball.  Maker, he hoped that person cared and yet he knew he shouldn’t, that person would be happier if she didn’t care and he wanted her happy.  Did that mean she wasn’t even in Ferelden anymore?  Where would she have gone?  Perhaps he should have someone follow Leliana, but knew that she would just give them then slip and get mad at him.

“You aren’t having second thoughts about tonight, are you?”  Wynne interrupted his thoughts.

Part of him wanted to do just that, but it would be unfair to Gwen.  Besides, what good would it do him?  He’d just live alone and leave Ferelden without an heir.  “No,” he sighed.  “I will be announcing my betrothal to Gwen tonight.”

“She’s a good choice,” Wynne assured him.

“She is,” he agreed.  Alistair.  There it was again, Selene’s voice.  She was calling to him and she was in pain.  “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”  Wynne wanted to know.

He had to be imagining things… or he was hearing his own heart and it now had Selene’s voice.  Yet he noticed that Barkspawn had lifted his head and was looking around, his nose twitching.  Then the mabari put his head down and closed his eyes.  He steeled himself.  He was doing what was best for his people and his own future.  “Nothing.  I must be nervous about running out of cheese tonight.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Wynne assured him, but she looked worried.  “I’ll just go check with the kitchen.  With that she turned and left.

Alistair went back to staring at his clothes and petting Barkspawn.  “Did you hear that too, boy?  Or am I just going crazy?”

Barkspawn’s answer was a sleepy grumble.

Gwen stared at her reflection in a vanity mirror as one of her maids did her hair.  “Are you even going to try and talk me out of this?”

James, her beloved guard, stood behind her.  He stood tall and handsome.  His expression was blank and he hadn’t said a single word to her all day.  Now he said only one word.  “No.”

Gwen turned and received a growl from Wintermarch, her maid.  She moved obediently back.  The maid moved to fix the piece of hair she’d messed up when she moved.  “What if I ordered you to talk to me?”

“That is your ladyship’s privilege,” James finally spoke to her.

“Don’t you care that I’m becoming betrothed to someone else?”  She demanded.

Wintermarch began humming softly, trying to pretend that she couldn’t hear their entire conversation.

“He seems a good man,” James answered.  “In another world, I could have courted you and hoped to win your heart.  This is not that world.  The best I can do is be happy that you’ve found a good match and will have a good life.  I will stay by your side until you are wed and then return home.  There, I will find contentment knowing you are married to someone who will treat you well, and starting a family of your own.”

“Then you will start a family of your own,” she grumbled.  “Did you have your eye on someone?”  Maybe it was Wintermarch, who was doing her hair even now, or her sister, Guardian.  “Will you be starting your own little family?”

“No,” he assured her.  “I… I have felt no desire to… look elsewhere, even if that would have been the logical decision.  Perhaps… one day.  For now, I am by your side.”

“Don’t you care?”  She practically screamed at him.  Then started to shake her head and thought about it when Wintermarch growled at her. 

“Of course, I do,” he hissed back.  “I’m just not acting like a silly little girl about it.”

“It’s nice to know how you really think about me.”  She tried to hold tears back.

“Gwen,” he took a step towards her and then took two back.  “I’ll be right outside the door.”  He left.

Wintermarch looked after him and then back at Gwen.  “Are you still going to the ball, my lady?”

Gwen squared her shoulders.  “Of course, I am.  I have an engagement to announce.  I am going to be the Queen of Ferelden.  I have a duty to go, I can’t just stay in here and cry for what can never be.”

Wintermarch draped a braid near her neck and secured it into place.  “A playwright once said that duty was the death of love and love is the death of duty.”

“Love sucks,” Gwen declared.  “I’ll go for the honor of duty.”

“Duty is the death of love and love is the death of duty?”  Alistair looked at his valet, Reginald.

“Yes, Your Majesty, that is what the wise and vicious author said,” Reginald confirmed.

“Wise and vicious?”  Alistair had never heard of the author before Reginald had introduced him to the man’s works.

“He spreads wisdom, even as he kills his characters,” Reginald explained.  He held out Alistair’s pants.

Alistair had begun his preparations for the ball and Reginald insisted that dressing was the first thing he needed to do, in case guests came early.  Duty is the death of love.  Had he killed love by choosing duty?  His love was gone, and he was marrying another, so he supposed he had.  What else could he have done, though?  “I…”  He stopped.  He swore he’d just heard a baby cry.  “Did you hear that?”  He had, indeed, seen Reginald’s eyes widen when the baby had cried.

“No, Your Highness,” Reginald insisted.  “What did you hear?”

“A baby crying,” Alistair explained. 

“Perhaps you are anticipating doing your duty and making an heir with your chosen bride so much that you are now hearing babies,” Reginald shrugged.  “The entire kingdom looks forward to you having an heir.  The Theirin line should continue.  I, personally, would have celebrated more if you had chosen to have that little Theirin with someone you love.  The author also said love is the death of duty.  For we are only human and the gods made us to love.  Another author said that Love is the most powerful force in the universe and we have the extraordinary ability to give and receive it.  Would not love then serve us better than duty?”

Alistair contemplated that.  Would love have served him better.  He knew duty.  He’d once known love.  He’d turned his back on love for duty.  He wasn’t sure that duty could kill love.  It might cause one to turn their back on love and to hurt the person who held their heart, it might cause honorable men to break hearts; but it couldn’t destroy that love.  That endured, he was testament to that.  Even as he dressed for a ball where he would name someone else his future queen, his love for Selene endured.  It endured to the point where he swore, he’d heard her calling to him.  “Reginald, do you think there is a magic that would allow lovers to hear each other, if they called out for the other, across far distances?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” Reginald gave a very proper snort.  “There is no such thing as magic.”

Alistair was so startled he wasn’t sure what to say.  Behind him, Barkspawn yipped and cocked his head.  Alistair followed the movement.  “I… magic is real.”

“No, my lord, I assure you it is not.”  Reginald’s expression didn’t change.  He wasn’t kidding.

“I… I was trained as a Templar,” Alistair revealed.  “I promise you; magic is real.”

“That is what the Chantry wants you to believe,” Reginald insisted.  “They gain power from our fear of magic and the supposed mages who wield it.”

“I’ve seen mages wield magic!”  Alistair couldn’t believe he was having this argument.  “I… I am in love with a mage.”

“It’s all a bunch of sleight of hand illusions and trickery,” Reginal insisted.  “Have you ever wielded magic… wait, you’re in love with a mage?  Lady Gwendolyn claims to be a mage?  The Bannorn won’t like that.  Perhaps we should convince them of the truth of magic.”

“No, Gwen isn’t a mage,” Alistair couldn’t believe he’d just mentioned Selene to his valet.  He’d heard that valets were supposed to know the secrets of those they serve, valets and barbers.

“Of course not,” Reginald shrugged.  “There are no mages.  I have never met one and I’ve never seen real magic performed, so it obviously doesn’t exist.”

“I’ve seen them… it… magic.”  Alistair had a feeling that the conversation he was having was some sort of omen as to how the night would go.

“It doesn’t exist, because it isn’t real,” Reginald maintained.

Alistair was still befuddled as he finished dressing.  Maybe he was going crazy.  He went to leave the room and heard singing.

Don’t be afraid to be weak

Don’t be too proud to be strong

Listen to your heart, let it speak

For your heart is never wrong

It will bring you back to innocence

It was Selene’s voice.  She was singing a lullaby.  He was definitely going crazy and all he wanted to do was find her so he could listen to her sing some more.

Chapter Text

Lydia glared at the overly trimmed noble women who filled the ballroom.  A few appeared to have been crying.  It was no doubt due to the fact that they had heard the king was indeed going to announce his pick for his bride that night and they realized it wasn’t them.  Many more, however, were prancing and preening about, catching the eyes of the single noblemen also in attendance.  It was disgusting, and not just because dancing was bad.

She looked around the room, trying to figure out how to kill the king that night.  She was dressed as ridiculously as the other women.  Her burgundy gown with white under dress and ties was a deep velvet and had a large skirt that made it impossible to sneak up behind someone and knife them.  She also hadn’t managed to smuggle a crossbow in.  She did have a vial of poison up her sleeve, but would have to get near King Alistair to poison his goblet.  Perhaps she should put it in something. 

It didn’t take her long to spy a punchbowl.  Yes, that would do it.  She might kill a few others along the way, but the gods would appreciate the extra sacrifices.  She stepped towards the bowl, planning to carefully slip out the vial and pour it into the punch with no one the wiser.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”  Lord Cousland appeared behind her and gently grasped her elbow.  “I know it’s hard for the women who weren’t chosen by our king, but you knew he had proposed to Gwen.  You should be celebrating with the rest of us!  They’re our friends.  We need to celebrate them.”

“I… I don’t dance,” she insisted.

“Nonsense,” he waved off her protests.  “It’s a ball and you need to dance.  Come on!”  He dragged her onto the dance floor.  She dutifully danced with him.

“See, you know how to dance,” he took her hand as they promenaded along.  “Enjoy the night.

She managed to escape at the end of the dance, only to find herself literally scooped up by Lord Teagan.  “There you are Lydia!”

“Why are you looking for me?”  She demanded.  Why was it so hard to get to the blasted punchbowl? 

“To dance of course,” he set her back down on her feet.  “You’re from the Free Marches, like our future queen, aren’t you?”

She reluctantly danced with him.  “I am from the Free Marches, yes.”  How did he know that?

“You obviously aren’t Orlesian,” he continued.  “I don’t know how the Orlesians got invitations.  I’m sure it’s because my brother invited the Empress, knowing she wouldn’t come.  It meant we had to invite some of her lackeys.  So, how are you liking Ferelden.  I think the younger Cousland might have his eye on you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other in the meantime.”

“I…”  Was he interested and how well did Teagan want to get to know her?  She opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone, but then how would she justify being in Denerim?  “You want to get to know me?”

“Of course, you’re a pretty woman who doesn’t play the simpering games that many of the others do,” he explained.  “You seem aloof.  It makes you something of a mystery and mysteries are tantalizing.”

“I…”  She needed to be less mysterious it seemed.  But being mysterious made it easier to creep around the castle and continue her efforts to kill the Grey Warden King.

“I know,” he smirked.  “Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens after this?”

“I don’t know…”  She hesitated.

He gave a little laugh.  “Of course, we must wait until after Alistair and Gwen make their entrance.”

Chapter Text

Alistair was still contemplating his conversation with his valet as he approached Gwen’s rooms.  Did his valet really deny that magic existed?  It was mind boggling.  He’d, personally, seen Wynne and Selene wield magic.  Selene…

The mere thought of her name, brought him to the other part of his conversation with Reginald.  Duty is the death of love.  But he did still love her, did that mean he’d killed her love for him?  She had left him after all.  Part of him wanted her there with him, on this big night.  He still wanted to share the big moments with her.  He knew that was selfish of him.  She wouldn’t want to be here, watching him announce that someone else will be his queen.

He would never get the look on her face, no looks it was twice, when he told her he would have to make someone else his queen.  When he told her, he would have to be faithful to someone else.  Maker, his duty demanded he give his hand to someone else, but he would never be able to Gwen, or any woman, his heart.  Selene had taken it with her.  No wonder he had heard her singing a lullaby earlier.  It was the sound his heart wanted to hear, Selene singing to his baby; but that was never to be.  That sound would never be heard in this life.

Would she sing a lullaby to someone else’s baby?  The baby she would have with some man who was more worthy of her heart than he was?  He wondered if it was some sign from the Maker when he saw James standing outside her door, looking stockily forward.  There was a broken look in his eyes.  The look of a man staring into the void.  Yet he had said nothing to the king.  He’d smiled and nodded.  Gwen said he’d encouraged their relationship. 

Alistair squared his shoulders and knocked on Gwen’s door.  Her maid, Wintersmarch opened the door.  She smiled at him and turned to nod at someone inside. 

Gwen sailed out of her room.  She wore white gown of some gauzy material with gold embroidery and trimming.  The underdress was also gold.  She wore a necklace of gold with a diamond teardrop.  She truly looked like a queen.  “I’m ready.”  She smiled, but there was a tremor in her lips.

“As am I.”  He held out his arm and she took it.  “You make duty bearable.”

She giggled a little.  “You don’t know how much of a compliment that really is.”

            Alistair had Gwen smiling by the time they reached the ballroom.  He’d managed a smile of his own.  Yet it felt hallow to him.  He waved at his guests as the herald announced them.  He danced with Gwen for his first dance.  They moved together smiling at others and each other.

            He might not have the love of his life, but he’d picked a good woman for his wife.  She would be a good queen, a great mother, a partner.  He became more confident in his decision as they moved together.

            After the dance, he dutifully danced with the other ladies in attendance.  He noticed Lady Lydia missing.  He asked Bel about it.

            “I saw her going into the garden with Teagan,” Bel confided.

            “I thought you and her…”  Was Alistair’s uncle stealing Bel’s girl?

            “No,” Bel assured him.  “There’s something mysterious about her, but I don’t have romantic feelings about her.  If Teagan makes her happy, they have my blessing.  I think the poor thing might be thirsty, though.  She kept trying to get to the punch table and Teagan wouldn’t let her stray from his side long enough to let her.”

            “The poor thing.”  Alistair shook his head and then shrugged.  He looked around.  “The decorations are nice.”

            “It’s Satinalia,” Bel pointed out.  The ballroom was filled with greenery, along with gold and red trim, the Theirin family colors.  “Did you get any nice presents?”

            “Wynne gave me a pair of socks,” Alistair revealed.  He’d liked the socks, they were knit from a soft, thick wool.  “Leliana did another painting for me.”

            “Another painting?”  Bel’s interest was piqued.

            “The painting in my office was done by her.

            “The one of the light auburn-haired women in the middle of combat?”  Bel recalled it.  “It’s well done.  I’ve wondered about the model.”

            “Oh, it’s painted from memory,” Alistair revealed.  “The woman in the painting is…” Selene, the love of the life, the one who got away, the woman who’d taken his heart and left.  “She’s a Grey Warden who fought in the Blight.”

            “You mean the Hero of Ferelden?”  Bel knew there was only one other Grey Warden who’d fought the last Blight, at least after the others had been killed at Ostagar.”

            “Yes,” Alistair tried to keep his voice smooth, non-committal, but he knew it hitched.  “That’s her.”

            “Where is she?”  Bel wanted to know.

            “I don’t know,” Alistair admitted. 

            “Eamon said she ran off with an Antivan Elf, is that true?”  Bel pressed, not knowing the pain he was causing his king.

            “They left at the same time,” Alistair conceded.  “He was protective of her, but I never picked up on any romance going on with them.  She had other reasons to leave.”  He’d come to accept that, that she had left him.  That it was he who had driven her from Denerim.

            “Really?  Like what?  The other Grey Warden who fought Ferelden’s Blight is a hero, the entire nation was ready to embrace her,” Bel insisted.

            They’ll never accept a mage as queen.  Alistair’s own words echoed in his head.  They would embrace her as their hero, but not as their queen.  Eamon constantly reminded him of that.

            “There you are king Alistair,” a buxom brunette interrupted them.  “Why are you hiding here instead of dancing with all of the ladies who have come to vie for your attention?”  She fluttered her eyelashes at him.  “I know I’d dearly love for you to ask me to dance.”

            “Would you?”  Alistair wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that.

            “The king would love to ask you to dance,” Bel interrupted.  “Wouldn’t you Alistair?”

            “Um, yes, of course.”  Alistair found himself taking the woman onto the dance floor and then another hinted that she wanted to dance and another.

            Alistair wasn’t sure how many women he’d danced with before he found Gwen back in his arms.  He’d listened to the Satinalia songs.  So many were about family and being with loved ones.  One lamented that the singer wouldn’t be with the woman he loved on the special day; they would never be together again for the singer had lost her affections.  Alistair found himself sympathizing with the poor singer.

            “Have you found yourself forced to dance with everyone in this room?”  Gwen wondered.  “I don’t know how much more silly, inane conversation I can take.”

            “Let’s wrap up this evening then,” Alistair gently laughed.  He took her hand and approached the throne set on the far end of the room.  He passed the punchbowl and glanced at it.  He’d never gotten a chance to stop and even get a drink.  He noticed there was also cheese near it, a large selection of cheese.  Maker’s Breath, it was Satinalia and he hadn’t even been able to enjoy the cheese.  True, he’d received some as gifts that morning, but that wasn’t the point.

            The room quieted as he stood in front of the throne, with Gwen at his side.  “My friends,” he began addressing them.  “I would like to make an announcement.  First, thank you for coming to enjoy this Satinalia ball with me.”  He knew the holiday wasn’t the real excuse for the ball and so didn’t everyone else.  “I have…”

            Alistair stopped talking midsentence.  He heard the sound again, it was singing.  It wasn’t just any singing; it was Selene’s voice once again.

Are you going to Calenhad Faire?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Remember me to one who lived there.

He once was a true love of mine.

Have him make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Without no seams, nor fine needle work.

Then he'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to weave it in a sycamore wood lane.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Gather it up in a basket of flowers

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Have him wash it in yonder dry well

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Where water ne'er sprung, nor drop of rain fell.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

            Was someone dead?  He wasn’t sure if he’d heard the song, but the cambric shirt, the sycamore, and the herbs were all associated with funerals.  He was sure it was Selene’s voice.  So, she wasn’t dead.  Perhaps she’d fallen in love with a new man and was singing about him, her heart broken yet again.

            “Alistair?”  Gwen whispered to him, catching his attention.  “Are you all right?”

            No, he wasn’t.  He was about to announce his betrothal and he was hearing another woman’s voice.  Not just any woman, either; the one who’s voice he’d yearned for months to hear yet again. 

            “I…”  He began, but he heard her again.

Tell him to find me an acre of land.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Between the sea foam and over the sand.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Plow the land with the horn of a lamb.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Then sow some seeds from north of the dam.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Have him reap it with a sickle of leather.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Gather it up in a bunch of heather.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

            “I’m sorry,” he smiled gently at Gwen.  What was he sorry for?  He couldn’t go run off to find Selene, no matter how much he missed her.  He was standing in front of the people he had a duty to and he needed to do what was right for all of Ferelden, not what his heart demanded of him.  Perhaps he could convince Leliana to tell him where Selene was.  Maybe he could send spied to keep an eye out for her.  For now, he had to see to his future wife and children.  He slipped an arm around Gwen and smiled at those gathered.  “I would like to introduce you to your future queen.  I have asked for Lady Gwendolyn’s hand in marriage and she said yes.”

            The people cheered.  Well, most, a few ladies pouted, but it had been no secret that this announcement was coming.

            “To Queen Gwendolyn of Ferelden!”  Eamon raised his cup. 

            “To Queen Gwendolyn!”  Those gathered raised their cups as well.

            Alistair smiled down at Gwen and leaned in, kissing her gently, as the crowd cheered again.

Chapter Text

Silence.  It seemed strange after having so many visitors that day.  Selene had fallen asleep after the last of her visitors.  Now, she found herself awake and staring into the darkness.  Night had fallen on Satinalia.

            Somewhere out there, in Denerim to be specific, he was dancing with every woman the bannorn would accept as queen.  The man who’d once sworn his heart would always be hers was choosing the woman whom he’d give his heart and hand to.  She wished she didn’t care.

            Let them dance, she was exhausted from giving birth.   As if woken by the very thought of her, Siobhan began to softly cry.  Selene sat up and reached into the cradle she’d set beside her bed, scooping her Satinalia baby out.  She softly rocked her, but the babe continued to whine.

            After checking for a dirty clout, she decided the little one was hungry and bared her breast.  Siobhan happily latched on and started suckling.  Selene closed her eyes for a minute.  She would go through everything she’d suffered since her Harrowing to have this moment.  She had already lost her heart to the infant in her arms.  There was no sign as to whether her daughter bore the soul of a dead old god, but she loved her regardless of whether she did or not.

            She heard her door open and looked over to see her father peaking his head into the room.  “I heard her cry,” he explained.  “I was wondering if you needed any help.  I… I’m probably not much help, but I am the father of five children.  I think I remember how some of it goes.”

            Selene smiled at him.  “Thank you.  We’re all right at the moment, but I suspect I’m going to need you… a lot.  You’re her grandfather and… that’s all she has in the father department anymore.”

            “I think that Percy fellow might want the job, he’s fonder of you than I like.”  He sat down on the bed.  “I’m less fond of him than I should be, if you are considering him for the job, though.  There’s just something about him I don’t like.  I do like that Anders, he’s a dashing apostate who might be able to handle a couple of magical women.  Of course, your cousin, Raven, seems to want to be the magical woman he is handling.”

            “You noticed that, too, did you?”  Selene felt a pang of jealousy.  Yet it wasn’t as intense as what she felt for the faceless woman Al… he was choosing that night.  She told herself that if she’d ever loved the other Grey Warden, she would be happy if he found a nice woman to make his queen and start a family with… a life with.  She didn’t believe herself.  Her heart screamed that he should be there with her and their daughter.  He wasn’t though and she would just have to work harder at moving on.  Her father said that Percy wanted to help her move on and he had given her a few hints that he did, but wanted to take things slow.  She didn’t like Percy as much as she did Anders, but was that romance or something more platonic?  Did she want to fight with her own cousin over a man?  No, she wanted to fight some faceless woman in Denerim, but that would do her no good.

            “Oh, you’re more than enough to take on Raven Hawke,” her father assured her.  “Don’t doubt yourself.  Even with a newborn, you could take her on.  Anders seems to be willing to have you fight for him.  He was very concerned for you and Siobhan tonight.”

            “Of course, he was.”  He knew that her baby likely had the soul of an Old God in her.  He knew that the child of two Grey Wardens had a struggle ahead of them when it came to being born healthy. 

            “Is he that concerned about his other clients?”  Her father challenged.  “He moved up on the bed so he could touch the top of Siobhan’s head.  “She’s blonde, well, reddish blonde.  Your hair didn’t lighten until you were a toddler, then it started to turn to your light auburn.  Was her…  was her father blonde?”

            He didn’t often ask about Siobhan’s father and it took Selene back for a moment.  “Yes… well, there is red in it.  His eyes were brown, I don’t know if she’ll keep my blue or end up with his color.  He was… strapping.”

            Lord Amell frowned and stood for a moment, looking worried.  “That Templar, Cullen, isn’t the father, is he?  I know he also came from Denerim and was at Kinloch Hold, too.”

            “Cullen?!”  She was so shocked she jostled Siobhan who gave a little cry of protest, before latching back on to her mother’s breast.  “No!  Anders is also from Kinloch Hold!  His eyes are closer to A… the father’s shade than Cullen’s are.  And he has never… let’s just say I encountered Cullen during the Blight.  No, just saying it isn’t enough of an explanation.  I did know him, when we were both in the tower.  He… well, he was nice, to me.  At least then he was.  But… I later freed the Circle; I needed the mages there to help me fight the archdemon.  It had been overrun by abominations and blood mages; the Circle I mean; not the archdemon.  They couldn’t stand being imprisoned any longer and they got desperate, they got stupid.  Anyway, Cullen had managed to survive the terrors that happened in that tower, but he was imprisoned in a magic cage.  The blood mages were torturing him.  When he saw me, he said horrible things to me, about me.  He wanted me to kill Grand Enchanter Irving, everyone at the top of the tower.  Just because they might be possessed.  He didn’t care, he just wanted all of the mages up there dead.  Whether or not they were innocent didn’t matter to him.  I could never… not with someone who cared nothing for innocents.  Even, though…”  She closed her eyes for a moment.  “I killed…”

            Her father laid a hand on the side of her head and brought it gently to his lips.  “What did you do?  What did you have to do?”

            “I killed a child,” she admitted.  “He was possessed by a demon, one that had killed most of those in Redcliffe castle and dispatched the undead to end the lives of those in the village.  They killed so many… there isn’t a person in Redcliffe who hasn’t lost a loved one to that demon.  I don’t know how to get a demon out of a mage.  Jowan said he could, but it would take blood magic and he would have to kill someone else to get that blood.  I couldn’t sacrifice one innocent to kill another.”  She looked down at the baby in her arms and realized that now there was innocent that she would destroy Thedas to protect.  No wonder Isolde had been willing to sacrifice herself to save Connor.  “I was trying to decide what to do.  I just wanted to look in on Arl Eamon and make sure he was all right… when Conner, the possessed child, attacked me.  I defended myself and that child died.  Alistair railed at me for that.”  Of course, he could have just taken command himself, like he should have from the beginning, and she wouldn’t have been the one left with the choice.  She was still so angry about that that she hadn’t realized she said his name.

            “You had no choice,” her father pointed out.  “And this ‘Alistair’, whoever he was, should have realized that.  Did he come up with a way to save the child?”

            “No,” she sighed.  “He, finally, admitted that when we made up.  As he admitted that I was right that he asked too much of me sometimes.”

            “Who is Alistair?”  He prompted.  “And why were you the one making decisions?  What did you do during the Blight?”

            She realized she’d never told him the full truth about who she was in Ferelden.  “I told you that I was made a Grey Warden, that it was how I was allowed to leave Kinloch Hold and why Knight Commander Meredith can’t just drag me to the Gallows.”

            “Yes, you did,” he confirmed.  “I know it’s why you were so worried about being pregnant.  There’s something they put in your blood.”

            That was one way of putting it.  “Well, were you aware that there were only two Grey Wardens who survived the Battle of Ostagar.”

            “I heard rumors,” he admitted.  “I thought they were exaggerated.”

            “They weren’t,” she assured him.  “There were just the two of us left, against the Horde.”

            “So, this Alistair must be the Hero of Ferelden,” her father deduced.  “I heard that the Hero was a man and if there were just two of you… wait, Alistair… isn’t that the name of the King of Ferelden?”

            “It is,” she confirmed.

            “Is it the same man?”  He grinned at her.  “Do you personally know the King of Ferelden?”

            “I do,” she confirmed.  Maker did she know him.

            “We have to send him a birth announcement then!”  He stood.  “I’ll get on it.  Our little Siobhan could have King Alistair among her list of friends.  If he’s the only other Warden, he could be like an honorary uncle to her!”

            Sweet Maker, Selene needed to tell him.  But knowing him, he would then really insist a birth announcement be sent to him.  “Dad, things… things didn’t end well with… the other Warden.”

            “Didn’t end well?”  His forehead crinkled.  “That’s a strange way to phrase things.  Selene, are you on the run from the Grey Wardens?”

            “As much as Anders is,” she confirmed.  “I am hiding from them.  They don’t exactly let people just leave.  And do you ever see Wardens with babies?  I don’t think they let them raise their own children.”  That was likely why the former Junior Grey Warden of Ferelden didn’t know any Wardens who had children after the Joining.

            “So, no baby announcement?”  He sounded disappointed.  “Can I send one to your friend, Leliana, at least?” 

            Leliana had known she was pregnant and appeared to have kept her secret.  She knew her friend was in Denerim right now.  She’d said she was going to the accursed ball.  The ball where, even now, Siobhan’s father was likely announcing his marriage to another woman.  “Yes, I know where you can send the announcement.  We just have to make sure the messenger knows to deliver it in private.  The Grey Wardens have too many ears.”

            “Of course,” her father agreed.  He got up and left her with Siobhan, who had finished eating and was blinking up at her.

            “I know, I should have told him that the other Grey Warden also happens to be your father, but… I’m not ready for him to know yet.”  She put a bracelet on her right arm, so she’d remember that that was the last side she’d fed her daughter on.  It was a trick that Leandra had told her of earlier.  Then she moved her daughter to her shoulder.

            Siobhan let out a little burp as she gently patted her back.

            “I don’t know when I’ll be ready to tell him,” Selene admitted.  She might never be.  Did he need to know?  She and Siobhan were just a complication to the Ferelden Throne.  Siobhan would know, but it would be up to her whether she ever wanted to meet her father.  For now, there were too many people she needed to protect her little girl from.

            She gently rocked her daughter as she sang her back to sleep.

Are you going to Calenhad Faire?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Remember me to one who lived there.

He once was a true love of mine.

Have him make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Without no seams, nor fine needle work.

Then he'll be a true love of mine.

Tell him to weave it in a sycamore wood lane.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Gather it up in a basket of flowers

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Have him wash it in yonder dry well

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Where water ne'er sprung, nor drop of rain fell.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Tell him to find me an acre of land.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Between the sea foam and over the sand.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Plow the land with the horn of a lamb.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Then sow some seeds from north of the dam.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

            Siobhan now lay softly on her shoulder, her breath even.  Still Selene continued to sing.

Have him reap it with a sickle of leather.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Gather it up in a bunch of heather.

Then he'll be a true love of mine

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

He once was a true love of mine

            She gently moved Siobhan to the crook of her arm.  Her babe slumbered peacefully.  She would need to move her back to her cradle soon, but not yet.  Her thoughts had gone to the man who had once been a true love of hers.  No matter how he had really felt, she really did love him.  She realized she still loved him, as stupid as that was on her part.

            He was the true love of someone new now.  She wondered who he’d picked as his bride and if he loved her.  Perhaps he easily fell in and out of love.  Perhaps that’s how he’d fooled her.

            She moved her baby back into her cradle.  No matter who the other woman was, she would never give him a child as beautiful and wonderful as the one they’d created together.  She gazed at her daughters lovely, rounded cheeks, with her long eyelashes fluttering against them.  A delicate fist was raised, clenched by her head, as if in defiance.  She would defy the nobles, the Chantry, and the prejudices of Thedas that stood in her way.

Chapter Text

There was an uncertainty, among many, as to whether one could have too much Satinalia fun.  Killsin knew those people were weak and needed to learn better discipline.  He was up early the next morning and making his way towards a spacious cottage that had all of its windows covered and barred.

            As he opened the cottage’s door, he was hit with a wall of scented smoke.  In the middle of the main room were four women.  Incense burned nearby, a lot of incense.  One sat on a thick rug, with an intricate design woven into it.  She began swaying when she saw him.  “Oh, great Old Ones show us your movements!  Grant us to see what others cannot see!”

            “Oh, show us!”  Two of the women echoed, also swayed.

            “Oh, show us!”  The third woman was about half a word off of the other two.

            “Let us know what you know!”  The first woman declared.

            “We must know!”  The two who were swaying echoed.

            “We must know!”  The third one was now a full word off and while she swayed, it wasn’t quite in synch with the other two.

            “You’re making us look bad, Brynna!”  One of the women in the back hissed at the third.

            “Oh, stuff it, Sephane!” The one whose name was apparently Brynna hissed back.

            “You have come to grace us with your presence, oh high priest.”  The woman in the front continued to sway.

            “You know why I’m here,” Killsin told her.

            “You brought us a kitten?”  Brynna stopped swaying and her eyes widened with hope.

            “No,” Killsin grit his teach.

            Brynna’s shoulders slumped, but then perked back.  “Our very own baby dragon?”

            “No, he wants another orgy,” Sephane told her.

            “He wants to know if the child was born yesterday as we foresaw,” the woman in the front told him.

            “Well, of course it was,” Brynna muttered and rolled her eyes.  “We know what we’re doing in here.”

            “Yes,” the head seer told him.  “The child was indeed born.  You can find it in…”

            “Yes, yes,” he interrupted her.  “We already have people trailing the mother.  She’s done well to hide her pregnancy, but we will get Urthemiel from her.  Our god shall return to us and we shall raise him in His ways and lead us to glory.”

            “To glory,” Sephane and the seer beside her echoed and began to sway.

            “The mother is not so easily crossed,” Brynna dared to warn him.  “She will protect her baby with all of her magics.”

            “She will not succeed against us.”  Killsin turned on his heal and left the cottage.

            Brynna watched after him.  She’d rather have a kitten to play and cuddle with than some other woman’s baby, but she knew her duties.

            “You need more practice,” Sephane hissed at her.

            She turned to the other seer.  “Why do you think he kept calling the baby him?”

Chapter Text

Morrigan knew the item she sought was in the Arbor Wilds, but it was too dangerous to go after it.  All of her research confirmed that few who went there came back.  As she’d ventured further and further into the area, she had verified that there was an ancient temple there.  All she’d found pointed to that temple belonging to the goddess Mythal.  Yet, there was some strange, and extremely dangerous, guardian shielding entry into the temple.  She would have to bide her time.

            Now, she was making her way to Orlais.  It was the perfect place to hide from Flemeth, if her mother had managed to return from the dead.  She had no doubt her mother would indeed find a way to resurrect herself.

            As she moved through a marketplace, securing more supplies for her journey, she noticed that she was once again being followed.  She’d thought that those who followed her before she’d ventured into the Arbor Wilds to be some sort of aberration, yet here they were again.  There were two men and a woman.  She kept her eye on them, in what she thought to be a subtle manner, as she perused the wares of a bootmaker.  She hadn’t purchased new boots since before she’d left the Korcari Wilds and the soles of hers were beginning to show wear.

            “Where’s your baby!”  A large man in dark robes grabbed her shoulder.

            She kicked the man, causing him to double over, and pushed away from him.  “Do not put thy filthy hands upon my person!”

            “Just give me the baby!”  He growled.

            She glanced at the bootmaker, to see if he knew what the heck the man before her was talking about.  The bootmaker looked as confused as she was.  “Bufo!”  She shouted and waved her hand.

            The man who had grabbed her gasped and then ribbitted.  He sat on the ground, looking up at her.  The he ribbited again and hopped off to go find other toads.

            Morrigan looked over to the bootmaker who lifted an eyebrow.  He was a nonplussed Orlesian who pretended that he saw such things all of the time.

            “Mage!”  She turned to see three Templars bearing down on her.

            “I guess the fun is about to start,” she shrugged.  “I’ll have to look for new boots later.  Oh, no,” she fluttered her hands.  “Not Templars!  I am so helpless.  How will I ever escape their masterful hands.  Oh, no!”  She fled deeper into the market as they gave chase.  There would be three less Templars in Thedas when she was done.

            Two nights later, Morrigan slumbered in an inn in Val Firmin.  She had not bothered to put magical barriers around her doors or windows.  No one knew where she was and few likely cared.  She was sure the incident in the marketplace was just an inept mugger and the word ‘baby’ had been some sort of code.

            She woke when four people, three men and a woman, burst into her room. Two of the men went to hold her down, while the other two intruders went through her things.  The woman kept skirting her bed, as if expecting to find something in it.

            “Perhaps it’s in the bed with her!”  The woman gasped.  “You could be hurting it right now!”

            “I’d know if I was kneeling on a baby, Maureen.”  One of the men trying to hold her down rolled his eyes.

            By the ancients, they really were looking for a baby.  Morrigan laughed and then shifted into a swarm of bees.  She quickly killed both men who had tried to hold her down.  The third man, wisely, fled out the door.  Morrigan moved between the door and Maureen, trapping the woman in with her.  Then she changed back to her human form.  “I have some questions for you.”

            “You can’t scare me!”  Maureen cowered against the far wall.  “The Old Gods protect us!”  Her eyes went to the two dead men on the bed.

            “They are not doing a very good job at the moment, are they?”  Morrigan pointed out.  “Perhaps if they were gods and not just powerful beings in slumber, they would do a better job.  I may spare you, however, if you tell me why you chose to sneak into my room to look for a babe.”

            “You were obviously smart enough to hide your baby from us, but we’ll find him,” Maureen was still defiant, despite her trembling.

            “I have no babe,” Morrigan enlightened her.  “I never have.”

            “Lies!”  Maureen straightened.  “Our seers have confirmed that the dark ritual was performed.  And they have confirmed that when the Wonderous One, the Old God Urthemiel was destroyed, his soul went into the child of the Grey Warden.”

            “I had no child by any Grey Warden or anyone else,” Morrigan informed her.  “Return to whoever sent you and tell them to bother someone else with their insanity.  And to leave me be.”

            “We will find your child!”  Maureen shouted.  “You cannot stop us!  If you strike me down, more will come in my place.  The will of the Old Gods cannot be denied!”

            “Hey!”  A shout came from the next room.  “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

            Morrigan blasted Maureen with ice, killing the woman instantly.  “I killed them for disturbing your slumber,” she informed her neighbor.

            “Thank you!”  The reply came through the wall.

Chapter Text

“Is asking someone not to leave you o.k.?”  Selene laid back on her bed, with Siobhan in her arms.

            “It’s fine to ask.”  Anders was examining her, running a hand over her gently.  “That doesn’t mean the other person doesn’t have to leave.  You’re fine by the way.  If you want to take Siobhan into work with you, you could probably take back over your shop soon.  I don’t know how you’re so calm when you have Isabela running the place.  I’m surprised she hasn’t robbed you blind.  The fact that Varric has set up shop in there since you gave birth is likely the only thing protecting your stock.”

            Selene laughed.  “She won’t rob her friends.  Sure, she’ll still cheat at Wicked Grace, but she values us more than even she will admit.”

            “Raven is leaving her behind, so she’ll still be at your disposal,” Anders informed her.  “I’m surprised you haven’t put your friend, Zevran in charge.”

            “He still isn’t back,” Selene admitted.  She was becoming worried about him.  She knew that some of the Crow’s still hunted him.  “Could she at least leave me Varric?”

            “I’m not higher ranked than Varric in your affections?”  Ander’s sounded a bit offended.  He gently took Siobhan from her and began scanning the baby.  “What is it about him that makes you and Raven both so attached to him?”

            “It’s the chest hair,” Selene enlightened him.  “It makes all the women fall helplessly in love with him.  Seriously, though, I’d like you both to stay.”

            “Varric is taking Raven with him, not the other way around,” Anders pointed out.  He continued to scan Siobhan.  “And I’m counting on you to take care of Queen Purrivere for me.”  The kitten was already making herself comfortable on the end of the bed.

            “Can you sense anything in her?”  Selene was becoming more and more worried the longer he took with his examination.

            He shook his head.  “Nothing.  There is no Taint, I can assure you of that.  What does an Old God feel like?  I went through the Joining after the Blight was over.  I imagine they feel like uber darkspawn.”

            “They…”  She searched for the words.  “They cause nightmares.  They have the taint, but they are… more.”

            “Well, little demon here doesn’t have the Taint,” Anders was certain of that.  “For that matter, I can’t sense it in you anymore, either.  Are you sure you were really a Grey Warden?”

            “Yes, I stood in a circle and drank a chalice of badness,” she assured him.  “I was the only one who survived it!”

            “Two people survived in mine,” Anders recalled.  “We only lost one.”

            “We might have, if Duncan hadn’t decided to kill Jory.”  Selene still remembered the Grey Warden recruiter sticking a dagger into Jory’s ribs.  He might have survived if he was still wearing his armor, instead of just his smalls for the Joining.  She would never know why he and Jory decided to do that.

            “I passed out,” Anders admitted.

            “So, did I,” she assured him.  “I woke up to Al… Alistair leaning over me, making sure I was all right.”  She smiled a little at the memory.  He’d been so happy that she’d survived.  She’d been in shock about Duncan’s decision to kill Jory instead of letting him go.  Sure, he’d said there was no turning back, but still…

            “Oghren just burped,” Anders gave a little laugh.  “That potion didn’t even phase him.”

            “Oghren?  The drunken dwarf who liked to make bad sexual innuendoes and thought he was the Stone’s gift to women?”  Had Anders told her Oghren had become a Grey Warden?  Why would Oghren want to become a Grey Warden?  He’d seen what it did to Alistair and her. 

            “That’s him,” Anders confirmed.

            “What about Felsi?” Selene had helped that ungrateful dwarf get back with his girlfriend after Branka, Oghren’s wife, had died.  True, she’d felt guilty about him becoming a widower, as she was the one who’d killed Branka.

            “His wife?”  Anders revealed that Oghren had married Felsi.  “He left her.  I later found out she’d become pregnant and he freaked out.”

            “He left his wife because she was pregnant?”  Selene wanted to go back to Ferelden so she kick Oghren’s butt.  “That… drunken snake!”

            “Are we talking about the brooding elf?”  Varric popped his head in.  “Is the exam over?  Can I come in?”

            “We were talking about an irreverent dwarf, actually,” Anders informed him.  “And yes, the exam is done.  They’re both fine, very healthy.”  He handed Siobhan back to Selene.

            “I’m unhappy about you guys leaving me to go traipsing around the Deep Roads,” Selene admitted. 

            “I’m sure Raven would let you come if you wanted, but I doubt Little Princess could go,” Varric warned.

            “I don’t want to go,” Selene affirmed.  “I’ve spent more than my share of time in the Deep Roads and have no desire to see them again.  Varric, stick close to Anders, he can sense the darkspawn down there and should be able to warn you that they’re coming.”

            “I will,” Varric promised.  “You just take care of the Little Princess and yourself while we’re gone.  Maybe we’ll bring you two back a present.”

            “Visit Leandra while we’re gone,” Anders added.  “She’s freaking out about Raven and Carver going.  I expect her to have a full melt down before we can leave Kirkwall.”

            “It’s a little early to take advantage of her offers to babysit,” Selene insisted.  She wasn’t ready to let anyone else watch her baby. 

            “I thought Percy wanted to take you back out on the town,” Varric teased.  “Aren’t those his flowers out in your foyer?”  He’d sent a bouquet of daisies and Andraste’s Grace.

            “They were his,” she admitted.  “I might go back out with him in a few weeks, if you think I should, Ander’s.”  She looked to him.  Did she want him to say yes or no?  She was fond of him, but had no doubt that there was something going on between him and Hawke.  She also wasn’t sure she was ready to try and be in a relationship with someone new.  She’d just given birth to someone else’s baby a few weeks before. 

            “You know what you’re up to,” Anders assured her.  “You’re in perfect health, but really I don’t think Percy is good enough for you.  Not if you haven’t told him who…”  He trailed off and looked over at Varric.

            “I know who the Little Princess’ father is,” Varric assured him.  “And I know exactly who Enigma is.  Don’t worry, you can talk freely in front of me.”

            “You know?”  Ander’s shoulders slumped.  “I thought I was the only one who knew Selene’s secrets.”

            “You’re a small group,” Selene assured him.  “Fine, go, but return in one piece; both of you.”

            “We shall, fair lady,” Varric bowed to her.  “Her friend Zevran knows, too,” He confided to Anders.

            Anders leaned over and kissed her forehead.  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

Anders and Varric had been gone for half an hour when Selene received her next guest.  It seemed speaking of Leandra had summoned her.  She bustled in and scooped Siobhan up.  “I haven’t seen my little cousin in over a week!”  She cooed at the baby.

            “You know you’re welcome here whenever you want,” Selene reminded her.

            “I’ve been doing the social whirl,” Leandra admitted.  “The winter solstice is coming and there are pre-solstice parties in full swing.  I’m sure you’ve received invitations.”

            Selene had received a few, but likely nowhere near the amount that Leandra had.  “Perhaps the odd one here and there.  I’m not the most social of creatures.  There was always the chance that someone would recognize her.”

            “You should at least go to…”  Leandra stopped as the main doors opened again.

            Lirene walked in the door.  “Oh, good, you’re up.  I wanted to see the latest Fereldan refugee and see how you were fairing.  Perhaps fill you in on the latest gossip.”

            “Gossip from Lowtown?”  Selene guessed.

            “No, from Ferelden,” Lirene laughed lightly.  “News has been pouring in.  It seems that the Satinalia Ball was the event of the age.  Well, the happy event, nothing’s going to top their Blight for being the Event of the Age.”

            “Isn’t that nice for… whoever put it on,” Selene really did not want to hear about the ball.

            “It was the new king himself,” Lirene sighed.  “I hear he personally arranged everything to be perfect for his big announcement.  The man is so in love.”

            “He’s…”  Selene wondered why the room was suddenly spinning.  She looked towards her daughter, but Leandra didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.  “He…”  Her chest hurt.  Was she having some sort of delayed complications from childbirth?  Was the Joining reclaiming her?  She reached out to grab something to stay stable.

            “Yes,” Leandra didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.  “He announced his betrothal at the ball, as was to be expected.  But he didn’t pick some random girl, everyone knew who he was announcing his engagement to.  My friend, Mylessa, said he’d been taking long walks and rides with her.  He even took her to an Orlesian opera.”

            Lirene’s words were barely registering, although Selene had to admit that the last part didn’t sound like Alistair at all.  Orlesian opera?  He didn’t like Orlesian Opera; did she really know him at all?  Maybe their whole relationship had been a lie.  If he could easily fall in and out of love, what else would he do?  There was a buzzing in her head now that cut out whatever else she was saying.  She forced herself to stay on her feet.  “Get my father.”  No, this felt as terrible as the Joining and she felt like she was going to pass out as she had then.  “No, get Anders!”

            Leandra rushed out of the room, still carrying Siobhan. 

            Lirene helped Selene to sit down.  “What’s wrong?  Have you been feeling weak since you gave birth?  Don’t you have a healer?”

            “Leandra’s getting her,” Selene’s father walked in carrying Siobhan.  “Darling,” he moved Siobhan to one arm and touched her cheek with the other. 

Selene felt her head clear a little as he touched her.  Her breathing was uneven, though.  “I…”  Her breath hitched a little.  Damn him.  She shouldn’t be having this reaction to the news.  She’d moved on.  She had her daughter, she had a business, she had a life.  It just felt as if she’d drank some horrible potion and then had a dagger plunged into her heart.  So, what happened to Daveth and then Jory.  “I’ll be…”  She’d learn to deal with knowing the man she loved was in love with someone else?  That it had been less than a year since she’d last been in his arms and he had given his heart to someone else; not just his hand, but his heart as well.  She supposed it never had truly been hers, he’d just lied to get her into bed.  She’d just have to keep reminding herself of that.

“What happened?”  In less than an hour, Aveline had shown up at the Amell estate.

“I thought we sent for Anders,” Lord Amell objected.

“You did,” Aveline confirmed.  “Alas, Leandra arrived as Bartrand was telling Raven that she could only take two friends with her.  Carver was one of the two Raven took, which caused Leandra to have a fit.  She’s presently bemoaning the loss of her only surviving children and how her daughter wouldn’t even leave Carver to console her.  I swear she’ll be wearing sackcloth by the end of the day and there will be ashes in her hair.”

Selene didn’t doubt it.  She supposed she should go see to her cousin; it might distract her from her own pain. 

“What about Anders?”  Lord Amell pressed.  He glowered, even as he rocked his granddaughter.

“She took him as well.”  Aveline took in Lord Amell’s expression.  “You can’t blame her, he’s a Grey Warden and one of those will be valuable to have down in the Deep Roads.  They love the Deep Roads, don’t they?”

“No, they don’t.”  Selene supposed it was time to tell Aveline some of her secrets.

“Leandra said you were dying,” Aveline reported.  “I should get you to the Gallows so a healer can see you.”

“She said I’m dying and Anders still left?”  Selene thought Anders was enough of her friend to have her back.

“He told her that he’d just examined you and you were fine,” Aveline explained.  “He seemed to think she was making things up to convince Raven not to go on the expedition.”

“After everything Raven has done so she can go on that expedition?”  Selene couldn’t believe a mother would pull that crap. 

“I don’t think Leandra knows how to take care of herself,” Aveline explained.  “She’s never had to.  I talked to her about her past before.”

“As have I.”  Selene was grateful to have something to take her mind off of the news that Lirene had brought her.

“Has Leandra ever had to take care of herself?”  Aveline pointed out.  “Sure, she raised her children, but Malcom took care of the big things.  “She grew up as a noble, with her parents to take care of her.”

“With the troubles that our branch of the family had, they became rather… sheltering to their children,” Lord Amell reported.  “It’s part of Gamlen’s problem.  He’d never been taught to face the world on his own.  So, when his parents died, he took to drinking and gambling to deal with the stresses of life.  Leandra was expected to marry a nice lord, they had De Launcet in mind.”

“Then she ran off with Malcom Hawke,” Aveline deduced.  “He took her to Ferelden and apparently tried to keep her the pampered lady.  When he died, she just expected Raven to take over everything.  She is the first born.”

“Has she raised Carver to be like she and Gamlen were?  Is that why he whines like a spoiled child?”  That explained a few things Selene had noticed about him. 

“If he’d stayed, Leandra would have expected him to care for her in Hawke’s place,” Aveline mentioned.

“What has she planned to do if the Templars caught up with Raven and threw her in the tower?”  Selene wondered.  Then she realized the answer.  “She’d expect her to escape and take care of her some more.  Never mind, they’d have to go on the run.”

“So, are you dying?”  Aveline changed the subject.

“Can you die of a broken heart?”  Selene questioned.

“I know you’re fond of Anders, but I don’t think you’re in love with him,” Lord Amell knelt by his daughter, while still cradling his granddaughter.

His leaving with Hawke didn’t hurt nearly as much as the news that Lirene had brought, even if the news was expected.  No, it was all too obvious where her heart still dwelt.  She wondered if she’d ever get it back or if it would always be captured by a cruel king in Ferelden.  “You’re right,” she patted his arm.  “I think I should just take Siobhan, feed her, and then take a nap.”  She stood and took her daughter, heading into her room.  She didn’t see the look that passed between her father and her friend.

Selene stroked her daughter’s reddish blonde hair as she fed.  “So, daddy has given his heart to someone else, has he?  That’s his choice, I… I just thought he was different, but I should have learned after the Landsmeet what he was really like.  After all, he proved where his loyalties lay then… and they weren’t with me.  His heart lay with his duty… and Arl Eamon.  I guess now it lies with this perfect new queen.”

“Who is this perfect new queen?”  Aveline stood at the door, holding a tray.

“I…”  She’d thought she was alone with her daughter.  Now Selene would have to cough up a big secret, one of her biggest.  Could she trust Aveline not to send word to Denerim?  Were they truly friends if they didn’t trust each other?  Selene looked down at Siobhan for a moment.  Let this new queen try to come near her baby, she’d teach her why mages were to be feared.  Selene picked that moment to finish her meal and popped off of Selene’s breast.

“Let me,” Aveline set the tray down on the bed and took Siobhan.  “I may have one of these little people one day and I might as well learn how to do this.”  She tentatively put the baby on her shoulder and very gently began patting her on the back.

Selene smiled at the sight.  “Here,” she handed her friend a cloth to cover her shoulder.  “And pat her just a little harder.  I didn’t realize you wanted children.”

“I used to,” Aveline confessed.  “With… Wesley and I talked about it.  I would have loved to retire from the army and started a small family with him.  Perhaps a son with my strength or a daughter with his eyes and his smile… a little manifestation of the love we shared.  It’s been hard to be without him, but some day, maybe…”  She swallowed and then fidgeted.  “I… I thought your husband had died, too.  I recognized that you were also in mourning and… well, you were pregnant when you came to Kirkwall.”

“I’m not a widow,” Selene confessed.  “I’d rather that not get out, for Siobhan’s sake.”

“I know you’re a noble, but you’re also a mage, why does the word bastard bother you so much?”  Aveline continued to burp the baby.  “Not that I won’t teach her to punch anyone who calls her that to her face.”

That got a smile from Selene.  “I’ll hold you to that.  If she is a mage, which I have a lot of reasons to believe she is, I’ll teach her arcane magic.  That way, we’ll make sure she punches very hard.”

“Is it child birth that caused the scene that scared Leandra and your father so badly?”  Aveline pressed.

“It…”  Selene trailed off and looked to the tray.  Aveline had brought her cheese and wine.  She’d shared plenty such trays with Alistair.  The man adored both, especially cheese…

“There is only one thing I adore more than cheese.”  Alistair lounged on a bed in the Gnawed Noble Tavern.

“Oh?” Selene grinned at him as she bit into a piece of cheddar.

Alistair leaned into her and kissed her gently.  His hand lifted to cup her cheek and he gave her a sweet smile, one that melted her heart.  “Hmmm… just one thing.”  He kissed her again. 

“Would that be the wine?”  She gestured to the bottle sitting on the table next to their bed.

He laughed.  “It is good wine, but no wine is that good.  You know what that one thing is.”

“Do I?”  She teased.  A part of her was afraid he’d say something that wasn’t her.  She was used to his teasing and happily teased him back.  “Is it Barkspawn?  I know you love that dog.”

“Not as much as you and he seem to treasure each other,” Alistair assured her.  “You’re his human and there is no doubt of that.  You hold top honors in his affections.  In that, he and I agree.  You know you are the one thing I adore above all others.  Even cheese must take second place.”

She kissed him, winding her arms around him.  Her heart was light and it was hard to believe there were darkspawn and a civil war outside of the city.  Nothing could intrude on what they’d found together.

“Selene?”  Aveline interrupted her thoughts.

“Sorry, I…”  She gulped.  “I was distracted.”

“By the cheese?”  Aveline gently place Siobhan in her cradle.

“Al…”  She gulped, stilling her heart.  “Siobhan’s father loves cheese.”

Loves, not loved.  Aveline caught the difference.  “He’s still alive?”

Selene nodded.  “He is and…”  She trailed off.  And he loves someone else and I didn’t think he could hurt me more, but he can.  She felt the tears trickling down her eyes.

“Did Lirene bring a message from him?”  Aveline sat down on the bed with her.  “Leandra said she’d been talking about a ball in Denerim.  Does that…”  She studied Selene for a moment.  “You were at Ostagar.”

Selene decided that she either trusted Aveline or she didn’t.  If she couldn’t trust the Fereldan Warrior, who could she trust?  Besides, Varric and Anders that was.  “Yes, I was.  Most people knew me as Duncan’s new recruit.”

“Duncan?  The Grey Warden recruiter,” Aveline had heard of him.  “You’re one of the two Grey Wardens who survived Ostagar.”

“I spent the Blight fighting off Loghain’s minions and darkspawn,” Selene revealed.  “I also put together an army and defeated an archdemon.  Good times.”  The last part was a joke, but there had been some good times in there.  She’d found a couple of good friends and fallen in love.  Then she’d been abandoned, with a broken heart.  Still, there were nights around the fire, dancing as Leliana played the lute and sang.  There was listening to Alistair try to wheedle Wynne, as the elder mage became the mother he’d never had.  Barkspawn had laid his head in her lap as they’d all sang together.  She’d watched the stars with Alistair and mixed potions with Zevran.

“I’m sure there were some,” Aveline leaned back.  “Are you the Hero of Ferelden?”

Selene gave a little snort.  “There are those who have hung that moniker on me.  They wanted to embrace me as their hero, but it was made very plain to me that I would be unacceptable as their queen.  I couldn’t even be the princess consort, or some such title.”

“Queen?  Consort?”  Aveline sat up straight and then leaned forward.  “The King of Ferelden is the other Grey Warden, wasn’t he?”

“Alistair Theirin,” Selene said the name.  Maker, it still hurt.  “Yes, he was.”

“Why would he have made you his…”  Aveline trailed off and glanced at Siobhan’s cradle.  She just nodded.  “And now he’s announced his betrothal to his future queen.  What did Lirene say?”

“Only that he…”  Selene’s voice broke.  She felt the tears sliding down her face.  Maker, she was so weak!  She cursed herself for still not getting over a man who was obviously over her.  If there’d even been anything for him to get over.

“Selene,” Aveline’s voice was gentle. 

It was too gentle for her.  Sobs broke when Selene opened her mouth to answer.  She tried to take a deep breath, but it shuttered and another sob followed.  Aveline gathered her close.  “She just…”  Another sob.  “She said…”  Yet another.  “That…”  Maker, why couldn’t she stop?  He shouldn’t be worth this much pain, not if he’d moved on so easily.  “That… he loves her…”  She couldn’t continue.

“Damn her.”  It was the first time Selene had heard her friend curse.  “She said that he’s in love with his betrothed?”

Selene nodded.  “Very much so.”

Aveline shook her head.  “And how would someone all the way in Kirkwall know how a man in Denerim, a man she probably doesn’t even know, feel?”

“Friend,” was all Selene managed to get out.

“I don’t know if she’s that good of a friend,” Aveline grumbled.

“No, her friend said,” Silene mumbled into Aveline’s shoulder.  “He was there.”

“I was here for Siobhan’s birth,” Aveline pointed out.  “That doesn’t mean I know what it feels like to push another human out of my body.  Everyone expects the king to marry and produce an heir.  He’s probably just doing his duty.”

Duty.  Duty to his country and future queen were the reasons Alistair had given for breaking Selene’s heart.  He could shove that duty up his taught, tight ass for all she cared.

“Speaking of heirs, what did he say when you told him about Siobhan?”  Aveline wanted to know.

“She’s my daughter,” Selene straightened.  “Not his royal bastard.  Even if he was there for her conception.”

“You haven’t told him,” Aveline realized.

“I don’t want him to know,” Selene insisted.

“He has a right to…”  Aveline began.

“A right to what?”  Selene felt anger boiling and welcomed it.  It coated her pain and shielded her broken heart.  “A right to the child of the woman he dumped the moment he was on the throne and then somehow managed to dump again?  A right to try to snatch her away and pass off as the product of his union with this new simpering lady who is considered an acceptable queen?”

“He wouldn’t just snatch her!”  Aveline’s eyes were wide at the possibility.

“No,” Selene sighed.  “He wouldn’t.  There are those close to him that I don’t trust, though.  Besides, it would hurt too much to even see him.  He’d want to see her if he knew about her.  His father… well, he obviously didn’t visit him enough.”  She looked at her friend.  “Aveline…” 

Aveline shook her head.  “I won’t tell him.  It’s just… if my Wesley were still alive, nothing in Thedas would keep me from returning to his side.”

“Your Wesley didn’t reject you… twice,” Selene countered.

“He obviously didn’t reject you one time,” Aveline inclined her head towards the cradle.

Selene snorted.  “He initiated.”

Chapter Text

Alistair Theirin, the King of Ferelden, was bored.  He prayed to the Maker to send something to spice up his day.  He sat on his throne, with Gwen at his side.  He was greeting petitioners and well-wishers.  News of his betrothal had Obviously gone out and all of Thedas decided to stop by and check out the future royal couple.

Worse, his future in-laws were on their way.  Gwen seemed even less thrilled about that than he was.

Barkspawn lay at his feet, at least he seemed to be having fun.  He happily barked at the petitioners and growled at the well-wishers.  It seemed to be some perverse game he was playing.

“Then his possessed ram jumped over the fence and into my pasture,” a stout woman was claiming.  “My prize ewe is pregnant by a possessed ram.  I’m going to have a possessed lamb on my hand, instead of the one I had planned to breed!  The one who would have been worth a lot of money.  What am I going to do with a possessed lamb?”

Barkspawn woofed his answer.  The woman glanced at him thoughtfully, as if he’d actually given her good advice.

“What do you have to say to these accusations?”  Alistair questioned the woman’s neighbor, a frail looking old man who was dressed in a brown robe and carried a walking stick.

“Bob isn’t possessed,” the man insisted.  “He’s just… a very spirited ram.  Her ewe came onto him!  She would strut along the fence with her curly white fleece and give him this look.  That Penny is an ewe of loose morals.  She tempts men and then flounce away.  My Bob was just doing what she wanted.”

“Giving men looks and flouncing does not give them any rights!”  The complainant, Shawna, declared. 

“She’s right,” Alistair agreed.  “Do you have any proof that her ewe really wanted to breed with your possessed ram?”

The defendant, Jack, looked startled.  “Only the way she acted.  Do you suggest I interview the ewe?  And Bob is not possessed!”

“I’ll send a mage to interview and examine the ram and ewe in question,” Alistair decided.  “They’ll determine what happened that… magical night.”

“Good one, Your Majesty,” the herald laughed. 

Alistair raised and eyebrow.  He was serious, for once.  He glanced at Gwen, show shrugged.  “Haymitch,” he motioned to one of the runners.  “Have Wynne come and see me.  Is there a reason I shouldn’t send a mage to further investigate the matter, Talfryn?”  He questioned the herald.

“Magic doesn’t exist,” Talfryn guffawed.  Alistair realized his herald had been spending too much time with his valet.  How could these people not believe the evidence before their eyes?  He needed to talk to Beatrice about possibly reallocating jobs in his palace.  The last thing he needed were guards who weren’t guarding against magic.

Shawna and Jack were both looking at the herald as if he’d grown a second head.  “Thank you, your majesty.”  Shawna turned back to Alistair bowed.

“As your majesty wishes.”  Jack bowed as well.  It seemed the pair was willing to deal with each other in light of what their king faced at his palace, with his own staff.

Talfryn didn’t seem to realize that anything was wrong.  He stepped outside the door and waited for those who had petitioned the king to leave before the next petitioner was brought in.

“You do know that magic exists, don’t you, Gwen?”  Alistair questioned his future queen.

She gave a little laugh.  “Yes, Alistair, I do.  I’ve seen it for myself.  Even if I hadn’t, I know others who have had encounters with mages.  There are mage circles, for the Maker’s sake!”  She threw her hands out at the last part.

Alistair smiled at her.  “Yes, there are.”

“Your Highnesses,” Talfryn was back in the room.  a small woman and very large man walked in together behind him.  “May I announce, Bann Antonio Bastion of Bastion and his Lady Dorianna.”

“We have come to congratulate Your Majesty on your impending nuptials,” the bann bowed.  “We have heard your joyous news and wished to come see for ourselves.  And to present you with this.”  He lifted up a gold device.  There were numbers and two arrows that moved slowly around.

“It’s beautiful.”  Gwen took the gift.

“It is,” Alistair agreed.  He shifted uncomfortably. 

Lady Dorianna smiled pleasantly.  “It’s a clock.  They are rare, but one of the artisans in Bastion makes them.  I felt it was the perfect gift for a king and his future queen.  Now you’ll always know what time it is.”

Alistair wasn’t sure that was always a good thing, but the present was very thoughtful.  “Thank you.”

“We’ll treasure it,” Gwen assured them.

He smiled at her.  She was quite good at dealing with people.  “We will.”

“You will come to your wedding of course,” Gwen insisted. 

Alistair realized this was the fifth couple she’d invited.  She was obviously planning a huge event.  Why not?  Why not have all of Thedas watch him do his duty to his throne and to his people?  No one would be able to deny that he was giving them all he could.  They had already taken the one thing he’d wanted most in the world.  The greatest gift the Maker had given to him.  He’d had to give up the woman he loved for his duty and now sat through everyone congratulating him on it.  He knew that most people didn’t know about… Selene.  Maker, thinking her name seemed to hurt more and more of late.  Ever since Satinalia.  He figured it was because of his engagement.  He was making decisions that there was no coming back from.

“I haven’t announced you yet!”  Talfryn’s voice rose.

The bann and his wife turned to see what the commotion was.

Gwen gasped, her eyes widening.

Alistair shrank back against his throne as one of the greatest terrors of his past advanced towards him.  “Morrigan?”

Barkspawn gave a happy yip at seeing her.

Morrigan ignored everyone else in the room, but him.  “Where is she?”

“Where is who?”  Alistair looked around for help.  No one moved.  “How did you get in here?”  He wondered what was taking Wynne so long.

“I used the front door,” Morrigan informed him.  “Should I have magically transported in here with green flames around me and my arms held out, stave up?”  Morrigan lifted her arms up to form a Y, her magical staff in hand and somehow summoned a wind from somewhere, her hair whipped around her.  Her eyes flashed.  “You will tell me where Selene Amell is now, foolish king!”  She lowered her arms and the wind stopped.  “’Twas that better.  Will it get me my answer?  How are you alive?  Did you let her sacrifice herself so you might live?  That is what I first thought when I learned that you yet live.  I truly feared that she had sacrificed herself and you let her.  But rumors say she lives yet.”

“How…”  Talfryn gulped.  “I will get workers to find out where that wind came from, Your Majesties.”

“They came from me,” Morrigan informed him.  “I am not some weak Circle Mage; I am a Witch of the Wilds and I demand answers.”

Talfryn laughed.  “Witches aren’t real.  They’re just made up by so called mages who are trying to get people to fear them.  They only have their parlor tricks, so they have to make up something scarier.”

Morrigan look at Talfryn and then Alistair.  “Is he serious?”

Alistair shrugged.  “My valet has convinced him that magic isn’t real.”

Morrigan looked back at the herald.  “Bufo.”

Talfryn turned into a toad and croaked.

“That takes care of that.  Perhaps he believes now.”  Morrigan glared at Alistair.  “Now where is Selene?  Does she truly yet live?  You are here, fool.  Did you let her sacrifice herself while you sat back and watched?  Did you even try to save her?”

“Selene?”  Gwen’s eyes were now wide and she was staring at the toad that had once been their herald.  “Isn’t that the name of the Hero of Ferelden?”

“No, ‘tis the name of his favorite Templar,” Morrigan rolled her eyes.  “Yes, ‘tis the name of the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Alistair admitted.  “She’s alive.  At least, she was the last time I saw her.  We… I don’t know how we both survived the fight with archdemon.  Weisshaupt can’t figure it out either.  Nor can they find her.”

“How do you, of all people, not know where she is?”  Morrigan challenged.  “Are you really trying to tell me that you went from sending her glances that would burn anyone who got caught between you two every time you locked eyes to not even caring what happens to her?  To not knowing where she even is?  Not even you are that big of a fool.”

“Morrigan…”  Alistair began.

“Dost though not want thy betrothed to know that you are such a large fool that you threw away the greatest love you might ever hope to know?”  Morrigan mocked.  “I shall tell her and your entire court of the beautiful mage who once admitted you were a fool, but you were her fool, she loved you more than was wise, and how you then threw her away on the whim of some selfish arl who wished to be the power behind the throne?  Yet you two obviously still loved each other.  Now you claim to not even know where she is?  Did Eamon do something to her?  Did your little bride?”  She turned towards Gwen.

“Gwen had nothing to do with any of this,” Alistair stood and stepped between his betrothed and the witch.

Barkspawn stood and walked to Morrigan.  He put his front paws on her legs and barked at her.

“She wouldn’t have left you behind,” Morrigan sounded certain.

Barkspawn whined.  The sound was pitiful.  Then he gave a soft bark.

Morrigan knelt before him and petted his head.  “What did this fool do, that she would just leave?”

“I don’t know, but she did leave,” Wynne walked into the room.  “He really doesn’t know where she is.  I don’t know where she is.”

Morrigan stood and faced the elderly mage.  “Who does know?”

“Leliana,” Wynne answered.  “She and I both looked for Selene.  Leliana found her, I didn’t.  She won’t tell us where Selene is, though.  Why do you need her?”

“That is my business,” Morrigan insisted.  “Mine and the crazy cult who is after me, because they believe I performed a dark ritual with the idiot on the throne over there.”

“Hey!”  Alistair objected.

“What dark ritual?”  Gwen wanted to know.

“The one that would allow the fool you are to wed and the woman he actually loves to both survive the Battle of Denerim,” Morrigan answered her.

Alistair flinched.  He’d been honest and upfront with Gwen, but she didn’t need to be constantly reminded that his heart would always belong to someone else.  “Morrigan…”  His voice grew firm, angry.

“Oh, no,” Morrigan mocked.  “Are you going to threaten to run me through again.  That’s what he did when I tried to talk to him about his breakup with Selene.  He threw away the best thing he’s every had.”  She raked her eyes along Gwen’s form, where she cowered behind Alistair.  “And he settled on whatever came along next.”  Her tone indicated that she found Gwen lacking. 

Alistair bristled.  Gwen didn’t deserve the treatment she was receiving at Morrigan’s hands.  “That’s enough.”

Morrigan laughed.  “So fierce.  Maybe you do love this one.  Mayhap she was worth the sacrifice of the brave, beautiful woman who had given her heart to you.  Mayhap you won’t break this twit’s heart like you did hers.  ‘Tis true that she would never break the curse of werewolves, championing their cause.  Nor would she defend a village from the walking dead or protect a tower full of mages from Templars and their own idiocy.  She’ll let you feel like you are a big strong man.  So, tell me where you sent Selene, if she is really alive, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’t know where she is!”  Alistair couldn’t understand why Morrigan couldn’t comprehend that.

“He doesn’t know,” Wynne spoke from behind Morrigan.  “She did survive the Battle of Denerim.  They both did.  She left a couple of weeks after that, in the middle of the night.”

Barkspawn whined in agreement.  Alistair could hear the pain in the mabari’s whine.  His heart, too, was still broken.

“But you know,” Morrigan deduced.

“No, I don’t,” Wynne calmly assured her.  “I looked, but couldn’t find her.”

“And Zevran and Leliana?”  Morrigan challenged.

Wynne sighed and shook her head.  “They know.  They won’t tell us, though.  Zevran disappeared when Selene did.  None of us have seen him.  Leliana found Selene, but promised her she won’t tell us where she is.  She doesn’t want to be found.”

“Or do you not truly want to find her?”  Morrigan looked to where Alistair still stood in front of Gwen.  “Do you not care?”

Alistair couldn’t stop from flinching before the witch’s glare.  Maker, he did care.  He needed to know if Selene was all right.  He wanted to know that she was safe, that she was happy.  “I do.”

Morrigan’s eyes widened a moment as she studied him.  Then she looked at Wynne.  “I suppose you’re here to ensure he does his duty?”

“I’m here as his friend,” Wynne insisted.

Morrigan looked back to Alistair.  “Where is Leliana?”

“She was planning to go see a friend after the Satinalia Ball,” Alistair informed her.  “However, she was summoned by the Chantry.  There was trouble in Haven.  I believe she went to meet the Divine’s Right Hand there.”

“Haven, very well,” Morrigan nodded.  “Perhaps I can use one group of annoying cultists against another.”

Alistair wondered what she meant by that.  What cultists?  The Chantry was clearing out the ones from Haven, but it sounded like Morrigan was dealing with more.  She strolled out.  When she was gone, Alistair turned back to Gwen.  He pushed her hair away from her face and examined it for a moment.  “Are you o.k.?”

“I…”  Gwen blinked a few moments.  “That was my first encounter with an extremely pissed off mage.”

“Oh, she wasn’t pissed off,” Alistair assured her.  “That’s just Morrigan.”

“She turned Talfryn into a toad!”  Gwen gestured to where she’d last seen the herald.

“Did she?”  Wynne looked perturbed.

“She did,” Alistair confirmed. 

“I’ll find him and fix it,” Wynne began looking around.

“At least he’ll believe in magic again,” Alistair saw the bright side.  “Hopefully, he’ll tell Reginald about it.”  He sat back down on the throne.  Morrigan’s accusations played through his head.  Damn, her.  As usual, she was wrong.  He hadn’t moved on.  Gwen was a friend and he was determined to forge a happy future with her, but he would always love Selene.  She wasn’t replaceable.

Morrigan strolled from the throne room.  For a moment, she’d thought Alistair was in love with the simpering milkmaid he planned to marry.  Then she’d seen his face when she accused him of not caring and heard his words.  The fool was indeed still in love with Selene, likely always would be.

That didn’t help her or her problem with the fanatic cultists who pursued her.  She would have to go to Haven and talk to Leliana.  She moved towards the front gates.

A hand on her arm startled her.  A voice spoke, even as a spell came to her lips.  “Don’t turn me into a toad.  I’m here to help.”

“Zevran?”  This was indeed a surprise.

“Who else, beautiful, deadly witch,” Zevran answered.  “Come with me.”

She allowed him to pull her into a nearby room.  The room was nicely decorated and had an impressive desk.  She noticed a painting of Selene behind the desk.  “What room is this?”

“I believe it’s Alistair’s office,” Zevran answered.  “I hope it is with our dear Selene looking so fiercely down on the room.”

“What do you want?”  Morrigan didn’t have time for the assassin’s games.  She was, secretly, impressed by the painting.  It did capture Selene’s fierceness in battle, but something else as well.  Her intensity and passion.

“I decided to stop by Denerim on my way to Kirkwall, although it wasn’t exactly on my way and they are nowhere near each other,” Zevran began.

“Kirkwall?”  Morrigan had heard of the city.  It was a shithole.

“I… I live there now,” Zevran stumbled for a second, whetting Morrigan’s curiosity.

“What was in Denerim that drew you here?”  She questioned.  “Did you just miss Barkspawn?”

“I wanted to see our Alistair’s betrothed before I returned and saw…  I was curious,” he finished, lamely.

“Saw who?”  Morrigan pressed.  “Selene?  I imagine she’s curious about the simpering maid the fool picked to breed his oafish heirs upon.”

“Uh…”  Was all Zevran managed.

“I need to see her,” Morrigan insisted.  “You can either take me to her or try to return to Kirkwall as a toad.  Do we understand each other?”

Zevran gulped.

Chapter Text

The Viscount’s Keep bustled with activity.  It was always bustling with activity.  Selene was up and about and facing the world, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.  She wore her hair in braids that met in an intricate bun at the back of her head.  The hair combs that Anders had given her for Satinalia helped hold it in place.  This was combined with a deep blue tunic over black trousers and the long black boots that Isabela had given her.  She almost felt human again.

She carried Siobhan in the basket Varric had given her.  She was still too young to use the rattle, but she slept with the little stuffed nug that was in the basket with her.  For now, she looked up at those who passed by them.  She seemed content and would likely be napping again soon.

Selene noticed Seamus, the Viscount’s son, pass by her with a Qunari.  As they did so, Seamus reached out and took the Qunari’s hand.  The Qunari didn’t look surprised, nor did he bat the hand away.  That was surprising, from what Sten had told her, and what she’d observed from the other Qunari, they weren’t big on romance.  She’d never seen or heard of one being in a relationship with a human.  She supposed that it was rare, rather than non-existent.

When she walked into the Viscount’s office, it was apparent that he didn’t know his son was hanging out with the Qunari again.  There’d been an incident a few months before with Raven and some mercenaries, where a Qunari Seamus seemed to be awfully close to had been killed.  She debated whether or not to tell the Viscount what she’d seen.

“What brings you to my office, Amell?”  The Viscount interrupted her.

“I’m returning to my shop today, I’m feeling strong enough to get back to work,” she explained.  “And Siobhan seems healthy enough to go with me, although Leandra Hawke has volunteered to watch her for me.  Perhaps when she’s older and has weened a bit, but for now she’s going with me.”

“Did you have to say that name in my office?”  The Viscount groaned.

“Leandra?”  Selene wondered what the Viscount had against her.

“Hawke,” the Viscount enlightened her.

“That’s one of the things that brings me by.”  Selene placed the basket on the Viscount’s desk and gently lifted her baby out.  “She’s in the Deep Roads with Varric.  I know she does odd jobs for you and was wondering if you needed help.”

“You need money?”  He was obviously surprised.  “I thought your shop was doing well.”

“It is,” she assured him.

“I also wonder why you are selling your wares in Darktown and not Hightown,” he added.

She could just see Meredith’s reaction if she began selling weapons in Hightown, especially when the Knight Enchanter realized she had staves and mage staffs among them.  The Tranquil would get their robes in a twist, that was sure.  They would consider her to be into their territory.  The Chantry wanted mages believe that only Tranquil and dwarfs could make staves.  It was a bunch of druffalo shit, she’d learned that from a Tranquil when she was ten.  She had another reason as well.  “I like to make my goods available to my fellow Fereldan Refugees.  They show in Darktown and Lowtown, not Hightown.”

“I see,” he nodded.  “Perhaps relocating would attract them to Hightown.”

“If your people paid them better, than they would be more likely to shop in Hightown,” she retorted.  “Anders could actually charge for his services.  The crime in Kirkwall would definitely take a dip, perhaps enough for Aveline to take a break.  Speaking of which, I should speak with her.  I just wanted to make sure everything was going well with you.”

“For a shopkeeper with a newborn, you’re very confident in your abilities,” he observed.

She peeked into the basket, confirming her daughter was peacefully sleeping.  “I was in Ferelden during the Blight.  I’m not a refugee, I came to Kirkwall to find my family.  I am skilled enough to use the weapons I make.”  She didn’t add that it was arcane magic that allowed her to do so.  “I proved during the Blight that I could.”

“What exactly did you do during the Blight?”  The Viscount cocked his head at her.

She picked the basket back up.  “I lost everything I loved and still tried to save the world.”  That was all she planned to tell him.  “If you need help before Raven Hawke gets back, let me know.  You know how much trouble you have when you leave the jobs open to mercenaries.”  Did she have to remind him what happened with Seamus and his friend?

“I could have the guards deal with it,” he thought that was a threat.

“Aveline would appreciate that, even if she is already quite busy,” Selene agreed.  “But send word to me before you add to her burden.”

“Don’t you have enough on your plate, little mother?”  The Viscount reminded her.  “Speaking of things that are keeping you occupied, I’ve…”  He coughed.  “I’ve been working with Lirene, from Fereldan Imports, to try and help the refugees.  Maker knows someone needs to.  She suggested that you might have some ideas.  Neither of us know why a handful of the refugees look to you as some great hero, but they do.  We think you might have ideas on how to keep the community united and help incorporate them into Kirkwall.  Your family is from Kirkwall, but you were raised in Ferelden.”

“The same could be said for the Hawkes,” she reminded him.

He grimaced.  “I would rather not have…  Sebastian, what are you doing here?”

Selene turned and saw one of Raven’s associates walk in.  She remembered Raven taking out a mercenary group for Vael.  “I should be going,” she peeked in the basket, checking that Siobhan was still asleep, and gently picked it up.  “Remember my offer.  Although, I won’t kill all of the members of a mercenary group for you if you’re in a vengeful tiff.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” he assured her.

Sebastian ran his eyes down and up her.  “Aren’t you Hawke’s widowed friend?”

“I’m Hawke’s cousin,” she corrected him.  Whether or not she was a widow was none of his business.

His gaze turned to a mix of alarm and disgust as he looked at the basket she carried.  “What’s that?”

“It’s my baby,” she coolly informed him.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re going to go visit Auntie Aveline.  I believe the guards said something about wanting to spoil Siobhan.”  She whipped past him.

Even as she did so, she heard him speak to the Viscount.  “We must do something about all of these apostates running around Kirkwall!”  She closed her eyes for a very brief moment.  Raven needed to associate with a better class of losers.

Siobhan was awake by the time her mother had reached the guard barracks.  Selene could hear her making little cooing sounds.  She was quickly surrounded by guards and found herself taking Siobhan out of the baby basket, while large men cooed.

“Where is my little ‘Bhan,” Aveline came out of her office.

“She’s grown,” one of the other guards commented.

“She has,” Aveline gently took the baby and cuddled her.  “Go sit down and rest your feet, Little Mama.  We’ll bring her to you when she gets hungry.”

“What if her clout needs changed?”  Selene was hesitant to let Siobhan out of her sight, but she trusted Aveline with her most precious possession.

“We can change it,” a beefy guard with a close-cropped head sounded offended.  “I have little ones of my own, you know.”

Jeff had eight children at home and a wife he adored.  Selene had no doubt that he had wiped his share of baby butts.  “Fine,” Selene agreed.

“You should come to dinner when you are back on your feet,” he offered. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to take you up on the offer,” she promised.

“You could bring your young man with you.  His name’s Percy isn’t it?”  Jeff recalled.

“Percy is not my young man,” she assured him.  “He’s just a friend.”  Percy had visited her twice since she had Siobhan.  He’d stayed for an hour each time and barely glanced at her daughter.  Still, he kept asking her to go to some new fancy tavern with him.  She considered taking him up on the offer.

“He’d be your young man if you let him,” Jeff pointed out.

“I’ll think about it, she told him.  Then she wondered into Aveline’s office, glancing back for a moment to her baby.  She knew Siobhan was in safe hands and a small break would be nice.  She sat down at the desk and propped her feet up.  She then noticed that her feet were on an issue of The Randy Dowager.  She picked it up and noticed a page that several pages had been ripped out.  Scanning the page before, she could tell that it was from a social column that had reported on some big event in Ferelden.  She wondered what had happened to the pages.  She set the periodical down and put her feet back on it.  She supposed reading it would be relaxing, but found her eyes drifting shut.

She forced her eyes open for a brief moment, not sure how her friend would feel about her falling asleep at her desk.  That’s when she saw the sketch, undoubtedly taken from The Randy Dowager, in front of her.  She recognized Alistair; he was dressed in finery with his crown on his head.  His arms were around a woman she didn’t know.  She had no doubt it was his new queen.  She found herself hating the other woman immediately, no matter how much she told herself it was irrational, she could not stop herself.  She did get a small feeling of satisfaction from the myriad of daggers that were imbedded in the picture.  She realized that Aveline was using the picture for target practice.

She did smile at the fact that her friend hated the couple on her behalf.  The friendship had overruled Aveline’s loyalty to Ferelden’s Crown.  Yet looking at the daggers, she understood why she hated the woman.  Seeing the woman in Alistair’s arms made her heart feel as if it had been pierced by one of those daggers.  Maker, she needed to get past him, even if his daughter was just outside the room, being cuddled and admired by Kirkwall’s guards.

She closed her eyes, blotting out the sight of the picture and faded off to sleep.

Selene found herself sitting near a small pond.  It was one of the many ponds she and her companions had camped by during the Blight.  She remembered this one, she’d sat by it, her legs curled to her chest, after a fight with Alistair.  He’d told her that the Joining would eventually kill her.  Becoming a Grey Warden came with a shelf life and the potion she’d been forced to drink would kill her one day.  It was unfair and she’d told him so. 

Alistair had acted like she’d just insulted his precious Duncan.  He kept glaring at her with disapproval.  She’d told him to go soak his head, but she was the one who’d gone to the lake to pout.  She was going to die and everyone around her were trying to manipulate into thinking that she should embrace her fate, because it was for the greater good.  Wynne kept asking her what she thought being a Grey Warden meant, as if she had run to the Wardens and begged them to make her one.  The old mage had also let her disapproval of Selene’s relationship with Alistair be known.  She thought it would interfere with her great duty.  Let Wynne almost die from the Joining and spend a life fighting darkspawn if she thought it was so great.

Eventually, Leliana joined her.  Even in her dream state, Selene was sure that was what really happened.  The bard spent an hour telling her a story about two feuding families whose actions had caused the death of their lustful teenagers.

In her memories, Alistair had come to sit by her after Leliana left.  He hadn’t exactly apologized, but he had taken her hand and told her he loved her and didn’t want her to die, either.  Then they’d just sat together for some time.

That wasn’t what happened now.  She looked back to where Alistair was and as he approached her, another woman grabbed his arm.  It was the woman in the sketch.  She looked like a sketch, but she flashed Selene a cruel smile, even as Alistair drew the other woman into his arms.  That smile said so much.  He’s mine now, you couldn’t keep him, I’m the one he really loves and always will be.

In the dream, Selene saw herself stand up and take a step towards the couple. 

“Selene!”  Morrigan grabbed her and shook her.  Was she trying to stop Selene from going to fight for Alistair?  Of course, she was.  She would never let Selene make a fool of herself over a man who didn’t even love her.

“Selene!”  No, that wasn’t Morrigan’s voice.  Slowly she opened her eyes.

Selene woke to find Aveline hovering over her.  “Sorry,” she groggily mumbled.  As she sat up, she saw that the picture on Aveline’s wall had been taken down.

Aveline followed her gaze.  “Sorry, I had forgotten I put that thing up and sorry for waking you up.  I just thought you might still want to go to your shop today and make sure Isabela isn’t robbing you blind.”

“Isabela robs everyone else, not her friends,” Selene assured her. “I would have seen the picture, eventually, anyway.  It was nice to see you felt the same way I did about it.”

“I… you don’t even say… Are you O.K.?”  Aveline fumbled.

“Having a baby is exhausting, but you helped,” Selene smiled at her.  “I guess I’m off to the shop.”

Chapter Text

Selene Amell wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she walked back into her shop after taking time off to recover from childbirth.  The sight that greeted her definitely wasn’t it.

Isabela was in her shop, presumably to keep an eye on it and make sales.  Tomwise was taking a break from selling poisons and was playing Wicked Grace with her.  They weren’t alone either, there were a few of the other Darktown shopkeepers there; as well as Zevran and Morrigan.

Selene wasn’t sure what to think at first.  Zevran hadn’t told her he was back and he’d returned with Morrigan.  Her emotions warred at seeing the Witch of the Wilds, the last time she’d seen her was in Redcliffe, when she’d bailed on Selene.  “You…”  She took a step towards Morrigan, anger began to bubble up in her; but she found herself too tired for it.  She gripped the handles of Siobhan’s basket.  “You left me on the eve of battle.  I thought we were friends; friends don’t leave friends alone to die.”

“And here you are, not dead,” Morrigan replied.  “I could not bear to watch you die for no reason, and for people who would never appreciate the sacrifice.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered you did not die at all.  Truly, I was more expecting your fool to die for you, but soon learned that had not happened, either.  It angered me, that he would just let you die; while he enjoyed the throne that you put him on.”

“He isn’t my fool,” Selene said softly.  She placed the basket in a nearby corner and glanced in, confirming her daughter was asleep.

“So, I discovered when I went to Denerim,” Morrigan admitted.  “I was looking for you, but found him instead with… I found him instead.  I thought you must have died, but Zevran assured me you yet lived.”  She stood and held out a little stuffed dragon.

Selene took the dragon and held it near her chest for a moment.  “How did you know…”  She looked over at Zevran.

“I didn’t tell her about your… condition, my deadly goddess,” Zevran assured her.  His eyes narrowed and he examined her.  Then he looked over at the basket, where Siobhan was making little noises as she woke.  “I see your condition changed.  I missed the baby’s birth?”

“Math isn’t your strong suit, is it?”  Selene sighed.  “She’s over a month old now, Zev.”

“You… you were forced to give birth on your own?”  Zevran went to her and drew her into his arms.  “My poor little deadly mage.  Was it awful?”

“Anders made sure she was comforted and well taken care of,” Isabela assured them.

“You didn’t even come near us until everyone was cleaned up, Isabela,” Selene reminded her.  She placed the dragon in the basket and picked up Siobhan as she began to whimper.  She checked to see if she needed changing and then just sat on the floor as she readied to feed her daughter. 

“Guilty as charged,” Isabela admitted.

“I didn’t tell Morrigan about the Little Demon, she already knew,” Zevran admitted.

“How?”  Selene looked at Morrigan, even as she guided Siobhan to her breast.

“You weren’t dead and neither was the fool,” Morrigan pointed out.  “I will not pretend to know how you mimicked the dark ritual, but it was apparent that you had, for the archdemon was dead and both of you were still alive.  Additionally…”  Here, she actually fumbled a moment.  “I have a cult of some sort, one that worships the Old Gods, chasing me.  They were after my baby, only I have no baby; which confused them quite a bit.”

Selene drew Siobhan closer.  “So, you led them here?”

“We were attacked three times on the way here,” Zevran revealed.  “They obviously already have agents in Kirkwall.  Bringing Morrigan here doesn’t change that.  It’s only a matter of time before they realize you’re the hero of Ferelden.”

“I can’t just leave.”  Selene considered doing just that.  “My family is here.  What do you know of this cult, Morrigan?”

“As I said, they worship the Old Gods,” Morrigan revealed.  “And they believe I had the baby I wanted to create with Alistair, which would save your life.”  She looked to the basket and then to Selene, who was still feeding Siobhan.  “That would be the baby that you gave birth to.  They’re after your son.”

“Son?”  Selene looked down at her daughter.  “I would have you know that Siobhan is definitely a girl… is there a reason you thought you would have a son?”

“The Dark Ritual…”  Morrigan began and then paused.  “The ritual you did was not exactly the same ritual, although it obviously had a similar affect.”

“I drank Avernus’ potion, remember?”  Selene prodded Morrigan’s memory.  “He’s pretty sure that’s what replicated your mysterious Dark Ritual.  Or perhaps Siobhan is really just a gift from the Maker.”

“If your made-up Maker was going to give you a gift, certainly He would have chosen a more intelligent father for it,” Morrigan disagreed.  “She is the idiot’s offspring, is she not?”

“She is,” Selene confirmed.  “She has his hair and his whine, it’s exact… the whine I mean.”  That made her smile a bit.

“’Twill only be a matter of time before the cultists realize you had the baby they’re searching for,” Morrigan cautioned.

“Especially, with you leading them to me,” Selene wasn’t happy about that.

“That was not my intent,” Morrigan insisted.  “I merely sought you out for aid.  Then I realized that both you and Alistair were alive and what had happened.  I was more than halfway here and unsure what was going on.  I went to Denerim first, as I mentioned.  Zevran found me there.  After we were attacked the first time, he told me much of what he knew.  I still was not sure however, as he had insisted you had not yet given birth and the math did not confirm my suspicious.  Yet I see you have, indeed, had the baby.”

Selene frowned at Zevran.  “You really thought I was still pregnant?”

“I…”  He stammered.  “I know the women in the whorehouse I grew up in did such calculations, but I never paid close attention.  I was merely positive that their offspring was never mine.  None were handsome or clever enough to be.”

Selene wondered for a moment just how many little Zevrans were running around.  “Al… the Fool is the only man who could be the father.  Zevran, I thought you were heading to Kirkwall when your last mission was over.  I wanted you with me when I gave birth.  Why would you go to Denerim?”

“I…”  He squirmed.  “Well… you see… I, too, had heard of the ball the king had thrown in order to find himself a suit… a wife the Bannorn would accept.  I’d heard…”  He swallowed.  “I had heard that our Al… our Beloved Prince Turned King was betrothed and I… had to see what this… woman… looked like.”

“I’ve seen a drawing, just today,” Selene covered herself before lifting Siobhan to her shoulder.

“Then you know that she can’t hold a candle to our Deadly Goddess,” Zevran assured her.

“She’s as insipid as he is,” Morrigan agreed, drawing a stunned look from Selene.

“That’s where I found our missing Witch,” Zevran grinned at Morrigan.  “She was fiercely telling off the Fool… and looking for you.  When I revealed that I knew your location, she was determined to find you.”

“So, I would help her with her cultist problem?”  Selene guessed.

“Do I need to be worried about these cultists?”  Tomwise played a card and gave the others worried glances.

“One should always be worried about cultists,” Morrigan assured him.  “Fanatics are always worrisome.  In this case, however, I came to help Selene as it was only a matter of time before they found her.”  She looked to Selene.  “Have you had problems yet?”

“No…”  Selene thought back to the action she’d seen only two nights before.  “No, I’m sure those were just the standard bandits that are always plaguing Kirkwall.”

“You’ll never be bored in Kirkwall, Morrigan,” Zevran assured her.  “There is crime and crazies everywhere.”

“That would explain Isabela’s presence,” Morrigan sniffed disdainfully.

“Wait until Hawke gets back,” Isabela grinned.  “She fights crime, while causing chaos.  It’s rather fun.  She’s Selene’s cousin, but the two are sometimes at odds as they both have a soft spot for an ex-Grey Warden Apostate.”

“Selene is an ex-Grey Warden Apostate,” Morrigan pointed out.

“Not many people know that,” Isabela’s voice grew terse.  “And I’d thank you not to spread word of it.  There are few here who know she’s a mage and fewer yet who know she has a connection to the Grey Wardens.  She’s trying to make a life here for her and Bhan, you will be quiet about that or you’ll be facing my daggers.”  She didn’t seem concerned that she’d revealed Selene’s associations in front of several Darktown merchants.  None of them were the type to go running to the Templars or Grey Wardens, though.

“Oooh,” Morrigan pretended to shudder.  “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“Do I need to make you?”  Isabela played a card, rather than drawing her dagger, though.  “I know your Wicked Grace Game isn’t intimidating.”

“What makes you think I’m trying to impress you?”  Morrigan laid down her cars, they weren’t impressive.  “I’m more worried about these cultists who are after Selene’s baby, Vaun, was it?”

“Siobhan,” Selene corrected her.  “Why do you believe they are after Siobhan and me?”

“That is best discussed when we are alone,” Morrigan insisted.  “I suspect that your card cheating, pirate friend doesn’t know everything.”

The shopkeepers’ eyes turned on Isabela.  “I don’t cheat at cards,” Isabela insisted.

“She was with me when I caught you cheating, Bela,” Selene reminded her.

“I’m out,” Tomwise threw down his cards.  “If you need any poisons to deal with these cultists, let me know, Selene.”  He stood and left.  The other shopkeepers followed suit.

Selene burped Siobhan as her fellow Darktown proprietors went back to work.  She needed to do the same.  At least she still had some babysitters around.

Morrigan shot Isabela a significant look, which just caused Isabela to raise an eyebrow and then laugh.  “I’m not going anywhere, witch.”

“The cultists worship the Old Gods,” Morrigan explained.  “When you killed the archdemon, you were pregnant with a baby whose parents have tainted blood; she carries the taint.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Selene held Siobhan protectively close, it was a miracle that she didn’t, but Anders had assured her that there was no taint.

“Her parents are Grey Wardens,” Morrigan insisted.

“That is true,” Selene conceded.  She handed Siobhan to Isabela and began taking inventory, even as she listened to Morrigan.  She was low on magical staffs; she’d need to talk to Isabela about who’d purchased them.  Just how many mages had escaped the Gallows recently?

“The soul of the Archdemon, Urthemiel, went into her and became part of her,” Morrigan continued.  “They no doubt want to gain control of such an infant and to raise her to be…”  She halted.

“To be what?”  Selene narrowed her eyes.  “Why exactly did you want a baby with an Old Gods soul in it, Morrigan?  Why did you want me to ask Alistair to impregnate you?”

“To save your life!”  Morrigan threw her hands up.  At Selene’s raised eyebrow, she made a little sound of disgust.  “I knew you would never let that fool sacrifice himself, instead.  And yes, I wanted to preserve the Old God’s soul.  Does it not deserve to be preserved, the soul of an ancient and powerful being?”

“Not if it hurts my baby, no it doesn’t,” Selene insisted.

“Does it seem to be harming her?”  Morrigan challenged.  “It is part of her.  Yes, it harms her by attracting this cult of crazed beings, but that is not her fault.  I will help protect both of you.”

            “You likely led them here, Morrigan,” Selene maintained.

            “They were likely here already,” Morrigan was sure of it. 

            “Most people believe that the Hero of Ferelden was a man,” Selene revealed.  “No one here realizes it was me.  They have no reason to suspect I was anywhere near the Archdemon when it died.”

            “You travelled all over Ferelden during the Blight, Selene,” Morrigan reminded her.  “You stood before the Landsmeet, defeated Loghain, and made that fool king.  There are many people who know exactly who you are.

            “Do you really believe that members of this cult… what do they call themselves?”  Selene wanted to know.

            “I do not know,” Morrigan admitted.

            “They have to have a name,” Isabela spoke up, she was gently swaying her hips as she rocked the baby.

            “Perhaps we could just call them something,” Zevran suggested.  “Perhaps… Percy!”

            “That is a horrible name for a cult,” Morrigan told him.

            Selene saw Percy standing in the front of her shop.  “Percy!”  She plastered a forced smile onto her face.  “What are you doing here?”  How much had he heard?

            “There is a new establishment that has opened in Hightown that I want to take you to tonight,” he told her.  “I thought you could leave Sinead with Leandra and we could go enjoy the night.”

            Did he not remember the name of her daughter?  “Siobhan,” she corrected him.  “And she’s too young to leave with anyone else.”  She wasn’t ready to leave her daughter with anyone else, not for longer than a few moments. 

            “Who are you?”  Morrigan took a predatory step towards him.

            “Percy, a poor suitor to the fair Selene,” he bowed.  “I don’t believe I know you.”

            “No, you do not, nor shall you,” Morrigan assured him.  “Not unless I believe you need to be removed from Selene’s life.”

            Percy gulped and then looked back at Selene.  “Just bring Saoirse then.”

            “Siobhan,” she corrected once more.

            “Isabela and I shall come as well,” Zevran announced.  “Morrigan would you like to join us.”

            “I would rather chew felandaris as I dance naked through brambles,” Morrigan replied.

            “I’ll ask Aveline and Fenris,” Isabela decided.

            “Fenris doesn’t like me,” Selene reminded her.

            “Why doesn’t he like you?”  Percy was curious.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know.”  Isabela jutted out a hip seductively, even as she continued to rock Siobhan.

            “Fine,” Percy huffed.  “We’ll make a whole event of it.”

            “Very well,” Selene conceded.  She watched him leave.  She was tired and didn’t want to go out, but wasn’t sure how to get out of the evening.

            “I don’t trust him,” Morrigan declared.

Chapter Text

“I was really thinking more of just the two of us when I picked this place for dinner tonight,” Percy smiled sweetly at Selene. 

            Selene gently rocked her daughter and looked at the others at the table.  They had somehow formed a very large group.  Aveline had dragged Sebastian Vael, the displaced Starkhaven prince with her for some reason.  She’d sent word to Aveline, as she was afraid Isabela would drag Fenris out from his gilded lair.  Isabela had indeed dragged Fenris out from his gilded lair, and he sat next to Morrigan. Whether it was her usual state of being barely dressed or the fact that she was a Witch of the Wilds, Morrigan was proving to distract the elf from his habitual glaring.  They were all at a table at The Peacock’s Roost.  It had been opened by a luckless Tevinter who had found himself trapped in Kirkwall.  Selene wondered if he was secretly spying on the Qunari who had made themselves comfortable by the docks.

            The food at The Peacock’s Roost was in the Tevine style and very well presented.  They also had a dais with a band behind it.  The patrons were encouraged to get up and sing.  She was half considering doing it herself.  It would have been more fun than listening to Percy drone on about his day.  He was an accountant for one of the noble families in Hightown.  He refused to get involved in the family’s business, so he knew none of their gossip.  He and Sebastian seemed to be really hitting things off, though.

            Sebastian, however, was busy trading glares and little jabs with Morrigan.  The jabs had started with Fenris, but the witch and the exiled prince found even more pleasure getting on each other’s nerves. 

            “You claim you are no longer tempted by women, but I do not believe that is true.”  Morrigan leaned forward, giving Sebastian a good look at her top side.  “Were you in a fight where you lost… your ability… to react to a woman… or to act upon your reaction?”

            “I…”  Sebastian gulped.  “I have all the parts I need.”

            “You do?”  Fenris spoke up.  “I’ve never seen you use it.  I thought you cut it off when you decided to devote yourself to Andraste.  That’s what Isabela said happened.”

            “I’m sure that it was,” Isabela insisted.  “Why else would a man go without a woman’s affections… or that of another man?”

            “Why indeed?”  Morrigan reached out and stroked Sebastian’s cheek.  “Perhaps it ‘doth lack the proper motivation.  I could try if you would like.  It has been too long since I’ve toyed with a man.”

            Selene felt a retort on the tip of her tongue, wanting to point out that she hadn’t let Morrigan pleasure herself with Selene’s ex.  She remained silent, though.  This was not the place to bring that up. 

            “How…”  Sebastian looked frantically around the table.  “How did you and Zevran meet?”

            “Selene,” Morrigan answered.  “We both fought with her during the Fifth Blight.”  She seemed to ignore Selene’s frantic shaking of her head.  “Zevran tried to assassinate her and she foolishly let him live.”

            “Why would someone try to assassinate you, Selene?”  Percy was interested.

            “I’d like to know, too,” Sebastian leaned back and looked interested.

            “As long as you weren’t running a slaver’s ring, I don’t care,” Fenris put in his own opinion.

            “Assassinate is such a strong word,” Selene continued to glare at Morrigan.  “Zevran decided to target me and… someone I used to know.   We’ve gotten to know each other better since then and I’m sure he wouldn’t do it again.  You know how Ferelden was during the Blight, there were all sorts of crazy things going on.  This isn’t the time to bring up who tried to kill who.”

            “You were a Crow, weren’t you?”  Sebastian spoke up.  “I’ve heard rumors among the Chantry Sisters that you were.”

            “You shouldn’t listen to the idle gossip of the Chantry Sisters, my good man,” Zevran laughed.  Selene could sense his little twinge of worry, though.  They might have to silence some Chantry Sisters.  “Were they so relaxed with you that they were trying to make petty talk, perhaps in their afterglow?”

            “Afterglow?”  Sebastian’s eyes widened and he slid his chair back.  “I have never… I wouldn’t…!  Not with…”

            “Oh, come now,” Selene gave him a catty grin.  “I’ve heard from a reliable source that forbidden fruit is the tastiest.”  Leliana had said something like that to her once, referring to those who hit upon the Chantry Sisters and the naughty things some of them got up to.  “You’ve gone for a nibble, haven’t you?”

            “I know I’ve nibbled on such fruit,” Isabela wiggled her eyebrows.  “What about you, Fenris, have you ever plucked from the Chantry’s vines?”

            “No,” his voice was flat and deep.

            “The Chantry Sisters don’t…”  Sebastian began.  “Elthina would never allow…”  He stopped when a new singer stepped up to the dais. 

            It was Knight-Commander Meredith.  She spoke to the band and then began to sing.  Her voice was creaky and she was a bit off key.

            Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

It must have been cold there in my shadow

To never have sunlight on your face

You were content to let me shine, that's your way

You always walked a step behind

Selene’s eyebrows raised.  She’d never heard a Templar sing before.  Well, there’d been one time, when one had been singing a sea chanty, but he’d been very drunk at the time.  She suspected that Meredith had been drinking as well.

“It’s a shame that Hawke wasn’t here for this,” Aveline muttered.  “Who is she singing to?” 

Their gazes all moved around the room and landed on a table for two.  Grand Cleric Elthina sat there, watching Meredith sing.

“Oh, they must have been having a business dinner,” Sebastian decided.

“Who’s having a business dinner?”  A familiar voice asked.  Half the table jumped.

Isabela just smiled.  “You’re late kitten.”

Merrill blinked at her.  “Does dinner usually start at a certain time.  You told me that everyone was going out.  I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”  She looked at their food and drinks.  “You didn’t wait for me.”

“We thought you weren’t coming,” Isabela assured her.  “We are very happy to see you, though.”

“I just came to tell you that there is some trouble in the alienage that I need someone to look into,” Merrill explained.  “Hawke is still in the Deep Roads and I don’t know who else to go to.”

Selene and Isabela exchanged glances.  “I’ll have Zevran and Morrigan watch my shop tomorrow, while Isabela and I meet you in the alienage.  You can explain what’s wrong.”

“What about your Little Demon?  Or is it Little Princess?  Why does Varric call her Little Princess?”  Merrill wondered.

“Yes, why would someone call her Little Princess?”  Morrigan archly asked.

“Who doesn’t think of their baby as a princess?”  Aveline glared at Morrigan.  “Did your mother not think of you as her princess?”

Morrigan laughed.  “It is more like she thought of me as her little puppet or possibly a pebble in her shoe.”

“Oh,” Aveline gave Morrigan a look that mixed pity and sympathy. 

“Knight Commander Meredith and Grand Enchanter Elthina do seem to enjoy their personal meetings,” Merrill commented.  “I was in the chantry gardens the other day.  I miss nature sometimes.  Kirkwall can be so stuffy.  I was behind some bushes, talking to a rabbit, when they walked by.  They were talking softly and put their arms around each other.  They must have been sharing some big secret they didn’t want anyone else to hear.  They even kissed, but that must just be something that Templars and Clerics do to seal their deals or their orders or whatever.”  She stopped when she saw the way everyone was looking at her.  “What?”

“Nothing, Merrill,” Isabela assured her.  “We’ll discuss what you saw more tomorrow.”

“I’m sure that isn’t what you saw,” Sebastian insisted.  “Elthina would never…”

“Never be serenaded to by the Knight Commander?”  Aveline pointed out.

“That’s not what is going on, Meredith is merely singing,” Sebastian insisted.  “Many of the patrons here have sung.  It’s the entire point of that…”  He waved a hand at the dais and the band behind it.  “That… travesty.”

“Oh, you want to get up and sing, admit it,” Morrigan challenged him.

“No, well… maybe, but that’s my point, Meredith is just singing,” Sebastian insisted, ignoring the fact that she was claiming that someone was the wind beneath her wings.

“It seems rather on point to me,” Isabela insisted.  “Perhaps we should keep an eye on them.”

“I try to avoid Templars, rather than keep an eye on them,” Selene insisted.

“’Tis better to keep them in your sights, so you can lead them on a merry chase, before you strike at them,” Morrigan insisted.

“Have you killed Templars before?”  Sebastian’s eyes widened.  “Aveline’s husband was a Templar.  Were you the one who killed him?”

“Wesley was killed by darkspawn,” Aveline said through gritted teeth.  “And he would not appreciate you trying to use his death in an argument.”

“Yes, I have killed Templars,” Selene revealed.  “Under those same circumstances, I would again.  They were possessed by demons.  Hell, one was in some sort of faux marriage with a desire demon!  Templars kill us on the mere suspicion of possession, if we take too long coming out of our Harrowing it is a death sentence.  The ones I killed were definitely possessed and coming at me with swords.”

“Templars can’t be possessed by demons,” Sebastian insisted.

“Oh, they can,” Morrigan assured him.  “Kinloch hold was teeming with them… along with abominations and blood mages.  ‘Twas a true representation of a place run by your Chantry.”

“You mean The Chantry,” Sebastian insisted.

Selene let out a little groan.  This was going to be worse than listening to Morrigan argue with Leliana.

“I certainly have taken no oaths to a radical religious group who insists I worship some imaginary being,” Morrigan laughed.

“The Maker is not imaginary.”  Sebastian shot to his feet.

“Have you met him then?”  Merrill became impressed.

Aveline was braced to get between the pair.

Selene put Siobhan into her sling, thankful once again for the gift.  She walked to the dais, unsure of what she was going to sing or why she was willing to sing in front of a bunch of strangers.  It was more enjoyable than listening to Morrigan and Sebastian fight, though.  She glanced at the table where Knight Commander Meredith and Grand Cleric Elthina sat.  The women were talking quietly, their hands not quite touching.  Yep, there was definitely something going on between them.

As she turned the audience, the words came to her.

I’m so tired of being here

Suppressed by all of my many fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

'Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

The band began playing behind her, as the lutist and then the flutist recognized her song.  She realized who she was singing to.  She’d seen a sketch of him, with another woman in his arms just that morning.  She’d left him, but part of him still seemed to linger with her.  It was more than just having his baby; it was as if part of him was reaching across the Waking Sea to her or possibly a part of her was still reaching out for him.  She needed it to stop.

Even as she sang, she looked at Percy who was staring at her with adoring eyes.  She would never love him, she knew that.  She just wanted him to help her make the other man go away.  Perhaps, when Anders came back, they could find something; but only if she could get rid of another man’s hold on her heart.

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

There it was, she’d still felt that sting when she’d seen the sketch.  She couldn’t seem to forget him.  She’d just have to try harder, she decided, even as she continued to sing.  She noticed several eyes on her as she continued.

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears

That was right, she’d been the one by his side when he had nightmares from the archdemon and cried over Duncan’s death.  It didn’t matter though; she wasn’t the one he wanted.  She was now seeing a man who might want her, but she realized she didn’t want him.

When she finished the song, she went back to her seat.

Aveline had tears on her face.  “Wesley is still with me, too.”

Chapter Text

Percy reached out for Selene’s hand, but then pulled back when he saw Morrigan glare at him.  “I… I’ll see you home, Selene.  I’m sure your father won’t try to experiment on me with any of his mixtures this time.”

Selene chuckled at the memory.  Her father really didn’t like Percy.  “I’ll be fine, my estate isn’t that far away and I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“We can make sure she gets home,” Zevran assured him.

“You’re still staying in the Hanged Man, aren’t you?”  Percy pointed out.  “Or is that staying in the Hanged Man again?  I assume your friend is as well.”

“I’m not really his friend,” Morrigan confided.  “As to where I presently reside, that is none of your concern.”

“Are you staying in the alienage?” Merrill inquired.  “No, you aren’t an elf.  You wouldn’t have to stay there.”

“I need to talk to Morrigan about a private matter,” Selene informed them.  “I’ll walk with her.  She’s also very capable of taking care of herself.”

“If you insist.”  Percy leaned in to kiss her cheek, but thought better of it when Morrigan gave him a look of utter contempt.

“I believe I like the fool better than that idiot,” Morrigan informed Selene as they watched Percy walk away.  “You don’t seem to be over the fool, either.  Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No,” Selene told her as she began to walk to her estate.  “It doesn’t matter whether or not I am over A… the Fool, anyway.  He’s obviously over me.  He’s in love with someone else.”

“He is incapable of loving someone else,” Morrigan’s voice was a matter of fact.  “He’s ready to tie himself to a simpering fellow fool, but that doesn’t change reality.”  She didn’t notice that the rest of Selene’s friends were following them.

“Why did this person’s parents name him Fool.  It’s a horrible name for a baby… or an adult,” Merrill declared.

“That isn’t his real name, Merrill,” Aveline gently told her.  “It’s just what they call him instead of using his name. 

“Why aren’t they using his name?”  Merrill wanted to know.  “Is it cursed?”

Morrigan looked back at her.  “Don’t you need to return to the alienage?”

“I’ll see her home later,” Isabela stepped between the two blood mages.  “I… I’m staying to learn what’s going on.  Besides, I know you are staying at the Hanged Man, because I live there, too.”

“It’s a good thing I found my family estate,” Selene muttered.  “I doubt the Hanged Man has any rooms left.”

“Besides it not being sanitary enough for Little Demon,” Zevran added.

“Morrigan, I…”  Selene wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter.  “When I first met Merrill, I was with my cousin, Raven Hawke.  She had… well… she had a very interesting amulet.”

“The amulet carried Asha'bellanar in it,” Merrill announced.  “She’s a good friend of the Dalish and Hawke had brought her to us from Ferelden.”

“Asha'bellanar?”  Morrigan stopped.  Even in the dark of the night, Selene could see that she’d grown pale.

“I swear I killed her… or thought I did,” Selene assured her.

“Why would you want to kill Asha'bellanar?”  Merrill wanted to know.  “She’s a great woman.  You even tried to ask her about something, it had to do with your baby, didn’t it?”

“Selene, tell me you didn’t tell her about your baby,” Morrigan’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t get a chance,” Selene assured her.  “Besides, I realized that she might be more harm than help.”

“She would have been,” Morrigan assured her.  “At least she doesn’t know.  Is she anywhere nearby?”

“I don’t believe so.”  Selene was pretty certain that Flemeth was long gone.  “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I knew she would find a way to return.  She’s been around for hundreds of years.  She is formidable,” Morrigan explained.

They continued on in silence for several moments.  “So, you’ve met Asha'bellanar,” Merrill broke the silence.

“We are… acquainted,” Morrigan didn’t tell her that the woman was her mother.  “It no concern of…”

“There she is!”  There was a shout. 

Men and women in black emerged from the shadows.  They were armed and charged the group.

“Who are you after?”  Sebastian demanded to know, although he had already unsheathed his sword.

“Give us your baby, witch!”  One of the men demanded.

“There it is!”  A woman charged at Selene. 

Selene’s sword was already out, even as she created a barrier around herself and Siobhan.  She easily cut through the woman who was trying to get to her baby.  Sebastian had put two arrows in one of their attackers and Isabela had jumped on the back of another, even as she stuck a dagger into a man in black.

As Selene unleashed a storm, she noted that the attackers were also wearing strange tall black hats with a buckle in the middle of the ribbon around the crown.  The men were anyway.  The women were wearing while flat, floppy hats that completely covered the side of the face.

Merrill easily dodged a sword, as she danced around the attackers and sang.  “Blood magic is fun; the demons make you run.  You thought you were a mighty one, but you’re just done!”

“I have never seen blood magic performed in such an undignified manner,” Morrigan decided.  She used her own blood magic to pull the blood out of a wounded enemy and used it to heal and strengthen her allies.

Selene’s storm caused lightning to flash overhead, before it struck her attackers.  She held Siobhan close with one arm, despite the barrier that still held.

Aveline hit the last survivor with her shield and then grabbed his jacket after he fell.  “Who are you?”

“I am Jedediah Stone, you witch,” he snarled.

“Oh, she isn’t a witch,” Merrill informed him.  “I believe Morrigan is, but Aveline isn’t.”

“Kitten, don’t tell him our names,” Isabela gently reprimanded her.

“Why did you attack us?”  Aveline continued.

“We want the baby,” Jedediah answered.  “We thought it was the witch who had a baby.  She did, I’m sure.  We just didn’t expect her to slip the baby to an ally to pass off as their own.”

“Oh, no, it’s Selene’s baby,” Merrill assured her.  “I saw her when she was pregnant and Aveline was even there when she was born.”  She didn’t notice Isabela and Aveline glaring at her.

“She’s one of the witch’s allies.  The baby must be the one,” Jedediah insisted.

“What one?”  Selene demanded to know, even as she held Siobhan securely to her chest.

“Urthemiel,” Jedediah said the name in a holy, reverent manner, raising his eyes to the sky.  “Our great god.”

“No, she’s a baby not a god,” Merrill wouldn’t shut up.  “And Urthemiel was a male.  She’s not a boy, she’s a girl.”

Selene really wished Merrill would learn the meaning of discretion.  She was going to have to kill Jedediah now, just to protect her daughter.  “Why would you think Urthemiel is in a baby?”  She further questioned, knowing that that was a real possibility.  “He was destroyed by the Grey Wardens; his soul would have gone into the Abyss and been destroyed.”

Jedediah gave a little, hysterical laugh.  “You cannot destroy a soul.  Energy does not cease to exist.  I know not where the souls of our other gods murdered at the hands of those heinous Grey Wardens are, but the witch discovered a dark ritual that would allow Urthemiel’s soul to go into the newly formed infant that she created with a Grey Warden.  That infant became our god.”

Selene looked to Morrigan.  Had Urthemiel somehow replaced her daughter’s soul?  Morrigan shook her head, signaling that that was not what happened.

“Even if that were possible, the babe’s soul would not be destroyed and replaced,” Morrigan declared.  “He or she would survive due to their early stage of development.”

“You don’t even have a baby, do you, Morrigan?”  Merrill continued.

“No, I have never slept with a Grey Warden nor carried an infant,” Morrigan assured her.

“Our seers know of what they speak,” Jedediah insisted.  “The babe was conceived and has now been born.”

“I do not have a baby,” Morrigan insisted.

“She does.”  He lifted his chin towards Selene.

“That’s my baby,” Selene insisted.  “Merrill already told you that.”

“You do need to be less talkative, Kitten.”  Isabela put an arm around Merrill.  “We’ll discuss the meaning of the word discretion over lunch tomorrow.”

“It must be the babe that carries the soul of our god!”  Jedediah insisted.  “More will come for her; you cannot keep her from us!”

Morrigan plunged a dagger into his heart.  “Yes, we can.”

Sebastian looked down at the dead body.  “We should have taken him to Elthina, she needs to know that there are unbelievers… heretics… in Kirkwall.”

“Sure, because that’s the most concerning thing!”  Selene rolled her eyes.

“The Chantry is the least of our concerns in this matter,” Aveline agreed.

“They weren’t following me this closely anymore,” Morrigan insisted.  “These must have already been in the city.”

“Great,” Aveline grumbled.  “So, I can add crazy cultists to the bandit problem in Kirkwall, oh and with the unusually high number of blood mages!”  She sent a glare at Morrigan at that last part.

“It’s a means to an end,” Morrigan shrugged.  “It is not as if I am taking the blood from innocents.”

“I guess there is that,” Aveline conceded.

Siobhan began to fuss and Selene gently rocked her.  “Let’s just get home tonight.  We’ll meet and talk about them later.”

“When is later?”  Merrill wondered.

“I’m busy with work for the next few days and I can protect my own daughter.”  Selene considered when would be best.

“We can protect your daughter,” Zevran insisted.

“You haven’t been here for the last few months,” Isabela reminded him.  “You missed Bhan’s birth.”

“I’m here now,” Zevran crossed his arms.  “And I am their bodyguard.”

“I shall come to the shop tomorrow to help with protection duty,” Morrigan added.

“Why don’t you come stay in one of my half a dozen guest rooms,” Selene offered.  “They’re still after you, too.”

“If Zevran is your bodyguard, why isn’t he staying there?”  Morrigan wondered as they continued towards the Amell Manor. 

“I need my independence, too,” he claimed.

“Meaning you want to bring your conquest of the night to your quarters?”  Morrigan shook her head.  “Either you are guarding Selene and Siobhan or you are not.”

“I’ll have his stuff brought from the Hanged Man,” Isabela smiled sweetly.  “He will just have to have his conquests get their own rooms.”

“You are the only conquest I need, mi amor,” Zevran put an arm around Isabela.  She just laughed.

“Stop by the barracks after you close shop tomorrow, Selene,” Aveline instructed.  “We’ll compare schedules then.”

Selene stopped at her door and grinned at her friend.  “You just want me to bring Siobhan over for the other guards to spoil.”

“Spoiling her makes them happy,” Aveline revealed.  “Besides, I might make you report in after work every day at this point, just to make sure you two are safe.”

Chapter Text

“…And we shall return the world to the Old ways and our gods shall be returned unto us.”  Killsin finished reciting his prayer.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  The others gathered at their round table proclaimed.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  Brian repeated.  He’d recently been allowed in the morning prayers and meeting session.  Killsin wasn’t sure why the other priests had insisted on having him there, but it wasn’t worth arguing with them.

“I have received a message from my main operative in Kirkwall,” Forsaken announced.  “I’d become worried when a sect of the Faithful in the city failed to report in.  Then I received his communique.  The witch is there, the one called Morrigan.”

“That name is striking fear in no one,” Humility declared.

“That is only because you have not read the reports on her,” Forsaken warned.  “She is not to be trifled with.  She is a Daughter of Flemeth.  There are stories of them for a reason, there are no stories about the Dread Humility, because you just aren’t scary enough.”

“I can show you scary,” Humility threatened.

“Oh, I’m scared,” Forsaken’s voice was deadpan.  Then she pretended to shudder.  “Anyway,” she looked at the others.  “Perseverance sent word that not only is Morrigan in Kirkwall, but she is friends with a few residents of the city.  One of them has a young child, an infant girl who was born on Satinalia.”

“We’re looking for a boy, not a girl,” Abstinence spoke up.

“Why?”  Creedence questioned.  “Why can Urthemiel not have been reborn as a girl?”

Abstinence gasped.  “Our god would not make it so difficult to find him as to come back in the form of a girl, instead of a little man!  He would be born to the witch and in the shape, we would expect!”

“He would have gone into the closest tainted being,” Killsin sighed.  “That would be the closest tainted being who was not a darkspawn.  If there was a babe with Grey Warden blood in the womb of someone there, that is where he would go.  But if it wasn’t the witch, then who?  She wouldn’t allow someone else to perform the ritual, instead of her.”

“Unless, she had no choice,” Creedence suggested.  “There were two Grey Wardens in that battle.”

“They were both men,” Abstinence insisted.

“No, they weren’t,” Forsaken revealed.  “My source in Denerim has confirmed that the Hero of Ferelden was a woman and that she is not in Denerim.  The Warden King is and he has a portrait of her in his personal office.”

“Can she steal it?”  That would make it easier for the faithful to find her.

“No,” Forsaken let out a long breath.  “She says that the King likes to talk to it.  He’d notice immediately if it’s gone.  We could send someone in to make a copy, though.”

Killsin nodded.  That would be their best option.  He wondered if it was possible for this female Warden to have indeed gone through the Dark Ritual and birthed the Old God Reborn.  “Send Tribulation Bradstreet to Denerim.  Trib will easily be able to make a replica and get it back to us.”

“Yes, High Priest,” Forsaken agreed.  “Meanwhile, I suggest we send more agents into Kirkwall.  We must learn why we lost word with the others and the witch must be watched.”

“So, shall it be,” the others spoke together.

“So, shall it be,” Brian came in late yet again.

Chapter Text

So, shall it be.  Alistair stared at the portrait of Selene that hung over his desk.  It was closing in on a year since he’d seen her and he had no hope of finding where she was.  Wynne’s efforts were still coming up empty and Leliana refused to say where she was.

The last time Alistair had asked, Leliana had ranted at him.  She’d asked him if he was planning to send Selene a wedding invitation, to rub dirt in the wounds he’d caused with the fact that he’d found his queen and would soon start a family.  She’d yelled that the last thing Selene would want was to meet the woman he’d left her for and that he needed to just leave her alone.  He had a driving need to just see her again, though, to know that she was all right.

He wasn’t quite ready to send out the invitations to the wedding, but the date hadn’t been sent yet.  Eamon was pressuring him to do just that, but there was so much planning to do.  Unfortunately, he and a good portion of the Landsmeet would be there by week’s end to discuss just that. 

He knew that Gwen wasn’t any more anxious than he was to go through unnecessary pomp and circumstances just to keep their nobles happy, but that was what they were doomed to do.  At least he’d have a partner who…

His thoughts halted as he swore he heard singing.

You used to captivate me by your resonating light

Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

It was Selene’s voice.  He was sure of it.  Was she singing to someone else again?  Something about the tone in her voice, the words, made him wonder if it was him whom she was signing to this time.  But she couldn’t be, she wasn’t in Denerim.  Perhaps he was going insane.  It was her voice that now chased away his sanity.  He was sure her face haunted his dreams.  He’d dreamed of her just two nights ago.  He was preparing to marry someone else and Selene was haunting his dreams and he was hearing her voice.  He didn’t know who he could talk to about it.  What could he do?  Wynne would proscribe a potion to make him sleep better and Leliana would be smugly satisfied that he was suffering.  She would tell him it was what he deserved for hurting Selene.  It was what he deserved.

There was a soft woof and Alistair turned to see Barkspawn behind him.  The mabari’s head was cocked, as if he was listening to something.  There was something forlorn in his eyes.

“Do you hear it too, boy?”  Maybe he wasn’t going insane.  “Do you hear her signing.”

Barkspawn gave him a confirming wolf.  At least Alistair hoped it was confirming.  Then he let out a sad howl.

“You miss her, too, don’t you?”  He sat down on the floor and he ruffled Barkspawn’s fur.  “I wish I knew where she was.  I… I want to see her again, but Leliana’s right; she wouldn’t want to see me.  I hurt her, I hurt her so much.  I hurt me, too, when I did it.  I thought it was the right thing to do.  It must have been, but then why does it still hurt so much?”

Barkspawn laid his head in Alistair’s lap.  Alistair looked back at the painting.  There was the woman who still held his heart.  Her braid was flying in the wind as she unleashed her magic on those who threatened their land.  He yearned for the days when they travelled together.  The world had been falling apart and he’d never been happier.  He would never be as happy.  He could do his duty, but he’d lost his heart and couldn’t get it back. 

Alistair stood.  Duty was all he needed.  He was born an unwanted bastard and was lucky to find a purpose.  He had that and he’d found a kind, sweet woman to marry and bare his heirs.  He was a lucky man.  A memory of him thanking the Maker for his luck wafted into his memories, mocking him.

Chapter Text

Barkspawn was more than ready for another adventure.  He’d been cooped up in the palace for too long.  Lady Fuzzybottom had their litter to keep her occupied and they’d had a small argument when he’d gone to see his pups.  She had tried to claim that he and the king couldn’t have heard the herb scented mage singing.  The mage was gone and wasn’t coming back. 

Barkspawn knew this to be true, he even mentioned it to Ser Barkivere as they walked through the palace.  Ser Barkivere told him that mabari could hear on a higher level than humans or elves could.

He paused outside of the Smelly King’s office.  There was an unfamiliar scent there.  He gave a quiet woof and together they quietly crept in. 

A strange woman in a funny hat stood there, staring at his mage’s portrait.  She’d already made a sketch of it and now it looked like she was sketching on canvas.  The Smelly King wasn’t planning on making a copy of the portrait.  He remembered the Elderly Mage once told him to take it down, so he could move on.  Then the arl his mage had wasted Andraste’s Ashes on had insisted that he take it down and replace it with one of Gwen. 

Barkspawn and the Smelly King liked gazing up at the portrait, though.  They even talked to it sometimes, because the Herb Scented Mage wasn’t there for them to talk to anymore.

He glanced at Ser Barkivere, who gave him a little nod.  He thought the strange man shouldn’t be there, either.  Together, they moved silently into the room.  Each move to one side of the man.  Barkspawn considered attacking the intruder, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt someone yet and he wasn’t sure that the Smelly King hadn’t hired him to make a copy of the portrait.  Even though, he was sure the king would have told him if he was going to.

Exchanging a glance with Ser Barkivere, Barkspawn opened his mouth.  Together they began woofing at the intruder who jumped high enough to hit the ceiling.  It was great fun.  He grabbed his sketches and ran.

Barkspawn and Ser Barkivere began to give chase.  Then they smelled their humans together in a room and decided to go there instead.

In the room were the Smelly King and his future mate.  There was also Ser Barkivere’s Bel.  Plus, there were several of the banns and the Ashy Arl.

“We need to set a date for the wedding, immediately,” the Ashy Arl was saying.  “I was thinking Summerday.  I already have a seamstress designing your dress Lady Gwendolyn, you’ll like it and all of Ferelden will be most impressed.

“I’ll choose my own dress, thank you very much,” Gwen kept her voice polite, but Barkspawn knew she was not happy.  “And I’ll use my own dress maker.  She knows what I like.  This is my wedding, after all.”

“Of course,” the Ashy Arl acted as if that was obvious, but Barkspawn could tell he wasn’t happy.  He was only happy when he was getting his way.

“Don’t you think Summerday is too soon,” the Smelly King objected.  “It’s only four months away.”

“You’ve had two months to begin planning,” Eamon, the Ashed Arl, said through gritted teeth.  “Nothing has been planned yet.  It is obvious that your advisers will have to do that.”

“I want to do a tour of our lands first,” Gwen announced.  “It should include both Ferelden and the Free Marches, as I am a Marcher.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Bel spoke up.  “We have a lot of refugees in the Free Marches.  I know, I was there during part of the Blight, while the Hero of Ferelden took care of Howe, which I should have done.”  Ser Barkivere had told Barkspawn that his Bel felt guilty for not avenging his family himself.

“That would take months,” the Ashy Arl griped.

“It is for our people,” Alistair assured him.  “You could get us a list of the cities with the most Fereldan citizens.  As a matter of fact, as a wedding present from us to them, we could arrange to bring back as many Fereldans as possible.  We should find areas where farmers who lost everything to the darkspawn can regrow, not to mention our skilled laborers.”

“I love the idea, Alistair,” Gwen agreed.  “We have to do it.  We can leave on Wintersend and be back by Summerday.  Then we shall marry on All Soul’s Day, as a tribute to those lost in the Blight.  Perhaps, then they will be with us.  Looking down as Ferelden prospers.”

“I like that idea,” Alistair agreed.

“That’s still seven months away,” the Ashy Arl whined. 

“Then you should get to work on the small details,” Gwen told him.  “Of course, I’ll see to my own dress and the color scheme.”

The Ashed Arl squared his shoulders.  “It will be red and gold.  You will become a Theirin, my lady.  The family colors must be presented.”

“I have no problem with that,” Alistair shrugged.  He glanced at his betrothed.  “Gwen?”

“It’s fine,” she huffed.  It might not be fine, but she apparently didn’t have a better plan at the moment.  “We should plan out what cities we will visit first.”

“Agreed,” Alistair leaned over a map.  “We will have to let their leaders know we’re coming, especially those in the Free Marches.  They won’t want to be caught off guard.”

“You will be welcome in Highever, of course,” Ser Bel spoke up.  “I’ll arrange things north of there.  “You will want to go to Kirkwall and Cumberland, of course.  They’re the closest to Ferelden and likely have the most refugees.  I’ll see to the arrangements.”

Barkspawn looked over at Ser Barkivere.  They were going on an adventure.

Chapter Text

Chapter 69

Seems I've been staying away from battles, baby

Building walls around my heart to protect it

Oh, but it's time for me to let my gates open

Yeah, I'm ready to try to feel again

No longer will I be his to the bitter end

It’s past time for me to move on

Without the fear of how it will feel when it’s gone

I guess I'm ready to love again

Selene held her daughter up as she danced around her shop.  Siobhan cooed in response to her mother’s antics.  Then let out what she swore was an attempt at a laugh.

“I know you’re not laughing at my dancing,” Selene grinned at her.  “It’s better than your fath…”  She trailed off as she felt her heart drop at the thought of Siobhan’s father.  No, she would not let him ruin this.  She was going to put him behind her and move on.  She had defeated an archdemon and she could do this.

She’d been upset the day before when The Randy Dowager had written about him and his fiancée.  There’d been another sketch.  She’d cried and then decided she was done crying.  Her determination was further cemented that morning when a man had come in to buy his sweetheart a dagger.  They’d ended up designing one together with a special hilt just for her.  Selene would start working on it tomorrow morning, before she opened her shop.  Perhaps she’d have Isabela watch the shop, so she’d have more time to work on the special present.  Isabela kept hinting that she’d like to watch the shop more and Selene had to admit she was a surprisingly good shop keeper.  She wouldn’t steal from Selene, but she’d loot customers pockets by convincing them they needed more.  The project had shown her that there was still love in Thedas and her own broken heart wasn’t reason for it to cease to exist.

So, perhaps she could find someone who at least didn’t make her sad.  Maybe, she could find someone to convince her to move on from her heartbreak, who would be worth the risk.  That thought had come from realizing that Aveline was developing feelings for one of her guards.

Alas, the dagger order had also shown her that the person she would move on with, if she were so lucky, wasn’t Percy.  He bought her flowers, not weapons.  A little voice tried to whisper to her about roses, but she shut it up quickly.  She wasn’t listening to such things again.  A certain Ferelden King was no longer in her existence.  She’d conceived Siobhan on her own, just as she’d birthed her with only friends around.  That was just the reality she would accept.  She just needed to convince the cultists that Siobhan had nothing to do with Ferelden or archdemons.  There’d been a second attack.  Those cultists were also now all dead.  She might have to find the source and would need help to do that.

As if summoned by her thought, the door opened and Anders walked in.  “Did you miss me?”

Selene quickly set Siobhan in her basket and ran to Anders, hugging him hard.  She hadn’t realized how much she missed him.  “I did!  You’re back!”

He returned the hug and gave her a twirl.  “I am.  How are you and our little demon?”  He put and hand on the side of her face and examined her.  “You seem happy.”

“I am,” she assured him.  She looked up at him and studied him for a moment.  “But you don’t.  Is everyone all right?  Is it Raven?”

“Ra… Hawke’s O.K.”  He assured her.  “Varric is physically fine, but will kill Bartrand the moment he finds him.  That… dwarf… locked us in the Deep Roads and ran off with some artifact.  Little did the fool know that the real treasure was further in.  Varric and Hawke are both rich now.”

“Aren’t you?”  She questioned.  “You went with them, too.”

“I guess I am,” he shrugged.  “That doesn’t change any of my circumstances.  It isn’t like I’m going to go set up a clinic in Hightown.  It’s the people down here who need me.”

“Not to mention that we are both trying to avoid the Templars,” she added.

“Have you had any problem with them while we were gone?”  His voice hitched and he took a deep breath.

“No,” she assured him.  “Not with them.”

“Who?”  he caught the distinction in her voice.

“There is a cult after Siobhan,” she revealed.

“What?”  He didn’t even notice that he’d moved to the basket and was examining the infant, to make sure she was all right.

“They followed Morrigan here,” she explained.  “She was part of my team during the Blight.  They seem to know about… the Old God and its soul.”

“How?”  He picked up Siobhan and bounced her a little, checking her weight and reflexes.

“I’m… not sure.  I’ll tell you more about it if you come to my equestrian lessons with me.”  She’d decided to take the lessons in an effort to keep her mind off of any certain men whose existence she refused to continue to acknowledge.  She found that she now wanted Anders to go with her.  She really had missed him.

“Equestrian lessons?”  He repeated.  “I’ve never… I guess you didn’t have much time for horseback riding in the Tower, either.  It isn’t really a skill one needs in Kirkwall.”

“It could come in handy if one is fleeing Kirkwall,” she countered.

“That’s… a rather good point,” he conceded. 

“There is a teacher in Hightown who used to ride horses bareback, and do fancy tricks on them, for the amusement of the nobles.  I’m taking one of his classes.  I’m sure he’d be happy to add you to the lessons.”

“I don’t make much working a clinic in Hightown,” he warned. 

“I’m sure you’re quite comfortable after your venture into the Deep Roads,” she pointed out.  “I doubt Varric and Raven are sharing whatever you guys found down there with Bartrand, but they would with you and Carver.”

“About Carver…”  He sighed and found a stool to sit down on.  “He didn’t make it back.”

“He died?”  Selene was going to have to go visit Leandra.  She would be devastated.

“Not exactly,” he let out a long breath.  “He was tainted and… there were other Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads.”

“Because Grey Wardens are usually the only ones stupid enough to go down there,” Selene commented.

“They took Carver for me, they Joining is the only thing that could save him now; because…”  He ran and hand through his hair.  “You know why.”

“Yes, I do,” she took Siobhan from him and sat down herself.  “So, they know where we are now?”

“They have no idea that we’ve seen each other recently,” he assured her.  “They may have an idea where I am, but didn’t seem interested in pursuing me.  Don’t worry, I should be the only Grey Warden you see in a long time.”

“So, you’ll go horseback riding with me?”  She smiled.

“I think you may have a point about needing a fast getaway someday,” he conceded.

“Lord Amell!”  Anders’ voice rose when Selene’s father came to greet him.  “I… didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I didn’t expect to see you either,” Lord Amell shook his hand in greeting and then brought him in for a side hug.  “Selene didn’t tell me you were back from your expedition.  My sources say Bartrand was back, but he claimed that Varric and his friends were all killed horribly by darkspawn.”

“Of course, he did,” Anders grumbled.  “He certainly left us for darkspawn food.  No, we survived.  I returned to Kirkwall late last night.  Or was it early this morning?”

“It’s good to see you back,” Lord Amell assured him.  Then he turned to his daughter.  “I believe I have babysitting duties tonight.”

Selene handed Siobhan to him.  “It’s granddaddy-granddaughter bonding time.”

“Yes, it is.”  Lord Amell lifted his granddaughter up so they were face to face.  Then he rubbed his nose against hers.  He looked back to Anders.  “Selene is trying to hide that there is some group of cultists after her and Siobhan.  Do you mind keeping an eye on them when I’m not around?”

How the Maker did he know that?  Selene had thought she was acting casual around him after both attacks.  “I have defeated an Archdemon,” she reminded them.

“I will,” Anders promised.  He gave her a little smile. 

Sure, now he wanted to be protective, after leaving her to go explore the Deep Roads with Raven.  She just shook her head and approached Master Théoden, who introduced her to her new horse, Skyprancer.  She rubbed the horse’s head, as Théoden explained how to take care of her new charge.

When she was done and glanced over at her father.  He was talking to Siobhan.  Grandfather and granddaughter seemed to be having an intense conversation.  Her daughter was cooing at her father and he was responding.  Who knew, maybe they did understand each other.  She then noticed Anders with his own horse, Daybreaker. 

Anders and the horse seemed enraptured by each other.  They had their foreheads together and Anders was running his hand along the top of the horse’s head.  She realized he was checking for any injuries or illnesses.  The horse must have sensed the healing touch and decided this was the human for her.  It was a good thing Selene had sent word to Master Théoden and money.  She wasn’t sure if Anders realized the creature that he was bonding with was his horse, but she had the funds to see to Daybreaker and Skyprancer’s upkeep.  The shop was doing well and she’d come out of the Blight financially secure.  That and the money from her parent’s estate was intact.  Lord Amell barely touched it. 

Anders turned his head and their eyes met.  They both smiled. 

“Next lesson, you’ll even get to put a saddle on your horses,” Master Théoden announced.

“Daybreaker wants to go on a run tonight,” Anders announced.  “I’m not up to it, but if you have time later, Master Théoden, she’d appreciate it.”

“So, you talk horse; but have never ridden one?”  Théoden raised an eyebrow.

“I…”  Anders began.

The horse master just laughed.  “No, you’re right.  She does want a good run.  I’ll see that she gets a nice run along the sea before she needs to go back to the stables.  Skyprancer could probably use one as well.”  He turned to Selene’s father.  “Lord Amell, would you like to take your daughter’s horse out?”

“Dad?”  Selene hadn’t expected this to happen.

“What?  Did you think I’d always kept myself secluded in one of the worst cities in Thedas?”  He teased.

“In your laboratory in an estate in the worst city in the Free Marches,” she admitted.

“Your father only returned to Kirkwall a few years ago,” Master Théoden revealed.  “We knew each other in Antiva.”

Lord Amell handed Siobhan back to her mother.  “Here’s your baby.  Now, Anders, make sure they make it safely home.”

“I can take care of myself!”  She insisted.  “I once took on an army of undead!”

“That wouldn’t be in Redcliffe would it?”  Master Théoden asked.  “I have an acquaintance in the Hinterlands who once wrote to me about the attack there.  It all started because of a young mage boy who was possessed.  He told me that a Grey Warden saved them, I believe it was the Hero of Ferelden.”

Damn, she’d revealed too much.  Between a certain king she refused to think about and a crazy cult, she didn’t need her whereabouts to become common knowledge in Thedas.  “I met the Hero of Ferelden while there.”   That would hopefully deflect suspicion from her.  “He was strong, and handsome, and carried a huge sword.”

“Really?”  Master Théoden cocked an eyebrow.  “Dennet told me that the Hero of Ferelden was a woman.  I’ll have to write to him for clarification.”

Damn.  

Chapter Text

“Lady Elegant seems to think I’m going to start going to see you for potions, instead of her,” Raven informed Selene as they walked through the Viscount’s Keep.  “Do you know why she would believe that?”

“No,” Selene assured her.  She had met her cousin at the Viscount’s Keep, where Raven had gone to appeal for the restoration of her family estate.  She’d basically had to purchase it, but showing providence had kept anyone else from buying it before she had finished making arrangements.

“Can you make potions?”  Raven pressed.

“Yes,” Selene admitted.  “But I have a business to run, weapons to make, and a baby to care for.”  At the moment, the baby in question was in a sling, snuggled against Selene’s breasts.

“But I’m your cousin,” Raven batted her eyelashes at Selene.  “And if you have no time, then why were you and Anders out together last night?”

“Aren’t you more interested in how Fenris is spending his nights?”  Selene knew something was going on with Raven and the angry elf.  At least she thought something was going on with them.

“Only if he’s out hunting mages,” Raven assured her.  “He is broody and deep, true, but he also has an intense hatred of mages and I’m a mage.”

“Good point,” Selene gave in. 

“So, you and Anders,” Raven prompted.

Selene had suspected that Raven had feelings for Anders, but the way she looked at her now, confirmed those suspicions.  “Did something happen between you and Anders in the Deep Road?”

“No,” Raven let out a long sigh.  “I… he’s still insisting that he’d only hurt me.”

If only Al…  Selene cut off any thoughts about men who should have warned her that they were going to hurt her.  Anders hadn’t warned her of any such thing, but that could be because he wasn’t interested.  He acted interested, though.  Well, sometimes he did.  At other times, he seemed to insist on keeping her as a friend.  Was it because he was afraid of hurting her or because he had feelings for Raven?  Maybe it was both.  That just caused her a great deal of confusion.  “We have been taking horseback riding lessons,” she confessed.

“Horses?”  Raven repeated.

“We never know when we’re going to have to run from Templars or Grey Wardens,” Selene explained.

“Why would you need to run from the Grey Wardens?”  Raven wanted to know.  “What have you ever done to them or them to you?”

Sweet Andraste, Raven didn’t know about her being a Grey Warden.  She’d kept Ander’s secret so far, but Selene wasn’t sure how to tell her that she was a Grey Warden without Raven realizing that she was the supposed Hero of Ferelden.  “Well, they…”  She trailed off.  They had saved her from the fate of all blood mages, even though she’d never once practiced the forbidden magic.  Then they’d forced her into a ceremony that involved blood magic.  “I… it’s a very long story.”

“One that Varric knows, I’d assume,” Raven decided.

“What doesn’t Varric know?”  Selene questioned.

They stepped into the barracks and their conversation was cut short.

The guards stopped and rushed to them.  Raven smiled, surprised at their actions.  The smile faltered when they gathered around Selene.  “When did you become so popular among the guards?”

“It isn’t me,” Selene assured her, as she gently removed Siobhan from the sling.

“There’s our little ‘Bhan.”  She was quickly transferred into the arms of one of the guards who gently held her, as the others paid homage to the little miracle.

“Oh,” Raven blinked.  “That’s… unexpected.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Aveline came out to greet them.  “I’m sure if you had an adorable baby for them to spoil, they’d be all over that, too.  Have you encountered any more cultists, Selene?”

“Not since last week,” Selene assured her.  “I’d like to think they’ve given up on me, but I doubt it.”

“Cultists?”  This was the first time Raven had heard of them.

“They’re after Siobhan,” Aveline explained.  “I’d thought they followed Selene’s friend, Morrigan, but now I’m finding evidence that there had already been some here.”  She turned to Raven.  “They’re more determined than the bandits and dress a little different.  They like black and some of them are fond of strange hats.”

“I think I might have seen some fighting bandits last night,” Raven admitted.  “Have you noticed how bandits seem to just fall from the sky around here?  It’s strange.”

“We aren’t running out of them, that’s for sure,” Aveline agreed.  Her eyes wondered over to one of the guards who were cooing over Siobhan, Donnic.  It seemed Aveline was definitely ready to move on.

“Who is Morrigan?”  Raven wanted to know.

“She’s an old friend,” Selene explained.  She considered keeping Raven and Morrigan apart, Morrigan didn’t seem to have any interest in keeping her mouth shut about Selene’s past.  The two would meet eventually, anyway.  “She’s staying with me.  Why don’t you grab your mother and come for dinner tonight?”

“Maker knows mother can use the distraction,” Raven agreed.  “Ever since the Grey Wardens took Carver… and I had to tell her that he was to become one of them, she’s been distraught.  She even claimed that not everyone survives their initiation.”

“They don’t,” Selene revealed.  She’d been the only one to survive at her Joining.  “Anders said he was already tainted, though.”

“He was,” Raven confirmed.

“Then the Joining was the only thing that could have saved him,” Selene assured her.

“Anders talked to someone named Stroud who mentioned a ‘Joining’,” Raven recalled.  “He wasn’t a friend of yours, was he?  Is that how you know what this ‘Joining’ is?”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Selene promised.  “Only two Grey Wardens survived the Battle of Ostagar in Ferelden and I only know one of them.  Sometimes I’m not sure I even know that many.  Well, I know Anders.”

“Does anyone really know Anders?”  Raven joked.  “I’m not even sure he knows himself anymore.”

“Could I talk to you privately, Raven?”  Aveline requested.  “It won’t take long.”

While waiting for Raven and Aveline to finish whatever conversation was going on in Aveline’s office, Selene hung out with the guards.  She needed to get back to work, but was enjoying a little down time; especially when others were taking care of her baby for her.

Selene could hear the metallic step of a Templar before one emerged.  She also saw the guards move protectively around Siobhan.  How many of them knew she was a mage?

“Knight Commander Cullen,” one of them greeted the Knight Commander.  She still wondered what perverse twist of fate had put them in the same city.  Not all the guards knew she was a mage, but Cullen did. 

She didn’t acknowledge him, but he did her.  “Selene.  I… what are you doing here?”

“She’s a personal friend of the Guard Captain.”  The guard’s voice carried a warning.

“Speaking of the Guard Captain, I need to see her,” Cullen announced.

“She’s in a meeting,” Donnic informed him.  “She’ll be out when she’s done.”  He left, going to his own office.

Selene smoothly slid to her feet and took her daughter back from the guards.  She trusted them, but she wanted Siobhan close if she had to use her magic or her sword.  The guards moved in front of her.

“There are rumors of cultists in Kirkwall,” Cullen announced.  “Meredith needs a report on them.”

“Wouldn’t that be Grand Cleric Elthina’s concern?”  Selene spoke up.  Sebastian seemed anxious to tell the grand cleric.  He also wanted to tell her why, which would cause all sorts of problems for Selene.  Perhaps it was time to take a journey into the Vimmark Mountains.  “With the Qunari here, I don’t see how simple cultists would be a concern.  The Qun are more dangerous.  They are expert fighters and fanatics.  I knew one once.”

“You… yes, I recall.”  Cullen gulped.

Selene suddenly realized that Cullen had to know she was the Hero of Ferelden.  How couldn’t he?  He’d kept her secret, though.  It was likely because he didn’t want word getting to those locked in the Gallows that the Grey Warden who had killed the Archdemon was a mage.  They might head to the Wardens to escape their prisons.

“You knew a Qunari?”  One of the guards addressed her with wide eyes.

“One without horns,” she revealed.  “Until I got here, I didn’t realize they had horns.  He was a Sten.  Sten of the Barassaad is what he called himself.  We met in Lothering.”

“You’re also from Lothering?”  Another guard asked.  “I know you and Hawke are cousins, but I thought you hadn’t known each other.”

“We hadn’t,” she confirmed.  “I grew up closer to Lake Calenhad.”

“She was in Lothering because of the Blight, Selene has always tried to help others,” Aveline announced.  She stood at the door of her office.

Raven hurried by them, carrying a fresco.  It was copper and had marigolds on it.  What the Maker?

“Why don’t I walk you to the Keep entrance, Selene?”  Aveline offered.  She eyed Cullen; she didn’t trust him around her friend.

“Of course,” Selene nodded.  “I do need to get to work.”  She snuggled Siobhan back into her sling.

“Meredith needs reports from you,” Cullen insisted.

“I don’t work for Meredith,” Aveline reminded him.  She walked by him an arm slung around Selene.

Aveline and Selene both waited until they were out of Cullen’s earshot before either of them said anything.

“The only report I’m sending to Meredith is the one reminding her that I answer to the Viscount,” Aveline announced. 

“A Templar who thinks they run the entire city is dangerous,” Selene agreed.  “Someone needs to remind her of her place, before she starts her own exalted march on Kirkwall and anyone who isn’t a Templar is suddenly found to be a blood mage.”

“I wouldn’t put the exalted march past her, she’s literally in bed with the Chantry,” Aveline reminded her.  “One of my guards saw her sneaking into the chantry last night, wearing a black cloak, as if it wasn’t obvious who she was.”

“Your friend, Sebastian, is still in denial,” Selene reminded Aveline.

Aveline laughed.  “He’s more of Hawke’s friend.  I think he has more than mere friendly feelings for her.  He’s going to have to get past Fenris and Anders first, though.”

Selene’s heart dropped a little.  “So, there is something going on between Raven and Anders.”

“Oh, Selene,” Aveline sighed.  “No, well, maybe.  He’s still telling her he’d be bad for her and he’s spending a lot of time with you.  I… I’m not good at matters of the heart, don’t listen to me.  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Knight Captain Cullen had a thing for you.”

“We have flirted before,” Selene admitted.  “He was a Templar at Kinloch Hold, before…”  She trailed off.

“Before you were recruited by the Wardens,” Aveline filled in.  “Yes, I know.  It’s amazing how much I’ve filled in from what you have told me.  You were obviously recruited from a mage tower.  That and… I recalled exactly when I’d seen you at Ostagar.  You were the new recruit Duncan brought back, the one everyone was so excited about.”

“I wasn’t the only recruit,” she protested.  “There were two others, I don’t know why I caused such excitement.”

“He sent a glowing report about you, or so I hear,” Aveline admitted.  “He was obviously right to do so.  You survived the Battle of Ostagar.”

“So, didn’t you,” Selene countered.  “I wasn’t even in the real battle; I was lighting the beacon on the Tower of Ishal.”

“The one that Loghain was supposed to wait for,” Aveline recalled.  “The one he then ignored and left the rest of us behind.  Not that I’m bitter or anything.”  Sarcasm dripped from her voice at the end.  “Were there any darkspawn in the tower?”

“Oh, yeah, it was overrun,” Selene waved that off.  “Al… I should have died up there, but Flemeth rescued me.”

“You, too?”  Aveline’s eyebrows rose.  “Wow, she was busy.”

“Let’s hope she stays busy,” Selene muttered.  She held Siobhan a little closer.  “Before I go, what was with the copper marigolds Raven was carrying?”

Aveline shifted nervously.  “It was nothing, just a small gift for… someone.”

“Are you trying to court Donnic?”  Selene grinned at her.

“How… what… how do you know it’s Donnic?”  Aveline glanced nervously back at the barracks.

“I have eyes,” Selene reminded her.  “I think it’s sweet, but shouldn’t you be giving him the gifts yourself; not sending them with Raven?”

“I can’t!”  Aveline insisted.  “Do you know how bad it would look if I was giving gifts to one of my guards?”

“I don’t think that copper marigolds could be mistaken as any sort of bonus,” Selene assured her.

“No, it’s a symbol of my affections and how I feel about him.”  Aveline pinked a little.  “It’s hard, because copper, but soft since it has marigolds.”

“Oh,” Selene found she preferred roses.

“So, how did your relationship with the Knight Captain sour?”  Aveline changed the subject.

Selene blanched.  “You know how I left the circle.  Well, I returned during the Blight.  It had been overrun by blood mages and abominations, thanks to a rebellion gone wrong.  Perhaps it was what the rebel leader planned, but not his followers.  The Knight Commander had called for a Rite of Annulment, but I couldn’t just let him kill any mages who survived.”

“Of course not,” Aveline agreed.  “So, what did you do?”

“I went into the tower to rescue everyone I could,” Selene informed her. 

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less,” Aveline said.

Selene’s lips quirked.  “I slowly made my way through the tower, killing demons, abominations, and possessed Templars; along with some blood mages.  I did manage to save a few mages, including the Irwin, the grand enchanter.  I also ended up in the Fade where I had to fight a sloth demon, but that’s a very long story.  I found Cullen outside of the room where Uldred was holding Irving and the senior mages.  He was in a prison Uldred had made and had watched all of his friends die.  The blood mages were torturing him.  When he saw me… what he said was very hateful.  He let me know exactly what he thought about me and every other mage.  It only grew worse when he tried to get me to kill everyone in the room with Uldred and I refused.”

“He wanted you to kill your fellow mages?”  Aveline was shocked.

“He was sure they were all abominations,” Selene explained.  “He thinks we’re weak, just waiting for demons to come along and possess us.”

“Like Anders,” Aveline quipped.

“Justice is a spirit, there is a difference.”  Selene had her doubts, but Anders wasn’t the first person she’d met with a spirit in them.  “Why don’t you also come to dinner tonight?  You can bring Donnic.”

“How am I supposed to even go about asking him,” Aveline shook her head.  “I’ll try, though.  It will be worth it to see Raven and Morrigan’s reactions to each other.”

Chapter Text

Selene fed Siobhan as she watched Darcy setting the table.  She should help her cook, but she didn’t want to have to feed her daughter in the middle of dinner.  Her little one could be very demanding.  Then again, it might have been a distraction.

“Let me do that,” Morrigan appeared and began taking the dishes from Darcy.  “You have done more than enough.”  Morrigan’s regard for Darcy had been surprising, but it shouldn’t have been.  She liked Darcy, who had come to work for her after Darcy had seen her outside of Kirkwall and came to talk to her, to thank her again.  Darcy had been one of the werewolves she met in the Brecilian Forest, when they were under Zathrian’s curse.  She knew Selene’s secrets and didn’t care about rumors that the Amell estate was haunted.  She reasoned that she used to be a werewolf living in a haunted elven ruin, a haunted estate in Kirkwall was no big deal.

Shifting Siobhan to burp her, Selene stood.  “Thank you, Morrigan.”

“You do not need to thank me for helping out around here,” Morrigan chastised her.  “My only duty is not to protect you and Siobhan.  I…”

“The cultists were already here, eventually they would have figured out that I was the Hero of Ferelden and that Siobhan is my daughter, then they would have come after us,” Selene assured her.

“I expected to find you in Denerim,” Morrigan reminded her.  “It would have been easier for you to defend yourself there.  I doubt there is a soldier who would not give their life for yours there.  Yet here, few have figured out who you really are.  Even some of your friends don’t know.  How many of them know the real identity of Siobhan’s father?”

“You and Zevran know,” Selene still didn’t like to even think about him.  It made moving on harder.  “Otherwise, there are Varric, Anders, and Aveline.  That’s it.  I rather not have many people know.  I don’t want Siobhan’s existence getting back to… Denerim.”

Morrigan nodded.  “I am not completely ignorant of the ways of humans.  I would presume her existence would be a problem for the simpleton the idiot is marrying.  He does not love her.  You do know that, yes?”

Selene stared at Morrigan for a moment.  “I… that isn’t what I’ve heard, it’s the opposite of what I’ve heard and from different sources.”

“And do those sources know the fool?”  Morrigan bristled.  “I have seen him in love.  I have been caught between those sizzling looks the two of you would shoot across the campfires at each other, ‘twas most scandalous.  It was not just the passion, though.  That was certainly there.  It was other moments, when you would look at each other and it ‘twas not a sizzle, but a serenity.  It was a calm certainty filled with peace; you had found a home in each other.  More, you had found the one place you belonged, where you were safe.  No, even that does not describe the look or the way the pair of you would seek each other’s company the way a bird seeks its nest when a storm moves in.”

Selene gulped and forced herself not to think about the person in question or how it had felt to sit by the fire with him, hands not quite touching; content to just be in each other’s company.  No!

“And I saw him with the simpleton he plans to wed,” Morrigan continued.  “I saw him attempt to shield her from me, like she was a poor little lamb facing off against a fearsome dragon.”

“You are a fearsome dragon,” Selene assured her friend.

“And the simpleton is a poor little lamb,” Morrigan added.  “She is not, however, the woman he loves.  I have seen the fool in love and he is still your fool.”

“No, he isn’t,” Selene sighed.  “He hasn’t been since the Landsmeet.  He made that very clear.  He may not love her, but he duties her.”  Boy, that sounded bad.  “I mean he chose duty over love and she is what he wants.”  Still, it soothed part of her heart to hear that he didn’t love the other woman.

“And that makes him even more of a fool than I first thought,” Morrigan declared.

Leandra Hawke arrived early to the Amell Estate, or other Amell Estate, as she called it.  She’d told Selene’s father more than once that it was the other Amell estate more than once.  Selene greeted them with a smile.

“If you don’t mind, I brought Raven’s seneschal with us,” Leandra announced.  “He’s carrying the desert I made as a thank you for inviting us.  Who else is coming?”

“I am living here, so I will of course be in attendance,” Morrigan coolly informed her.  “I understand that you are Raven’s mother and that you and your husband thought it fitting to keep your children from a gilded prison where they were spied on constantly by those intrusive Templars.  I approve of this.”

“Yes, Malcolm and I both thought it best not to have our children imprisoned,” Leandra agreed.  “I know my cousin was unable to keep the Templars from her own children, but Malcolm’s own magic helped keep them safe.  I’m glad you approve.”

“Of course, mother,” Raven said from behind her.  “Any mage would approve of not being force into one of those dread towers.”  Bohdan and Sandal came in behind her.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming along,” Bohdan said.  “Leandra insisted that I carry this ridiculous cake for her.”  Indeed, it was a three-layer cake with flowers made of icing on top and cascading from it.”

“Did you make that yourself?”  Lord Amell’s eyes widened.

“No, I purchased it from the baker of course,” Leandra thought the answer was obvious.

Behind Bohdan, Sandal’s eyes widened as he Selene and Morrigan.  “Enchantment?”

Selene grinned.  She couldn’t believe it.  “Enchantment!”  She rushed to Sandal and hugged him with one arm.

He looked down at Siobhan.  “Enchantment.”

“Enchantment indeed,” she agreed.

“As I live and breathe!”  Bohdan’s mouth dropped open.  “It’s the Warden!”

“Warden?”  Leandra blinked in confusion.  “You were a Warden, Selene?  What type of Warden?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Selene assured her.  “I’m not one anymore.”

“But you can’t just…”  Bohdan began to protest.

“I did,” Selene assured him.  “I did my duty and retired from that life.  It’s took enough from me; I’m not giving the… that life… anything more.  I now make weapons and run a shop, as well as raise my daughter.  I’m happy with that.”

“But your daughter needs a father,” Leandra protested, as they sat in the great hall.  “Raven has two handsome men vying for her attention, the broody elf and the healer, and she won’t pick one.  Don’t you have that handsome Percy who would love to marry you?”

“I don’t know if he’d love to marry me, but I don’t love him.  I doubt I ever will.  That makes him the wrong man for me,” Selene assured her.  So, there was something going on with Anders and Raven.

“Mother, Fenris hates mages and Anders keeps telling me that he’d only hurt me, so we can’t be together,” Raven spoke up.  “Besides, I think he’s married to his cause… or possibly Justice.  Speaking of Anders and Justice,” Raven looked to Selene.  For a moment Selene thought Raven was going to tell her to back off from Anders, but that wasn’t it.  “Feynriel, the dreamer we helped free from slavers and sent to the Dalish last year is in trouble.  He’s trapped in the Fade and needs someone to get him out.  Marethari is sending me in and strongly suggested I take you with me.”

This sounded too familiar.  It smacked of a ritual that Jowan had wanted to do in Redcliffe.  There had been a big problem with the Redcliffe ritual.  “I won’t go in if it requires blood magic.”  It’s why she had ended up having to kill Connor, she wasn’t going to let Jowan use blood magic, killing Isolde, to send her after Connor; no matter how much she disliked Isolde. 

“She assured me it didn’t,” Raven swore.  “Why would it… what happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you later, it may not be appropriate for dinner.”  Selene sent a glance over to Leandra, there was no way the elder Hawke would appreciate a story that involved the death of a child. 

“What will you tell later?”  Aveline came in, Anders was with her.  “I ran into Anders on my way here, he was battling a small group of bandits and I invited him along.”

“That’s fine,” Selene assured her.  She saw Raven’s smile when she saw Anders and Anders return the grin.  Then he turned to her, a smile still on his face.  How did she question him about where his feelings really lay?  Something else bothered her.  “Does anyone else think there is an unusually high number of bandits in this city?”

“Yes,” Aveline sat down with a huff.  “The guards do everything they can, but they seem to just fall from the sky.  There has also been an increased number of cultists.  I don’t know if they’re after you specifically, but they’re sniffing something out.”

Selene looked down at Siobhan.  Oh, they were after her specifically, but she wasn’t sure they knew it was her they looked for, either.  “They want…”  She looked over Leandra.  She wasn’t sure she trusted her cousin enough to say anything in front of her.  “Raven is going into the Fade tomorrow.  I hate the Fade.”

“It’s because of that time you spent in the Mage Circles,” Morrigan deduced.  “I am sure your Harrowing was bad enough, but your experience with the Sloth Demon really tainted your experience.  Did Leliana really cower in a corner, praying, while you did all the work?  How did that work out for her?”

“Pretty well,” Selene admitted.  “I saved her, didn’t I?”

“She was lucky to have you as a friend,” Morrigan agreed.  “Too bad she decided she valued the Chantry more and turned her back on you.”

Selene just glared at Morrigan for a moment.  Did she need to remind her of that time she turned into a dog on the eve of a terrible battle and turned her back on her?  “Yes, it seems I’ve been unlucky in many of my friends, but I try not to give up on them.”

Darcy appeared.  “Dinner is served.”

“Thank the Maker,” Lord Amell muttered, as they moved into the other room.

Bohdan stopped Selene as she went to the next room.  “I’m really happy to see you.  I… the word out there is that you just disappeared.  Why does no one know that the Hero of Ferelden is in Kirkwall?”

“Because I’m just Selene Amell,” she responded.  “And haven’t you heard; the Hero of Ferelden was a man who died gloriously fighting the Archdemon.”

Chapter Text

Dinner had been a grueling, yet boring affair.  Alistair had been surrounded by well-wishers and nobles who had travelled to Highever just to say they’d had dinner with Gwen and him.  That was after every affluent merchant and artisan had taken the day off to wave at them as they entered the city.

Gwen had tolerated the entire thing with a smile plastered on her face, a gentle wave, and a kind word for everyone.  Selene would have been making snarky asides to him, asides that would have made him laugh and make the entire experience more pleasant for them.  He reminded himself that she shouldn’t be thinking about her, he was marrying Gwen and they would be hap… content together.

He wondered where she was and if she was happy.  He’d wondered more and more since Morrigan had burst into his palace, demanding to know where she was.  Then the Witch of the Wilds had just disappeared.  He would have thought she dreamed up the entire thing, except Gwen kept wanting reassurances that the woman was really gone.  She was afraid Morrigan would return.  What person had met Morrigan and wasn’t afraid of that?

A little voice whispered to him that she’d left because she’d figured out where Selene was, even though he couldn’t.  He still wondered why she’d been shocked that he and Selene were both still alive.  Did that mean Selene was in trouble?  Had Morrigan heard that one of them was dead?  Could it be Selene?  The mere thought caused his heart to stop and he had difficulty breathing.  Tears began welling up in his eyes.  No.  Morrigan didn’t have some deep dark secret.  She was just some Sneaky Witch Thief.  What if she did know things he didn’t?

“Are you all right Alistair?”  Bel brought him back from his dark thoughts. 

“I’m… I’ll be fine,” Alistair assured him.  “I was just lost in my thoughts.  So… he looked around.  “Fergus has a lot of repairs going on.”

Bel nodded.  “Howe’s men set fire to everything they could when he… betrayed my father… and slaughtered my family.  He killed Fergus’ wife and son, along with our parents.”

“Why would he do that?”  Alistair had met Howe and knew he was a horrible man, but to turn on your own friend and try to destroy his entire family…

“Everyone in this world seems to be out for themselves,” Bel informed him.  “It’s something you should always remember.  It’s something my father should have remembered; he would have trusted Howe less and not left us so vulnerable to his men.  He could have kept Fergus and our men here, instead of sending them off while Howe’s men were near.  If I might say so, I’ve noticed that you need to look out for yourself, your own needs and wants more.”

“I…”  Alistair’s mind flashed back to the one meeting he’d had with his own sister.  She’d been a shrew and demanded he give her money.  He’d hoped for open arms and she’d made demands.

“Not that I should be telling you what to do,” Bel said quickly.

“No, you have a point.”  Alistair thought back to other times, times he’d done what others wanted, giving no thought to his own needs.  It had started with Lady Isolde insisting he be moved out of his warm room with its soft bed and into the stables.  Then there was being marched off to the Templars when he was ten.  He could hear Wynne lecturing him about duty and how love was an impediment to it.  Morrigan asked him what he would do if it came down to protecting Selene or killing the Archdemon.  Morrigan’s voice was replaced by Eamon’s, insisting he had to marry a suitable woman and provide an heir to Ferelden’s Throne.  He was beginning to believe that Eamon didn’t love him as much as he thought.  “What would your father have done if you told him you were in love with a mage and were going to marry her?”

“He would have told me he loved me and welcomed the mage, if she made me happy,” Bel’s voice was sure.  He’d then burn down the entire Landsmeet to protect us.  His family came first.”

Alistair had barely seen his father and Eamon had sent him away at the age of ten, at Isolde’s urgings.  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been anyone’s first priority.”  The words came out before he’d even acknowledged them to himself.

“What about Gwen,” Bel urged.  "She seems to put you first."

Did she?  Alistair wondered.  Or was she like him, putting duty first.  Not even he’d ever put himself first.  Not since…  unbidden came the memory of holding a rose up to a very beautiful mage, one whose beauty was surpassed by her courage and determination.  His bright light in a dark night.  That was over with, she was gone.  He’d driven her away, when he’d put duty first, above her and his love for her.  There was nothing he could do now, but be a better example and hope to one day be a better man.  “I hope to be more like your father than mine.”

“Did you know your father well?”  Bel wondered.  “I know you weren’t raised in the palace.”

“I saw him a few times,” Alistair shrugged.  “We weren’t close, much less…”  He trailed off.  “I’ll do better, I swear.”

“First, you need children,” Bel reminded him.  “You aren’t doing anything to make that happen.”

“There’s time enough.”  Alistair just wasn’t anxious to make that step.  He knew he should, he needed to break the hold someone else had on his heart, but he doubted even… that… would do the job.  “We’ll wed as soon as we return from this tour.  I’m sure Eamon is planning it even now, despite our protests of him taking over.”

“I know you think of him as your father, Alistair, but I would have had a problem if either of my parents decided they were planning my wedding for me,” Bel assured him.  “The hyperbolic mage would likely have turned them into toads for the night for trying.  Don’t think I’m trying to tell you how to live your life, though!  I’m not telling you what to do.”

“No, you’re advising me,” Alistair assured him.  “It’s advice I think I need.”

“Fine,” Bel gave him a pat on the back.  “Then go find Gwen and go for a walk in Highever.  Our guards are wonderful, it’s safe, and Highever is beautiful in the moonlight.

An hour later, Alistair was indeed walking the streets of Highever hand in hand with Gwen.

“I like this,” she looked around and then up at the moons.  “I like taking moonlit walks.”

“Then we should do them more often,” Alistair decided.  It was peaceful here and he found himself smiling at his betrothed.  As soon as the tour was done, they would marry and he would enjoy making those children whom he would be a better father to.

Gwen sighed and rested her head on his arm as they continued on.

Chapter Text

Killsin Durant, the high priest of the Disciples of the Old Ones, sat at the head of a large table.  The other priests and priestesses, like him, were dressed in black robes.  In the middle of the table were several lit candles and an athame.  “…And we shall return the world to the Old ways and our gods shall be returned unto us.”  He finished reciting his prayer.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  Those around the table exclaimed in unison.

“All hail the Old Ones!”  Brian was still a full second behind the others.

“I have news,” Humility proclaimed.  “News that I’m sure the rest of you didn’t know.”

“I doubt that,” Brian grumbled.

“The Warden King is travelling.  He is on tour,” Humility announced.

“We know that,” Forsaken announced.  “We all know that.  We’ve all dispatched more assassins since our one in Denerim can’t seem to do the job.”

“He’s a tricky bastard,” Humility insisted.

“I have more news,” Forsaken proclaimed.  “News of much more import.”

“Oh, really?”  Humility challenged.

“Perseverance has reported in,” Forsaken revealed.  “He is sure that the witch is in Kirkwall and she’s protecting the baby of a local there.  Only, she’s not a local.  This woman with an infant who was born on Satinalia is from Ferelden.  She’s friends with the witch and they fought against the Fifth Blight together.”

“She had a boy?”  Killsin was excited.

“No,” Forsaken sat back.  “The infant is a girl.  That does not mean she doesn’t carry Urthemiel’s soul though.  One of her friends let slip in front of him that she was at the Battle of Denerim when the Great One was killed.”

“But why would the soul go to her?”  Killsin pressed.

“Because she was carrying a child whose parent was a Grey Warden,” Brian spoke up.  “It is possible that she somehow performed the ceremony and obtained the king’s seed or that of the Grey Warden.  Some of you are forgetting that there were two Wardens.”

Killsin hated to admit that Brian was right, because he was Brian.  Sweet Old Ones, Brian was right.  “Very well.  Let us concentrate our sources in Kirkwall.”

“It’s such a shithole that no one will even notice our movements,” Replenish commented from the far of the table.

“Indeed.”  Killsin was glad he didn’t have to go there.

Chapter Text

Siobhan rested in her basket as her mother examined the ingredients on the table. 

“I thought you told Raven that you didn’t have time to make her heeling potions,” Leandra sat across from her.

“The Ward… Lady Selene has always helped those in need,” Bohdan confided as he brought more flasks to her.

“The what?”  Leandra narrowed her eyes at the manservant.  “How do you two know each other?”

“We’re both from Ferelden,” Selene shrugged.  There were ingredients missing and Raven was awfully low on elfroot.  How did she have anything made with so few ingredients?

“I’m also from Ferelden, I lived there as long as you did and we never crossed paths,” Leandra pointed out.

“That’s because I was locked in a tower,” Selene reminded her.

“Yet you met Bohdan.”  Leandra was not going to let this go.

“We met outside of Lothering,” Bohdan announced.

Selene closed her eyes for a moment.  She was considering strangling the dwarf.

“I used to live in Lothering,” Leandra was obviously becoming more suspicious.  “Yet I saw neither of you there.”

“I was just passing through when I had the misfortune of encountering darkspawn on the road,” Bohdan didn’t know the meaning of discretion.  “Lady Selene was kind enough to rescue me.”

“You rescued him from darkspawn?”  Leandra repeated.

“I heard him calling for help, while I was… fighting refugees.”  That was the truth, but it was going to bring up even more questions.  The refugees had thought to get the rewards on her and Alistair’s heads.  Why they thought they were capable of capturing Grey Wardens, she had no clue.  Desperation had made them stupid.

“And why were you in Lothering, Selene?”  Leandra pressed.

“I was getting supplies,” Selene told her the truth.

“Supplies for what?”  Leandra wanted to know.

“I had a long journey ahead,” she shrugged.

“How had you lost your previous supplies?”  Leandra questioned.  “Lothering was full of refugees, it wasn’t the best place for supplies.  If you were at Kinloch hold, you should have been north of Lothering and the darkspawn were coming from the south.”

“I was at Ostagar.”  Plenty of mages were.  She only kept quiet about it, because she hadn’t wanted anyone else who was there to recognize her.

“Oh, I hadn’t realized… Carver and Aveline were, too,” Leandra mentioned.  “Carver saw the Grey Wardens there.”  She sniffed.  “He thought they were brave, but he never…”  Her voice broke.

“I heard your son had survived his Joining.”  That was Bohdan’s attempt to comfort her.

“But he didn’t… he…”  She sniffed.  “He didn’t want to be… one of… them!”

“Would you rather he became a Templar?”  It was the worst fate that Selene could think of at the moment.  Maker knew, Alistair had dreaded the idea.  She thought of his name without even realizing it at first.  Of course, he loved the idea of being a Grey Warden.  He’d been mad at her for not being enthused about being maneuvered into joining.  He’d hated everything about the idea of becoming a Templar, except the education.

“Yes!”  Leandra insisted.  “Well… no… that would make things awkward with his sister.   Being a mage hunter isn’t a good idea when your sister is a mage.  Or your cousin,” Leandra gave her a little smile.  “I heard you were good with a sword, though.  How did you mix your magical teachings with learning the blade?  How did you get the Templars to teach you the blade?”

“I didn’t,” Selene admitted.  “It’s a form of magic, I… it’s a long story, but I was taught by an Ancient Elven spirit.  I was in an elven ruin and… it’s complicated.”

“Lady Selene was hunting a wolf for the elves in the Brecilian Forest and there were ancient ruins,” Bohdan supplied.  “She’d learned a new form of battle magic when she came back out.”

“Just like that?”  Leandra eyed her.  “Are you possessed like Anders?”

“No,” Selene assured her.  “The spirit was released from the crystal that held it and only paid my head a short visit.”

“Your head?”  Leandra raised her eyes.

Selene looked at the supplies again.  “Where’s the concentrator agent?”  She hadn’t meant to change the subject, that was just a small bonus.  “And I need a lot more elfroot.”

“We don’t have any, my lady,” Bohdan answered.  “Shall I go to the Gallows for you?”

She had been ready to go herself, but saw no reason not to send Bohdan, especially if it kept him from announcing to Leandra that she was the Hero of Ferelden; if Leandra didn’t already know.  She was sure Leandra hadn’t put enough together to figure out who Siobhan’s father was.  If she had, she likely would have already written a letter to him for her and Siobhan’s own good.  “Do you mind?”

“It will be my pleasure,” he bowed to her.  “I’ll leave Sandal with you.  I don’t trust that Meredith around him.

“I don’t trust her around my child, either,” Selene confided.

“I’ll be back soon,” Bohdan hurried away.

Bohdan had returned with the supplies Selene needed, saying there’d been no trouble.  He had commented that Knight Captain Cullen had been there and had seemed rather on edge and seemed to see abominations everywhere.  She couldn’t help but think that if she’d gone, there would’ve been trouble.  Perhaps it was a good thing she hadn’t gone.

An hour after his return, she’d had dozens of bottles of health potions made for Raven, and taken a few for herself; just in case.  She left several bottles at the Hawke estate and was carrying a bag full of them as present to Raven.  She was heading to Raven now, meeting her in the alienage, at Arianni’s house.

She entered Lowtown and noticed several people, dressed like the cultists who had been bothering her approaching.  She looked down at Siobhan’s basket and glanced around for the safest place to set her down if she had to cast a barrier around the baby in order to fight off attackers.

“Lady Amell,” one of the many groups of Fereldans who hung around Lirene’s shop approached her. 

She smiled at them, even as she saw the cultists veer to another direction.  “Hello, guys.  What’s going on?”

One of her fellow refugees stepped forward.  “My son wants to learn a trade and… I know you do some smithy work and run a shop.  I was wondering if he could help and learn from you.  He’s a hard worker.”

Selene thought about the smiths who had trained her in secret.  What would have happened to her if they hadn’t taught you skills that she now relied on.  “What is his name?”

“John,” the refugee told her.

“Send him to my shop tomorrow and I’ll arrange times with him.  I hope he enjoys stoking fires and sweeping,” she smiled gently, only half joking.

“He’ll love it,” the refugee assured her. 

“He’ll be bragging to his friends about whose shop he is sweeping,” another refugee commented.

“I’m just one of you, who was lucky enough to have some coin and to find family,” she assured them.

“You know Loghain used to pass your image around,” a third refugee raised an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t me,” she insisted.  “That’s what I tried to tell Loghain’s men.”  So, they all knew who she was.  Yet they all seemed willing to play along.  As long as they didn’t go to anyone who would inform the authorities of Kirkwall or Ferelden, she would be all right.

“Before you killed them,” a fourth refugee spoke up.

“Only because they tried to kill me first,” she insisted.  “And because they worked for Loghain.”  She was going to have to give up on denying her identity soon.  Perhaps it had been long enough that word wouldn’t reach Denerim or those in Denerim would ignore any word of her that reached them.  “I’d love to stay and talk, but I have to go help Raven in the alienage.”

“Is Hawke really your cousin?”  The second refugee asked.

“She is,” Selene concurred.  “Our mothers were…”  She stopped as she noticed a group of Templars approaching.  They were being led by Knight Captain Cullen.  Apparently, he’d left the Gallows to go bother the rest of Kirkwall.

“Cullen,” she plastered a smile on her face and held Siobhan’s basket closer.  She quickly glanced at her fellow Fereldans deciding which one she could hand her baby to for safekeeping if she had to fight.

“I’ve had some concerns that there is an increase of abominations and blood mages in Kirkwall,” Cullen announced to her.

“Are you accusing the…”  The third refugee began, but stopped when one of his companions elbowed him in the ribs.  “Accusing Lady Amell of something?  Are you accusing all Fereldans of something?”

The other refugees began to slowly circle her, protecting her.

“She’s a smith and runs a shop in Darktown,” the first refugee informed him.  “My son apprentices with her and he’s never seen anything nefarious.  There isn’t even any proof that she’s a mage.”

“Except where I’d met her before,” Cullen glared at her.  “I have to test you to make sure…”

“Please, Knight Captain,” one of his men begged.  “If you mess with her, Master Tethras will make sure I never know the… well, I won’t be able to visit the Bloom… certain establishments again.”

“Our supply of Antivan coffee will be cut off,” another Templar objected.  “You don’t want to see Lieutenant Hannah if she hasn’t had her coffee.  It’s rough for me, but… abominations are better.”

“She can switch to tea,” Cullen insisted between clenched teeth as he faced off against Selene and those who were determined to protect her.

“He’ll cut off our lyrium next,” another Templar warned.  “Don’t think that he can’t make things difficult with Chantry suppliers.

            Cullen hesitated and glanced back at him, causing Selene to wonder how addicted he was.  Was lyrium withdrawal partially responsible for his actions in Kinloch Hold?  Even if it was, it wasn’t responsible for when he later insisted that the mages she rescued should be killed in case they were abominations.  He needed help, but she wasn’t in a position to be the one who helped him.

            “So, instead of helping those of us in Lowtown, the Chantry is going to send Templars to harass us,” one of the refugees noted.  “I doubt Grand Cleric Elthina will care, but perhaps our king will when he comes to visit.”

            Selene’s blood ran cold and Cullen moved down on her list of problems.  “What?”

            “Haven’t you heard?”  One of her companions spoke.  “King Alistair is getting married and he and his wife are touring Ferelden and the Free Marches.  She’s from Ostwick.”

            Selene felt as if Cullen’s sword had planted in her chest when she heard the other woman referred to ask Alistair’s wife.  She looked down at Siobhan, who was peacefully sleeping in her basket, despite the tumult around her.  “No…”  She managed.  “I… hadn’t heard.”  Maker, she had to get out of Kirkwall, but she’d built a life here.  “When?”  She could go to Val Royeaux for a few weeks and then come back.  Would he hear that she was living in Kirkwall from anyone there?  Why would she?  She was a noble, but no one important.

            “I meant to tell you,” Lirene joined the face off.  “I was going to ask you to put up some of the nobles when they come.  Hawke will be housing Fergus and Bel Couslands.  Perhaps you could take the Guerrins or one of the Banns.”

            “No!”  The words were more forceful than she meant them to be.  The last face she ever wanted to see again was Eamon Guerin’s.  “I mean… you know my father, he’s a recluse.  Having more guests will only upset him.  It’s a miracle that he’s so welcoming to Morrigan.  Besides, I’ve heard of Isolde Guerrin.  She’s far too… shrill… for him.  It would be a disaster.”  That was true.  She’d end up having to kill Isolde, because the woman would somehow upset her father.  The woman opened her mouth and immediately got on Selene’s nerves.  Then she’d kill Eamon and claim it was to protect her father, even though it was because she truly hated Eamon.  “Plus, I don’t like strangers around my baby.”

            “I understand,” Lirene assured her.  “I hope you will help me with their party, though.  I am going to have a fete of sorts, to welcome our king.  Something to let all of the Fereldans in Kirkwall to see their king and new queen.  I need you for that.”

            “If I’m here,” Selene hedged.  “I may have to go to Orlais soon, on business.”

            “Let’s go, Captain,” one of the Templars interrupted.  “I’ve visited the Redcliffe Chantry and met the arl and Arlessa.  If Lady Amell doesn’t turn into an abomination at the mere thought of having to house the Arlessa, then she is definitely not possessed.”

            “True enough,” Selene agreed with him.  “I have met her, too.”

            “I know,” the Templar assured her.  “I visited Lothering, as well, when the arl’s men were looking for the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”  She gave her a pointed look.

            “Oh,” she nodded.  It seemed he’d put two and two together better than even Cullen had.  Cullen knew she was a Grey Warden.  This one seemed to know what she’d done for the Grey Wardens and told no one.  “Thank you.”

            The Templar merely nodded at her and they continued on.

            “Can you not change your travel plans?”  Lirene pleaded.  “I really need your help.”

            “I’ll do everything I need to before I leave,” Selene promised.  “We can discuss it tomorrow, if you’d like.  For now, I need to go see Raven.”

Chapter Text

Selene’s thoughts were racing by the time she reached Arianni’s house.  There were cultists after her, she couldn’t safely travel without her friends, but she couldn’t stay. 

            “What’s wrong?”  Raven greeted her at the door.  “Did the Templars mess with you?”

            “Yes,” Selene admitted.  “But that’s not what’s bothering me.  When did Lirene ask you to host the Couslands?”

            “She didn’t,” Raven was confused as to why that was a problem.  “The Viscount did the last time I reported back to him on the Qunari’s latest activities.”  The Qunari still had a large, and rather threatening, presence in Kirkwall.  “King Alistair is coming, but he’ll be staying at the Viscount’s Keep.”

            “The fool is coming?”  Morrigan appeared behind Raven.

            “Who?”  Raven’s eyes widened at Morrigan’s’ choice of phrases in regards to Ferelden’s King. 

“Is he bringing the simpering Ewe?”  Morrigan continued.

            “From what I heard, yes.”  Selene set Siobhan’s basket down and gently lifted her daughter out.  She was not going to let the Simpering Ewe anywhere near her baby. 

            “Who?”  Raven repeated.

            “What’s wrong?”  Marethari appeared as well from deeper inside the house.

            “I’m not sure,” Raven admitted.  “It has to do with some Fereldan Nobles coming.  Did you have trouble with them.”

            “Not with the Couslands,” she assured Raven.  “She glanced at Morrigan.  Although, Lirene just asked me to house the Guerrins.”

            Morrigan laughed.  “’Tis a fine jest.  I shall have to repeat it to Zevran.  Although, he could possibly arrange for an accident to befall Eamon while he’s in town.  Accidents do happen all the time, nobles can be very clumsy, and Kirkwall can be a very hazardous place.  It’s full of bandits and cultists and such, not to mention the Qunari on the docks.”

            That was tempting, Selene had to admit.  It was very tempting. 

            “You aren’t really plotting to kill a Fereldan Arl are you?”  Raven looked back and forth between them.

            “Of course not,” Selene assured her.  “As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in town when they get here.  When are they coming?”

            “Three weeks,” Raven answered without thinking.  “Wait, if you didn’t know when they were coming, then how did you know you won’t be here?”

            “Tell me you are not going to let that fool drive you off,” Morrigan crossed her arms.  “You are the Hero of Ferelden.  You do not run from idiots, especially that one.”

            “You’re what?”  Raven’s eyes widened.  Then she gave a bitter little laugh.  “Varric knows, doesn’t he.  And he never said anything to me.”

            “I know everything,” Varric appeared at the door, with Anders at his side.  “What do I know now.”

            Selene swallowed.  “Morrigan just announced that I’m the Hero of Ferelden.”

            “I thought the Hero was a man,” Arianni spoke up.

            “That’s what the men want you to think,” Marethari patted her on the shoulder.  Then she gently took Siobhan from Selene.  “Let me take the little one for now.  I think you might need to sit down and get this story out.”

            “We already know the story,” Anders went to Selene and put an arm around her.

            Selene watched Raven’s eyes widen and water for a moment.  Sweet Maker, she was in love with Anders.  As if she didn’t have enough problems in her life.  Still, she closed her eyes and leaned against Anders for a moment.  Would he ever be able to get her tied into knots the way Alistair did?  Wasn’t it good if he couldn’t?  She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be hurt like again.  He was kind and safe.  “Raven doesn’t.”

            “Why don’t I fill her in on the sordid details later,” Varric assured them.  “Why did you decide to announce our little secret, Witch?”  The term ‘witch’ was affectionate, it seemed that Morrigan had been rewarded with a Varric nickname.

            “Selene was thinking of running, perhaps abandoning the life she’s built here, because an idiot is going to come visit Kirkwall,” Morrigan announced.

            “What if he finds me?”  Selene protested.

            “He… oh,” Anders held her closer, understanding who was coming.

            “You faced an Archdemon, you can face him,” Morrigan insisted.  “If he bothers you, I can turn him into a toad.  No one will notice the difference.”

            Selene gave a little laugh and stood.  She went to Morrigan and wrapped one of her arms, the one not holding her baby, around her.  “Thank you.”

            Morrigan returned the hug, but then looked around.  “Not in front of the Marchers, Selene.”

            Selene’s laugh was a little clearer the second time.  “Of course not.”

            “Who don’t you want to see?”  Raven was still confused. “Is one of the Cousland’s Siobhan’s father?”

            “No,” Selene assured her.

            “Is Siobhan’s father dead?”  Raven pressed.

            “No,” Selene admitted.

            “He didn’t dump you, because he didn’t want a half-elven child,” Arianni spoke up.  “So, why did you part ways.”

            “I may not be an elf, but I am a mage,” Selene reminded her.  “He is the… he is a noble.”  Technically, the king wasn’t.  He was above the nobles, but it was close enough.

            “One of those who will be coming with the king’s entourage, I take it,” Marethari deduced.  “How did he react when you told him you were pregnant.”

            “We parted ways before I knew,” Selene confessed.

            “Oh, that explains some things,” Marethari nodded.  “Do you need to collect yourself more before you go in the Fade to retrieve Feynriel?”

            “I’ll be fine,” Selene assured her.  “I’ve been in the Fade more than once.  I hate it, though, so let’s get it over with.  There will be no blood magic here, will there?  I had a friend who once offered to send me into the Fade to save a child possessed by a demon, but his mother would have to give up her life to do it.”  She glanced at Siobhan, who was now awake and staring at Marethari with interest.  She now understood why Isolde had been anxious to give her life for Connor’s.

            “No,” Marethari seemed offended.  “Unlike Merrill, I do not use blood magic or truck with demons.”

            “Good,” Anders muttered.

            Selene nodded.  “So, there was another way to save him.”  That hurt a little.  She’d done what she thought was right, though.

            “You would have had to break the demon’s hold,” Marethari assured her.  “Feynriel is trapped, he isn’t in a demon’s grip, thank the Creators.”

            There was a knock and then Isabela walked in.  “What did I miss?”

            “Nothing,” Raven assured her.

            “King Alistair is coming to Kirkwall,” Morrigan informed her.

            Isabela looked to Selene.  “Well, shit.”

            “Does everyone else know about this mysterious noble except me?”  Raven demanded to know.

            “Let’s go to the Peacock’s Rest tonight,” Selene suggested.  “When someone is singing loudly, I’ll tell you my big secret.  Not right now, though.”

            “Perhaps Meredith will sing to Elthina again,” Varric hoped.  “Apparently I missed a lot in the Deep Roads.”

            “I am sending you in.”  Marethari told Raven and those going in with her.  They were now all laying on the floor.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to come in with us Anders?”  Raven flashed him a cocquetish smile.

            “No, I… I will go in if you have problems, but…”  He stumbled.  “My… condition… makes going into the Fade a bad idea.”

            “Going inot the Fade is always a bad idea,” Selene asserted.  “I hate the Fade.”

            “But your experience in it makes you the best choice,” Raven insisted.

            “Just promise me there will be no darkspawn or chantry sisters with shivs,” Selene pleaded.

            “What happened to you?”  Marethari’s question came with a half laugh.

            “I’ll visit the elves and tell you,” Selene promised.  “The story is too long for now.”

            “She encountered a Sloth Demon in Kinloch Hold,” Morrigan answered for her.

            “Oh, this does sound like quite the story,” Marethari agreed.  “Let us get started.  We will use Feynriel’s childhood home as a focus to draw him back from the Veil.”

            “Just send us in!”  Raven encouraged.

            “I told you she was amazing,” Arianni told Marethari.

            “Yes, still, I hope you chose carefully Hawke, for all will face temptation,” Marethari warned.

            “I never give into temptation,” there was pride in Isabela’s voice.

            “You are temptation, Rivani,” Varric disagreed.

            Marethari began to chant.

Chapter Text

Everything around Selene was distorted.  “Yep, this is the Fade,” she remarked.  “At least this time no one is immediately trying to kill me.”

“We’ll encounter demons,” Raven reminded her.  “All six… Anders?”  She turned, sure enough, Anders was standing beside her.  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Anders eyes glowed blue and blue lights seemed to pulse from his skin.  “I had not thought to return in such a way.”  The voice that came out of his mouth wasn’t his own.  “It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, not the empty air of your world.”

“Oh, great,” sarcasm dripped from Raven.  “Justice, I presume.  Don’t get too comfortable.  We’re just here for a visit.  There is no getting homesick allowed.”

“I couldn’t think of a worse thing than being trapped in the Fade forever,” Selene admitted.

“I am Justice,” Justice declared.  “Anders has told you of me.”

“I thought the spirit possessing Wynne must be most burdensome,” Morrigan commented.  “It seems that Anders is straddled with a more pernicious parasite.”

“Wynne gave no indication that her spirit was argumentative and demanded introductions,” Selene agreed.  “She was more… helpful.”

“More helpful, indeed,” Morrigan agreed.

Isabela sidled up to Justice and ran a hand down his chest.  “And what is a big, strong spirit like you doing here in the Fade?”

Raven growled at her.  “Now is not the time.”

“Come,” Justice too the lead.  “I sense Feynriel’s mind straining.  We will not have much time.”

As they continued to walk in a mirror reflection of the Gallows, Justice turned to Selene.  “Anders respects you and is protective of you.  You were imprisoned in the Circle with him.”

“I grew up in Kinloch Hold,” she admitted.  “My leaving was not a pleasant experience.”

“You were falsely accused of using Blood Magic,” Justice had been listening to her conversations with Anders.  “You were recruited into the Grey Wardens to save your life.”

“To postpone my death,” she corrected.  Now was not the time to get into how everything in her life had pivoted and she’d found herself in a struggle to save her world.

“There was no justice in how you were treated,” the spirit continued.  “You had told your Grand Enchanter what was happening.  He told you to stay close to your friend, but when he led you into trouble, he didn’t save you.  He would have let the Templars… do the unpardonable.”

“True,” she confirmed. 

“Yet later, you saved him from angry mages,” Justice continued.  “Letting him die at the hands of those who sought freedom could have been seen as justice.  If he had protected all of you, then the others would not have become so desperate and foolish.”

“They were using Blood Magic and turning people into Abominations!”  Selene clutched her fists.  “If I didn’t bring Irving back, the Templars would have invoked a Rite of Annulment on the Circle!”

“Ah, I see,” Justice nodded.  “No, you couldn’t let them be punished for one fool’s mistakes.”

“Was it not their mistake to let themselves be caged like animals?”  Morrigan argued.

“No,” Justice declared.  “I have Ander’s memories.  He was taken as a small child, too small to fight back yet.  He tried time and again to escape, but they had his phylactery.  They captured him every time.  They thought him some dangerous animal.”

“The man who serves others without thought of himself?”  Raven’s face reddened.  “He heals the wounds of others and delivers babies.”  She waved vaguely at Selene.  “They think he is the dangerous animal?”

“They think we’re all dangerous animals, Raven,” Selene reminded her.  “You were lucky to be spared growing up in the Circles.  Your father was right to fight to keep you from that.  If the Templars were ever to come after Siobhan, I would…”  She trailed off, swallowing hard at just the thought.

“You have friends who will help you protect her.  Were something to happen to you, we would be there to guard her,” Morrigan vowed.

Selene nodded.  “Thank you.  I… Cullen confronted me on the way to the Alienage.  He wanted me to prove I wasn’t an abomination.”

“He what?”  Varric practically growled.

“Don’t worry, Varric,” Selene assured him.  I wasn’t alone and… it seems that most of the Templars are worried you’ll do something horrible to them if they come after Anders or me.  I heard something about never knowing the affections of a woman again and something about lyrium.”

“I think I might arrange a lyrium shortage next week as a reminder,” Varric vowed.  “As for the affections of a woman, it’s merely the false affections of a paid woman.  They’re free to find real love.”

Isabela laughed.  “I don’t think half of them can charm a man or woman into buying them a drink, much less into bed on their own.”

Selene recalled the ex-Templar in training who had managed to charm her.  He didn’t have the suave ways that Isabella liked, no he had been sweetly awkward and shy.  His sense of humor and honor had mixed with those attributes to win her heart.  She reminded herself that he’d then stomped on that heart and she wasn’t thinking about him ever again.  No, she had moved on, Siobhan was now their only connection.

“Have I mentioned how good it is to be in the Fade again?”  Justice did a little dance that was very unJustice like. 

“That’s it, get out of Ander’s body!”  Raven demanded.

Justice ignored her.

“Unless you can step out of Anders and stay behind as he returns to his world,” Selene added.

“One would think I mighty Spirit of Justice could do such a thing,” Morrigan added.

“I am Justice,” the spirit repeated.

“Yes, we already knew that,” Varric pointed out.

As they continued on, Raven found stacks of Barrels that somehow connected to the Fade.  She began playing with them.

“Do you really have time to fool with phantoms?”  Morrigan chastised her.  “There is a life at stake or so I was led to believe.”

“Fine,” Raven turned on her heel and began to continue on.

“There might have been treasure in there,” Isabela objected.

“You can’t take anything physically out of the Fade,” Selene informed her.  “Not unless mages have been lied to for hundreds of years.”

“Enigma, you know that mages have been lied to,” Varric reminded her.  “I bet Andraste didn’t even make the Templars to guard you.”

“Of course, they didn’t,” Raven muttered.  “They just wanted the job.”

“Why haven’t we seen a demon yet?”  Selene looked around nervously.  “I’ve never gone this long in the Fade without being attacked.”

They continued forward.

They entered the courtyard of the Fade and found a shade waiting for them.  It moved towards them.  “Well… it’s rare to see two forgotten magics in one day,” it declared.  It glanced at Selene.  “Or is it three?  Where did you learn something so ancient?  It’s usually a slow place, the Fade, not many surprises.  I wasn’t sure I’d like this one, but it has potential.”

Selene just raised an eyebrow, refusing to answer the creature.  She knew better than to trek with demons.  She’d taunted the last sloth demon she’d fought, but she didn’t want this one to get ideas like the other had; ideas like separating her from her friends.

“A demon of Sloth,” Anders stated the obvious.  “It exists to make men forget their purpose and their pride… do not relax around it.”

“Call me Tarpor,” the Sloth demon introduced himself.  “I have a proposition for you.”  It was addressing Raven.

If there had been a sun in the damnable Fade, Selene would have looked at it.  Had they even made it five minutes before the demon was trying to offer deals?  Did it know Raven had never had to go through a Harrowing?

“I will not give into temptation, fiend!”  Raven declared.

“Have it your way.”  The sloth demon’s tone was even.  Was it trying to get them to fall asleep?  Would it manage to trap them if they fell asleep when they were already in the Fade?  Selene glanced at Morrigan who just shrugged.

Raven’s answer was to blast the creature with an ice bolt.

Selene drew her sword and lunged at the demon.  It didn’t even try to change shape, which was a bit of a disappointment.

Morrigan attacked in bee form, as Isabela and Selene cut into the creature with their blades.

Soon, the creature was dead… or at least it appeared to be. 

Raven led the team back up the stairs towards what would have been the Knight Commander’s offices if they were really in the Gallows.  I glowing sign above the door read Feynriel’s Pride.  That was strange, yet convenient.  There was no telling what one would see in the Fade.

They went through the first door to the offices and then a second, that said door over it.  Did Feynriel become confused when he dreamed?

As they went through the door, Selene realized that she and the rest of Raven’s team disappeared.  Raven turned into Orsino, the local grand enchanter. 

Feynriel was standing beside someone, likely a demon, who looked like the Keeper was introducing him to… someone.  “His features may mark him as human, but in his heart beats the blood of the Dales!”  Feynriel stepped forward.  “He came to us to learn his heritage, to release the power from a lineage as ancient as our race.”

“I…”  Feynriel pinked.  “I don’t know what to say!”

“This is a trick,” the faux Orsino who was Raven declared.

“First Enchanter?”  Feynriel was surprised to see him.  “What are you doing here?  Mother told me that the Dalish are honorable!”  He thought held been betrayed.  Why would the Keeper lie?”

“Why would she entrust her people to a human?”  Raven challenged.

“You are one of us, Feynriel,” the Keeper assured him.  “Your magic will restore our greatness.”

“But…”  Now Feynriel hesitated.  “You told me this magic was outlawed for a reason.  “Even the Dalish don’t practice it anymore.”

“Would the elves trust you with the power to shape reality?”  Raven pressed.

“I…”  Feynriel’s hesitation increased.

“Would you trust yourself?”  Raven asked.

“Don’t listen to him,” the Faux Keeper insisted.  “The Enchanter is trying to keep you from realizing your greatness.”

“Trying to keep me from temptation,” Feynriel decided.  “You’re not the Keeper!”  He turned on the demon.  “Begone fiend!”

The demon held out its hand, even as Feynriel disappeared.  It turned on Raven.  “You!  Why did you interfere?”  There was a flash of light.

Selene and the rest of Hawke’s team appeared and the Faux Keeper changed to reveal a pride demon.  It rose and the sky and then landed, a four-point landing.  It spoke as it straightened, its voice now deep.  “With my power joined to his, Feynriel would have changed the world!”

“Ooops, my bad!”  Raven’s smiled was sardonic.  “Sorry, about that… wait!  No, I’m not!”

            “Those who are free to choose always want power,” the demon insisted.  “Not just you, but your friends as well.  Do you think this dwarf would turn down an opportunity to seize a power unknown to his kind?”

            Varric stepped forward.

            “Don’t listen, dwarf,” Morrigan warned.  “Demons offer wealth and leave you with nothing, but regret.”

            “Varric would never betray me,” Raven was confident of that.

            The demon was not daunted.  “What say you, storyteller?  It’s chaffed, has it not, making your brother the hero of your own tale?

            “A hero?”  Varric guffawed.  “Bartrand betrayed us!”

            “And came away with the treasure of the ages,” the demon added.  “With my aid, you would have emerged with the glory, not tarnished silver and flesh wounds.”

            “That’s what you got?”  Raven laughed.  “Join me, and you too can be a backstabbing bastard?”

            “I always wanted to wipe that smirk off his face,” Varric admitted.  “Let’s do this nice and formal, then.”

            “Varric?”  Raven sounded as if he’d just kicked her mabari puppy.

            “Oh, shit,” Selene drew her sword.  Her friends might have been fooled by demons, but not a one of them had ever turned on her in the Fade.

            “The dwarf makes Leliana seem wise and strong willed,” Morrigan tskd.

            “Fool!”  Justice declared.

            Varric unholstered Bianca and turned her on his best friend.  Raven had already thrown a fireball at him, that threw him against the far wall.

            “Take the pride demon!”  Selene instructed.  “I’ll take care of Varric.”

            Raven began raining fireball hail on the demon.  “That was my best friend, you bastard!”  She shouted it as she followed the fire with ice.

            “You don’t turn on your friends for glory!”  Selene struck Varric with lightning.  “Now I’m worried that I told you my secrets!”  She hit him again.

            Morrigan just stood and watched. 

            “Aren’t you going to help?”  Justice demanded.

            “No,” Morrigan admitted.  “Selene can easily take him.  “It will teach her to spill her secrets.”

            “You want to be a backstabbing bastard?”  Selene didn’t use her sword, but let her anger fuel her magic.  She hadn’t noticed that she had summoned a storm that struck both elf and the remains of the pride demon.  “Do you want to be like Loghain!”  Another bolt struck and Varric disappeared.  “Do you want to break the heart of someone you swore you…”

            “He’s gone, Selene,” Morrigan’s voice was gentle.  “Don’t reveal too much in front of the others, especially the demons.”

            Selene nodded.  She hadn’t realized that a friend’s betrayal to someone who had trusted them could set her off so easily.  Perhaps she wasn’t as over certain things as she’d once believed or tried to convince herself of.

            They traveled to the other side of the Gallows where a sign above the doors read Feynriel’s desires.

            Raven opened the door and, once again, Selene and Raven’s other team members became invincible.  Raven herself turned into Feynriel’s mother.  She approached to where Feynriel sat with his father.

            Great, Selene grit her teeth.  Feynriel was dealing with daddy issues and the demons were taking advantage of it.

            “That’s it, Feynriel,” the demon pretending to be the boy’s father praised him.  “Hard on the downstroke and then lift.  Good!  I’ll have you scribing all of my letter soon.  If I’d known you were such a bright lad, I’d have brought you into the business years ago.”

            Selene wondered what letter needed a hard downstroke.  Shouldn’t all of his strokes be equal?  Antivans.  Or rather, demons pretending to be Antivans.

            “Does that mean I can come with you to Antiva, Father?”  Feynriel asked.  “Mother said maybe this summer… right mother?”

            Raven, who was pretending to be Feynriel’s mother wasn’t going to go along with this.  “Your father wanted nothing to do with you.”  She gave him the bitter truth.  “Don’t trust him.”

            The boy turned to the demon pretending to be his father.  “Why are you lying to me?”

            “Don’t listen, son,” the demon insisted.  “She’s always been ashamed of you.  She wanted you gone so she could go back to the Dalish.  I’m the one who loves you.”

            “But… why can’t I remember you?”  Reality began to seep back into Feynriel’s mind.

            “This is a trick, Feynriel,” Raven explained.  “He wants something from you.”

            “Why…”  The boy narrowed his eyes.  “That’s right, I spent my whole childhood waiting for you.”

            “Your mother never allowed…”  The demon began.

            “My mother loves me!”  Feynriel insisted.  “She showed me the letters she wrote you!  You never wrote back.”  More memories messed with the illusion.  “It was mother who taught me how to write, not you!  I’ve never seen you before!  Who are you?”

            The faux father began to glow and his voice deepened.  “Don’t question… me!”  He then turned into a desire demon, a surprise considering the voice had demon when it was being exposed.

            “Aaah!”  Feynriel turned around and ran.

            “You!”  The demon pointed at Raven as she reverted and her friends reappeared.  “You turned him against me.”

            “Yah, you’re a demon.  It’s what I do.”  Raven was very matter of fact about her actions.  “As for you, you were torturing him!  That’s why you have to die.”

            The demon laughed, low and maniacal.  “Take away my pets and I’ll take away yours.  How loyal are these friends you drag into the Fade?”  She turned to Isabela.  “Would your pirate queen stay if the open water beckoned?”

            Shit!  Selene caught Raven’s eyes and shook her head.  Then she made a slashing gesture with her finger near her throat.  Isabela cheated at cards, she wasn’t exactly the type to stand strong against a demon’s temptations.

            The demon slunk to Isabela.  “What do you say, sweetheart?  A two-mast brigantine, square-main topsail…  A hundred well-built lads to answer your every whim.”  Isabela’s eyes sparkled as the demon talked.  “I know you’ve been looking for a stiff masthead.”  The demon groped herself as she said those words.

            “Mmmm….”  Was Isabela’s response.

            “Should I just turn around now, so you can stab me in the back, Isabela?”  Raven’s voice was dry with a mix of disgust.

            “That’s so sweet of you,” Isabela smiled seductively.  “What can I say, I like big boats and I cannot lie.”

            Isabela didn’t see Selene moving behind her.  Selene’s sword swung, decapitating her friend.  Something about the ‘mmmm…’ had reminded her of the time Isabela had tried, unsuccessfully, to seduce Alistair and she found she was still a bit enraged about it still.

            Raven took on the demon immediately, throwing a fireball at it. 

            “Fireballs, excellent!”  Morrigan joined in, even as Justice moved to help.

            The demon didn’t stand a chance.  Raven looked at the pile of ash.  “Is that it?”

            “It’s never that easy,” Selene assured her.

Chapter Text

As Raven’s team, what was left of it, stepped out of the room where they had just defeated a desire demon; they breathed a sigh of relief.

            “That should be it,” Justice declared.  “That should be all of the demons.”

            “Why would that be the case?”  Morrigan wanted to know.

            Sure enough, there was yet another door.  This one said Feynriel’s Anger.  Raven let out a dramatic sigh and kicked the door open.  Feynriel stood on a street.  His mother was beside him, pointing.  “That is your father.  He is a merchant, but he… my love, he didn’t want a child.”

            “It’s because I’m a half elf, isn’t it?”  Feynriel clutched his fists.

            “I…”  His mother closed her eyes.  “I don’t know.  Yes, of course,” her answer changed.  “Wouldn’t it feel good to go and confront him?  Show him that you are stronger than any full human child and more important than his stupid shop.”

            Once again those who remained of Raven’s team had become invisible.  Now Raven became Aveline, something that would no doubt disturb the real Aveline.  “You wouldn’t want to do that,” Raven warned.

            “Why not?”  Feynriel challenged.

            “You would be arrested for disturbing the peace and damaging goods,” Aveline informed him.  “He’s not worth it.  He didn’t reject you for being a half-elf.  He didn’t want any children.  What happened was between him and your mother.  He isn’t worth your anger.  When he learned that you were in trouble last year, he did help.  He helped Hawke and I save you.”

            “He… did?”  Feynriel recalled.

            “No… he… you must show him your wrath!”  The faux mother insisted.  “He must know that he can’t just…”

            “No, he’s not worth it,” Feynriel turned and walked away.

            The faux mother turned on Raven and transformed into a rage demon.  “You have deprived me of my prey.”

            “Did I?”  Raven now looked like herself and taunted.  “That wasn’t my intent… wait, yes, it was!”

            “You may be keeping your anger in check, but what of your friends?”  He taunted.  “Are they so even headed?  There is the spirit of Justice who resides in an angry man, but Justice would never align with rage.  The witch, however, has plenty of anger that she suppresses.  How about it Witch of the Wilds.  You were born to be a mere vessel for your mother, what if…”

            Morrigan raised a hand and flicked her wrist.  “Do not even address me demon.  I do not need your help to deal with my enemies.  I am capable of unleashing my fury without your help.  Do not think you have the power to even face my mother.”  Now she gave a little laugh.  “She taught me not to heed false temptation, even as she taught demons the consequences of daring her anger.  Her wrath would make your own seem a calming brook.”  She then turned into a swarm of bees and attacked the creature.

            As Selene joined the fight, she sent a thank you to the Maker that the demon didn’t realize how much anger she still held in her heart.  Perhaps she held so much that it couldn’t focus on whom to strike at for her.  They turned and continued out again.

            Sure enough, there was another door and not a way out.  This one read More of Feynriel’s Desires.

            “How many demons has he been attracting!”  Raven threw up her hands and then kicked open the door. 

            As they entered the room, Raven’s companions became invisible once again.  For a second time, Raven turned into Feynriel’s mother.

            “Oh, Feynriel!”  The demon was presented as a pretty blonde with a cherubic face and the body a desire demon would envy.  She was obviously, really a desire demon.  “I’m so happy!”  She placed a delicate hand on his chest.  “You are so strong and powerful.  I know you will protect me and provide for our children.  I want many and can’t wait to start making some with you.”  Her body language said she wanted to start immediately.  She leaned slightly into him, arching her back to press her breasts and hips in.

            Raven, as his mother, stepped forward.  “Feynriel, who is this?”

            “Mother, this is Natalia,” he introduced the woman.  “We’re going to be married.”

            “How well do you even know this girl?”  His mother demanded.

            “Don’t listen to her,” Natalia urged.  “She’s just afraid of becoming a grandmother soon.”

            “You’re too young to marry!”  Raven continued.  “And you live with the Dalish.  The Dalish aren’t going to let you just bring her along!  She doesn’t look like she’s done a day of hard work in her life.”

            “You’ll provide for us Feynriel,” the little vamp assured him.  “You’re so big and strong.”

            “You have to control your magic before you start a family,” Raven insisted.

            “I…”  Feynriel looked down at the woman in his arms.  “I do.  I’m not ready for a family yet.  I can’t control my dreams and until I do, I’m a danger.”

            “No!”  Natalia turned into a desire demon.  “You are mine!”

            Feynriel screamed and ran.

            “You!”  The demon turned on Raven, even as Raven and her remaining trio turned back.  “You did this!”

            “I did!”  Raven’s smile was smug.  “No one preys on my friends.  You have no power here.”

“Perhaps not over you.  What about your companions?”  The desire demon turned on the trio.

            “I already told one of your ilk today that I will not barter with your kind,” Morrigan declared.

            “Oh, the witch and the spirit are incorruptible,” the demon agreed.  “I shall not try you, Witch of the Wilds.  What of your friend, though?  The brokenhearted mage.  Would you give up what I offer so easily?  What about it?  The people of Ferelden already love you for saving them.  I can sway the hearts of the banns and remove their prejudices.  You could be their queen and once again rest in the embrace of your handsome prince.”

            To Selene’s shock, she could almost see Alistair in front of her.  Had he always been so handsome?  Would he disappear if she reached out and touched him?

            “Selene!”  She heard Morrigan call to her.

            “You could take your daughter to him and be a family.  There is no reason she should grow up without her father.  She would have the protection of being the princess she already is.  She needs him.  He needs her.  He needs you and you him.  You are a family.  I can repair your family.”

            Her family.  She’d been taken from her parents as a child and never truly had a family since.  She yearned to make one with the man she loved, with Alistair.  She had never admitted to herself how much she missed him.  Her heart urged her to take the offer.  She looked at Raven.

            “I’m your family, cousin!”  Raven reminded her.  “Me, your father, Siobhan.  You aren’t alone!”

            Yet a part of her was still missing and this demon offered to give it back to her.  “I…”

            “Get over the idiot already!”  Morrigan slapped her.  “This demon cannot give you what you want.  He dumped you because you’re a mage, nothing can change that!”

            Selene gasped, her hand lifting to her cheek.  Then tears burst from her and she found herself crying in Morrigan’s arms, while Raven and Justice vanquished the demon.  The demon who had proved to be cleverer than the one she met during her Harrowing.

            They cautiously returned to the Fade’s Gallows’ Courtyard.  Feynriel was standing in the middle.

            “I’m not sure if this is real,” the boy declared.  “If so, it is the second time I owe you my life.  The Fade feels different now.  I see the stitches, the seams holding it together.  I feel I could wake up at any moment.”

            “Marethari said you were a Dreamer,” Raven explained.  “That means you can control the Fade and the dreamers in it.”

            “I see why the Chantry fears us,” Feynriel admitted.  “I’ve heard tales of Magisters who stalked their enemies and used their own dreams to destroy them.  You’re right, I must master it.  I have to find someone to study under.”  He considered his choices for several moments.  “The Dalish do not have what I need.  Perhaps I should go to Tevinter.  If these powers can be trained, it must be there.”  He stopped and thought for several moments.  “My mother would not look kindly on such a journey.”  That didn’t mean he wasn’t going.  “Can you give her my farewell?”

            “May the Maker guide your path, Feynriel,” Raven blessed his journey.

            “Perhaps… there is a way out of this,” Feynriel’s voice was hopeful.  He turned his back, as if he were about to leave and then clenched his fists.  “I can do this.”  Then he lifted his hand and the air around him shimmered.  He disappeared into the shimmer.

            “It’s time to wake up,” Raven declared.

Chapter Text

When Selene opened her eyes, she immediately looked around for her baby.

            Marethari was cradling Siobhan and singing some elven lullaby to her.  “The Keeper looked up at Selene as she stood and approached.  “It looks like mommy’s awake,” she said to the infant.  “I know you were worried about her.  She got out of the Fade that other time, though.”

            “Other time?”  Selene wasn’t sure how much Marethari knew about her previous time in the Fade.  Likely, Raven had mentioned Selene’s claims that she’d been trapped in the Fade before.

            “How many times have you been sent consciously into the Fade?”  Marethari continued to cradle Siobhan for a moment.

            “This was my fourth time,” Selene admitted.  “In many ways it was less harrowing each time, but in others… this was worse.”

            “You resisted the demon’s temptation,” Raven’s voice was gentle, even though the look she shot at Varric and Isabela was not.

            “It was close,” Selene shook her head.  “Closer than it was during my Harrowing.   If it weren’t for that… and Morrigan, I don’t know…”

            “You’re going to tell me about this man who made you so vulnerable, aren’t you?”  Raven pressed.  “We’re cousins.  Families don’t keep secrets from each other, especially secrets that make them so vulnerable.”

            “I…”  Selene gently took Siobhan from Marethari, cuddling her close.  “You’re right.  Just know that there are reasons I’m still keeping these secrets.”  She looked down at her daughter.  She would burn Ferelden to the ground, even though she’d made such effort to save it, rather than let her daughter become a pawn in the games the Fereldan Nobles played.

            “We’re family, you can trust me,” Raven assured her.

            “Gamlen’s family, too,” Selene reminded her.

            “Good point,” Raven conceded.  “Let’s go to dinner and you can tell me all about it.  Anders and Morrigan know, don’t they?  They’ll come with us.”

            Anders had sat up and was shaking his head.  “I know,” he confirmed.  “Did… did I do anything embarrassing as Justice?  I don’t remember anything…”

            “No, you didn’t,” Raven assured him.

            Selene walked to Morrigan.  “Thank you for having my back.”

            “I am not saying I was wrong to leave you the time I did, but you can count on me,” Morrigan insisted.

            “You left me to die that time,” Selene reminded her.  “At least you didn’t try to shank me for a ship.”  She sent Isabela a glare.

            “I… does this mean I’m not getting my ship?”  The possibility was just occurring to Isabela.

            Raven turned to Arianni.  “Feynriel has mastered his powers. 

            “Then he lives!”  Arianni’s relief was palpable.  “You saved him!  I cannot thank you enough!  All hail the mighty Hawke!  Keeper Marethari, may I return with you to the Sunderlands?  I would like to ask my son’s forgiveness.”

            “Of course,” Marethari assured her.  “It was you who chose to stay away.”

            “He is leaving,” Raven warned her.  “He must go elsewhere to train.  There was no one in Kirkwall who could help him, so he is traveling to Tevinter.  He asked me to say goodbye for him.”

            “My son!”  Arianni bemoaned.  “I must find him before he goes.”

            “It is wise for him to seek guidance,” Marethari assured her.  “Kirkwall cannot provide him what he needs.  Speaking of what one needs,” she turned to Selene.  “I have… spoken… to your daughter.”

            “She doesn’t speak yet,” Selene insisted.  “She babbles some.  Hopefully, I will hear her laugh soon.”

            “I speak baby,” Marethari explained.  “Siobhan told me about the time you like Leandra baby sit her for a couple of hours.  She thinks Gamlen is funny.  She also said you talk about her daddy, but she hasn’t met him.  Are you a widow or is he some idiot living in denim?  I believe she meant Denerim.  Her Aunt Morrigan calls him that.”

            Selene glanced at Morrigan who shrugged.  “I didn’t realize she was listening and she is never too young to understand that her father is a fool.”

            Selene let out a groan.  “I’ll come by Sundermount and tell you of him.  However, I must ask that you tell no one.”

            “Of course,” Marethari assured her.

            “Even if Mythal herself walks out of the Fade and asks you about Siobhan, I need you to keeps these secrets to yourself,” Selene insisted.

            Marethari glanced at Selene’s friends.  “I suspect that your secrets aren’t as hidden as you believe.”

            Selene’s lips quirked.  “You might be right about that.”  She just didn’t want the Dalish blabbing to Flemeth.  “I’ll be by to talk to you.”

            “For now, you and I are going to dinner,” Raven declared.  “Anders and Morrigan are coming as well.  Shall we?”

            “Look, Hawke…”  Varric began.  “I know sorry isn’t enough and…”  He stopped and just shook his head.

            “Your friends woke some time ago,” Marethari informed Raven.  She looked to Varric and Isabela.  “No one is immune to a demon’s offer.  You accomplished a miracle with Feynriel.”  She handed something to Raven.  “This book belonged to the last Dreamer of our tribe.  It has a rare magic beyond price.  Please, accept it with my gratitude.”

            They watched as Marethari and Arianni left.

            “Do you want to see the book?”  Raven held the book out to Selene.

            “It’s best I not learn such magic.”  Selene was tempted to do just that.  “There are too many people I might try to kill in their dreams.”

            “You can tell me all about those people while I buy you a drink,” Raven decided.  “Let’s go.”

            They left Isabela and Varric behind.  “I think we’re for the Hanged Man tonight, Rivaini,” Selene heard Varric say.  “We both need to get even drunker than usual.”

            Underneath the harvest moon

Where the ancient shadows will play and hide

With a ghostly tune and the demon's pride

"Stranger" whispered all the town

Has he come to save us from The Dread Wolf's hand?

Leading them away to a foreign land

“This is a rather upbeat tune for such a dark and ominous song,” Morrigan observed.

“It’s about a minstrel,” Selene informed her.

“Is that minstrel Leliana?”  Morrigan wondered.  “She would be up to such mischief.”

“Leliana?” Raven leaned back and watched the singer, even as she spoke to Selene.  “That name sounds familiar.  Do I know her?”

“She helped with Isabela’s little problem,” Selene reminded her.

“Oh, yes,” Raven nodded.  “And does she know the truth about Siobhan’s father?”

“She knows him, yes.”  Selene looked over to where her daughter slept soundly in Ander’s arms.  He claimed she calmed Justice.  Selene wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.

“Tell me about him,” Raven prompted.  “The look on your face when that demon offered to make you three the family you should be… I wouldn’t be surprised, if I had taken Aveline, if a demon offered her Wesley back.  But this… the demon talked as if Siobhan’s father is still alive.”

“As far as I know, he is,” Selene admitted.  “I’m not a widow.  You know how the Chantry feels about mages marrying.  If I’d had Siobhan in a Mage Circle, they would have taken her from me.”

“You would have fled with her,” Anders predicted.

“Yes, I would have,” Selene admitted.  “I would have done everything in my power not to give birth anywhere near a Mage Circle.  I’m surprised more mages haven’t gone crazy when the Templars take their babies.  It was exhausting, but…”

“That’s why you would have fled once you knew you were pregnant,” Anders was certain of it.  “If you had told her father, he would have helped you.”

Raven glanced at him.  “You know who the father is, don’t you?”

“I…”  He sighed and looked down.  “Yes.  I’ve even met him.”

“Is he a Grey Warden?”  That obviously surprised Raven.  She picked up her mug, hiding her expression as she drank.

“Yes, and no,” Selene answered.  “He is technically a Grey Warden, but his duties as King of Ferelden take priority now.”

Raven spit out her ale.  She choked for a minute.  “His duties as… Andraste’s Extended Belly!”  She took another long drink as half the room turned to look at her.  Even the person who was in front of the band, singing, had stopped and stared for a minute.

The singer returned to their song about a minstrel

Hear, listen, can you hear,

The haunting melody surrounding you,

Weaving a magic spell all around you

Selene waited until she was sure half the room had stopped listening to her.  “Yes, he… let me start from the beginning.  I met Alistair Theirin when Duncan took me to Ostagar.”

“Who’s Duncan?”  Raven wanted to know.

Selene closed her eyes.  “Let me go back earlier.  It all started with my Harrowing…”

“You made him King and he dumped you?”  Raven hissed, her voice getting uncomfortably loud again.

“I told you that he is an idiot,” Morrigan helpfully informed her.

“Obviously,” Raven agreed.  She glanced at Anders and her eyes were pleading.  “I… I just don’t understand giving up on love like that.  I don’t think I could.”

Anders looked at her and gave her a gentle smile.

Maker’s Breath, Selene silently cussed.  Her cousin truly loved Anders and he returned her affections.  She wasn’t sure what was going on with Fenris, but she knew that look.  It reminded her too much of how she used to look at Alistair.  Damn him, she kept swearing to herself that she wouldn’t think of him anymore.  It didn’t matter that she was telling her cousin about her past relationship with him.”

“No wonder you don’t want to see him when he comes to Kirkwall… with his… oh.”  Raven finished her drink and motioned for the wench to get her another.

“Selene will not let that fool chase her from the life she made here,” Morrigan declared.  “Nor will she run in the face of the simpering twit he has deigned to raise up to the status of queen.”

Siobhan began to fret and Selene gently took her from Anders.  “No, I won’t.  Although, I will avoid seeing him while he is here.”

“You aren’t going to try and see him?  Has he acknowledged his daughter?”  Raven wanted to know.

“He doesn’t know he has a daughter,” Anders spoke up and earned a glare from Selene.

“It’s best he doesn’t,” Selene insisted.

“But he has a right to…”  Raven trailed off.  “I guess now is not the best time to tell him, but if he knew…”

“What?”  Selene cut her off.  “What would change?  He’s betrothed to marry someone else.  He picked her.  She isn’t a mage.  She’s a noble and the banns accept her.  It was made very clear to me that they wouldn’t accept me.”

“But Siobhan is…”  Raven began again.

“She’s a threat to any children he has with Yen,” Selene cut her off again.  She was pretty sure she had gotten Alistair’s betrothed’s name wrong, but she really didn’t care.

Siobhan began fussing again. 

“Shhh… it’s all right, little one,” Selene assured her.  “I won’t let Gianna near you.”  She rocked her softly, not caring that she’d gotten the other woman’s name wrong again.  “I will make the streets run red with the blood of anyone who threatens you.”

Raven leaned her head on Anders.  “What is it with Fereldan mages and their vows of blood?”

“We’re a passionate people,” Anders kissed the top of her head.

Selene’s eyebrows raised.  She doubted Anders had even realized what he’d just done.  She turned back to her baby and began gently singing to her.

Lay a flower

On my pillow

Leave the blight frost

On the ground

I wake up lonely

There's air of silence

In the bedchamber

And all around

She didn’t notice that the Peacock’s Rest had become silent again.  Nor did she notice at first, when the band began to accompany her, playing softly.  Siobhan’s eyes had begun to drift close by the time she realized they were playing with her.

It must have been love

But it’s over now

The wench set a bottle down beside her along with a fine bottle of wine and glasses.  “The owner just stopped by and left these for your table, along with a message that he’s sorry and wasn’t really trying to kill you.  I’m not sure what he was talking about.”

Selene just shook her head.  She shouldn’t be surprised that Varric owned the Peacock’s Rest, she suspected that he owned half of Kirkwall.

Raven’s head stayed on Ander’s shoulder and Morrigan reached for the bottle and a glass.

Chapter Text

Alistair stared out at the Waking Sea.  He was going to go on his nightly walk with Gwen soon, but something in the water was calling to him.  Or was it across the water?  Perhaps he was just feeling melancholy, but there was no denying the pull he was feeling.  Perhaps he wanted to escape his duties.

            Eamon had shown up just that morning, with Isolde on his arm.  He arranged for Fergus to take over as the King’s Steward while they were in the Free Marches.  Eamon explained that Isolde had never been to the Free Marches and wanted to come.

            That’s when Bel had sent him a significant glance.  Alistair understood it.  It seemed Bel knew of his trouble with Isolde.  He didn’t stop them, though.  He’d put up with Isolde for his own selfish reason, if Eamon was with his entourage, they’d have to push the wedding back further and Eamon would stop planning it for him.  Plus, it would give Gwen time to plan the wedding she wanted.  Shouldn’t his bride have that privilege?

            Gwen had been anxious to see her parents, who would join them in Ostwick, so they’d stayed in Highever for an extra week as they changed their tour.  The logistics weren’t easy, but it wasn’t a time to start a fight with his future in-laws.

            Yet, as he stared out at the water, he wanted to tell them all to consign themselves to the Abyss and find whatever seemed to be calling to him.  It seemed to whisper of family, home, and serenity; it promised a peace he’d somehow lost.  As he closed his eyes, he almost swore he heard music on the horizon, whispering to him.  There were words of loss and yearning, words that spoke to the pain in his heart that he tried to keep buried. 

            “How are thing’s going?” Bel stepped behind him.

            “I’ve been trying to think of myself more often,” Alistair assured him.

            “Have you?”  Bel was doubtful.  “No disrespect, Your Majesty, but it doesn’t look that way to me.”

            “Please, just call me Alistair.”  If his friend wouldn’t, who would?  “I’m choosing my battles for now.  It doesn’t hurt to switch around our agenda for the Free Marches.”

            “What about Arl Eamon and Lady Isolde?”  Bel pressed.  “You can’t want her on this trip.  She’s been here less than a week and I am thinking of a variety of evil things that I want to do to her.”

            “I know,” Alistair sighed.  “But she demands all of Eamon’s attention, so he can’t continue to try and plan my wedding if she’s with him.”

            “Do you not want to get married?”  This was apparently news to Bel.

            “Yes, Alistair,” came a familiar, but unexpected voice.  “Do you not want to marry Gwen?”

            At least she called him by his name.  “Leliana,” he greeted her.  “What are you doing here?”

            “The Chantry sent me as a representative for their interests in your ‘royal marriage’,” she explained.  “Beatrice wants you to know you have her support.”  Then she added in soft mutter.  “You don’t have mine.”

            Bel’s eyes widened.  “Did you just…”

            “Bel Cousland,” she extended a hand.  “I’m Leliana.  I’m also the best friend of the woman he threw over because the Chantry and the Bannorn has an irrational fear of mages.”

            “The mage he…”  Bel trailed off and eyed his king for a moment.  “Who?”

            “Oh, you don’t know?  I guess it would hurt Gwen’s precious feelings if he spoke about her,” Leliana snarked.  “Although, it likely won’t be like the time he ripped out my best friend’s heart and stomped on it.”

            “Leliana!”  Alistair’s voice was sharp; not because she was wrong, but because the memory hurt.

            “Anyway, the Chantry sent me.  So, we’re going to Kirkwall?”  Alistair noted a strange hitch in Leliana’s voice when she said Kirkwall.  He hadn’t known her to have any association with the city.

            “We’re now going to Ostwick first, but Kirkwall is still on our agenda,” he answered.  “There are a lot of Fereldan Refugees there.”

            “I’ve heard,” she confirmed.  “Are you sure you don’t want to go there first?”  She pushed.  “There are more Fereldans there than in Ostwick.  Even Tantervale has more.”

            “We’ll get there eventually,” Alistair assured her.  “Gwen is homesick.”

            “Good, you can take her to Ostwick and leave her there,” Leliana suggested.

            Bel laughed, but Alistair didn’t.  “We’re bringing her parents back with us.”

            “Oh, great, the in-laws,” Leliana grumbled. 

            “If he wants them with us,” Bel shrugged.

            “If who wants who?”  Gwen stepped up to the group.  She stepped up beside Alistair and slipped her arm through his.  “Are you ready for moonlit walk, darling?”

            He smiled at her.  “Of course, let’s go.”  He turned right before an arrow flew by his shoulder.  Behind them, someone screamed and a figure fell from the castle walls.

            “I should see what that’s about,” Bel turned and hurried.

            Leliana made a disgusted sound that Morrigan would envy and followed.

Chapter Text

Killsin had a headache.  Running a cult was not easy.  Silence had been screaming at her husband, Devotion all day.  Killsin suspected that she’d learned of his fling with Chastity.

            Now he was listening to Forsaken and Humility argue about who was bringing food to the next choir performance.  He wasn’t even sure why the Disciple’s choir was having a performance.  He had yet to find Urthemiel’s new form and the Warden King was off touring without even a paper cut to show for his assassin’s efforts.

            “We need an apple dish,” Humility insisted.  “I’m the one who knows about food.”

            “Sure, you do,” Forsaken rolled her eyes.

            The doors opened and Perseverance walked in.  “I have come baring news.”

  Killsin rubbed his temples.  “Aren’t you supposed to be undercover somewhere?”

“I couldn’t trust this to anyone else,” Perseverance insisted.  “I have found the vessel of Urthemiel, I’m sure of it.  Not only is the witch there, but the men we keep sending in are getting themselves killed by her and her friends.  We need bigger forces, more warriors.”

“Our warriors are spread out,” Humility reminded him.  “We can’t chance your being wrong and the child going undetected.”

“The witch, Morrigan, has a Grey Warden friend in the city,” Perseverance revealed.  “A friend with a baby who is of the right age.  It’s… a girl… though.”

“Then it isn’t the Chosen One,” Forsaken declared.

“One of the Templars revealed that the mother was a Grey Warden,” Perseverance insisted.

“There were only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden when the Great One was killed,” Replenish spoke up.  “One was the king and the other one died.  Ferelden’s Purported Hero isn’t some woman with a baby.”

Killsin leaned back.  “The seers didn’t say the Great One’s murderer had died.  Are you sure, Perseverance?”

“Pretty mu… yes, I am,” Perseverance insisted.  “The babe is in that Gods’ Forsaken Shithole you sent me to.”

Killsin straightened.  “Excellent.  I’ll get you what you need.”

“For one thing, I need more men,” Perseverance sighed.  “We keep losing groups to bandits, thieves, and gangs who roam the streets at night.  That doesn’t count the ones we’ve lost when trying to get near the baby.  Have I mentioned that city is a shithole?”

Chapter Text

“Where is Siobhan?”  Anders looked over at Selene as they rode along with coast.  “And why are you in such a good mood?”

“Al… The Ferelden King delayed his trip to Kirkwall,” she revealed.  “Poor Lirene is afraid he won’t come at all.  It was something about his blushing bride’s parents wanting to see their little simpering sow as soon as possible.  No doubt Yennifer’s parents want to gush about her landing the hand of the King of Ferelden.”

“A hand that should have been yours, should it not have gone with his heart?”  Ander’s pointed out.  “Isn’t the blushing bride’s name Gwendolyn… I don’t think Yennifer is right.”

“From the rumors swirling around all of Thedas, it did.”  Selene looked stoically forward as her horse trotted along the coast.  Then she forced a smile.  “I don’t have to see them now.  Well, Lirene is still determined to have a party when they do finally show up, but who knows when that will be.  I doubt it will happen.  I’m sure Glen’s parents will want them to spend all the time they’d planned to tour the Free Marches with them.  Oh, well.  I’m sure Al… her be…”  She chocked on that.  “The King will regret not seeing the refugees, but Eamon will explain why he did the right thing.  Eamon always determines what Al… the king decides is right and wrong.  Maker, he needs to stand up for himself.  I couldn’t get him to stand up for me, but… I don’t like the hold Eamon has on him.”

“You can’t fight Eamon from Kirkwall,” Anders pointed out.

“I…”  She closed her eyes.  Anders was a good friend, one who might know her better than herself.  “And you can’t let Justice keep you away from Hawke,” she countered, hoping to change the subject.

“What… I…”  Anders blinked at her.  “Raven… Hawke… and I…”  He trailed off when his horse neighed, as if laughing at him.

“Anders, as much as I care for you and would have loved to…”  She trailed off.  “I would have loved to have you help me prove I’m over… someone. I’ve realized that your heart belongs to someone else, someone who feels the same way.  She won’t suddenly throw you away because another tells her to.”

“I wish that were true, but I’m afraid she’s in love with Fenris,” Anders admitted.  “And you might have moved on from someone, but you may never be over him.”

“Like you will never be over Raven?”  She challenged, keeping the conversation away from her own feelings.  “I don’t think she’s in love with Fenris.  He hates mages and she’s a mage.”

“I’ve seen the way they look at each other,” he insisted.  “I’m surprised he hasn’t already dragged her to his bed like a barbarian.”

“The only reason she would go is because you keep telling her that you can’t be together and will only hurt her in the long run,” she turned her horse so she could give him a stern look.  “Tell Justice to shut up and go fight for the woman you do love.”

“So, where is Siobhan,” he tried to change the subject. 

“Are you saying my baby is the woman you love or are you changing the topic.”  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m changing the topic,” he admitted.

“She’s at home with my father,” Selene explained, letting him change the subject from her cousin.  “Morrigan let slip that the cultists tried to get to her last night again.  He insisted he keep her at home during our riding lessons.”

“Perhaps you should write to her father and seek his help against these cultists,” Anders suggested. 

“That would mean the Grey Wardens would know where both of us are,” she reminded him.

“Then you can just start defending us against them,” he suggested.  “We’ll have Hawke, and out other friends, help.”

“They’re tougher than cultists,” she insisted.

“They aren’t as persistent, though,” he countered.  “Let’s go back to our horse master and learn more tricks, in case we do need to flee.”

“You won’t leave without Raven,” she was sure of that.

“I will if that’s what she wants,” he insisted.  “Especially since she’s with that broody elf.”

Chapter Text

It’s not the sounds I long to hear from you

I want you to tell me

But not in that way, oh if you knew

It would be so easy to show me how you feel

Use more than words and your love to make it real

Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me

For I'd already know

Alistair stared at the minstrel.  His tune was smooth and the words were soft, but Alistair didn’t like those words.  The singer was telling the person he was singing to, the supposed object of his affections, that they had to… caboodle… with him to prove their love.  He turned to Gwen.  “Is this minstrel part of your household?”

“Yes, he’s been with us for over ten years,” she enlightened him.  “He… well, he’s the reason I have my own personal guard.  I think he wrote this song for me years ago.  I… I’ll tell you about it someday.”

Alistair wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the story, but she would be his wife.  He would just have to keep his eye on any randy minstrels.  He looked to her parents.  Her mother was leaning forward, her eyes glued to the minstrel.  There was no doubt who would be showing ‘more than words’ that night.  Poor Gwen and Gwen’s father.

Gwen’s father was talking to his friends, laughing.  He’s already heard him bragging about his little girl bagging a king.  He guessed every father had the right to want to be pleased with their daughter’s marriage choice.  Including the fathers of mages, a voice whispered.  Alistair closed his eyes.  He wasn’t in a position at the moment to fight the Chantry for mage rights.  He found he was getting a headache.

“Do you want to get out of here?”  Bel suggested.

“Yes,” Alistair whispered.  “I’m sure we can throw on some cloaks and find a nice tavern around here.”

“Oh, I meant out of Ostwick, but a local tavern would do,” Bel decided.

“Do you mean go on to Tanvtervale already?”  Alistair questioned.  “But Gwen is enjoying her time with her parents and being home.  I can’t just pull her away already.”

“No, I mean you and me just go,” Bel hissed.  “Look, you already changed your dates and inconvenienced the Fereldan Refugees in Kirkwall.  Why don’t we go there until everyone else catches up with us?” 

“What about Tantervale?”  Alistair reminded him.

Bel shook his head.  “It won’t give us enough time away from the rest of the nobles who are just here to suck up to you and Gwen.  Besides, she’s going to bring those parents of hers with her.  Do you know that both her mother and father have hit on me?”

He had a very good point.  Alistair wanted to be a king; he’d realized that lately.  There was a lot he could do for is people and the alternatives were… unacceptable.  He also realized that Eamon had become very controlling of him… had been all along.  He could thank Bel for pointing that out.  He had even developed a signal to tell him when Eamon was acting as if he were a puppet master trying to control the king.  Those were his words.  Alistair glanced over to where Eamon and Isolde were snuggling up to Gwen’s father.  “Let’s go.”

As they stood, a voice interrupted them.  “Where do you think you’re going?”  Leliana stood behind them.

“We’re…”  Alistair hesitated.  “We’re going to find a tavern.”

“A tavern in Kirkwall?”  She challenged.

“Are you going to tell on us?”  Bel challenged.

“No, I’m going with you,” she informed them.  “Don’t forget the dogs.”

Alistair still couldn’t believe he’d snuck out of Ostwick with Bel and Leliana three days before.  He’d left a note for Gwen explaining that he and Bel were taking care of important Ferelden business that couldn’t wait.  He didn’t add that Leliana had gone with him.

He wasn’t sure why, but Gwen had grown jealous of Leliana after they had left Highever.  He had asked Gwen what was bothering her, but she refused to tell him.  The last thing he wanted was his betrothed getting jealous for no reason.  He had chosen her as his bride, hadn’t he?   He couldn’t think of anything that would change that.

“Here we are,” Bel announced.  They looked at an estate in Hightown that looked like every other estate in Hightown.  It seemed that the architects of Kirkwall had no original ideas.  There was more variety in the docks where they had landed.  Many of the Hightown estates were virtually identical.

The encampment of Qunari at the docks had concerned Alistair.  He wondered why the Viscount hadn’t done anything about it.  After everything Sten had told him about the Qun’s intentions, that large of a group in the city was dangerous.  He’d also heard rumors of Tal Vashoth in the nearby mountains.  He really was worried about the Fereldan Refugees.  The city was dangerous, dirty, and disgusting.  Where was the Chantry?  Why weren’t they helping?

Bel knocked on the door to the estate.  There were a couple of minutes before there was a response.  “Welcome, monsieur,” a dwarf in a livery answered.  “May I help you?”

“I’m Bel Cousland,” Bel introduced himself.  “This is my friend Duncan,” he lied about Alistair’s identity.  “And this is Leliana, she’s a chantry sister who is accompanying us.  We are Fereldan nobles who should have arrived last week, but the king’s betrothed missed her parents and they went to Ostwick first.  We have come ahead to prepare for the king’s visit.”

Alistair stared at the dwarf.  He couldn’t believe his eyes and lost his voice to warn his friend that the dwarf likely recognized him.

“As I live and breathe, it’s the other Grey Warden and the Bard,” Bohdan gasped out.  “I’d heard you were now king and I’m sure your name isn’t Duncan.”

Bel glanced back at him.  “You know each other?”

“He travelled with us during the Blight,” Alistair explained.

“It’s truly a small world,” Bohdan commented.  “I can’t believe that both you and the…”  He stopped trailing off.  “I mean both you and Lady Leliana are here.”  Bohdan’s eyes were already on Leliana when he’d trailed off.  “Come in, I’m sure Mistress Hawke will be happy to see you.  Oh, and you brought Barkspawn.  The War… Apawstate will be happy for the company.  Oh, my stars, two more mabari.  It almost feels like I’m back in Ferelden.”

“Could you tell everyone my name is Duncan?”  Alistair pleaded.  “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“You’re not the only one,” Bohdan muttered, as he stepped aside to let them in.

Leandra, the mistress of the house’s mother was accommodating as they came in.  She quickly prepared their rooms. 

“I’m sorry, we should have sent more warning,” Bel apologized.

“You don’t have to go through any bother,” Alistair practically pleaded with her not to.

“It isn’t like we have the king with us,” Bel added, jovially.  “Now if we had him…”

“Then he would be the at the Viscount’s Keep,” Leliana cut him off.  “Let me help you, Leandra,” she easily moved to Leandra’s side and began helping her.

“At least I knew you were coming, but my daughter’s always off doing who knows what,” Leandra cheerfully told her.  “Just yesterday she was helping a mage who was being hunted.”

“A mage being hunted?”  Leliana’s step faltered.  “Is she alright?”

“Oh, my daughter’s fine and she saved the foolish mage,” Leandra assured her.  “He had messed with the wrong people and was trying to hide in Lowtown.”

“He.”  Leliana noticeably relaxed.  “That’s nice.”

“Do you know a mage in Kirkwall, Leliana?”  Alistair questioned.

“I know many mages,” Leliana pointed out.  “I believe I know one or two who live in Kirkwall.  I may have to pay them a visit while we’re here.”  She set Schmooples cage down and opened it.  Schmooples waddled out and went to stand with Barkspawn and Ser Barker.

Chapter Text

Barkspawn waited as Schmooples was released from her cage that The Friend of Nugs kept him in. The large nug touched his nose and that of Ser Barker, as had become her want during their trip to Kirkwall after sneaking away with Ser Barker’s human and the Smelly King. Barkspawn wasn’t sure why they had left the sad girl who planned to be queen behind, but he was looking forward to new adventures. He moved to settle near the fire, when unfamiliar scents assailed him.

The estate already had a mabari. He could smell her, but she wasn’t at the estate at the moment. He wondered where she was. There were many humans, a couple of dwarves, and some elves who went through regularly. He was having problems distinguishing them from each other. But under it was a scent that was familiar. It was cold, but it still caused a stir in him. He hadn’t smelled the scent in over a year; so, he doubted his own nose. Still, hope stirred. Could his Herb Scented mage have been here? Could she be nearby?

He barked his findings to Ser Barker, but Ser Barker told him he was imagining things. He woofed that Barkspawn missed his Herb Scented Mage so much that part of him would always imagine he smelled her in new places.

He growled back that he hadn’t smelled her since she left Denerim and he knew his mage’s scent. He looked to the Smelly King; did he know? No, it was obvious he didn’t. He curled up and went to sleep

Barkspawn woke too soon. There were voices and the smell of a mage with blood and elfroot mixed in. There was also the smell of a mabari. He lifted his head and saw the a strong, tough mabari bitch. She had a burn on her flank and a cut on her ear.

He jumped to his feet and went to sniff her.  She smelled of fur and battle.  It was heavenly.

“Aveline distinctly asked ‘What about you and Fenris’,” a blonde mage threw up his hands.  He was talking to a darkhaired mage.  Barkspawn was sure they were mages; he could smell their recent spells on them.  The darkhaired mage liked elemental spells, fire and ice.  The blonde was more of a healer.

“Aveline also wanted to send Donnic’s mother wheat and goats as a dowry gift!”  The darkhaired mage pointed out.  “She’s not the best at this relationship thing.”

“Neither are we,” the blonde countered.

Barkspawn woofed at the mabari who had come in with them, asking what was going on.

In barks and woofs, she explained that her mage was in love with the blonde, but thought he had something going on with an herbed scented mage with a puppy of her own.  The puppy’s sire wasn’t with her, though, so the mabari thought she might be searching for a new mate.  She didn’t think so, though.  She cried less now, but she used to cry about her lost mate a lot.  Then she introduced herself as Apawstate; the Hawke Mabari. 

Barkspawn was very interested in the talk about the herb scented mage, but told himself it couldn’t be the same herb scents as his own mage.  He stood, listening to Apawstate’s explanations.

She went on to bark about how her human had been weak one night and bred with the broody elf who both loved and hated her.  He didn’t like mages, but he was in-love with Apawstate’s mage, despite what he wanted.  She loved the Healer Mage, though.  She just thought the Healer Mage was in love with the Herb Scented Mage, who he was sure wasn’t his Herb Scented Mage, that she knew.  She had seen the way the Healer Mage looked at her human, though, and knew he was in-love with her human.  He liked cats more than mabari, though, so she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Soon, Ser Barker joined them.  His human and the Smelly King came out of their rooms with him.  He gave a little woof of welcome to Apawstate.  She sniffed him in formal greeting and decided he was all right.  She warned them that there were mabari who served bad humans in Kirkwall and not all mabari could be trusted.

They stopped barking to each other and listened to the humans.  The Friend of Nugs wanted to go to some seedy tavern called The Hanged Man.  It seemed she’d been in Kirkwall before.  Barkspawn didn’t recall her saying that, but sure enough she and Apawstate’s Human seemed to know each other.  They’d met before, he was sure of it.

The Smelly King wanted to go, but Bel didn’t think it was a good idea to take him there.  That made the Smelly Kin want to go even more.

The Healer Mage said something about a friend planning to go to a snooty place in Hightown, which was closer.  She wanted to meet them and several other friends.  Apawstate’s Mage didn’t like that, the friend was apparently the one she thought the Healer Mage wanted to breed with.

Bel and the Smelly King wanted to meet the friends.  The Friend of Nugs seemed nervous about something, but in the end she agreed.  Schmooples squeaked at them that the secret friend in Kirkwall had something to do with the Smelly King.  She’d told Schmooples about it, but Schmooples thought human problems were silly and hadn’t really paid attention.

Apawstate’s Human knew the owner of the snooty place, so the mabari would be going as well. 

Barkspawn hoped it wasn’t too snooty.

The Peacock’s Rest was a definitely snooty, but the wenches all stopped to pet him, so Barkspawn decided it would do.

There was a stoic woman in Templar clothing standing on a dais, singing badly about being in love and waiting for someone.  She was singing to an older woman in Chantry clothes.  What was going on in Kirkwall’s chantry?

You thrill me, you delight me

You please me, you excite me

You're something I'd been pleading for

I love you; I adore you

I lay my life before you

I'll have you want me more and more

Did the Divine know about this?  Barkspawn wondered, listening to the travesty.  He was pretty sure the Divine would say something about a Templar courting someone in Chantry clothing.

Then Apawstate raised her head and woofed.  She said the cultists were back and her friends had been coming, but the cultists were attacking them.  They were after one of her friend’s puppy.  She looked at the other mabari and Schmooples.  Her friend needed their help.  They had a puppy to protect.

Barkspawn sprang to his feet and followed her out of the door.  Her human and the Healer Mage followed after them. 

There were strange people circling a group.  Their clothes were unusual and they smelled of blood and incense.  He didn’t like them.  Then two things happened at once.  Lightning flashed across the sky and a familiar scent wafted to his nose.  He let out a howl.  It WAS her!  That was the smell of his Herb Scented Mage.  He rushed into the middle of the battle, ready to defend his mage once again.

She was there, in the middle of the group.  There was some sort of basket set behind her and she was expending magic to place a barrier in the basket.  He rushed towards her.

“Apawstate?”  One of the others in his mage’s group recognized his new friend.  “Where’s Hawke?  Wait, did you bring friends?  Is that a nug?”

“We do not need Raven,” another familiar voice declared.  It was the stinky mage!  The one with stinky smalls!  What was she doing here?  Hadn’t she turned into a lapdog and left them?  If she was protecting his Herb Scented Mage and her pup, he supposed he could forgive her enough not to bite her.

“This is turning into a normal Tuesday night for us,” his mage agreed.  She cut one of her attackers down with a sword, even as another was struck by her lightning.  “We’ll deal with this group and still have time to…”  She trailed off and looked straight at him.  “Barkspawn?”

He woofed in greeting, she remembered him.  She recognized him as her mabari immediately.   He sent a howl of thanks to the Maker, whom everyone knew was really a mabari, and then came to her side, ready to defend her.  Behind her a human pup cooed from the basket.  There was something about the scent… a mix of is Herb Scented Mage and the Smelly King.

Schmooples came to them and positioned herself on the other side of the basket, biting the ankle of one of the attackers when they got to close to the barrier protected basket.  Then lightning hit the man.

“More cultists?”  Apawstate’s human sent a fireball at a group of their attackers.

“I don’t know who is tipping them off,” the Herb Scented Mage said.  “But they seem to know their quarry is in Kirkwall.  We may need to find where they’re staying and wipe them out.”

“Bel, Duncan,” Apawstate’s Mage addressed Ser Barker’s Human and the Smelly King.  “You didn’t need to come help.  We have this.  It’s just Kirkwall business.”

The Herb Scented mage sliced off the head of another of her attackers and then turned to see who Apawstate’s Human was talking to.  “Well, shit.”  She seemed frozen for a moment and he wondered what mage the attacker might have among them to do that to her.  Was it some sort of static cage?

One of the attackers moved too close to her and Barkspawn lunged at the woman, ripping out her throat.  He just got his Herb Scented Mage back, no one was going to get through him to harm even a hair on her head.

It wasn’t long before the attackers were all dead.  Ser Barker went running off, around a corner.  He would have to find out, later, what was important.  For now, he turned to The Herb Scented Mage to make sure she was all right.  He sniffed her; he didn’t smell any blood.  She seemed to be all right.  Then he licked her hand.

She gave a watery laugh and knelt down, wrapping her arms around him.  “I missed you, Barkspawn.”

He woofed, asking her if she’d missed him why she left him in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” she seemed to understand him.  “I couldn’t stay and you were in the kennels.  There was no way to get you without alerting the palace.”

“Without alerting me you mean,” the Smelly King was now standing near them.  The Friend of Nugs seemed to have been trying to stop him, but he was obviously determined to make it to his former mate.

“Among others,” the Herb Scented Mage held him a little tighter.

Then a little cry came from the basket behind her and it grew louder.  Her human puppy was demanding her attention.  From the smell Barkspawn was picking up, it smelled as if its clout needed to be changed and cleaned.

“Let’s go,” a dwarf who smelled of ink and oil came to their side.  “I’ll let you change Little Demon in the back.”

The Herb Scented Mage took the human puppy out of the basket and comforted it as the dwarf picked up the basket.  “Thank you, Varric.”

“That’s a baby,” the Smelly King stated the obvious.

“Let me escort you back to the tavern,” one of the Herb Scented Mage’s friends took Alistair’s arm firmly.  She seemed to have some authority and smelled of leather, metal, and marigolds.  “The streets of Kirkwall are not safe for Fereldan Nobles.”

“How did you know we were Fereldan Nobles?”  The Smelly King demanded to know.

“It’s part of my job,” was the answer.

“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Selene,” the Smelly King declared.

“She’ll talk to you if she wants to, but she is going to the same place, so come on,” the Authoritative Redhead led them away.

Ser Barker rushed back to their side as they returned to the tavern.  He reported that a man had been watching them.  He didn’t dress like the cultists, but he smelled like them and he was watching the fight.  Ser Barker was sure he was in cahoots with them.

Barkspawn was going to keep his eye out for this man to return.

Chapter Text

Alistair couldn’t believe his own eyes.  He let Bel and Leliana guide him back into The Peacock’s Rest.  It was her; he was sure of it.  Not even a desire demon could reach that level of… her.  But how?  He’d wanted to embrace her, hold her close and never let go. 

She turned and went into a backroom with the dwarf and the baby.  He called after her, but she wouldn’t even look at him.  Did she plan to run from him again?

“She’ll be here,” the redhead assured him.  “She’s just changing Siobhan’s clout.”

“No, she will not let you drive her from the life she has made here.”  It was Morrigan who spoke.  Alistair and been so busy looking at Selene, that he hadn’t even realized that Morrigan was there, too.  It was some cosmic joke.  The Maker let him look on Selene again, but He threw Morrigan in to punish him as well.

There was one thing that confused him more than anything.  “She has a baby?  When did that happen?”

“She gave birth on Satinalia,” a darkhaired elf announced.  “She went into labor in the middle of the Hanged Man.  It scared Hawke out of her wits, I never thought I’d see her so scared of anything.” 

“Merrill,” Raven’s voice held warning.

Alistair wondered why, but the wondering was fleeting.  There was something else that caught his attention.  On Satinalia, the day he officially became betrothed to Gwen, Selene had given birth.  Why did that make him feel like an ass?  “So, was the father there?”

Anders and Aveline exchanged a look.  “I was there,” Anders announced.  “And Aveline stayed by her side.  That was all she needed.  You seem very interested in the process… Duncan, wasn’t it?  You do remember we’ve met before, don’t you… Duncan.”

“Oh, no, Selene called him Alistair,” Merrill spoke up again.  “She sort of gasped it when she saw you, Duncan Alistair, like she was out of breath fighting the cultists.  It’s funny, that’s the same name that I heard Anders say to Aveline when they were talking about Siobhan’s father and didn’t think I could hear them.”

Aveline was now glaring daggers at Merrill, but said nothing.

“Who is Siobhan?”  Alistair believed he knew, but he needed to hear it.  He knew Eamon would point out that Selene had run off with Zevran, and the elf could easily be the baby’s father.  He never truly believed Selene was the type to just fall for Zevran’s charm, at least he’d always hoped she wasn’t.  She usually just giggled at his attempts at flirting and she didn’t just give her affections freely.  At least she’d resisted all of Daveth’s efforts, as well as Zevran’s when they first met him.

“Siobhan is Selene’s daughter,” Raven answered.  “I guess she really didn’t have any contact with anyone in Ferelden since she came.  Except for Leliana, of course.”  She looked over to Leliana who had been remarkably silent since Selene and Alistair had come face to face.  “You knew she was expecting, why didn’t you come visit sooner?”

“You knew?”  Alistair stood and turned on Leliana, eyes wide and fists clenched.  “You knew she was expecting a baby and you wouldn’t tell me where she was?”

“At her request,” Leliana calmly sipped the wine that now sat before her.  He didn’t remember her ordering a drink, but there it was.

“Do sit down, you idiot,” Morrigan instructed.  “You are attracting attention.  Do not give the Marchers enough gossip to last them until the next Blight.  If you cared where she went or what she did with the rest of her life, then perhaps you should not have tossed her away at some old arl’s whim.  ‘Twas all duty this and the Fereldan People that.  ‘Tis no wonder she decided to raise her child on her own.  I would continue to urge her to do so, if it were not for the cultists determined to seize her daughter for their own nefarious purposes.”

“Those were the people we were fighting,” Aveline finally spoke up.  “Merrill, you and I need to have another chat about discretion.  We may overhear others secrets, but we should not share them with others.”

“The Dalish have no secrets,” Merrill tried to claim. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Morrigan laughed.

“Yes, Alistair, in case you are wondering, you are the father of Siobhan, Selene’s baby,” Leliana finally decided to reveal some of her hand.  “I’m sure Eamon will try to convince you that she and Zevran left together.  I assure you that Zevran has been busy taking lucrative jobs and snuggling Isabela when he has a need.  He has no need to try and seduce Selene.  Not that his isn’t above juggling those willing to fall at his feet on the side.  She was already pregnant when she left Denerim.”

“She was already gravid when she arrived in Denerim to kill the Archdemon,” Morrigan added.  “Although, she did not realize it.  It is why she did not die.  It was nice to see that you were willing to let her die, instead of you,” she directed her ire at Alistair.  “It is such a comfort to know that you would let the woman you proclaimed to love die to save your kingdom, when you could have just done the job yourself.  Such a sign of affection.  ‘Tis a wonder you did not just chuck her at the Archdemon and grab the nearest noble woman, running to the chantry hand in hand.”

“I…”  Alistair didn’t want to try and justify his actions to Morrigan.  “Shut up.”

“She was closer,” Leliana spoke up.  “I was there, Morrigan, you weren’t.  You abandoned us on the eve of battle.  Alistair tried to beat her to the Archdemon.  He may have, they appeared to reach it at the same time.  I was there and I’m not sure who stabbed it first.”

“Tha…”  Alistair began.

But Leliana wasn’t done.  “I agree that Alistair’s been an idiot, but don’t think he would sacrifice Selene,”

“Wait,” Merrill was obviously confused.  “Is your name Alistair or Duncan?  Or is it like Raven Hawke and your name is Duncan Alistair or would it be Alistair Duncan?”

Alistair stood to get the servers.  He needed something strong to drink.

Chapter Text

“Selene!”  Alistair called to her as she followed Varric into the backrooms.  He tried to follow, but Aveline wouldn’t let him. 

Thank the Maker for Aveline.  She would likely fight the king to help her friends.  Donnic was no doubt confused.

“You’ll have to go face him once Little Demon’s clout is changed,” Varric warned.

She laid Siobhan on a table and grabbed a cloth.  “I could sneak out the back door.”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” Varric warned.  “He would send out the entire Fereldan Army to find you again.  That is the king, isn’t it?  King Alistair?  He looks like his sketch.”

“It is,” Selene confirmed.  She bit her lip and stared at the door.  What was she even supposed to say to him?  She wondered if his beloved betrothed was also on the other side of the door.

“Do you want us around you for this or would you like some privacy?”  Varric wanted to know.

She put a clean clout on her daughter and lifted her into her arms. 

Siobhan gurgled at her and shook her fist.

“What about it, Little Demon, do you want to meet your daddy in private or with a bunch of nosy people around who might keep both of us from doing something they might regret later?”  She wasn’t sure what she might do that she would regret later, but she knew it wasn’t a good idea to do whatever it was.  Just as she knew that if she slipped out the door, Alistair would begin hunting her and some of her own friends would help him.  She tried to put on a brave face.  “Let’s go face the music.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me he wasn’t Duncan?”  Raven was demanding Anders tell her, when Selene came back out.  She remembered that Anders had met Alistair before.

            “I…”  Anders stopped when Selene and Varric joined them.

            “What do you mean he isn’t Duncan?”  Merrill was confused, as usual.  “How do you know he isn’t?  Didn’t his friend, Bel, say his name was Duncan?  But your other friends have been calling him Alistair, too.  No one will tell me which is right name.  Are they both his name, like Varric’s name is also Tethras?  I’m trying to figure out what to call him!”

            Selene couldn’t take her eyes off of Alistair as she sat down.  The nervousness and fright were pushed back by… something else…  Maker, had she remembered that his eyes were the color of rich, aged whiskey?  His hair was a little longer, she noted, and blonder.  Why did her heart still flutter, looking at him, after everything he’d done to her?  Those whiskey eyes were looking into hers and she wanted to throw herself into his embrace.  She wanted to yell at him for everything he’d done wrong to her, she wanted to scream at him to give her her heart back, because she realized he still held it.  Maker.  It wasn’t until she was fully sitting that she realized he now had a close-cropped beard.  It made him look more… kingly.  No doubt Eamon or is betrothed had urged him to grow it.  That snapped her back a bit.  His betrothed.  “Is she here, too?”

            “Who?”  Alistair’s voice was as perplexed as ever.  “You have a baby.  You have a baby and no one even told me you were pregnant.”

            “It was none of your business.”  Selene adjusted Siobhan in her arms.  Siobhan seemed very interested in the conversation and was now looking intently up at her mother.  “You made it incredibly clear that you didn’t want me.  You didn’t want a mage complicating your future with your acceptable bride and heirs.  I left.  How could I not?  You throw me over one day and then you pull me close again the next, only to push me away again when your not uncle reminds you that I’m not marriage material because I was born with magic.  I went to find my family and while I was searching, I realized I was pregnant.  We were already out of your life and making my own.  I was don… done with… you.”  Damn!  Her voice was breaking.  Maker, why couldn’t she move on?  “I did find my family.  I don’t need you; Siobhan doesn’t need you.  We’re fine.  Go back to Ferelden.”

            “She’s talking about Arl Eamon, isn’t she?”  Bel spoke up.  He extended a hand to Selene.  “Bel Cousland.  I agree with you about the arl and hope to break his influence over Alistair.”

            Selene found her defenses breached and her heart lightened a little by his smile and the hand he held out.  She reached out one of her own.  “Lady Selene Amell.  I make weapons and other metal products and sell them at my shop in Lowtown.”

            Bel kissed the hand.  “Charmed.”

            “Cousland?”  She recalled hearing about the family.  “As of Highever?  There was recent trouble in Highever, wasn’t there?  I remember hearing about it during the Blight.”

            “There was,” he confirmed.  “It’s a long interesting tale.  I’d be happy to tell you all about it over…”

            “She has reclaimed her family estate her in Hightown,” Anders interrupted.  “And is doing quite well for herself.”  He shot Alistair a look that said she was doing quite well without him.

            “I… I’ve been searching for you, Selene,” Alistair drew her attention back.  “I’ve been worried about you.  I… you were gone and I…”

            Barkspawn lifted his head and whined, backing up Alistair’s despair.

            Selene looked down at her mabari.  “I’m sorry, Barkspawn.  I… there wasn’t time to tell you I was going.  You were moving on with your life with a cute bitch, making puppies together.”  She looked to Alistair and then Selene.  “You were all moving on with your lives.  I needed to do the same.”

            “You think I’ve moved on?”  Alistair’s voice was soft.

            “I’ve heard about your betrothed,” Selene coolly informed him.  At least she tried to keep her voiced cool, she was aware that it wanted to break.  “I’ve even seen the sketch.  I’m sure she will give you acceptable heirs.  Gwanwinn will make you perfectly hap…”  She cut off before her voice cracked.

            “I don’t want…”  Alistair broke off and closed his eyes.  Then he opened them.  “May I hold my daughter?”

            Selene’s breath caught.  Would he try to run with her?  Perhaps try to take her to his betrothed?  No, he would never do something like that, not even if Morrigan had been the child’s mother.  Besides, she and Morrigan could stop him before he got far.  She stood and he did the same.  Then she let him gently take Siobhan.

            Alistair’s breath shook as he pulled the baby close.  He cupped her head in his left hand and supported her with his right.  The pair regarded each other for several moments.

            Sweet Maker, Selene realized her mistake too late.  Seeing Alistair with their daughter in his arms made her heart yearn even more.  She told it to get a grip, she wasn’t going to get back with this man; she couldn’t.  He belonged to someone else now.

            “She has your eyes,” Alistair noted.

            “And your hair,” Selene informed him.  “She also has your smile.  I wonder if it means she will have your sense of humor.”

            “Maker forfend,” Bel shuddered.

            Selene looked over at him.  Bel was grinning at his friend, as if watching his king gently holding a baby delighted him.  Why shouldn’t it delight the nobles?  A King’s Bastard was better than a king with no children at all.  It had saved Ferelden from Loghain.

            Alistair sat down, cradling Siobhan against his shoulder.  “I… I had a right to know Selene.”

            “And I have the right to be treated as the daughter of a minor noble,” she countered.  “I had a right to liberty, to not be locked up for being born with powers that others fear.  I had the right not to be considered unacceptable because I’m a mage.”

            “Here, here!”  Anders raised a fist.

            “You tell him!”  Raven encouraged.

            Siobhan even clenched her fist and thumped it once against her father’s shoulder.  He looked down in her in surprised.  He looked back at her mother.  “I have never…”  He stopped, apparently realizing he had discriminated when he stated that the Fereldan People would never accept her as their queen.

            The servers appeared with their meal, silencing the conversation for a moment.

            When they left, Selene held out her arms for Siobhan.  “I’ll take her so you can eat, Alistair.  I’ll just put her in her basket.”

            “You can’t make her lay there just so we can eat!”  Alistair protested.

            “She likes the basket, Your Highness,” Varric assured him.  “It’s a great basket and she has her rattle and stuffed nug in there.”

            “She’ll let us know if she minds,” Selene added.  She gently took her daughter and laid her down. 

Siobhan reached for her rattle, but then Barkspawn came up and peered down at her.  She cooed and he gave a gentle woof, the pair seemed to soon settle into a lengthy conversation about… something.

The conversation throughout the meal was pleasant enough for the first half.  Alistair and Selene’s companions had noted that the pair had gazed at each other the entire time, but no one was going to tell them.  Not even when Varric began formulating bets and secretly started pools.

Then the group became distracted when Meredith and Elthina did a duet together.  Not even that got the pair to look away from each other.  Not even when they began singing about whether their listener could feel the love tonight and the heat of the wind in the city.

Selene finally turned when Merrill asked her why the others didn’t think the Knight Commander and Grand Enchanter weren’t simply there to talk about Chantry matters.  “Have Isabela explain it,” she suggested.  “She and Zevran are likely passed out drunk at the Hanged Man right now, but she’ll be happy to tell you tomorrow and she’ll probably use props.”

“Oh, all right,” Merrill nodded.

Selene turned back and found herself gazing at Alistair again.  Before she could stop herself, her hand began extending to him.  She drew it back and used it to take a long drink of wine.

She noticed a man step on the dais and speak to the band.  They nodded and he began to sing.

Going back to the fort where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my bed roll I'm not gonna move

Got some words on canvas, got your sketch in my hand

Saying, "If you see this woman can you tell her where I am?"

Some try to hand me money, they don't understand

I'm not begging - I'm just a broken-hearted man

I know it makes no sense but what else can I do?

How can I move on when I'm still in love with you?

Alistair glanced at the man and then took a deep breath, as if he was gaining strength from the singer.  “I will be escorting you home tonight, Selene.”

“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him.

“I’m aware of that,” he assured her.  “That doesn’t mean I don’t need to help protect the woman I love and our daughter.”

That was low.  Selene glowered at him.  “What if I say no?”

“I’ll do it anyway,” he acted as if that was obvious.

“I’m staying with the Amells while the Cultists are after Siobhan,” Morrigan interrupted.  “There is no reason for you to get yourself involved.  They shall be well in my company.”

“She is staying with you?”  Alistair made it clear it was some sort of accusation.  “I am not letting you near Selene and my daughter.  That’s it, I’m moving in with you.”

Selene wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she didn’t like it.  She didn’t want Alistair so close; she’d left for a reason.  Yet she couldn’t deny that she trusted him to protect Siobhan more than she trusted Morrigan.  A small voice asked who she was kidding, she’d missed having Alistair by her side, there wasn’t a day that went by where part of her hadn’t yearned to just see him, to hear his voice, to hear him tell a bad joke.  Sweet Maker, what was she supposed to do?  She wanted to run from and she wanted to jump into his arms at the same time.  It was the thought that he wouldn’t catch her that kept her from doing the latter and the knowledge that he would give chase if she did the former that kept her from doing either.  “I don’t need either of you,” she insisted.  “Siobhan and I will be fine on our own.”

“You’re not on your own anymore,” he insisted.  “I’m here now.  I love you both and I’m not going to abandon you.”

“You already did,” she shot back. 

“You left me!”  He reminded her.  The rise in his voice caused Siobhan to whimper and the diners around them to turn.  He quieted for his daughter.  “In the dead of the night, you left me.”

“No,” she corrected him.  “I left Denerim.  You’d already pushed me away from you.”

“I was wrong,” was all he said.  Then he turned to concentrate on the meal before him.

As they ate, Leliana got up.  She talked to the band and then turned and began to sing.

Here I am, the one that you love

Asking for another day

Understand that I’ve made mistakes

But I love you in so many ways

Selene sighed. She sent a glare at Leliana and the band.  She wasn’t sure if her friend was speaking for Alistair or herself.  She looked over at him.  Dear Maker, he was still the one that she loved and she didn’t like that one bit.

Chapter Text

Selene carried an empty basked home, while surrounded by her own small army.  Barkspawn stayed close to her heals and Alistair didn’t leave her side.  He presently carried Siobhan, cradled against his shoulder as they walked to her estate.

            “It really isn’t far, I can go on my own… or with just Morrigan,” she protested.

            “You were attacked on your way to the tavern, Selene,” Raven pointed out.  “Kirkwall isn’t exactly the safest city in Thedas.  People go to Seheron for a safer place to visit.”

            “I’m not exactly helpless,” Selene protested.  “I have killed an Archdemon, you know.”

            “Technically, we killed an Archdemon,” Alistair pointed out.  “And I’m not leaving your side.”

            She stopped walking again as echoes of anger and grief rose to the surface.  She’d believed that once and then he’d broken her heart.  “Yes, you are.”  Her voice lowered.  “The minute Eamon tells you to.”  The last part was a grumble.

            Yet the way Bel turned and looked at her told her he’d heard.  So, had Alistair who turned, frowning.  She knew that hurt look in his eyes, it cut her a bit.  She reminded herself that he was had thrown her over to marry some Marcher noble the Ferelden People would find acceptable. 

            “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated.

Selene was shocked when they made it to the Amell estate without gaining notice.  If they had, the cultists or bandits had decided that they were too large to bother.

            “I’ll come by the Hawke estate tomorrow,” Alistair told Bel.

            “Oh?”  Selene’s eyes widened.  “Isn’t that where your things are?  Where are you planning to sleep tonight?  Have you missed camping so much that you plan to go camp by the Waking Sea?  I suggest you watch out for Tal-Vashoth if you do.”

            “I’m staying with you,” Alistair still carefully cradled Siobhan, but his stance and face were stubborn.  She’d seen that expression plenty of times.  It was still better than the one he had when he addressed Morrigan.

            “Morrigan is staying in Amell Manor,” Selene informed him.

            “With our baby?”  He turned slightly away, cradling Siobhan gently; as if protecting her from The Witch of the Wilds.  “Then there is no way I am sleeping somewhere else.  She left us before the battle of Denerim and she’s… Morrigan!”  He turned to his friend.  “Bel, gather our things, we’re staying with Selene now.”

            “You can’t just invite yourself to stay in my home!”  She protested.   She’d never seen Alistair so assertive and was shocked to realize how much she liked it.  Too bad he hadn’t fought this hard for what he wanted after the Landsmeet. 

            “I can have Bohdan bring your stuff over,” Raven offered.

            Selene glared at her for a minute.  She looked to Aveline who just shrugged and shook her head.

            “As your friend, I’m telling you to let them stay,” Aveline advised her.  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know I would give anything for another day with my father.  Alistair and Siobhan have just found each other, don’t separate them before you have to.”

            “Have to?”  Alistair cuddled his daughter.  “There’s no reason Selene and Siobhan should stay here.”  He looked intently at Selene.  “I want you to come back to Denerim.”

            Selene had been considering doing just that, but there was no reason for Alistair to know that.  “I have a business here and friends.  Moreover, I have family.”

            “You have friends and family in Ferelden,” Alistair objected.

            “Do I?”  She challenged.  She looked to Leliana.  “The woman I thought was my best friend ran off for the first job the Chantry gave her.”  Not to mention not keeping Alistair from finding her.  To be fair, she’d only asked her not to tell anyone where she was, but that was besides the point at the moment.  “Wynne cares more for duty than friendship or love.  She’s probably with your betrothed even now, reminding her of what her duties to the Ferelden people will be the moment you marry her.  Zevran spends more time in Kirkwall than Ferelden and Morrigan is off having fun exploring Thedas… when she isn’t here, helping me protect my daughter.  It’s not like I’ve really ever had a home there, either.  It’s rare for a mage to have a home.  The Mage Circles aren’t homes, they’re prisons.”

            “What about me,” his voice was soft, she could hear the hurt.  “Aren’t we friends?”

            She let out a bitter laugh.  “We were once.  How could we not be, when it was you and I against the world?  We lost it, though; we ruined it.  You told me… you lied and said you loved me… to get me into bed, apparently.  Siobhan’s proof I fell for the lie.  Then when you were done, you tossed me away; stating that I was not an acceptable queen and you had to be faithful to your future queen.”

            She stopped when Bel groaned and put a hand over his eyes.

            “I have never lied to you,” Alistair insisted.  “I do love you, more than anything.  I told you the truth then about how I felt… feel.  Maker’s Breath, I still love you!”  The last part was a shout and resulted in Selene’s friends staring at him with a mix of emotions and expressions.  Even some of Selene’s neighbors were now watching.

            She just shook her head.  “Let’s take this inside.”  She walked into the Amell Estate and wasn’t particularly surprised when everyone followed her in.

            Lord Amell was sitting in the parlor with Leandra and Bohdan when Selene walked in.  He glanced up at her.  “Good evening, Darling.  How was your night?  Did you have problems with the Cultists again?”  He glanced back at Leandra.  “She doesn’t want me to know that there’s some cult after our little Siobhan.”

            Selene stared at Bohdan for a moment.  “Bohdan, what brings you here?”

            “I wanted you to know that…”  He stopped and looked past her shoulder.  “Oh, you know he’s in Kirkwall.”

            Selene glanced behind her and saw Alistair.  The man in question was looking around.  “It’s nice.  Personable,” he declared.  “I’d heard rumors that it was haunted.  I asked when someone in passing mentioned the Amell Estate.  I didn’t think to find my Amell here.”

            “I’m not…”  She stopped.  She was, she just didn’t want him to know that.  She tried to tell herself that given more time, she could get over him.  Perhaps she could have if she hadn’t come face to face with him again.

            “Leliana is that you?”  Lord Amell stood.  “It took you long enough to find the time to visit us again.  I thought you would have come for Siobhan’s birth.”

            “I was busy,” Leliana claimed. 

            “You know Leliana?”  Leandra became animated.  “She is staying with my Raven.  She and her friends, Bel Cousland and Duncan…”  She looked over at Alistair.  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your last name.”

            “I probably didn’t say it,” Bel smoothed.  “It’s Duncan…”

            “Your name isn’t Duncan,” Lord Amell cut him off.  “There is no way Selene would let a stranger hold Siobhan and I’ve seen sketches of you, Your Majesty.  I made a point of it when I began to suspect your connection to my granddaughter.”

            “Majesty?”  Leandra’s eyes widened.  “The Ki… the King of Ferelden is staying in my home?”

            “Actually, Lady Hawke,” Alistair fidgeted.

            “We’ll be staying with the Amells,” Bel said for him.  “The lovely Lady Selene and her adorable daughter, Siobhan, were attacked by crazed cultists earlier this evening.  We worry about her and the Little Heir, so we shall stay close to protect Ferelden’s Hero and Princess.”

            “Ferelden’s Hero and Princess?”  Leandra was becoming confused.

            “So, I don’t need to ask His Majesty of my suspicions are true,” Lord Amell eyed Alistair consideringly.  “That doesn’t mean I don’t have a hundred other questions.”

            Alistair looked down at Siobhan who regarded him with a steady gaze.  “I’ve always known Selene was a hero.”  He didn’t look at Lord Amell or Selene.  “I only learned of Siobhan’s existence tonight.”

            “Why does that…”  Leandra stopped.  “Oh.  I thought you were a widow, Selene.”

            “Mages aren’t allowed to wed and Grey Wardens are discouraged from doing so,” Selene answered.  “Like the man your daughter doesn’t want to admit she’s in love with, I’m in hiding from both.  I have begun making a normal life, but Siobhan comes from my life before that.”

            “Hey,” Raven’s face reddened, but Anders was smiling at her.

            “I’ll help get the room ready,” Bohdan stood.

            “Good,” Lord Amell nodded.  “You may stay here, Your Majesty, in exchange for answering my questions.  This will take some time; you might want to hand Siobhan to her mother and pour yourself a drink.  I don’t care if you’re a king.  I don’t pour drinks for men who sleep with one of my daughters and then abandons them.”

            “She left me,” Alistair protested.  Still, he let Selene take Siobhan from him and went to pour his own drink.

            “Everyone else go on with your lives, I believe this is between Alistair and I,” Lord Amell’s tone was commanding, reminding them that he had been raised as a noble; even if he preferred to spend time in his lab with his alchemy.

            “Dad,” Selene protested.

            “You’re not winning this one, my little one,” Lord Amell warned her.   

No, she wasn’t. Siobhan gripped her clothing and gave a little cry, one that threatened to become much more vocal, reminding her mother that it was time to feed her.  She sighed in defeat and took Siobhan to the nursery.  Barkspawn followed closely behind her.  Part of her wanted to hear what her father was going to ask Alistair, the rest of her didn’t.

Chapter Text

Sometimes the right path is picked, but there is a giant in the way of the path.  Alistair told himself this as he faced Selene’s father.  At least he was the man who had been introduced as Selene’s father, but she’d never mentioned him before.  Where had this man come from?  Why did Selene trust him so much?  “Are you really Selene’s father?”  He hadn’t realized he’d spoken until the words came out. 

Lord Amell laughed.  “Yes, I am.  Sit down, Young Theirin.  I didn’t know your father, but the moment I learned he had a bastard son, I wondered how he could send his child away?  That was before the Templars started dragging my children away, I couldn’t imagine just sending one of them away.  Even if you were considered a threat to Cailan’s rule, which you weren’t, how could he just send you away?”

“I…”  Alistair had not been expecting that question.  “He thought he was doing what was best.”

“Now that you know you’re a father, do you agree with him?”  Lord Amell pressed.

Alistair thought about the question and the ones he’d had for his own father.  His father hadn’t completely ignored him, but he wasn’t exactly in his life either.  Could he accept such a relationship with Siobhan?  Even before he’d held her in his arms, he’d known the answer had been no.  “I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t have any bastards,” he found himself admitting.  “I… it was horrible, being a royal bastard.  I’ve told Selene what it was like during my training to be a Templar.  The nobles looked down on me for being a bastard and the commoners thought I put on airs.  I just… I just wanted to be me.”

“So, you regret having created Siobhan,” Lord Amell deduced.

“No!”  Alistair quickly assured him.  “I… I could never regret… I… if things had been different… in another life, in another world, Selene and I might have married and had a whole brew of children.  I didn’t think it was possible for Grey Wardens to have children together.  Those Wardens I knew who had children had them before they became Grey Wardens.”

“It’s not like they could have a family with them in those forts,” Amell pointed out.  “I’m sure the Wardens would be thrilled to be responsible for civilians and children as they fought off darkspawn.  They seem like such an understanding order, I’m sure that’s why Selene and Anders both fled them.”

“They are wonderful, I was lucky that Duncan recruited me,” Alistair insisted.

“What would you be if he hadn’t?”  Lord Amell wondered.

“A very unhappy Templar,” Alistair decided.  “Duncan recruited me before I took my vows.”

“A Templar?”  Lord Amell leaned forward.  “My daughter shot twixt wind and water with a baby stealer?”

“No!”  Alistair’s eyes widened.  “We… she… Duncan saved me from that.  Baby stealer?”

“They took every single one of my children,” Lord Amell revealed.  “If you two don’t protect her, they’ll come for Siobhan one day.  She’s a mage, Your Highness.  She hasn’t shown her magic yet, but I have no doubts nor does my daughter.  All of my children had magic.  Selene’s cousin, Raven, is a mage; as was her younger sister.  Carver is the exception in the family, not the rule.”

“Who is Carver?”  Alistair wondered.

“Another of Leandra’s children,” Lord Amell answered.  “Leandra and Revka, my wife, were cousins.”

“Where is Revka now?”  Alistair wanted to know.

Lord Amell shook his head.  “I’ll have to trust you a lot more than I do now to tell you that story.  But I do want your whole story.  We might as well start from the beginning.”

“As I said, Duncan recruited me from the Chantry,” Alistair decided that’s where his story began.

“No,” Lord Amell shook his head.  “I mean the very beginning.  I heard that you grew up in Redcliffe.”

“How do you know that?”  Alistair didn’t think his entire life story was common knowledge.  If it was, why would Lord Amell be asking him.

“I realized you were Siobhan’s father months ago,” Lord Amell admitted.  “Well, I strongly suspected.  Selene has a room down in the cellars where she does target practice.  Pictures of yourself, as well as those of your betrothed, have had many fireballs and lightning bolts hurled at them.  Then there’s the fact that she won’t even say your name.”

“She won’t say my name?”  Alistair found himself pouting at that.  Was she trying to forget him?  Of course, she was.  Hadn’t he tried to put her out of his mind many times?  What had he expected her to do after he’d broken with her?  Pine for him forever?  He didn’t want her unhappy.  Was he still making her unhappy?

“No,” Lord Amell revealed.  “That’s one of the reasons we’re speaking now.  I admit that I have studied you as much as possible, but I want to know who you truly are.  So, I want to know everything.  Why were you taken to Redcliffe as an infant?  Who took you there?”

“I don’t know who took me there,” Alistair admitted.  “The Guerrins are the family of Queen Rowen, that’s why they were trusted.  I was born there or so I was told…”  He began his story.

“Wait,” Lord Amell stopped Alistair during his story.  “You were thrown out of your room at Redcliffe Castle and made to sleep in the kennels?”

“Yes,” Alistair admitted.  “You must understand that Lady Isolde wondered if the rumors that Eamon was my father were true.  She was terribly jealous of me and Eamon wanted the woman he loved to be happy.”

“But he doesn’t care if the woman you love is happy,” Amell pointed out.  “And, no, I don’t have to understand.  You were a child, no child deserves to be treated like that, even if you were Eamon’s bastard her treatment of you is inexcusable.  If you were Eamon’s, his failure to protect you would just make things worse.  Why didn’t he tell her that you were Maric’s son?”

“He may have tried.”  Alistair had never asked.  “She probably didn’t believe him.”

“What a trusting marriage they must have,” Amell muttered.  “So, she threw you out and made you sleep with the dogs and Eamon didn’t stop her.  Why do you take advise from him?”

“He’s… my… uncle,” Alistair knew his defense sounded lame. 

“No, he isn’t,” Amell countered.  “But continue.”

“Now let me get this straight,” Amell interrupted Alistair’s story again.  “First Eamon let you be kicked out of his castle and made to sleep with the dogs and then he sent you away to become a Mage Hunter.  I guess it was nicer than making you sleep in the kennels, but still… you were the king’s son!”

“I was an inconvenience,” Alistair insisted.  He’d always felt like an inconvenience when he was growing up.  Maker, no child should feel like that.  He would never want his daughter to.  “I was angry when Eamon sent me away, but I did get a good education from it.  I just don’t want to devote myself to the Chantry and I don’t want to hunt down mages.”

“So, unlike most Templars you do trust them?”  Amell gave him a piercing look.

How was he supposed to answer that?  There was a time he’d believed the Chantry that all mages should be in towers, for the greater good.  Maker knew, he’d like someone to lock Morrigan up in one.  He would hate to see anyone try to carry Selene back off to one, though.  What would he do if someone tried to send Siobhan to one someday?  He knew her mother could train her.  “There needs to be a system in place to protect mages and to have them trained.  I’m not sure it’s the best place, anymore.  Not after what I saw in Kinloch Hold… all of those abominations.  Why were the people so determined to be free that they would resort to… that?  I can promise you that I will never let anyone drag Siobhan to one of those places.”

“I was helpless, powerless, unable to fight the Templars when they took my children, one after the other,” Amell informed him.

“Then it’s a good thing Selene thrust power at me,” Alistair deduced.

Amell nodded.  “I would rather have a king who dreaded the power and responsibilities thrust on him than one who craved power.”

Alistair opened his mouth and then he closed it again as he heard singing coming from one of the other rooms.  He knew that voice.  He’d heard it on the wind more than once, it was the voice that seemed to be calling to him.

Je t'aime, je t'aime toujours

I am forever yours.

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams, mon cher

You're always in my prayers.

Softly, sweetly.

Wrapped up in the Maker’s arms.

Sailing, soaring

Through the Fade and to the day

Be still, be safe, be sure

Je t'aime, je t'aime, toujours

Wishing, praying

All of your dreams come true.

Please remember where 'er you are

My heart is with you

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams, mon cher.

Always in my prayers.

I am forever yours.

Je t'aime, je t'aime

Toujours

“That’s Selene singing, isn’t it?”  How had he not noticed before?

“It sure isn’t Morrigan,” Amell snarked.  “Yes, it’s Selene.  She sings to Siobhan all the time.  From the sounds of it, she’s done feeding her and is putting her to bed for the night.”

Alistair stood.  “I want to go see them before she does.”

“Sit down,” Lord Amell commanded.  “You haven’t finished telling me how you came to abandon my daughter and granddaughter.  You still have some explaining to do.”

Alistair sat hard.  “I didn’t abandon them.”  How could anyone think he would?

“Then tell me what happened.  “You were studying to become a vicious mage hunter, as I recall.”

“They prefer to be called Templars,” Alistair pointed out.

“I’m sure they do.”  Lord Amell gave a little laugh.  “What was it like studying with them.”

“And you don’t know why Duncan was determined to recruit you to the Grey Wardens?”  Lord Amell cut off Alistair once again.

“He could see I was miserable and he was a kind man.”  What more did there need to be.

“Hmmm….”  Was all Amell said in response.  “How long was this before you met my daughter?”

“About six months,” Alistair recalled.  “Until her Joining, I was the youngest Grey Warden in Ferelden.”

“Do the Wardens only recruit one member at a time?”  Amell was suspicious.

“No,” Alistair admitted.  “The Joining can be… lethal.  One other survived at my Joining.  Selene was the only one to survive hers.  She… I couldn’t believe how worried I was for her in that moment, when she…  I thanked the Maker hundreds of times that she survived.”

Lord Amell studied him for a moment.  “You were already falling for her then?”

“I must have been,” Alistair confirmed.  “I’m not sure when the moment was that I realized I had feelings for her or even when I fell in love.  It was a shock when I realized I was indeed in love, but not that it was her.  I didn’t know how to tell her either.  Morrigan has called me a bumbling idiot and with Selene I was.”

He continued relating the story of the Fifth Blight, and fighting it with Selene at his side, until the Landsmeet and the moment Selene had made him king.

“I knew she was going to, but I didn’t want it.”  He looked down at his hands.  “She thinks I punished her for that.  That it’s why I…”  He took a deep breath.  Why had he chosen duty over love?  Bel’s words about people being out for themselves came back to him as did all of the times he told him he needed to fight for what he wanted.  How had he come to the point where he had thrown away what he wanted at the insistence of others?  “Eamon pulled me away after the Landsmeet.  Selene was waiting for me, with our friends.  But Eamon insisted that he needed to talk to me first.  He sat me down and explained to me what my duties were and what needed to be sacrificed to fulfill those duties.”

“The Fereldan Lord who is married to an Orlesian explained to you what had to be sacrificed?”  Lord Amell snorted.  “It sounds like he explained what he wanted to be sacrificed.”

“She’s a mage,” Alistair’s voice sounded lame, even to himself.  “The people would never…”

“The Empress of Orlais has a female elven lover,” Lord Amell informed him.  “It’s one of Orlais’ most poorly kept secret.  They’re in love or so the rumors say.  There is nothing the Council of Heralds could do to get her to give up the woman she loves.  Yet the King of Fereldan, the country that managed to throw Orlais back out of their lands, is too afraid of the Landsmeet to fight for the woman he loves.”

“I was,” Alistair admitted.

“Haven’t you faced down an Archdemon?”  Lord Amell pressed.  “Leliana told me that Selene and you stabbed the archdemon at the same time, both determined to be the one who sacrificed themselves.  Yet you’re afraid of your own banns?”

“I…”  Alistair realized how lame that sounded.  Eamon had insisted… Eamon was one of his lords, he belatedly realized.  Bel would tell him that he should have listened to his heart and not any of his nobles.  He should listen to Bel more often.

Lord Amell leaned back.  “Tell me what happened after the Landsmeet, all of it.  Selene doesn’t like to talk about it and I’ve only gotten snippets.  Wait…”  He straitened and then stood.  “We’re going to need more alcohol for this.”

Chapter Text

Selene rocked Siobhan, with Barkspawn at her feet, as she listened to snippets of her father’s conversation with Alistair.  Her father was prying.  Had she really left Ferelden to find her family and this was what she got?  She wouldn’t be surprised if Raven tied the King of Ferelden down and demanded to know what had happened between him and Selene.  Family meant your pain wasn’t private.

She looked down at Barkspawn.  “Couldn’t he have left it between Alistair and I and given us our privacy?”

Barkspawn woofed a no and then stood, looking at her accusingly.

“I explained this to you,” she was defensive.  “You were in the Kennels, breeding with some pretty bitch.  I wouldn’t have left you otherwise.”

He barked again, his expression not changing.

“I had to leave before anyone could have stopped me,” she protested.  “I… you know they would have tried and stopped me.”

Barkspawn woofed at her again, then whined, and then whimpered.

“No, the fact that Alistair might have been able to keep me from going does not mean that leaving was not the right decision.”  She hated that he likely could have kept her from going and not by employing any weapons.  Maker, hadn’t she yearned to go home to him for over a year now.  No, she told herself.  This is home.  This was where her family was.  She had a life, family, a business.  Yet the moment she’d seen Alistair Theirin, she’d wanted to run into his arms.  Well, she resisted then and she would continue to resist.  He’d moved on and so had she.  Liar, a little voice whispered to her.

Barkspawn turned around and then curled up by the rocking chair again.  He lifted his head and grumbled.  Then he lowered it again.

“It’s up to you and Alistair whether you stay here,” she informed him.  “I… Sweet Maker, I want you to stay.”  She wanted him to stay, too, but knew that wasn’t possible.  Seeing him again was just going to hurt her more in the long run.

Barkspawn gave a single bark.

“O.K.  It’s up to you,” she conceded.  “You are my mabari, after all.  You’re going to have to explain that to Al… him, though.”

Barkspawn gave a sleepy woof.

Selene turned her attention back to her father’s conversation with Alistair.  Alistair was telling him his life story, things Selene thought he’d only told to her.  She could hear her father raise his voice over Isolde’s treatment of the young boy Alistair had once been.  Would Gwandoya treat Siobhan that way if she let her near her daughter?  If she did, Selene would put a lightning bolt up her ass, consequences be damned.

She continued to listen until Alistair began telling her father about being sent to the Templars.  She still had his mother’s amulet.  She’d meant to give it back to him, but then… the Landsmeet had happened.

She glanced to where the amulet now hung from Siobhan’s cradle.  She thought about hiding it, but wouldn’t take anything from her daughter and she had already given it to Siobhan.  One day, she would even tell her its significance.

Siobhan was regarding her intensely as Selene looked down at her daughter.  “Aren’t you tired yet, my little demon.”  She lifted the baby up so she could kiss her forehead.  “I know, you had a busy day.  You got to help fight off the cultists who were after you and then you met your daddy.  Yes, he is your daddy.  Maker knows, it couldn’t be anyone else.  He’s the only… never mind about that, you’re too young to hear about that.”  She smiled gently and then began to sing.

Je t'aime, je t'aime toujours

I am forever yours.

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams, mon cher

You're always in my prayers.

Chapter Text

It was late when Alistair finally made his way to the room that had been given to him in The Amell Estate.  He glanced towards the small hall he had seen Selene disappear into with Siobhan.  He wondered how far away her room was from his.  He found that he wanted to figure out which room was hers.

Why?  He asked himself.  He knew the answer was that he couldn’t stand to continue to spend night after night without her.  He wanted to hold her in his arms, he wanted to listen to her breathe as he drifted off to sleep, to feel her warmth nearby.  Maker, he’d messed up. 

Lord Amell had been too happy to point that out.  Bel had been telling him he needed to stand up for himself more often.  He realized that his failure to do so had cost him more than he could stand. 

He heard a whimper.  Was it Siobhan?  The noise stopped, though and all was quiet.

As he walked to his room, he realized that it was empty.  He’d gotten used to Barkspawn sleeping on his bed, but he wasn’t there.  Alistair realized the mabari had abandoned him for Selene.  He couldn’t blame the dog.  He’d have done the same thing in his place.  Barkspawn hadn’t hurt her, it wasn’t his fault she’d left.  He was free to return to the foot of the bed of his mistress.  Alistair hoped that was the only creature sleeping in her bed. 

He stopped at that thought.  He had sensed that there might be something between her and Anders, the very mage he’d had a hand in conscripting into the Grey Wardens.  No, he was sure that there was something between the mage and Hawke.  Still, if he was in Ander’s place, he’d be pursuing Selene.  Hawke seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t… well, she wasn’t Selene.  She didn’t have her smile, her fierce passion, her determination to do what was right, her intelligence, that dimple on her left cheek, her eyes, her laugh, her humor, her…

Neither does Gwen, a voice that sounded too much like his own whispered in his head.

He reminded the voice that he’d known he would never love Gwen the way he did Selene.  That wasn’t why he had become to betrothed to her.  They shared a sadness and a sense of duty.

Duty be damned!  Here he was presented with the family he’d always wanted.  He realized that he’d wished that his father had loved him more than his duty.  Could he not want the same for the woman he loved and their daughter?

It was too late, though.  He’d messed up.  He had messed up their relationship and Selene had been trying to push him away all night.  He just refused to go.  Now, he’d found that determination and drive Bel said he needed to cultivate.  He just didn’t know how to get her back, or even how to keep her once he did.

It was the middle of the night, there was nothing he could do at the moment.  Not unless he found a time traveling spell.  He wondered if he could use it if he did find one, he wasn’t a mage.  He shook his head and fell into bed.

Alistair slowly opened his eyes.  He didn’t think he’d gotten much sleep, but he swore that someone was calling to him.  He realized he was hearing soft, plaintive cries; Siobhan.  He supposed that Selene would take care of her.

Why should she be the one?  He questioned.  It was his daughter crying. 

He stood and quietly crept through the estate until he found the nursery.  He wondered how tired Selene was if he had gotten there first. 

“What’s wrong, my little love?”  He softly whispered into the room.

The crying stopped for a moment as he stepped to the cradle.  His eyes riveted on the amulet hanging from it, a simple amulet of Andraste.  Why did that look so familiar.  He would have wondered longer, but something distracted him.  Siobhan looked up at him, expectantly. 

Alistair reached into the cradle and scooped her out.  He flinched when he jostled her a bit too much.  The flinch turned to a bit of scowl as he smelled the reason for his discomfort.  “I see you need a change.  I’ve never done this before, but I’m going to try.  It can’t be harder than killing an Archdemon, can it?”

It proved harder than killing an Archdemon.  He ended up cradling his bare-bummed daughter against his bare chest.  “Will your mother kill me if I put you back in your cradle without a clout?”

Siobhan looked up at him and laughed.  It was the most pure, beautiful sound he had ever heard.

“You’re right, she would,” he agreed.  He sat down in the rocking chair and began to rock her gently.  “I guess I just can’t put you down then.”  He cuddled her onto his shoulder as he continued to rock back and forth.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here and that it took me so long to meet you.  I… I don’t know what’s going to happen, but know that I love you.  I love you and your mother so much.  I just don’t know how to get her back.  Maker, there are so many people who don’t want me to get her back.  We both have… well, there is duty to my people, duty to you, and duty to my heart.  Bel keeps telling me I need to pay more attention to the latter.  Perhaps you can use your old man as an example of what not to do.”

In response, she put a fist on his chest and made a little coo sound.

As he rocked, he began to sing.  It was a song he knew, but didn’t know where he’d learned it.

I don't know if you can hear me

Or if you're even there

I don't know if you would listen

To a mage's prayer

Yes, I know I'm just an apostate

I shouldn't speak to you

Still, I see your face and wonder

Were you once hunted too?

Maker help the mages

Cursed from birth

Show them the mercy

They don't find here

Maker help my people

We look to you still

Maker help the mages

Or nobody will

Chapter Text

Selene swore she heard noise from her daughter’s room.  She had begun to wake up, swearing that Siobhan was crying, but then everything had been quiet.  She decided she must have been dreaming.

Maybe it was her own crying.  She’d lain down in her bed and tears had burst forth.  She told herself it was just a stressful night.  She wasn’t crying over him, not again.  She’d finished crying over him months ago.  He didn’t have that affect over her anymore.  Then why did she want to rail at him so badly?  Why did she want to rail, then fall into his arms crying, and then to beg him to unbreak her heart?

No, she had moved on.  She might have been in a relationship with Anders if he wasn’t in love with Raven Hawke.

Liar, a little voice whispered to her.  It was her own voice.  O.K.  perhaps she didn’t love Anders enough to move on with him.  That didn’t mean she couldn’t move on.  She didn’t need someone to love like that.  She had her family now.  And hadn’t she been secretly thrilled at Alistair’s reaction to their daughter.  The man who swore he didn’t want any bastards had been delighted to meet his little girl.  He’d been smitten.  Of course, he had, who wasn’t smitten by Siobhan?

She closed her eyes, but there it was again.  Someone was in the nursery.  Someone was in there with her baby.

She stood, a fireball beginning to form in her hand.  She silently crept forward.  She heard… was that singing?  It wasn’t just singing.  It was Alistair’s voice.  He was singing.

I don't know if you can hear me

Or if you're even there

I don't know if you would listen

To a mage's prayer

Yes, I know I'm just an apostate

I shouldn't speak to you

Still, I see your face and wonder

Were you once hunted too?

Maker help the mages

Cursed from birth

Show them the mercy

They don't find here

Maker help my people

We look to you still

Maker help the mages

Or nobody will

She quietly opened the door.  There he was, Alistair Theirin.  He was sitting in her rocking chair, his feet and chess bare.  Siobhan was cradled on his shoulder and he was singing to her.

It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.  Sweet Maker, her heart stopped for a moment and then began beating hard, letting her know that it was still there.  Something in the pit of her stomach softened and she found herself leaning against the wall, just looking at him.  She tried to tell herself to stop acting like the simpering princess in a fairytale who had looked at the handsome prince for the first time.  She knew better than to swoon at the feet of this handsome prince.  No, king.  The prince would have caught her and swooped her up into his arms.  The king would let her lay there and would step over her at the command of his advisers.

He looked up at her and smiled softly.

Damn him.  The smile made her heart flutter again.  It became worse when he softly kissed the top of Siobhan’s head.

“I couldn’t figure out how to put on a new clout,” he told her.  “So, I was going to just hold her until you woke up in the morning.”

Maker, that was her Alistair all right.  She found her feet and walked forward.  She gently scooped up Siobhan who opened her eyes for a second and then closed them again.  She then handed a clean cloth to Alistair.  “Did you at least clean her?”

“Yes,” he sounded offended that she thought he might not have.

“Good,” she smiled at him.  “Now lift up her legs and put this part of the cloth under her.”

Alistair followed her commands, their hands brushing as she instructed him on how to change a baby.  “How does anyone figure this out?”  He wanted to know.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, without thinking.  “Leandra taught me before she was born.  It isn’t something they teach in mage circles.  They… well, you know they take our children from us.”

He nodded and then kissed the top of her head.  “I won’t let anyone take Siobhan from you.  I swear it.”

She closed her eyes, knowing he would bring down armies to keep that promise.  “Thank you, I… Alistair, it isn’t just the Chantry.  There’s… those cultists were after her.”

“Shh,” he slipped an arm around her.  “You aren’t alone.  They’ll have to get through me too.”

Until he returned to Denerim.  She almost said the words, but then she would have to admit that she was thinking of going there herself.

Selene felt bereft when Alistair withdrew his arm.  But then he picked up Siobhan.  “She’s still asleep,” he seemed amazed by that.

“She likes her sleep,” she assured him.  “She also likes snuggles and her rattle.”

Alistair gently laid his daughter back in her cradle and stopped to gaze at her a moment.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she was born.”

“No, you were busy…”  She began, but then stopped when he pulled her into his arms and his mouth covered his.

She knew she should push him away, but being back in his arms felt too right.  It felt like coming home after a long journey.  Even though she told herself not to, she wrapped her arms around him and returned his caress.  He was there, in her home, barefoot and bare-chested; in their daughter’s nursery.

His mouth stayed on hers as he lifted her off of her feet.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on. 

After several moments, he let her go.  She hated how bereft she felt when he did and waited for what he was going to say.  He said nothing, he scooped her up into his arms and held her close against his chest.  Her arms slid around his neck.

“Where’s your room?”  He whispered into her ear.

She pointed at the door.  When they left the nursery, she pointed to her own door.  He carried her in and to her bed, where he laid her down.  Then he slowly crawled up to cover her.  She knew she was smiling when his mouth found hers.

He took his time, slowly undressing her, kissing each piece of skin he exposed as he slowly peeled off her night dress and then smalls. 

She returned his kisses, letting her hands run down his chest and back.  She caressed his cheek.  “I don’t know what I think of the beard,” she huskily admitted.

“I like it, it gives me a look of authority,” he murmured between kisses to her neck.  “We’ll discuss it later, after…”

She restlessly shifted as he removed his pants.  Then he kissed her again before sliding into her.  His movements were slow and gentle, slowly building.  It was as if he was trying to savor every moment.  She closed her eyes, relishing every movement and sensation.  She matched his movements, moaning softly.

Then she crested and cried out his name.  His movements stopped and he kissed her gently.  Then continued until he too had come and she held him close to her heart as he shuddered.

When they were both sated, he rolled over, holding her to his side.  Soon, he was snoring.

Selene found that she easily drifted to sleep listening to that sound.

Chapter Text

The mewling cries of his Herb Scented Mage’s pup woke Barkspawn.  He lifted his head and blinked.  Maker, couldn’t he sleep more?  It was bad enough that he’d been rudely woken in the middle of the night by the Smelly King carrying in the Herb Scented mage and depositing her on the bed.  The pair hadn’t even noticed him at the end of the bed!  They were wrapped up in their mating.

            The act of mating between the pair had shocked him.  He thought they no longer went into heat for each other.  No, that wasn’t true.  He had witnessed the Smelly King mourn for his true mate and he could still smell the sadness on his Herb Scented Mage.  The fools still loved each other.  He’d thought it would take a mabari to help them fix their relationship, but it seemed they had worked things out on their own.  Still, he grumbled at being woken up.

            “Go back to sleep.”  His mage patted his head as she left the room. 

            Barkspawn had closed his eyes when his mage came back in, she was carrying her pup.  She sat back on the bed and lowered her nightdress to nurse.  The puppy made the cooing sound that human pups seemed to make when happy, as she drank.

            The Smelly King sat up in the bed and put an arm around the mage.  “Good morning, My Love.”  He kissed the top of the Herb Scented Mage’s head.

            “Good morning.”  She turned to him and lightly kissed his lips.  Barkspawn could smell a mix of happiness and fear in her.  He wondered why, how could a human be happy and afraid at the same time?

            “I forgot to ask last night,” the Smelly King kissed her back.  “Are those griffons carved onto Siobhan’s cradle?”

            “They are,” the Herb Scented Mage confirmed.

            “I like that,” the Smelly King smiled.  “And what is the amulet that is hanging from it.”

            “A long story,” the Herb Scented Mages was avoiding the question, Barkspawn could tell.

            “What are our plans for the day?”  The Smelly King ran a finger along the top of the pup’s head.  “I hope it involves spending hours upon hours in this bed.”

            “I thought you were here to meet with the refugees,” she reminded him.  “You can do that while I go into my shop.”

            “I’ll go with you,” he volunteered.

            She smiled, but then the smile faltered immediately.  “No, that’s… not necessary.  You have other things to do, and I’ll be busy.  There is no need for you to go to my shop.  Why don’t you go meet with the refugees, perhaps talk to Lirene?  I can introduce you before I go into work.  Then you can meet me at the Hanged Man tonight.  I’m meeting with friends to play Wicked Grace.  Raven will be there and Morrigan will likely stay here with my father.  The Hanged Man is a seedy tavern in Lowtown.  You’ll like it.”

            “I’d rather see your shop,” the Smelly King’s voice was insistent.  “I can meet the refugees later.  I don’t need to meet them immediately and the more people who know I’m here, the sooner the Ferelden Nobles realize where I am.”

            “Alistair, are you hiding from the Ferelden Nobles?”  The Herb Scented Mage laughed.  She removed the pup from her breast and her on the bed.  The Smelly King quickly scooped up the baby.  “She needs to be burped.”

            The Smelly King put the pup on his shoulder.  “How do I…?”

            “Here,” his mate showed him how to gently, yet firmly, thump his puppy on the back.  “I’ll see you tonight.  We can try to catch Isabela cheating again.”

            “Isabella is here?”  The Smelly King’s forehead crinkled.  “Selene, I want to see what you’re doing with your life.  Is there a reason you don’t want me to?”

            “You’re not part of my life anymore,” she pointed out.  “It’s best I keep… whatever this is… separate from the life I’ve built.”

            “What do you mean I’m not…”  He broke off.  “What is this then?”  He waved a hand at the bed they both lounged in.  Barkspawn thought the Smelly King had point about that.

            “It’s me being weak,” she declared.  “It means that I can’t stay away from you, unless I put a sea between us!”  She threw up her hands.  “It doesn’t mean that anything else has changed between us.  You’re still bet… your actions, including those while we’ve been apart, speak for themselves.  For the Maker’s sake, you’re on a bet… a tour, with… others.”

            “Selene Amell,” he looked intently at her.  “There is a hole in my life where you should be.”

            She sat back and shook her head.  “You cut that hole.”

            “I want to mend it,” he pleaded.

            “You say that now, but what happens when Eamon tells you to cut it out again?”  She shook her head and Barkspawn saw tears on her face.  He moved to her and licked one of her tears.  There was no need for her to cry, she had her mabari back.  That’s what mattered most.  The Herb Scented Mage wrapped her arms around him.

            “I…”  The Smelly King blanched.  “I have a friend who’s been working with me on standing up for what I want.”  He looked down at his pup in his arms.  “Believe me, that’s you, you and our daughter.  I… I’ll find a way.”

            The Herb Scented mage shook her head.  “I thought that.  Then after the Landsmeet, you ripped out my heart.  I thought… well, I thought…”  He gave a watery laugh.  “After the Archdemon… but no… you just stomped on my heart some more.  I must protect it and you’re the biggest danger to it.  I… I can’t trust you with it.”

            “Yes, you can!”  The Smelly King insisted.  “I’ll… I’ll find a way, I…”

            “You’d have to first prove to me that you aren’t going to just hurt me again and again,” she stated.  “I don’t see that happening.  I’m already bracing myself for the next time you decide to toss my heart in the sewer.  And do you know what the sad thing is?  I’ll let you, I ran to the other side of the Waking Sea and the moment you showed up all I wanted to do was…”  She let out a little scream of frustration and stood up. 

            Barkspawn wondered if he should help her pace.  It would be the right thing to do as her mabari.  He looked at the Smelly King, who seemed to be extremely confused.  The Smelly King was still trying to burp his human puppy, but his forehead was no crinkled.  “Why did you come to Kirkwall?  Am I so horrible that you had to run here of all places?”

            She shook her head, and Barkspawn realized she was trying to hold back tears.  “You’re the reason I left Denerim.  I came to Kirkwall to find my family, which I did.  Siobhan and I are fine.  We have a family here and I have a business that is doing fairly well.  All I have to do is take care of this cult that is after her and everything will be great.”

            “There is a horde of Qunari camped on the docks!”  The Smelly king reminded her.  “There is an unusually high number of Templars in this town, and I don’t like how many Tranquil I saw in the Gallows.  This city isn’t safe, besides,” his voice softened.  “I’m not alright without you.”

            “The Templars are why my shop is in Darktown,” she informed him.  “I’ll be fine.”

            Barkspawn found something wrong with her argument, he just couldn’t put his paw on it.

            “You had a family in Denerim,” the Smelly King reminded her.  “We were your family.”

            “Who?”  She opened a trunk and started pulling out clothes.  “Speaking of Darktown, I need to get to work.  But tell me what family I had in Denerim.  The only family I had was the child I was growing in my womb, and I didn’t know about her yet.”

            “What about Wynne, Leliana, Oghren… me,” the Smelly King’s voice was soft.  “We were…”  He stopped when his pup threw up on him.  White liquid ran down his chest.

            Barkspawn thought it looked undignified.  Apparently, his Herb Scented Mage did not agree, she found it amusing.

            She smiled and had to suppress a giggle.  “No, we were a team, but not a family.  Leliana is devoted to the Chantry and was leaving us for it.  Wynne is loyal to the Circle, which is very unbecoming of a mage.  One would think she liked being a prisoner.  Then again, she was free to come and go as she pleased, unlike many of the other mages.  I’ve always wondered what her exact relationship with Gregoire is, haven’t you?”

            “Not, really,” the Smelly King had grabbed one of the blankets and was using it to clean up his chest, much to the Herb Scented Mage’s distress.

            “I hope you’re planning to the laundry,” she commented, as she dressed.  “I have cloths for that sort of thing.  Anyway, Sten was heading back to Par Vollen and you… well, you’d made the nature of our relationship clear and that was of barely friends.”

            “I’ve always been your friend,” he insisted.  “I’ve always lov… I will always be there for you, no matter what.  Let me…”

            “How long would it have been before the Grey Wardens called on me to go serve them, with a bunch of strangers.”  The Herb Scented Mage grabbed a comb and began running it through her hair.  “You wouldn’t have fought to keep me in Denerim.  You’d made it very clear that you put duty over love, much less friendship.”

            “I was wrong,” the Smelly King admitted.  “Please, let me prove that.”

            “The Wardens already came looking for me, didn’t they?”  She began braiding her hair.  “Anders told me they had wanted me to take over Amaranthine.”

            “Amaranthine!  That’s where I’ve seen him before!”  The Smelly King was apparently distracted.  “Yes, they did send orders.  Then they came and ordered me to find you, when they couldn’t locate you.  Like I knew where you were.  I should have known, but you…”  He sighed and bounced the pup.

            “If you keep bouncing her like that, she’s going to throw up on you again,” the Herb Scented Mage warned.  “You can tell your Grey Warden buddies that I am no longer part of them.  Ask Anders, he can’t sense the Taint in me anymore.”

            “When did that happen?”  The Smelly King sounded worried.  “I can’t sense the Joining in you anymore, either, but I was there, I know you went through it.  I… Maker, I was so scared for you.”

            “After seeing Daveth and Jory die, I was scared for me to,” she finished braiding her hair and stood.  She gently took her pup back and began cleaning the throw up off her.  “I don’t know what happened, maybe it has something with killing the archdemon.”

            “I’d ask the Grey Wardens, but no one’s survived killing an archdemon,” the Smelly King revealed.  “The Wardens reminded me of that several times while they were looking for you.”

            “Maybe someone else has managed to cleanse the taint out of their blood, we should find out, but… well, I’m not going to tell the Wardens where I am,” she declared.  “Anders is also in hiding from them.  Perhaps they need less harsh conscripting methods.”

            “Selene…”  The Smelly King started and then shook his head.  “Fine, I’ll go see Larine today.  I’ll also stop by the Hawke estate.  Maybe they’ll have a way for me to rewin your trust.  Is she really your cousin?”

            “She is,” the Herb Scented Mage confirmed.

            Barkspawn had been planning to go with his mage, but his ears perked up at the mention of the Hawke estate.  He wanted to see Apawstate again.  Perhaps they could grab Ser Barkivere and hunt down the man Ser Barkivere had spied during the cultist attack.

Chapter Text

Selene carried Siobhan, in her basket, through the tunnel under her estate that connected to Darktown.  She had almost welcomed the thought of Alistair going to the shop with her for the day, perhaps having him watch Siobhan when she worked in her forge on the docks.  But that would have meant he saw what she sold out of the back of the shop.  He had trained as a Templar and still had some of their Chantry trained thinking, he would disapprove of her providing weapons to apostates and escaped mages.

            He wanted her to return to Denerim.  She’d been considering doing just that before he’d stepped back into her life.  There weren’t nearly as many bandits and gangs there.  Yet if she went back, the Templars and Grey Wardens would both know exactly where she was.  The cultists who were after her baby wouldn’t take long figuring out where she’d gone, though.  She’d need Alistair’s help defending Siobhan.  She didn’t want to depend on him, he’d proven that she couldn’t.  He said he wanted to win her trust back, but she didn’t see how he could.  She especially couldn’t as he would soon marry his precious fiancé and they’d start a family of their own.  She didn’t want to see him with… what’s her name.  She realized he’d never said the name to her.  He’d never even mentioned the other woman.  She wondered if there was any significance to that.

            She made her way to her shop, trying not to think about the new complication in her life.  She had special orders that were being picked up and had to close on time to work on others.  She…

            “Excuse me,” a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows near her shop.  “Are you the Lighthouse of Darktown?  I saw a lantern hanging by the shop.  Is this the shop others call the Hidden Shield of Darktown?”

            Selene had heard those terms bantered around.  She suspected that Anders had created them.  She feared the day one of the Templars learned the term.  The woman shivering in front of her didn’t feel like a Templar, though.  “The Chantry Sucks,” she told the woman.

            “But Meredith sucks even harder,” the stranger responded.

            That was the code all right.

            “Come in,” she unlocked the door and went into the shop, setting down Siobhan’s basket, before she began lighting the candles.  “How did you escape?”

            “I jumped off the piers and swam,” the escaped mage informed her.  At Selene’s incredulous look, she laughed a little.  “No, really!  One of the Templars told Meredith that he’d seen the King of Ferelden, of all people, at the docks yesterday.  Apparently, the king is coming, but not yet.  She thinks he’s here early, to spy on her, and that’s why his being here is such a secret.  Her Knight Captain has seen this king before, but she hasn’t, so there was a big to-do going on.  In the confusion, no one was watching the mages.  I jumped and swam for it.  I’m too rebellious, she’s going to make me Tranquil.  I’d rather drown than face that.”

            “So would I,” Selene admitted.  She had never hit that point in Kinloch hold.  She had once looked from one of the tower’s windows, though, and contemplated jumping out, swimming to freedom.  She’d never been desperate enough to try, though.  Then again, she hadn’t been in danger of being made Tranquil until the incident with Jowan, the one that Duncan had saved her from.  “Come into the back.”  She led her customer into the back.

            The freed mage began examining the staves.  “I… I don’t know if I can pay for any of these.”

            “Don’t worry, you can pay me what you can, when you can,” Selene assured her.  “I make enough from the traditional weapons and friends have set up a fund to cover such purchases when the mages escaping the Gallows cannot.”  Hawke and Anders demanded that she allow them to do so.  Hawke was flush when she came back from the Deep Roads and was making money off of some mine, she had a partnership in.  She insisted on helping the escaped slaves, only asked that no one tell Fenris or Sebastian.

            “Thank you,” the woman hugged her.  “I’m Caitlin, by the way.”

            “It’s my pleasure, Caitlin,” Selene assured her.  “We mages have to stick together, it’s the only way we will all be free someday.”

            “Someday,” Caitlin agreed.  “I… I know I should stay and help others, but…”

            “You need to get out of Kirkwall and as far as the Gallows, and the Templars there, as possible,” Selene insisted.

            Caitlin nodded.  She turned to leave and then gasped.

            Selene followed her gaze and smiled a little as she saw Varric.  “He’s a friend, you can trust him.”

            “You have a few customers in the front, Enigma,” Varric informed her.  “I’ve got them looking at daggers, the layered ones you finished last week.”

            “Thank you,” Selene moved to scoop up Siobhan.

            “I’ll look after Little Princess and make sure your customer back here gets safely on her way, you go take care of making money,” he assured her.  “Then you can answer a few questions about a certain royal problem for me.”

            Selene closed her eyes; she wasn’t sure she had the answers.  “All right.”  She moved to the front of the store.        

            Selene had managed to sell half a dozen long daggers by the time Varric joined her again.  He carried Siobhan on his shoulder. 

            “O.K. Enigma, I want answers,” he declared. 

            “I don’t know the questions, Varric,” she pointed out.

            “King Alistair of Ferelden has shown up in Kirkwall,” he reminded her.  “He had his things moved from the Hawke estate to yours.  I doubt it’s just to spend time with Little Princess.”

            “They adore each other,” she informed him.  “Both were immediately smitten, not that I can blame Siobhan, I had the same problem when I met him.”

            “He’s her Daddy, Enigma,” Varric pointed out.  “Every Little Princess should have a daddy who adores them.  Are you still smitten?  The way you look at him…”

            “I…”  She sighed.  “You’d think I’d know better.  I killed an archdemon, for Maker’s sake.  Yet, I can’t seem to fight my feelings for someone who’s hurt me again and again.”

            “I also saw how he looks at you, Enigma,” Varric added.

            She shook her head, ordering herself not to let any tears fall.  “He sacrificed me for duty… twice.  I’m not what he thinks he needs, I’m not queen material and that’s that.”

            “I don’t believe that’s that,” Varric disagreed.  “If there is a battle between love and duty happening, then you need to decide which side you’re fighting for.  Do you want Little Princess growing up in a world where duty is more important than love?  Is that why you help your fellow mages?  Is duty why you saved Ferelden?  I don’t think duty is powerful enough to take down an archdemon.”  He glanced around the shop.  You should add more jewelry and other accessories.  That armband is quite fetching.  Perhaps I should buy it for Hawke and pretend it’s from Anders.”

            “What about Fenris?”  Selene wasn’t sure what was going on with that love triangle.

            “No, it wouldn’t look as good on him,” Varric shook his head.

            “I meant, why are you helping Anders, rather than Fenris,” she quirked a smile at him.

            “He has that whole thing against mages, and it serves him right to fall in love with one,” Varric confided.  “He has, you know.  He fell hard for her, then he screwed the whole thing up.  She admitted that they had a ‘single passionate night together’, her words, then he freaked out and ran out on her.  She wanted Anders more, anyway.  It’s Justice who’s getting in their way, making Anders think he doesn’t deserve happiness.  Now we need to figure out why you think you don’t deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

            “I was told it’s because I’m a mage,” she reminded him.

            Varric had left and business had been steady.  Selene was feeding her daughter when the door opened again.  “I’ll be with you in a minute!”  She shouted.

            “Actually, I came to talk to you,” Bel poked his head into the backroom.  “I like your shop, interesting neighborhood, though.  Did you know there is a dead Templar outside?”

            “I’ll take care of it,” she stood, cradling Siobhan to her breast as she exited the shop.

            The other shopkeepers waved to her. 

            “I’ve got this,” Tomwise assured her.  He had the Templar by the arms and was dragging him away.  Another shopkeeper hurried forward and grabbed the legs.  They disappeared for a moment.

            “What is going on?”  Bel wanted to know.

            “They’re hiding the body,” Elisabeta explained.  “This is Darktown.  It happens.”

            “But wasn’t that a Templar,” Bel pointed to where Tomwise and the other shopkeeper had gone.

            “It’s not the first body that has appeared near our shops,” she assured him.  “The guards don’t patrol down here.  The only time we see any of them is when Aveline shows up with Raven.  They’ll just throw him in the sewers, and it will be mixed with the bodies that wash through from the Docks and Lowtown.”

            “Why is your shop down here then?”  Bel demanded to know; his eyes wide.

            “Because no one, except you apparently, blinks when a Templar or two disappears down here,” she informed him.  “I also… have other reasons to want to operate away from the scrutiny of the guards, much less the Chantry and the Gallows.” 

            Bel looked down at Siobhan, who was still cradled against her breast.  “You have your daughter here!  The fumes can’t be good for her.  If not for yourself, then for you daughter you must move your shop.”

            “The Fereldan Healer’s clinic isn’t far from here,” one of the other shopkeepers informed him.  “We’re all fine here.  We all know how to take care of ourselves, including Selene.  The Carta and mercenary groups have all learned not to mess with her.  The occasional Templar is her only problem.”

            “Well, it was,” she murmured.  Now she had Alistair and his friends, not to mention that the cultists would eventually connect her to the shop.  She looked up at Tomwise as he returned.  “So, how did the Templar manage to end up accidently digesting poison.”

            “Who said it was poison?”  Tomwise innocently blinked at her.

            “Oh, you had poison on your dagger,” another shop keeping laughed.  “You always do.  I saw the whole thing.  You asked why he was nosing around Selene’s shop and shivved him when you didn’t like the answer.”

            “He followed a mage here,” Tomwise informed her.  “I don’t know if Meredith is becoming suspicious, but there was a Templar nosing around the shop.”

            “Why would the Templars care about your shop, Selene?”  Bel wanted to know.

            “Stop,” she ordered when Tomwise took a step towards Bel.  “He’s a friend of Siobhan’s father.”

            “The Little Princess has a father?”  Tomwise grinned.  “I thought he died during the Blight.  Congratulations… or maybe not.”  He must have seen something in her face.

            “They know she’s a princess?”  Bel was surprised.

            “What?”   One of the other shopkeeper’s eyes widened.

            “Doesn’t everyone think of their daughter as a princess?”  Selene smiled sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes, conveying that there were no royal secrets to discover.  “Bel, why don’t you come in?  Tomwise, I owe you one.”

            “I still owed you from the time you fried those carta members who tried to shake me down,” Tomwise reminded her.

            “That what friends do,” she assured him.

            “As was this,” he asserted.  “Let your friend know where they can get poison.”

            “I will,” she assured him.  She led Bel into the shop.  “I usually get my poisons from Zevran, but Tomwise has a bigger supply, if you need some.”  She set Siobhan down in her basket and adjusted her clothes.  “So, what brings you to Darktown.  It’s not a safe place for a noble.”

            “Like Siobhan?”  He challenged, looking around. 

            “I can take care of my own baby,” Selene assured him.

            “Even with Carta, Templars, and Cultists all after you.”  Bel continued to look around.

            “The Carta aren’t after me, they know better,” she assured him.  “And the Templars don’t have enough evidence on me to come after me.  They haven’t even tried to throw me into their Circle.  I’m not sure if they’re afraid of the Grey Wardens or Varric cutting off their lyrium supply.  I’m pretty sure he threatened to, and he could do it to.  He supplies his friends with enough lyrium on occasion. We usually do well enough by looting bodies so it’s not often he has to.”

            “Which there seem to be plenty of, around here,” Bel commented.  “Oh, is this what they’re looking for?”  He had found the backroom.  “Do you know you have a bunch of staffs back here?”

            “They’re walking sticks,” she assured him.

            “One of them has a glowing orb on top,” he pointed out.

            “It’s for walking at night,” she informed him.

            “Most do look like walking sticks,” he conceded.  “You know, there are plenty of people who walk in Denerim.  There are people who need weapons, as well.”

            “Yes, I’ve been to the back alleys there,” she informed him.  “I’ve cleared them out a couple of times.  There are plenty of weapons makers there and an amazing armor artisan.”

            “No one making… walking sticks, though,” Bel countered.  “Nor making accessories.”  He picked up an armband.  “This is lovely.”

            She sighed and sat down with a piece of parchment, designing her next poison bracelet.  The secret catch was the most important part.  “Did Alistair send you to talk me into returning to Denerim?”

            “No,” Bel assured her.  “He did mention your disagreement this morning and complained that you wouldn’t let him come to the shop with you.  He can take care of himself.”

            “That’s not why I wouldn’t let him come,” she assured him.

            “Is it the stash of walking sticks?”  Bel looked back at them.  “I know he was raised by Templars, but… he supports the mages.  He wouldn’t turn you in… or try to stop you.  The mages in Ferelden could use your help to.”

            She set down the charcoal she was sketching with.  “They don’t have it as bad as those in Kirkwall do.  Meredith is a monster.  Go to the Gallows and get a good look at how many Tranquil are there.  Some of them passed their Harrowing.”

            Bel nodded.  “What you are doing is noble.”  He patted her hand, not even noticing.

            “Not many would think so,” she assured him.  “Bel, it was made very clear to me that my being a mage was a hinderance in Ferelden.  It made me… unacceptable.  I guess it’s that way throughout Thedas, except in Tevinter.  Maybe I should take Siobhan and go there.”

            “That would break many hearts,” he assured her.

            “Plus, I’ve killed so many of their slavers that there may be a few people who want vengeance on me,” she quirked a smile.

            “I heard Loghain was selling the elves of the Alienage,” he flinched.  He looked down at Siobhan, who gave him a smile.  “May, I?”  He indicated the baby.  At Selene’s nod, he picked her up and began bouncing her gently.

            “He was.”  She watched her daughter grin at her new friend as he made a face at her.  “So, you came to find out what I was hiding?”

            “Oh, no,” he grinned at her.  “I don’t think you understand how loyal he is to you; he wouldn’t want to chance someone else learning your secrets and running off to the Templars.”

            “What secrets?  Those are walking sticks in the back and that Templar fell on Tomwise’s dagger.  We all saw him back up right into it.  He was doing some new funky dance and not watching where he was going,” she claimed.

            Bel laughed.  “I’m Alistair’s friend and I already know I want to be yours as well.  If he weren’t obviously still in love with you, I think I’d be pursuing you myself.  I suspect you’re a kindred spirit.”

            Selene had to admit that she did feel some strange kinship with Bel Cousland.   He caused her heart to lift a bit, even as some of his words caused it to ache.  “Then what does bring you here?”

            “Eamon Guerrin,” he answered.

            “You’re friends with Eamon?”  And to think she had been starting to like him.

            “Oh, no,” he laughed.  “I find the Arl of Redcliffe to be too big for his breaches and more than a bit power hungry.  He wants to be the Power Behind the Throne and doing a good job of it, even better than Loghain did with Maric and Cailan.  I’ve been trying to get Alistair to look out more for himself, but it’s like trying to chisel a great figure out of very tough marble.  Difficult, but rewarding if I succeed; not rewarding for me personally, but in knowing I bettered Thedas.”

            He smiled at him.  He really was charming.  “So, he picked Gwaun on his own?”  That hurt.

            Bel sighed.  “He did.  I was there when he proposed.”  He stopped and Selene wondered what expression was on her face.  The look of compassion on his own said that it wasn’t good.  “She’s… nice.  I suspect she has her own great lost love in her life and they’re… leaning on each other in their grief.”

            “Did she also cause her own grief?”  Selene felt tears in her eyes and didn’t know how to dam them up.

            “Probably,” Bel moved Siobhan to one arm and slid the other around Selene’s shoulders, pulling her closer.  “And she’s probably as secretly unhappy as our Alistair is.  He’s been sad, melancholy since I’ve known him.  You should see him looking yearningly across the Waking Sea, as if searching for something he lost.  I guess he found it, found you again.  Part of that melancholy was gone this morning.  He’s not happy, likely because of whatever you two were fighting about this morning; but it was different.  He’s more… determined.  He’s gone from a dejected man, devoted to duty and his people, to someone who might just be willing to fight for what he truly wants, what will make him happy.  Maker, he is determined this morning.  I accompanied him to Lowtown this morning and heard him mutter ‘she doesn’t trust me’ four times.”

            “I don’t trust him,” Selene admitted.  “He’s… I’ve been hurt too many times.”

            “He’s stabbing himself harder with that dagger than he is you,” Bel was sure of it.  “The problem is Eamon.  That’s why I’m here.  You fled the battlefield and Eamon won.  He thinks he’s won the war.”

            “What war?”  She sat up and turned to him. 

            “His war for the greatest power in Ferelden,” Bel explained.  “The war against love.  Sure, he wanted to be allowed to have his Orlesian, but Maker forbid anyone else have a love he doesn’t approve of.  It’s a war against Alistair’s happiness and yours.”

            “He and Isolde have been waging a war against Alistair’s happiness since he was placed with them as an infant,” she muttered.

            Bel pointed a finger.  “Exactly.  And we care for Alistair, more than he even cares about himself.  That’s why we must fight for him, even if he doesn’t realize yet that he needs us to.  I’m here to recruit you to that fight, for Alistair, for Siobhan, and for you.”

            “I have a life here,” she objected.

            “This really isn’t the best place to raise a child, Selene,” Bel pointed out.

            “My family is here,” she countered.

            “The Knight-Commander of the Gallows is crazy and there are way too many Tranquil there,” he argued.  “I’ve only been here a couple of days and learned that.  Besides, Alistair loves you.  You love him.  Tell me you don’t love him.”

            “I…”  She opened her mouth and then closed it.  Maker, she was a fool, but she would always love him.

            “Hey, I’d love to marry you myself and drag you off to Highever, but you’re in love with another man,” Bel informed her.

            “He’s marrying someone else,” she sighed.  “And I’m a mage.”

            Bel shrugged.  “We might be able to do something about one of those problems.  Eamon, not Gwen, is your real problem, and you can’t tell me you wouldn’t love a little payback.”

Chapter Text

Barkspawn had ended up going with the Smelly King to see the Ferelden refugees.  The Smelly King was back to calling himself Duncan.  The refugee leader, seemed to believe him.  There was another refugee, one who smelled like a former Redcliffe villager, who just snorted and rolled his eyes.

            He and Bel talked to Lirene, the Refugee Leader, about what the Fereldans needed.  She believed that he was gathering reports for the king.  She also seemed more worried about some party she was planning to throw and the delay the Sad Lady had caused, because she wanted to see her parents.

            As they talked, Ser Barkivere told him about the human he’d smelled the night before; the one who had watched the Herb Scented Mage and her friends, while the cultists attacked.  He was sure that the man was one of the cultists and knew he would recognize his scent.

            They barked at the Smelly King and Ser Barkevere’s human, telling them that they had business in Kirkwall and would find them later.  Then they went to find Apawstate.

            Apawstate was with her human when they found her.  They were fighting something called Dog Lords, who were attacking Apawstate’s people. 

            Barkspawn ran in to help in the fight and came up short when he realized that those attacking Apawstate’s human had mabari of their own!  How could his brethren fight Fereldan Refugees?  He barked this question at the other Mabari, demanding an answer.

            A mabari with a scar running across his face and across his eye, almost causing damage to that important tool for a fight stepped forward.  He barked and growled that his human was right to attack all others.  He needed the money to feed Clawdius and Clawdius felt he was right in taking it from them.

            Barkspawn barked back that Clawdius had brought shame to the Mabari and the Maker, the Greatest Mabari of them all.  He growled that Clawdius and his human should have stayed in Ferelden and fought the Blight.  Clawdius didn’t back down, but several of his cronies did. 

            One of them tugged at his human’s arm, trying to pull him away.

            “What’s wrong with you, Prince of Barkhaven?”  The human demanded to know.

            Apawstate woofed that the human should also know he was attacking the one they called The Hawk.  Prince of Barkhaven related the information.  They weren’t sure her human understood, but he left with her, as did several others.

            A few of the other mabari left their humans to their horrible fate, as the fate of any who fought The Hawke was horrible, and joined Barkspawn on his quest.

            Ser Barkivere told them about the cultists who were after the human pup and their mission to find the man he’d smelled the night before.

            The Scarlet Woofer, so named for her strange coloring, informed them that such a man would be either in Lowtown or, worse, Darktown.  Darktown was dangerous, there were Carta there, as well as smugglers and slavers.  There were also those who wanted to help the others in Kirkwall who lived there.

            They decided to start with Darktown.

            Barkspawn was a veteran of the Fifth Blight, but he didn’t remember any village that looked worse than Darktown, not even Lothering when the village was only days from being overwhelmed by a darkspawn horde.  There were literal fumes that crept along with roads.

            As they stayed low, creeping among those who had chosen to dwell in such a place for some Maker-forsaken reason, Apawstate told them that her human’s golden-haired healer lived and worked in Darktown.  She suggested stopping in an seeing them.

            Several people ran past them.  “It’s the Lyrium Wraith!  He’s real!”  One yelled.

            Soon after, an elf with lyrium glowing in his skin ran by as well.  He brandished a large sword and was yelling that all slavers would face his wrath.  He had a red ribbon wrapped around his right wrist and Barkspawn wondered if he’d hurt himself.

            Apawstate woofed a greeting at him, as he passed.  He stopped and gave her a wave.  Then continued.  Apawstate turned to the others and explained that the elf was one of her human’s friends.  He’d tried to breed with her human one night, but then something had gone wrong and he’d left in the middle of the night.  They hadn’t seen each other since then.  Besides, she knew her human really wanted to breed with the golden-haired healer.

            Barkspawn wondered if he should help Apawstate’s human, but he still had the Herb Scented Mage and Smelly King to deal with.  They needed his help first.

            It wasn’t long before Ser Barkivere gave an excited woof.  He had found the scent.  With nose near the ground, he led them to a local shop.  It was one of the nicer ones, it was an actual building rather than just a booth.  He noticed several shopkeepers, the ones with booths, give them a speculative look as they went in.  Had they never seen a pack of mabari on a mission before?

            “Barkspawn?”  The Herb Scented mage greeted him.  So, this was her shop.  Had Ser Barkivere picked up the wrong scent?  “How did you find this place?”

            He woofed at his mage.  He had a nose, didn’t he?

            There were several other humans, along with a couple elves and a dwarf, in the shop.  Two of the humans were talking to The Herb Scented Mage.  One of them was Ser Barkivere’s human!  Had his friend just wanted to see his human? 

            The other human pale, as if he spent too much time indoors and had a slight build, like a seneschal who had never actually seen battle.  Maybe he was something even worse, like an accountant.  Barkspawn had heard of humans who surrounded themselves with numbers all day.  He shuddered at the thought.  He carried a bouquet of daisies with him and was trying to present them to the Herb Scented Mage.  Didn’t he know she liked roses?  And what was he doing trying to give flowers to Barkspawn’s mage for that matter?

            “Bel, this is Percy,” she was introducing them.  “He’s a friend who comes by to visit sometimes.”

            “Yes, well, I’d like to stop by your estate more often, but…”  He fidgeted.

            “My father makes him uncomfortable,” The Herb Scented Mage interjected.  “He thinks Percy is trying to court me and wouldn’t approve of him as a husband because, well… Siobhan could probably beat him in a sword fight.  He wants Siobhan’s stepfather to be able to protect her.”

            Barkspawn noticed the one called Percy paled at the word ‘stepfather’.  Pups weren’t easy, but the Herb Scented Mage came with one now.  Why was he pursuing her?  He glanced at Ser Barkivere and Apawstate, as well as Prince of Barkhaven and the Scarlet Woofer. 

            Ser Barkivere was smelling Percy, who shifted away from him.

            “You have a mabari infestation in here,” the one called Percy complained.  For a moment he thought this Percy would be foolish enough to kick Ser Barkivere, but he obviously thought better of it.  “Do you want me to take care of them for you?”

            “Oh, I’m sure they’d love a nice beef bone or some mutton,” the Herb Scented Mage’s voice lightened.  “And Barkspawn likes large balls, especially blue ones; blue and red that is.  They can be a mix of the colors or solid.  Would you really go get that for them?”

            “That’s not what I meant,” Percy grumbled.  “Wait, do you know all of these mongrels?”

            “It’s pronounced ‘mabari’,” Ser Bakivere’s Human corrected him.  Barkspawn noticed that he was bouncing the pup gently.  He moved her in a swooping motion, making her laugh.  “The one sniffing you is mine.  Is everything alright, Ser Barkivere?”

            Ser Barkivere growled.  He was sure this Percy guy was the one he’d smelled the night before.  He just had to be sure.  He barked at his human, trying to act casual.  Barkspawn doubted that his human believed him.  The human was distracted by the pup, though. 

            The pup had started laughing as he played with her, which caused the Herb Scented Mage to smile and laugh herself.  “Oh, you like your new friend, don’t you, ‘Bhan.”

            The pup laughed again in response.

            “Yes, as interesting as her approval of your friend is, I’d like to know who this friend of yours is,” the man called Percy insisted.

            “I’m her new boyfriend,” Ser Barkivere’s human declared.

            Barkspawn scowled at him.  That couldn’t be right, the Herb Scented Mage was in love with the Smelly King and he with her.  That’s how it had always been and Barkspawn would fight with tooth and claw to make sure that’s how it would remain.

            Ser Barkivere gave a happy yip, obviously liking the idea.  Barkspawn gave him a little glare.

            “I… well, that was sudden,” the one called Percy also scowled.  “I thought my competition was that healer who works with the… refugees and such, Leandra or something like that.”

            “His name is Anders,” the Herb Scented Mage corrected him.  “Leandra is Raven’s mom.”

            “Who is Raven?” Percy asked.  Barkspawn rolled his eyes, even he knew who Raven was and he’d only been in Kirkwall for a couple of days.

            “Her cousin,” Bel answered the question for her.  “We’re playing cards with her and our other friends tonight, at the Hanged Man.”

            “Won’t that be fun,” Percy sniffed.

            Barkspawn growled to Ser Barkivere, telling him to teach his human to give less information out.

            Ser Barkivere woofed back that it would make it easier for them to find out if this Percy Man was indeed involved with the cultists.  Now they could wait and see if there was an attack.

            They also decided that the Scarlet Woofer and Prince of Barkhaven would follow him and report back, before they found their own humans again.

            Barkspawn and Ser Barkivere stayed to guard their humans, while Apawstate went to find her own.

Chapter Text

“So… Duncan, was it?”  Lirene obviously didn’t believe that King Alistair was a mere Fereldan noble named Duncan, but she chose to go along with his little game. 

It helped that Bel was with him, along with their dogs.  He wished he’d been able to go with Selene for the day.  He missed her already and didn’t know how he’d managed to go an entire year without her.  He didn’t know how he’d go back to living without her.  She didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to be with him anymore, because she was sure he was going to just hurt her again.  Didn’t she know that he was hurting himself just as badly?

            “Yes,” he confirmed.  “Bann Duncan Guerrin.”

            “Hmmm… I have a friend who knows some of the Guerrins, I wonder if you know her, Selene Amell?  She belongs to a Marcher noble family, but was raised in Ferelden herself,” Lirene explained. 

            “Yes, I believe we’re staying with her cousins,” Alistair tried to be noncommittal, but failed to pull it off.  Maker, he was bad at this.  “I mean… I know… of her… but whether we’ve met or not…. I…”

            “Well, yes, she does seem to dislike your family,” Lirene sighed and shook her head.  “I’m not sure what some of the Guerrins did, but she dislikes Eamon particularly.  I’ve heard her curse his name more than once, usually to refugees from Redcliffe.  Your family was apparently responsible for some big disaster there during the Fifth Blight.”

            “Really?”  Bel spoke up.  “What do you know?”

            “It was during the Blight; most of our refugees left Ferelden at the beginning of the Blight, but a handful came later,” Lirene explained.  “I know a lot of the villagers of Redcliffe were killed by something other than the darkspawn.  The arl’s son died as a result.”

            Alistair remembered.  He could still see poor Connor’s lifeless body on the floor.  Isolde had already hated him and he hadn’t been able to save her son.  He’d taken his anger at himself out on Selene.  She’d yelled back and vented at him, screaming that he was the Senior Warden and should be making the hard decisions.  Yet he forced her to make them and then blamed her when he didn’t like the choices she made.  That fight had resulted in a couple of rocky weeks for their relationship, but they’d made it through that.

            He realized she should have yelled harder or at other items as well, because their relationship hadn’t survived their next fight; her next big decision.  She’d put him on the Throne of Ferelden and he’d broken things off with her the same day.  She’d accused him of doing it to punish her.  Maker, she had no way to know how much he’d punished himself.  Perhaps that was why had let Eamon convince him that he was doing what was best for both of them, and for Ferelden, because he thought he deserved to be punished.  Now, he had been forced into a leadership position and he had begun to study how to govern at Bel’s encouragement.  His friend also continuously encouraged him to fight for what he wanted, telling him he could be a good king and still battle for his own happiness.

            “I’m not much of a fan of Arl Eamon, myself,” Bel commented, breaking Alistair out of his reverie.  “Duncan here, is quite fond of the man.”

            Alistair wondered how long he’d been quiet.  “He’s my…”  He was about to say he was his uncle, but how did he explain that without Lirene figuring out who he really was?  Eamon only had two siblings.

            “Family is complicated,” Lirene agreed.  “A handful of our refugees do have family here in Kirkwall, I mean family that was already here.  They are the ones who are the best off.  You are staying with Raven Hawke, aren’t you?  Her brother and mother came with her, but she did have an uncle in town.  Don’t get me wrong, Hawke pulled herself up to where she is now.  Maker knows she contributes more the Kirkwall than her uncle does, and she donates generously.  She is also part owner in a mine that like to hire Fereldan… because the Marchers won’t go near the cursed place.”

            “Doesn’t she also have cousins here?”  Alistair pressed.

            “Her mother is an Amell,” Lirene confirmed.  “They had been in Kirkwall for generations, but the family seems cursed.  “It started when Revka’s oldest daughter was taken by the Templars.  It’s a shame that she wasn’t still here when Selene returned.  Her widower was, though.”

            “The widower… was… her father?”  Alistair wondered for a moment if he should leave Selene and Siobhan in Kirkwall.  Was she better off there?  He knew he wasn’t better off with her in Kirkwall, but he wanted her happy and she’d made it clear that morning that he was no longer what made her happy.  No, he’d made her cry too many times.

            “Yes,” Lirene confirmed.

            “Wait,” Bel interrupted.  “So, Selene was the daughter taken?”

            “I… I’m… I’m pretty sure she is,” Lirene blinked for a moment thinking.  “She’s definitely one of Revka’s children.  Her age fits the troubled time.  Really, everyone says that’s what started the trouble, but Leandra Amell had already run off with an apostate.  Perhaps he left behind someone who cursed the family.  Magic already ran through their blood, I’m shocked Carver wasn’t a mage, too.  Raven is… I shouldn’t have told you that,” she blanched.  “Not that Raven keeps it a secret.  I swear she’s taunting Meredith, but Varric protects his mage friends and those Templars do not want to live without their lyrium.”

            “I thought Selene was a Gr…”  Alistair began.  Meredith couldn’t just seize a Grey Warden.

            “I’m sure she is great,” Bel cut him off.  He sent Alistair a glare.

            The king grimaced.  Of course, Selene was hiding from the Grey Wardens, she wouldn’t appreciate him blabbing that secret.

            “Oh, she is,” Lirene agreed.  “She helps out here and has even taken on a couple of refugees as apprentices.  She has non-magic skills and makes her living that way.  It’s too bad she isn’t a healer, we have the one apostate healer, but could use more.  Still, she helps the other refugees and gives the Fereldans discounts in her shop.”

            “Where is this shop?”  Bel prompted.  “Where exactly?”

            “Oh, it’s in Darktown,” she answered.  “No doubt she operates there to stay under the Templars radar.  Our healer’s clinic is there as well.  Templars don’t exactly frequent that area.  The Guard Captain is the only guard who goes down there, and that’s only in Hawke’s company.  It keeps those who want to stay hidden or to fly under the law safe… from the authorities that is.  There are reasons the authorities go down there.  The fumes alone are horrid.  Still, it’s where many of my refugees are… our refugees, are.  You remind the King of that, Duncan.  Have him take a tour of that place and remind him that is where his people are living.”

            “Could you tell me exactly where the refugees’ shops in Darktown are and where many hang out?”  Bel prompted again.  Alistair wasn’t sure why he was so insistent.  “I’m merely the younger brother of a teyrn, but I like to think I have the king’s ear and I would like to see it for myself.”

            “Of course,” Lirene gave directions.

            Alistair listened, thinking he might be able to go surprise Selene and see what she was hiding from him, why she didn’t want him to go with him that day.  No, she didn’t want him to go, because she was done with him.  Although, he hadn’t exactly gotten that impression in the middle of the previous night.  If she welcomed him back into her arms, he just had to prove to her that she could trust him back in his life.

            He glanced over to where Barkspawn and Ser Barkivere were sniffing around.  They were gone!  He had no doubt that Barkspawn could get back to the Amell estate on his own, but he still puzzled over what the mabari was up to.

            “Do you have an exact date to when the King will be there?”  Lirene interrupted Alistair’s speculations.  “I would still like to have a celebration for him and his betrothed when they arrive.”

            “Bet…”  He had actually forgotten about Gwen for a moment.  He was so concerned with Selene that thoughts of any other woman had completely disappeared from his awareness.  “Oh, no.  I’m not sure.  Gwen is occupied with her parents and wedding plans.”  Wedding plans.  How was he supposed to plan his wedding to one woman, when he was trying to win back the trust of another?  Maker, he hated his life.  He had only himself to blame, though.  He was the one who’d messed up.  “Um, yes, I hear she, the bet… Gw… that she is enjoying time with her parents, but I’m sure she will be along eventually, with the King, I mean.”

            “Yes,” Lirene agreed.  “I don’t want to be caught by surprise.  Selene and I have been planning a grand celebration that all of the refugees, and hopefully the king, will enjoy.  Some of the other refugees seem convinced that she knows the king.  I’ve only gotten her to admit that they’ve met.  I asked Anders, who met him once in Amaranthine, but even he insists that Selene knows the King much better than she does.”

            “Does she?”  Yet she didn’t know him well enough to know that she could trust him, or she knew him too well; better than he knew himself.  He just needed to prove, to both of them, that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t hurt her again.  That would become harder when Gwen arrived, but he’d just deal with that when it happened.

            “That’s the word,” Lirene confirmed.

            “Look, I think I should check out this Darktown, Duncan,” Bel interrupted.  “I’ll see you at that tavern in Lowtown tonight.”  He left.

            “Tavern in Lowtown?”  Lirene looked after him.  “I hope he doesn’t mean The Hanged Man, that place is a dump.  Although Selene’s friend, Zevran still keeps a room there.  He’s barely in Kirkwall anymore.  He… has business… that takes him out of town a lot.  Although, he is staying around a bit more since the trouble with the Cultists began.”

            “Cultists?”  Alistair was interested in what was going on with Zevran, but cared more about the Cultists who had been attacking Selene and Siobhan when he’d encountered them again.”

            “They seem to be giving a few Fereldans trouble,” Lirene confirmed.  “Particularly, Selene.  I don’t know what they want.  There seems to be more and more of them every day.”

            “Does this Selene have a man who is courting her that will help protect her?”  Was there someone else that she was hiding?

            “Selene can take care of herself,” Lirene assured him.  “I thought there might be something between her and Anders, I would have truly liked to see them find happiness again.  Maker knows, they both deserve it and they so much in common.  Alas, he’s fond of her, but his heart has given itself to her cousin, Raven Hawke; even if he and Raven don’t seem to realize it half the time.  As for Selene, I don’t know if she’s ready to love again.  She… I think it was Siobhan’s father… she’s lost some great love.  She was really sad when I first met her.  It was obvious that she was grieving.  She’s tried moving on.  There’s a Free Marcher, Percy, who has been pursuing her since she got to Kirkwall.  They’re, sort-of courting.  He’s serious, but she isn’t.  Then there was Anders, but that just isn’t meant to be.  So, if you’re planning to court her just be aware that you are competing with some dead great love.”

            “That’s…”  Wonderful!  His heart eased.  “Too bad.”

            “I think the King might have something to do with his death,” Lirene confided.  “She is helping me with the party, but that’s because she cares about the other refugees.  She seems to hate the king.”

            “She what?”  He hadn’t expected that addition.

            “She gets this look when he’s mentioned,” Lirene explained.  “At first, it was this mixture of pain and anger.  Now it’s more anger.  She also gets this inflection in her tone when she speaks of him.  She won’t even use his first name.  It’s just The King and she sounds like it’s a curse.  One of the other refugees tried to hang a drawing of him with his betrothed in my shop.  Before I could even see it, she fried it.  This little lightning bolt came out of her finger and burned it.”

            She hadn’t seemed that angry the night before, especially not after what started in the nursery…  He knew she wasn’t the type to kill someone in their sleep, at least.  She would wait and let him defend himself.  Still, he might have more work cut out for him then he realized.

            “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt the King when he’s here,” Lirene assured him.  “The worst that will happen is a few sharp words.  Now, let me show you what else our king can do for his refugees.”

Chapter Text

            The Hanged Man was busy.  Varric had already secured a table for his friends and had a deck of cards waiting.  Several drunks were passed out on the floor and Corff was happily serving drinks.        

            Selene walked in, carrying Siobhan in her arms.  Bel strolled behind her, carrying the baby’s basket.  Behind him were the dogs.

            “Did you get a new beau, Selene?” Corff called to her.

            “She did,” Bel wiggled his eyebrows.

            “Really?”  Corff coughed.  “Well, I hope you aren’t the jealous type, because that man over there left you this.”  He pointed to Varric’s table and then produced a single red rose.

            Selene’s heart beat a soft tempo and her breath hitched as she took the rose.  She saw several of her friends sitting at the table with Varric, including Alistair.  The flower was fragrant, the scent bringing back soft memories of warm moments.  But she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily, not with all of the problems they still had.  “Varric left a rose for me?”

            “No, the blonde man, the one with the close-cropped beard,” Corff huffed.

            For a second, she thought he meant Anders, but Alistair had grown the beard.  It made him look older, and kinglier.  She knew she was sending him a longing look and wanted to kick herself for it.   “Anders gave me a rose?”  She knew she was purposely driving Corff crazy.

            “No, even if I think he should,” Corff grumbled.  “It’s a good thing you found yourself a new suitor, because I think Anders is about to fight that broody elf friend of Hawke’s for her affections.”  The man left a note as well.  He held it up.

            “Thank you,” she went to take it.

            Corff, however, was too used to patrons who couldn’t read and began reading it out loud to her.  His voice was deadpan, holding no inflections as he read.  “I look at Kirkwall and I look at you and I wonder, how can someplace that is so ugly and full of despair have something so beautiful in it.  I should probably leave you alone, but I can’t.  For you are like this rose.  You are the bright beautiful spot in a world full of despair.            You are the beauty and goodness the Maker blessed Thedas with and even in this place, it shines through.  I will always look to you as shining beacon of the Maker’s love and for the reminder of the goodness of the world.  It is one of the many reasons I love you.  Then he signed it Alistair, even though he told me his name was Duncan.”

            That was likely because he hadn’t meant for anyone, but her, to read it.  “Thank you,  he’s just drunk and doesn’t remember his name.  This is the Hanged Man, after all.”

            “Of course, my lady,” Corff took out a cloth and began wiping down the bar.  “Oh, the owner sent a note asking about new themed mugs.  We sell a lot of them, especially to visitors from other cities.  The note said something about perhaps updating the pattern, that way those who already have our mugs will want the new ones.”

            “I’ll have something for you within the week,” she promised. 

            “Thank you,” he sounded relieved.

            “You could just sell the tavern to Varric and not have to worry about such things again,” she suggested.  “He would take care of it himself.”  Although, she suspected he had more fun playing the secret owner, while he attempted to buy his own property.

            “No!”  Corff looked horrified.

            She just laughed and shook her head.  She adjusted Siobhan, to keep the thorns of the rose from accidentally scratching her, and walked to her friends.

            “It’s a good thing I secretly support your relationship with Alistair,” Bel murmured to her as they made their way through the Hanged Man’s patrons.  “Otherwise, that note would have made me jealous.”

            “Not the way Corff read it,” she scoffed.

            “I don’t know, you are apparently the light of His Majesty’s Life,” Bel pointed out. 

“He was more than willing to extinguish that light and find a proper wife to be true to,” she reminded him.

“He didn’t extinguish it,” Bel argued.  “He let Eamon put blinders on him. We just have to get the blinders removed.  Perhaps from both of you.”

“What?”  She stopped, standing between an amorous pair who now glared at her.  Siobhan laughed at the faces they were making.  “What do you…”

“Why didn’t you fight harder?” Bel argued.  “You quit the battlefield.  Yes, you thought you’d lost and you were hurting; but you let Eamon win.”

“Should I have knocked Alistair out and dragged him to some exotic location, then threatened him until he loved me again?”  Selene hissed.  She glanced at her friends’ table, hoping they couldn’t hear her.

“It would have been a start,” Bel insisted.

“Ferelden needed a king!”  She reminded him.

“They could have him back after you’d restored his sense!”  Bel countered.  “They had to deal with Loghain as their regent for months.  No king would have been better than that!  I understand, first someone needed to get our poor Ali to even fight for what he wants.  I’ve been working on that.  Now, we just have to keep Eamon from playing with his head.  Which we will do together.”

“It’s too late,” Selene sighed.  “Or did you forget that he’s marrying someone else?”

“Oh, I think you have that situation well in hand,” he grinned.  “I’ll take care of everyone else.  Now, let’s go play Wicked Grace.”

“Watch out for Isabela,” Selene warned.  “She cheats.”

Alistair stood up and held out a chair for Selene as she joined the table.  She sat down, beside him, and let him take Siobhan from her.  “What are you two doing together?”  He wanted to know.

“I’m determined to win the heart of the fair Selene and convince her to marry me, unless you can think of a reason I shouldn’t,” Bel declared.

“What?” Anders leaned forward.  “But she and Alistair…”

“Who and Alistair what?”  Two more joined that table.  The question had been asked by Zevran, who had his arm slung around Isabela.  “Alistair!  As I live and breathe!  I thought… shouldn’t I have heard if the Fereldan King was in Kirkwall?”

“I’m trying to keep that secret,” Alistair told him.  “I could ask what you’re doing in Kirkwall.”

“I moved here with Selene,” Zevran smoothly sat in a chair.  “She came here to find her family and I am her body guard.”

“I didn’t see you while she was being attacked by cultists last night,” Alistair’s voice was accusing.  “You aren’t doing a good job at being a bodyguard.”

“He wasn’t with her when she gave birth to the Little Demon, either,” Anders pointed out.

Alistair’s eyes narrowed and he held his daughter closer.  “What did you just call my child?”

Selene patted his arm.  “I’ll explain the nickname when we’re alone tonight.”

“I want to know no…”  He trailed off.  “Alone tonight?  I thought after this morning… alright.”  He turned back to Zevran.  “I was told she ran off with you and, sure enough, here you are together.  Yet now I’ve learned that you keep leaving town while she’s under constant attack.”

“I can take care of myself,” Selene reminded them.

“She really can,” Varric verified.  “Oh, and I know why Little Princess has the other nickname.  So, I’m not consumed by curiosity and am ready to play.  We can fight while we play.”

“We’re still waiting for Aveline,” Hawke reminded him.

“She can join us when she gets here,” Isabela shrugged.  “I want to hear this fight.  The handsome prince is bristling and I find it… exciting.”

Selene glared at her.  Isabela could keep her hands off Selene’s lover… former… or whatever they were to each other now.  “You find watching grass growing exciting.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of grass in Kirkwall,” Isabela pointed out.

“And why is it that you won’t leave Kirkwall, Ravaini?”  Varric prompted.

“You know I can’t leave until I find the relic,” she reminded him.

“Which is…?”  Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“Something that will no doubt get her in trouble and that’s why she won’t say what it is,” Aveline walked to the table.  She pulled out a chair and began to sit down.  Then she stopped and staired at Alistair.

“Hi,” he extended a hand.  “I’m Duncan a minor noble who has come to Kirkwall to…”

“No, you aren’t,” she cut him off.  “You’re King Alistair.  I’m Fereldan, Your Majesty, and I was at Ostagar.  You have a distinct resemblance to your brother, King Cailan.  I’ve also seen sketches of you… before they are either filled with daggers, incinerated, or burned to a crisp.”

“I… am I that hated by the refugees?”  He looked hurt.

“I think certain refugees may not approve of your choice of a bride,” Aveline was careful not to look at Selene.  “Your brother’s wife was the granddaughter of a farmer, wasn’t she?”

“Her father was a noble,” Alistair fidgeted.  “Loghain was a war hero and Maric gave him the Teyrny of Gwaren.”

“Oh, so, a war hero is good enough for the Fereldan Nobles,” Zevran commented.  “Hmmm… I remember a recent war.  There was even a hero who stood against Loghain, she even killed an archdemon.”

“She’s also a mage,” Selene knew her voice was bitter.  “A farmer is much preferrable, to the People of Ferelden, than a mage.”

“That’s such druffalo shit,” Anders swore.  “That’s it, I’m getting a full bottle of whisky.”

“Justice won’t let you get drunk,” Raven reminded him.

“Dammit,” Anders hissed.

“I…”  Alistair gulped.

“Perhaps that hero should marry the younger sibling of a high ranking noble, one from an important family,” Bel suggested.  “That way we could ease the people into the idea.  That is… unless the King is brave enough to marry her himself.”

“I…”  Anders blinked.  “How would you get the Chantry to approve of it?”

“Gold.”  Bel’s answer was that simple and final.

“Hawke’s parents were married,” Isabela studied the cards in her hand.  “There are obviously ways to manipulate clerics.  Gold, blackmail, appealing to their better sense… no, that last one never works.”

“What are we discussing?”  Leliana appeared at Selene’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” Selene told her.  “I think Isabela has been bribing and blackmailing Chantry Sisters.”

Leliana shrugged and then found a chair.  “It’s possible.  Even some of the most righteous sisters are susceptible.  Relics are hard to come by and a little gold in the coffers helps to get them.”

“They pay a lot to get parts of dead people?”  Varric shook his head.  “There is a market for everything.”

“Are you going to start selling fake relics to chantries?”  Raven looked over her cards at him, studying his face.

“They wouldn’t be fakes,” Varric assured her.

“What were you up to all day, Leliana?”  Selene decided to change the conversation yet again.

“I was investigating the Gallows,” Leliana freely admitted.  “That Meredith is crazy.  I’m wondering why the Grand Cleric hasn’t tried to get her replaced.  Perhaps have the Chantry put her someplace… quieter, somewhere without so many mages around.”

“The Grand Cleric likes having her around,” Isabela assured her.  “She’d have to stop praying so hard if she sent Meredith away.”

“Why is she praying harder with Meredith around?”  Merrill wanted to know.  “Is it because she feels bad about the way she lets Meredith treat the mages or does Meredith have something to do with the way she won’t help the people in Lowtown or Darktown.”

“We talked about this Kitten,” Isabela reminded her.

“Oh, it’s the way she likes to drink from Meredith’s Chalice,” Merrill said loudly.

Alistair’s entire face turned red and Bel started laughing uncontrollably. 

Selene found she couldn’t help from leaning in and kissing Alistair’s cheek, he was just so adorable when he blushed.  Her dashing warrior, became a flustered innocent and she loved the juxtaposition.

“Are you getting a good look at those cards, Enigma?”  Varric teased.

She straightened.  “Sorry, I just…”  Maker, she’d considered going back to Denerim and Bel was doing his best to get her to return to Ferelden, but how could she be near Alistair and not be the one in his arms?  It was why she’d left.  Well, one of the reasons.

“Let me take, Siobhan,” Anders reached over and took the baby from Alistair.  “You guys keep playing.  Justice gets mad about Isabela’s cheating.”

“I don’t cheat!”  Isabela protested.

“You so cheat!” Selene objected.

“You cheat, Rivaini,” Varric confirmed.  “Now, it’s your play.”

Selene grinned over the large pile of coins in front of her and at Raven.  “Keep going.  Soon, you’ll have to let Sandal work for me just to pay off what you’re about to lose.”

“Doesn’t he work for you anyway?”  Raven scoffed.  “I swear he’s at the dock for hours a day, adding runes and enchanting staffs.”

“Enchanting staffs?”  Alistair gave her a sharp look.

“You know how much Sandal likes to enchant things,” she shrugged.  “It’s nothing you have to worry about.  Raven just doesn’t keep him busy enough.  He’s happy.”

“What exactly do you sell in that shop of yours, Selene?”  Alistair demanded to know.

“So, you were asking about those cultists who keep attacking Selene, Alistair,” Zevran interrupted.

“I didn’t find anything out about them,” Leliana admitted.  “Morrigan is sure they’re after the baby, though.  She just wouldn’t tell me why she’s sure.”

“She told me, don’t worry about it, Leliana,” Selene insisted.

“I’m going to worry about cultists being after you, Selene,” Leliana insisted.

“As will I,” Alistair agreed.  “Were you attacked by any of them on your way to work today?”

“Of course not,” she laid down her cards and grinned as the rest of the table groaned.  “It only rains bad guys at night.”

“Maybe it’s not Isabela who is cheating,” Aveline muttered.  “I have my guards trying to find where these cultists are staying, but Kirkwall has so much criminal activity, they just find the hideouts of other gangs.”

“We need to get one to talk,” Alistair declared.

Barkspawn stood, Selene had been sure he was dead asleep under the table.  He barked at Alistair, expecting him to understand. 

“Do you have a plan, boy?”  Alistair wanted to know.

At that, Ser Barkivere woofed.

“I could get one of them to talk,” Leliana assured them.

“We tried your method,” Selene informed her.  “He impaled himself on Isabela’s dagger.”

“He got blood all over it,” Isabela agreed.  “I had to use his jacket to clean it all off.”

“You would also need Selene and Siobhan as bait,” Aveline pointed out.  “They are after them.  I don’t think Selene wants to put her baby in any more danger than she’s already in.”

“No, we don’t,” Alistair spoke.

Barkspawn just gave a woof and sat, glaring at Alistair.

“What?”  The King was defensive.

“Barkspawn, do you know who the cultists are?”  Selene asked.

He laid down and grumbled.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Aveline sighed.  “It would have helped.”

“We need to find them,” Alistair was determined.

“We’ll go over plans to do just that tomorrow, Your Majesty,” Aveline promised him.  “Stop by the barracks.”

Alistair looked anxiously around the tavern.  “Don’t call me that!”

“Hey, are we playing or plotting,” Varric grouched.  “I’m starting to win my money back from Enigma and Rivaini.”

“Oh, the next pots are mine,” Bel wiggled his eyebrows.  “Be prepared to see how we play Wicked Grace in Highever.”

“What were you doing before?”  Selene wanted to know.  “It looked like Wicked Grace.”

“I was studying all of you,” Bel revealed.

“And what did you learn?”  Selene prompted.

“Isabela keeps trying to cheat,” Bel informed her.  “But she stops every time Varric or Aveline give her a look.  She managed to slip a card into her hand anyway, but Hawke set it on fire.  When Isabela claimed she needed to tie her boot, she was actually dropping the card under the table and trying to nurse her burnt fingers.  That’s when she asked Anders to check the cut on her leg.  Everyone else was looking for her to pull out a new card, so no one realized she had burnt fingers.  Now, Anders is losing because he can’t stop mooning over Raven.  She hasn’t noticed, even though she sneaks him longing looks when he isn’t looking.  Meanwhile, Zevran has been more successful at cheating, but he’s trying to help Alistair.  Alas, despite the help, Alistair is still losing.”

“Interesting,” Selene wasn’t surprised by any of the claim.  “Did you have any observations about me?”

“You are bright, beautiful, cunning, and dangerous,” Bel declared.  “You are a goddess to be both feared and loved.”

“I tried similar lines on her, mon ami,” Zevran informed him.  “She thanked me for the compliments and gently let me know that I was wasting my breath.”  He sighed dramatically.  “Me!  Alas, I might have had more of a chance, if only her heart wasn’t already taken.”

“Ah, but now she is a Fereldan refugee who is unattached romantically,” Bel pointed out.  “How can I not try to win her hand and her heart and whisk her back to her home country?  Only a fool would let a prize like her go.”

“You do have a point there,” Zevran’s gaze slid to Alistair.

“Do I not have a say in this?”  Selene objected.

“Of course, you do,” Bel assured her.  “I am merely trying to sway your heart and hand.  They are yours to give to whom you please or to keep for yourself.”

“Yes, they are,” Alistair’s jaw was clenched as he glared at his friend.

“Others are also free to try and win them,” Bel continued, giving Alistair a pointed look.  “For all is fair in love and war.”

“Just play cards, Bel,” Selene gave him a sidelong glance.  She then looked at Alistair who had the cutest scowl on his face.  Without thinking, she reached up and ran a soothing finger between his eyebrows.

Chapter Text

“What do you think you’re doing?”  Alistair hissed at Bel.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate for you to pee in the alley next to the Hanged Man, or any alley for that matter,” Bel insisted.  “Yes, there is that wooden privacy screen in the corner, but there was a long line.  Master Tethras was nice enough to let us come in and use his chamber pot.  I suspect that half the patrons who go into that alley are immediately robbed and that man who was third in line had put down so many drinks, he’ll probably being peeing until the return of the Maker.  Besides, you hissed at me about having a private word.”

“That’s what I meant by What do you think you’re doing!”  Alistair threw up his hands.  Still, he grabbed Varric’s chamber pot and went behind a privacy screen.  “That’s the private word I wanted to have with you.  What are you doing with Selene?”

“You mean the beautiful refugee I found in Kirkwall?”  Bel sat on Varric’s bed and leaned back a bit.  “Fergus did send me to Denerim, and that ball you were having, to find a wife.  Obviously, all of the good Fereldan women were not there.  No, they weren’t vying for your crown, they had other concerns.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a great guy, Alistair, but you know that it was a throne beside yours and a nice tiara that those women were really after.  Even your Gwen came for that.”

“Her parents sent her; she wasn’t…”  Alistair trailed off.  He hadn’t even thought about his betrothed since he laid eyes on Selene again.  Gwen was… not Selene.  She was the woman he had agreed to marry, though.

“You mean those people who are about to become your in-laws?  Those guys who will be the grandparents of your heirs?”  Bel’s voice was light.  “Oh, yea, the Fereldans are going to love them.  At least they won’t try to take the throne if you die, like Loghain did.  If only Cailan had had a child, any child.  If only you did… wait, didn’t you say that you are Siobhan’s father?  How did that happen?  Perhaps, you fell in love with the brave mage willing to risk everything to save your people and a child resulted from the union.  It’s almost like you already have an heir and don’t have to get married to someone you don’t love to produce one.”

Alistair closed his eyes.  His beautiful baby, whose mother was a mage.  Still, she was his child and he realized what Bel was hinting at.  That didn’t explain why his friend was trying to court his Selene, though.  “I’ll send an official declaration to Ferelden in the morning.  Selene’s going to kill me, though.  She didn’t want anyone to know where she is.”  He reached for one of the scraps of cloth that Varric kept behind his screen to clean himself.

“Oh, were you planning to leave Siobhan and her in Kirkwall?” Bel challenged.  “Have you seen Darktown, where Selene’s shop is?  No, don’t go to Darktown.  Just trust me that we can’t leave them there.”

“I…”  Alistair dipped his hand in a nearby bowl.  “I want to take them back to Denerim with me.  That’s where they should have always been.  But… I don’t know how to get her back there.  She doesn’t trust me.”

“Have you given her a reason to?”  Bel challenged.  “I don’t know what is exactly going on with you two, but it’s obviously complicated.  You made yourself a slave to your duties and from what she’s told me, she was sacrificed to those very duties.”

Alistair stopped in mid step.  “What did she tell you?”

“A lot, and while you’re my friend, not all of it is for your ears,” Bel confided.  “She has been building a life without you.  That life is now threatened by these cultists who are after Siobhan.  She won’t tell me why they’re after her, but they are becoming a problem.”

“I could defend them better in Denerim,” Alistair muttered.  The woman he loved and their daughter were in danger, but they didn’t want his help.

“I could defend them better in Highever,” Bel countered.  “Alistair, forget your daughter for a moment.  Do you want Selene back in your life?”

            “Yes,” he had no hesitation about that answer.  He was miserable without her.  He found the thought of leaving her again unbearable.

            “In what capacity?”  Bel pushed.  “From what I’ve gathered, you two were inseparable at one point.  You still keep a painting of her in your office.  You made a baby together.  I’m also under the understanding that it was you who broke things off, twice.  You broke her heart, shattered it into a million pieces that will never be whole again.  At least that’s how Leliana described it.”

            “Leliana talks to much,” Alistair decided.

            “If you want her happy, decide how that will be,” Bel asserted.  “Perhaps a teyrn’s younger brother is the answer.  If it’s you, you need to fix some things in your life immediately.  Decide how to do that, because if you’re picking duty again, then I’m going to do my best to win the heart of that amazing woman you gave up.”

            “I…”  Alistair wanted Selene happy, but he didn’t want to have to watch her being happy with someone else.  He realized that he’d expected her to do that, though.  Did he doubt the love she’d professed for him?  Did that make it easier to have broken with her when he did, he didn’t have to think about how miserable he was making her; only the misery he was causing himself.  His only other choice was not to see her again and he couldn’t do that.  He had to be sure she was safe and there was no way he wasn’t going to have a relationship with their daughter.  By the Maker, he was going to do better than his father did.  He sat down on the bed beside Bel.  “She doesn’t trust me anymore.”

            “Is there a reason she should?”  Bel challenged.

            “No,” Alistair laid his head in his hands.

            “Give her a reason to trust you then and prove you are worthy of that trust.”  Bel patted his leg.  “Let’s go rejoin her and the others.  At least the handsome healer isn’t a threat to you.  I don’t know if you could win against him.”

Chapter Text

The Smelly Cheese King had really left to go mark a tree in the ink-scented dwarf’s room, or whatever he was doing, at a very bad time.  Ser Barkivere had spotted the Cultist at the dirty tavern.  It was definitely the one who had stopped by the Herb Scented Mage’s shop earlier.

            Barkspawn tried to get the king’s attention, but he was still gone; as was Ser Barkivere’s human.  Couldn’t they have held it until they were back at the Amell Estate.  The Amells had one of those little cupboards with a private latrine that humans seemed to like.  They didn’t see peeing as the social event it was.

            Still, he had to keep an eye on things.  Someone had to protect his Herb Scented Mage and her puppy.  He signaled Ser Barkivere and Apawstate and they crept to where the man sat with another man.  The other man wore a black cloak and his face was hidden, as if that didn’t bark villain to everyone nearby.  He might as well have worn a sign that said Hello, I’m a Bad-Boy Human.  Ask me how.

            Barkspawn looked to Ser Barkivere and gave a little woof.

            Ser Barkivere gave a single nod in response.  This was the human he had scented when the Cultists had attacked the human puppy.

            “I need help,” the man, whose name was Percy, as Barkspawn recalled, was insisting. 

            Oh, he would need help when Barkspawn was through with him.

            “We’ve sent you men and more men, Perseverance.”  Huh, the cloaked Bad Human was a woman.  She sounded impatient.

            “And they’ve failed to capture a whimpering, mewling baby who likes to poop and spit up,” Percy countered.  “If nothing else, that should prove she carries the soul of The Great One?”

            “Because she poops and spits up?”  The Bad Human asked.  “I hate to tell you this, but many babies do that.”

            “I need the Great Ninjas of Wyrm, Humility,” Percy declared.

            The once called Humility, who was definitely not humble, laughed.  “They are the commune’s protection, not to be called out on a whim.”

            “They are there as the greatest arm of the People, the Fist of the Great Ones, not nurse maids to those who should be able to protect themselves,” Percy insisted.  “They are the greatest fighting force in Thedas and recovering Urthemiel should be their biggest priority.  Would the Great Ones want us to cower in safety when one of them needs us?”

            Barkspawn gave a little yip.  The Grey Wardens were the greatest fighting force in Thedas, not this group of Great Ninjas of Wyrm.  What was a ninja?  What was a Wyrm?  Wasn’t that like a dragon or wyvern?  The man pronounced the letter like the dh in dhampir, though and not the creature that slithered in the dirt.

            “Who is Urthemiel?”  Apawstate asked in a soft bark.

            Ser Barkivere lightly growled to her, telling her of the archdemon that had plagued Ferelden.

            She grumbled back a reminder that she had also been in Ferelden when the Blight began and knew about the archdemon and darkspawn, she just hadn’t known its name.

            “I’ll talk to Killsin and Discretion,” Humility assured him.  “As this is, indeed, the one who carries Urthemiel’s soul within it, they will likely heed your wish.  I saw the witch who we thought gave birth to the child.  It seems it may not have been her, but she was protecting a babe and that means we have found that which she means to keep from us.  The Great One will be ours.  We will take her from the underserving and she shall lead us to glory.”

            “So shall it be,” Percy agreed.

            Barkspawn didn’t know why they were talking funny or what exactly they wanted, but he was sure they were after his Herb Scented Mage’s pup and that was enough reason to stop them.  He looked at the others, signaling that they should just rip the throats out of the pair.

            Apawstate disagreed.  She barked that such actions would cause problems and ruin her human’s night.  She added that the guards and Templars would come after them.  There would be trouble and more cultists would come.  When they did, they would no longer be there to protect their humans.

            Ser Barkivere woofed that they knew the scent of these two and would keep an eye on them.  Somehow, they would let their humans know what they were up to.

Chapter Text

Selene sat in front of the fireplace in her room, a rebec in her arms.  She’d managed to take it with her when she’d left Kinloch hold with Duncan and through her journeys during the Blight… and after.  She hadn’t played it in over a year, not since Alistair had shattered her heart.  It brought back too many memories.

            She was a bit rusty, but was soon playing a soft melody.  She remembered those nights during the Blight, where she would play in her tent.  After she and Alistair had started sharing a tent, he would curl up beside her, resting his head against her legs as she played, and sang along.  She’d found she missed that, those moments, even more than the passion that was between them.  It was those still moments of two hearts resting together, safe and cherished.

            He said he wanted to re-earn her trust, but how could she trust her secrets, never mind her heart, to the man who’d shattered it; who had thrown away those moments.

            Her door opened.  She knew it was Alistair without looking up.  She hadn’t forgotten the sound of his footfalls.  “She’s asleep.”

            Selene smiled.  “Good.”  She’d fed Siobhan, but let Alistair burp her and rock her to sleep.  “Did you change her clout?”

            “I did,” he confirmed.  “I’m not sure how well I did it, but it’s changed.”

            “She’d better still have it on in the morning,” she warned, even as she continued to play her rebec.

            Alistair laid down beside her, curling around the back of her and resting his cheek against her leg.  “There’s an Andrastian amulet hanging from her cradle.”

            “There is,” Selene confirmed.   She wasn’t going to tell him yet what it was and where she’d gotten it.

            “It looks like it was shattered and someone had it repaired at some point,” he added.  He looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

            “That fits with what I know of its history,” she remained evasive as she played.

            He gave a single nod.  “Where did you get it from?”

            “That is a long story,” was all she would tell him.  “As is why it is now hanging from Siobhan’s cradle.

            “There’s also a glass rose in her room.”  Alistair was turned onto his right side.  He reached up with his left arm and softly stroked her back.

            “That I bought in Kirkwall,” she told him.  “It… it was a reminder.”  Maker, she felt tears welling, just at a memory of how much she missed him and how much he meant to her even when she had left him.  She’s missed the passion that they’d shared the night before, but she missed their quiet moments together more; and those tender moments of two hearts connecting.  It was that connection that she was afraid she’d never be able to find with anyone else.  As she looked down, she knew it was because her heart still belonged to him.

            He sat up for a moment and touched her cheek, stroking the area under her right eye with his thumb.  Then he kissed her cheek before curling up around her again.  “I like the rose.”

            It was a good thing he hadn’t found the magically preserved rose in her room.  She knew she needed to discuss Siobhan’s… condition, but continued to play instead.

            Alistair closed his eyes and began singing along with her.

            Over valley and del he would roam

            And his heart would beg him to please go home

            For no matter where he’d go

            Without her he was alone

            For his legs would roam

            But his heart would be in its home

            With her did it dwell

            No matter where his head fell

            And she’d move through the trees and brine

            Acting like everything was fine

            But she’d cry out to him from time to time

            For her soul felt as wintertime

            For its mate it did cry

            It cried, please come home

            It cried, please come home

            She glanced down at him as he continued to sing of the separated lover, lost without each other.  She wondered if the pair in the song had every been reunited.  Perhaps he’d spent too long away and she’d turned to another for comfort.  No, if her heart truly cried out for him, she would have waited faithfully.  Was he faithful?  Did he make it back to her?  Or were they forever separated?  Could they truly be separated, or would they fight to come back together?  Even in death would they be driven to return to their home, to the other?

            He met her gaze.  “I once wondered how a heart could cry, but then I crushed my own and have felt its tears ever since.”

            She couldn’t stop herself from leaning down and kissing him softly.  “I don’t want to see you in pain, no matter how much pain you’ve put me through.”

            “I’m sorry,” he reached up and touched her cheek.

            She set the rebec down.  “It doesn’t stop the consequences of your choices, though.  And you’ve made those clear.  Nor can it change what we face now.”

            He sat up and pulled her into his arms.  “What do we face now?”

            “There is a cult who wants our daughter,” she answered.  “I… Morrigan had to explain to me what exactly happened.  Well, part of it.  I also had to go see Avernus.”

            “The crazy Ancient Grey Warden in Soldier’s Peak?”  Alistair obviously didn’t like that she’d gone to see him.

            “What else is a Grey Warden who finds herself pregnant supposed to do?”  She wanted to know.  “You had told me we couldn’t have children together, yet I hadn’t… been with… anyone else.  I was also afraid the Taint was going to hurt my baby.  He helped me.  He put me on specific herbs and confirmed that… a certain Dark Ritual was imitated closely enough to produce the child and that it had… attracted the archdemon’s soul.”  She said the last part very quickly.

            “The What?”  Alistair pulled away and Selene regretted that she had ruined the quiet respite they were having.

            “I… this is going to be a longer story than I realized,” she sighed.  “Perhaps I should get some sleep and tell you tomorrow.”

            “Does that mean you’ll let me come to your shop tomorrow?”  He leaned in and kissed her temple.

            She closed her eyes for a moment.  “Not yet, I… I have secrets that I’m… I’m still scared Alistair.  I… love you, but my trust isn’t as devoted as my heart seems to be.”

            “Does that mean you won’t marry Bel, at least?”  He sounded so hopeful.

            She gave a little laugh.  “I may need a good reason not to.”  Then she sobered and looked into his eyes.  “Can you give me a reason not to?”

            “I love you,” his answer was simple.

            “I love you, too,” she admitted.  Then she swallowed, having to address a matter she didn’t even like thinking about.  “Then can I just ask you not to marry Gwaren?  Can I ask you to never marry anyone else?”

            “I…”  He backed up a bit.  “I’ve made promises.  I don’t know… I…”

            “I’ll take that as a no.”  She stood and walked to the bed.  “I’ll have Isabela watch the shop for me tomorrow.  We’ll go somewhere private to discuss Siobhan.”

            “Selene,” his voice was pleading.

            She just slid under the covers of her bed.  “Good night, Alistair.”  She slid her back to him and closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

Alistair Theirin lay in the bed of the only woman he had ever loved and called himself a fool.  He hadn’t returned to the room that had been assigned to him in the Amell Estate, even after the small fight with Selene.  Why would he, when he could once again sleep beside her?  Even if she was not happy with him at the moment.

            He gazed at the back of her head, as he drifted off to sleep.  She had brought up the matter of his betrothal.  Of course, she had.  That was a… difficulty… between them.  He thought of Gwen and Selene, putting them mentally side by side.  One represented his duty to his people.  The other was his duty to his heart.  That poor heart had ached since he’d chosen duty over love.  No, it was crushed, he’d crushed his own heart.  Then the ache had come as time had tried to heal the wound.  Only, the wound had proven that it was not something that would ever completely heal.  Nor would his heart move where he told it to.  It was devoted to her and always would be.

            Yet, he had reminded that poor organ time and again of their duty to his people.  It called him a fool and refused to change.  Then Bel had come along and called him a fool to his face.  He’d used words kinder than Morrigan did, but he had championed Alistair’s duties to his heart, to himself.

            Gazing at Selene, he knew that nothing would ever change his love for her.  On the other hand, he had made promises.

            You made promises to her, too, a voice whispered to him.  He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t.  He’d never proposed.  He’d known they could be killed in battle and refused to make long term plans.  Yet, he’d sworn his love and given his heart, and didn’t that come with certain expectations; like not hurting the other by picking duty over love.  He’d overheard her argument with Wynne, when the elder mage had been trying to get Selene to break off their relationship, telling her that she would have to choose duty over love.  Selene had sworn she’d never do that and they’d had a loud tiff over Wynne’s expectations.  That had turned into a shouting match over everything Wynne had ‘advised’ and her talks about what it meant to be a Grey Warden.  Selene had started shouting at the older woman, revealing that the others at her Joining had died and that Duncan had only conscripted her to keep her from becoming a Tranquil.  She suggested Wynne go through the Joining before she lectured her on what being a Grey Warden meant or telling her she had to give up the man she loved, because the universe had already been unkind to her.  She’d declared that she was going to hold on to the one good thing that had come into her cursed life.

            Then, a couple of months later, he’d taken it.  He hadn’t been willing to fight for the good the Maker had sent.  Was it too late now?  His betrothed would be in Kirkwall… well, he didn’t know exactly when.  It would be sooner than he realized.

            Alistair wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when Siobhan’s plaintive calls woke him.  His sleep had been fitful and he easily woke.  He’d never gotten to a deep sleep.

            He sat up and slipped out of the bed.  He noticed Selene was stirring.  “I’ll take care of her,” he assured Selene. 

“She was starting to sleep through the night, before you came here,” Selene muttered, but staid in the bed.

“I’m a horrible influence on her,” he joked.  Then he quietly crept to the nursery.

Siobhan looked up at him, tears on her cheek.  The crying stopped as she gazed at him expectantly.

“Hey, there,” he scooped her up into his arms.  “I hear you’re giving me a bad reputation.  Were you sleeping through the night for mommy until I got here?”

She didn’t respond, she just continued to gaze up at him.

He lifted her and sniffed.  “You don’t need changed.  Are you hungry?  Are you going to be my midnight pantry thief partner?  We’ll get all the cheese.”

She mewled, as if liking the idea, but then she began whimpering.  He suspected she was hungry and almost regretted that he’d have to wake Selene up.  “We’ll have mommy teach me how to make a feeding bottle for you.  Does she even have any?”

Siobhan stopped crying for a moment and looked at him quizzically. 

“She hasn’t used them, has she?”  He sighed.  “Perhaps I should get some, if I can convince her to move back to Denerim.  Maybe, I should anyway.  What if she decides to marry Bel and you move to Highever?  Could I handle that?  You’ll be safe and closer than Kirkwall.  I could visit you; I swear I’ll visit more than my own father did.”

More than his own father did.  He couldn’t be a father like his.  It was why he’d sworn not to have any bastards of his own.  He didn’t want his children to go through what he had.  But here he was, holding the child he’d made with Selene.  If he did marry Gwen, what would Siobhan’s relationship with them be?  What would her relationship with any children he had with Gwen be like?  Would it be better than his relationship with Cailan had been?  Would it be worse?  Would she resent them for being in line for the throne?  Would she still be in line?  Her mother was a mage, but that mage was The Hero of Ferelden.  It was wrong that magic should exclude his daughter from the Throne of Ferelden.  That wasn’t what he thought excluded him.  Maker, what was he going to do?  Could he marry someone else when he’d found the woman he loved?  Could he just give a metaphorical finger to the Bannorn and marry who he wanted to?  Arl Eamon had, but he wasn’t the king.  What would the People of Ferelden do if he just married Selene in defiance of the Chantry and Bannorn?  He wasn’t sure he was brave enough to do that.

He carried Siobhan to Selene’s room.  If he couldn’t be brave for the people he loved, then he should just declare himself a coward.  First, he had to win back her trust, though. 

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you can trust Isabela with your shop?”  Alistair rode towards the coast.  Selene rode beside him.  Siobhan was in a sling and nestled against her chest.  The babe looked out as the road along.

            “I have had Zevran and her watch the shop while I work in my forge on the docks,” she assured him.  “Isabela watched it by herself when I first gave birth to Siobhan.  She likes being around sharp, pointy objects.  And it’s nice when she likes a particular dagger and talks to it.  I know I did a good job, then.”

            Alistair shook his head.  “So, you’ll trust her and not me.”

            “It depends on the situation,” Selene sighed.  “Look, Alistair, there are things in the shop that I can trust her knowing, that you… I don’t think you’d approve of it and I just can’t be sure that you’ll always have my back anymore.”

            “I fought an archdemon with you!”  He shouted.  His horse bucked and he had to calm down.  “I’m sorry.  I…  I know I hurt you and it damaged a lot of what was once between us.  Please, please know that I would never do anything to hurt you.”

            “Not until Eamon or Gwallter tell you to,” she grumbled.

            “Who’s Gwal…”  He stopped.  “Wait, do you mean Gwen?”

            “Is that her name?”  Selene stopped her horse as they reached the Waking Sea.  She held Siobhan close, as she began to dismount.  “Gwandoya will just have to forgive me for not caring, or not, I don’t care what she thinks of me.”

            “Let me help you,” he quickly dismounted and moved to her side.  “For Siobhan’s sake…”  He began, even as he helped her down, his hands remaining on her hips.

            “That woman will never come near Siobhan,” she swore.  “If she tries, I’ll sic Morrigan on her, I’ll sic her on both of you.”

            Alistair gulped.  “She’s a nice person, but… look, let me talk to her; explain about…”

            “About what?”  Selene pressed.  “Does she not know that you’ll do whatever Eamon thinks is your duty and best for Ferelden, consequences be damned; no matter who you hurt?  Don’t worry, you have both already decided she’s… acceptable.  You really should be with her right now.  You know Siobhan and I are fine without you.”

            “I don’t want to be with her,” Alistair objected.  His voice was quiet, but he was gazing at her intently, pleadingly.  “I want to be with you.”

            “For how long?”  She shook her head, knowing tears were brewing.  She’d wanted to hear those words, but didn’t trust them.  “Until you’re reminded of your duty?  Until Eamon shows up and explains why I’m unacceptable?  Until he reminds you that Siobhan can’t be queen?”

            “I’ll always want you,” he swore.  “Besides, you two aren’t fine.  Bel told me about how bad Darktown is, your shop is there.  And there are Cultists after you.”

            “My shop is in Darktown, because I have to avoid Templars and guards,” she enlightened him.  “Some of my clients have a need to avoid one or the other, as do I.”

            “Why, why would you be selling to people like that?”  He was flabbergasted.

            “I am people like that!”  She held Siobhan close, protective.  “At least I used to be.  When Duncan found me… well, I’ve told you the story.  They… the very people you trained with, would have made me Tranquil if he hadn’t saved me!  I… I had done nothing wrong; I’d only done what Gregoire had told me to do.  Yet I would have suffered, just because I was friends with a man who turned out to be a blood mage.  Mages here have it even worse.”

            “You’re helping the mages?”  This was obviously news to him.  “How?  I thought you were making and selling weapons.”

            “Among other things,” she confirmed.  “For example, I make those mugs at the Hanged Man.  You were drinking out of one.  I designed and forged those.”

            “You can send those to Corff, or whoever owns that… place… from Ferelden,” he insisted.  “I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t stay in Kirkwall forever.”

            “It’s all right,” she lifted a hand and touched his cheek.  “I left you, remember?  You’d broken with me already, you said you had to do it before it was too late… something about not being able to do it if we’d stayed together any longer, whatever that meant.  I survived that, my heart may not ever beat right again and I thought I’d suffocate from my grief, but I’m alive.  You don’t really expect me to return to Denerim, where you will reject me again the moment Eamon tells you to, and watch you marry Gwalchmai do you?  Do you hate me that much?”

            “I could never hate you,” he swore.  “I will love you until the end of time, it will be the one constant in my life.”

            “But love isn’t enough for you,” she sighed.  “Was it Wynne or Eamon that convinced you that duty was more important than love?”

            “I admit that Wynne had Leliana tell me a story about a land where love almost destroyed a world, it was The Tale of the Wyvern Javelin,” he told her.  “But that was long before the Landsmeet took place.”

            “Have you ever read the story?”  She was incredulous.  “It was written down; it wasn’t one of the stories that Leliana just has memorized and tell as a bard.  Yes, selfish love threatened their world, but it was also love that saved it!  Duty sure did not.  If Silversun had done her duty, she wouldn’t have married Stillpond.  She would have married who her father wanted and then they wouldn’t have been there to save their world.  Even the selfish love was defeated by a truer love, one that allowed one of the other heroes to face an evil god.  Damnit, Alistair, read the book for yourself!”

            “I…”  He began and then stopped.  “It’s a book?  Not just a legend that Leliana remembered?”

            “Yes!”  She looked down at Siobhan.  “I may have to kill Leliana.”

            Alistair walked to the edge of the beach and looked out at the sea.  “You brought me here to tell me why Cultists are after our daughter.  I’m assuming it isn’t just because she’s our daughter, although, the Hero of Ferelden and King of Ferelden’s baby girl is something people might want to worship… or sacrifice to a powerful god.”  His eyes widened and he whirled to face her.  “Do you think they want to sacrifice her?”

            “How am I supposed to know their full motivation?”  She wanted to know.  “All I can tell you is what Morrigan related to me, when she showed up.  They thought she had… your baby.”

            Alistair laughed.  Then he laughed some more.  He ended up sitting in the water, with his head thrown back as he tried to get over the ludicrousness of the idea.  “Why would they…”  He stopped, his laughter overcoming him.  “Why would they ever think I… with Morrigan.”  The laughter finally stopped as he shuddered at the very thought of touching the witch in such a way.

            “I… she…”  Selene gazed out at the waves for a moment, deciding where to start.  “She came to see me the night that Riordan told us why a Grey Warden has to be the one who kills an archdemon.  You mentioned that you saw her waiting outside of my room when… you came to me later that night.”

            “I remember,” he confirmed. 

            “I never told you why she’d come to see me, though,” she took a deep breath.  “She told me that she knew a way that we could both live, that neither of us had to be sacrificed.”

            “You don’t mean Riordan, do you?”  He moved so he could see her face again.  “What did you two do?”

            “Oh, it wasn’t her and me who did something,” she assured him.  “Nor am I the one she wanted to do something with.  She… she wanted to perform a ritual with you, a dark ritual.”

            Alistair’s face darkened now.  “What sort of ritual?  We’re talking blood magic, aren’t we?”

            “Among other things, she confirmed.  “She wanted me to convince you to lay with her, to… plant your Grey Warden seed in her witchy woman’s vessel.”

            “She what?”  Alistair moved back, surging to his feet at the same time.  He lost his footing and landed, hard, further into the rolling waves.

            “My reaction was actually worse,” Selene admitted.  “I also reminded her that I couldn’t get you to… caboodle… with me anymore, so there was no way I could talk you into… tupping her, so she could get knocked up and have your little Grey Warden baby.”

            “My what?”  His brows furrowed.

            “Oh, I forgot that part,” she quirked her lips.  “Well, the purpose of this ritual was to conceive a child.”

            “She wanted to have my baby!”  Alistair made it sound as if it were the ending of a scary story told around a campfire. 

            “That’s what she told me,” Selene confirmed.  “She said that instead of going into one of us, the soul of the Old God, would go into the baby.  The baby would live and carry it.  As the soul didn’t go into either of us, we would live.  Then she would disappear, never to be seen again.”

            “She would disappear with my baby,” Alistair still sat in the waves, trying to absorb his bane’s nefarious plan.

            “That was what she claimed,” Selene agreed.  “We would both go on with our lives and she would have the baby conceived in this… ritual… and go off to do Morrigan things.  The problem with her plan was that there was no way I could ever convince you to go along with it and I had…”  She paused a moment and took a deep breath.  “I’d already decided that I would be the one to sacrifice themself to destroy the archdemon.  I… I didn’t see any way towards a happy ending and…”

            “You were going to let yourself just die,” he growled.  “Did you think what that would do to me?”

            “Did you care?”  She countered.  “You’d crushed my heart.  My choices were to return to the gilded prison of the mages or to Weisshaupt to be a slave to the Grey Wardens.  The latter was my best choice.”  She gazed at him a moment.  “You have no idea how much your choice of duty had destroyed me, do you?”

            “I didn’t exactly have an easy time, either,” he argued.  “Do you think I haven’t shed my share of tears over what I had to do?”

            “Chose, not had,” she corrected.  “You chose to do it.  You could have fought for us.  You could have kept me by your side.  Maker, I was willing to become the royal mistress.  You chose some unknown woman, who turned out to be Gwadalupe, and to be faithful to her.  I had to go; don’t you dare judge me on how I decided to leave.  Only…”

            “Neither of us died,” he supplied.

            She nodded.  “That confused me at first.  I talked to Avernus about it.  He… remember how I’d taken that potion at Soldier’s Peak?”

            “The one that we had no idea what it would do to you?”  His expression darkened even further.  “Yes, I remember.”

            “It apparently mimicked the dark ritual enough to allow me to become pregnant and attract the soul of the Old God, the one the archdemon used to be, so it went into the baby instead of either of us.”  She looked down at Siobhan who looked back up at her with wide eyes.  If there was anything malicious in her daughter, it slumbered.  She was not a tainted old god, she was a baby, one with her future laying before her, undecided.

            “You’re telling me that Siobhan has the soul of… Urthemiel in her?”  Alistair placed his head on his legs.

            “She does, but Anders has confirmed that she isn’t any sort of darkspawn, he can’t sense anything in her that is… tainted,” Selene assured him.  She eyed him cautiously, wondering if he was going to go jump on his horse and ride all the way to wherever Gwanwen was at the moment. 

            “Why can’t you tell?”  His expression was confused.

            “I… he can’t sense the taint in me either,” she revealed.

            “He’s not much of a Grey War…”  Alistair trailed off.  “I can’t feel the taint in you, either.  I hadn’t noticed that.”

            “Anders can’t explain it,” she revealed.  “He thinks it was something to do with my pregnancy.  We’ve both been too afraid to look into any other Grey Wardens who gave birth.  We are both in hiding from the order.”

            “I’ll look,” he vowed.  “I need to know what’s going on.”  He studied them for a moment.  “Do you want me to…”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  “I don’t feel either of you… you aren’t tainted creatures.  How…?  I’ll ask around.  So, what is Siobhan?”

            Selene held her closer and glared at him.  “She’s our daughter.” 

            “Of course, she’s our daughter,” Alistair moved closer to her.  “Did she… float above the cradle after she was born?  Did she cause a Templar’s head to explode?  Wait, is this why the Cultists are after her?”

            “I believe so,” she confirmed.  “Morrigan came to Kirkwall and told me that they had been following her.”

            “She led them to you?”  His expression became stony.  “How did she even know where you were?  I didn’t know.”  A memory hit him.  “She came to Denerim, looking for you.  She… wasn’t happy with what she found there.”

            “Yes, I know,” Selene confirmed.  “She told me that she found you sitting on your throne with Gwanwenn at your side.”  She gulped.  “She was surprised and disappointed, she was even more shocked that you had the disability to disappoint her.  I’d told her, when she wanted me to convince you to do the dark ritual with her, how things really were between us.  I guess she…”  Selene became aware that she was once again near tears.  “She had more faith in your love than I did.”

            “Why is my love faithless?”  Alistair pouted a little.

            Selene gave a bitter laugh.  “You had Gwawr by your side and you were trying to protect her, when Morrigan found you.  She told me all about it.  I don’t know why she was surprised.  You told me you were going to go find someone like this Gweirful when you first crushed my heart.  Well, you found her and are ready to start your acceptable royal family with her.  Yet… you swear you didn’t lie all those times you said you loved me.  Maker, you are still claiming that you do.”

            “I do love you,” he asserted.

            Now her tears did flow.  “A paltry, weak love that cannot overcome your devotion to duty.  You also said that you would never keep a mistress, whatever… has happened between us since we’ve been reunited… is just a bit of faithlessness to duty on your part.  So, no, your love is not faithless, it’s weak.  Your sense of duty is strong, but faithless.”

            “I…”  He stood and began to walk away.  Then he whirled around.  “Morrigan knew where you were and I didn’t!”

            “No, she didn’t, that’s why she went to Denerim to find me,” Selene pointed out.  “She encountered Zevran there.  He knew where I was.  He brought her here with a warning about the Cultists.  She assures me that they would have found me soon enough.”

            “She put you two in danger,” Alistair insisted.

            “She didn’t know about Siobhan,” Selene assured him.  “She’s helped protect her since.  I can protect my daughter, have no doubt.  There is no reason some weak, paltry feelings that have been beaten down and subdued by your sense of duty should inconvenience your life.  Go find Gwena and marry your proper little bride, who doesn’t have the taint of magic in her pure bloodline.  Leave the Amells, and our cursed bloodline, to fend for ourselves.”  She stood, aware there were tears streaming down her eyes.  Maker, what was she doing?  She was going to walk away from the man she still loved, because he didn’t love her enough to fight for her.  She tried to tell herself that she would get over him, eventually, even though she knew that to be a lie.  She didn’t look at him as she walked by him.

            She was near her horse when a group of Tal-Vashoth began rushing towards her.

            “Not now!”  She summoned a storm, the lightning striking at the men.  She held Siobhan close to her as she unsheathed her sword to face any who survived the tempest.  Then she saw a flash to her left.

            Alistair ran past her, striking at the former Qunari bandits.

            Together, they destroyed the bandits.  Then without talking, they returning to their horses.  Each headed back to Kirkwall, but to different sections of the city.

Chapter Text

Alistair wasn’t sure what to do.  Selene had told him to go back to Gwen.  When had she stopped fighting for them?  She said she still loved him, but he’d hurt her too badly.  She’s wounded.  The realization hit him as he rode towards the city.  Her heart was wounded.  He’d cut it and it was still bleeding.  How did he stitch it back together?  He had caused it, that’s why she couldn’t trust him.  How did he fix this?

            He wasn’t even sure how their fight had started.  They’d been talking about… what had they been talking about exactly.  It was Morrigan he remembered.  They had spoken of when Morrigan had come to Denerim and verbally attacked him… and Gwen.

            He wondered if there was something about Gwen that upset and angered her.  He didn’t know how to approach her about the matter.  Perhaps he could discuss it with Leliana and see if she could question Selene about the matter.

            Alistair made his way to the Viscount’s Keep when he got into the city.  He immediately set out contacting the closest Grey Warden base, as well as Weisshaupt. 

            “Do you believe that Viscount Dumat won’t recognize you?”  Aveline stood behind him.

            Alistair jumped and whirled around.  “Aveline.  I… I haven’t talked directly to her and I’m having any information sent to the Hawke estate.”

            “Answer to what?”  She was very interested in the answer.

            “I… it’s about Selene and… something that happened during the Blight,” he stammered a bit.  He had almost told the Guard Captain that she was a Grey Warden.

            “About her being a Grey Warden?  A former one now.  Are you afraid the Grey Wardens are going to find her?”  Aveline obviously knew all of the secrets.

            “I… not exactly,” Alistair hedged.  “It’s related to her and Siobhan.  She’s… something strange is going on and I don’t know whether or not it’s related to the cultists who are after them.  Do you know anything about the cultists?”  He took an anxious step towards her.

            “No, I have bandits aplenty to worry me, not to mention all the slavers who don’t seem to understand that Kirkwall is no long a Tevinter Slave City,” she rubbed the bridge of her nose.  “I’ve tried to find more about these cultists, but they’re elusive.  I will, though.  They can’t just come into my town and threaten my friends.”

            “From your accent, I thought you were Fereldan… didn’t you say you were?”  He was a little confused.

            “Yes, I am,” Aveline agreed.  “Ferelden will always be a part of me, but I’m making my future here.”

            “Then you aren’t returning,” he found that made him a little sad.  “Why not?  Why won’t Selene return?”

            “Which of those two questions do you want an answer to?”  Aveline pressed.

            “I…”  He began.  “Why did she leave?  Why won’t she come back?”

            “Come to my office,” she turned.  “Did you two have a fight?”  She glanced back at him.  “You did.  Tell me what happened.”

            “Then she told me to go back to Gwen,” Alistair found himself sitting in front of Aveline’s desk.  “I thought… I thought we were making progress, were at some point in coming back together.”

            “For a king, you really are quite dense, aren’t you?”  Aveline leaned back in her chair, studying him.  “She told you what the obstacle is, She keeps telling you what it is, and you aren’t listening.  When I met Selene, I’d recently lost my own husband, a man I love very much.  He took a part of me to the Maker with him.  I thought Selene had also been recently widowed.  She’d obviously lost someone she loved very much.  Later, I learned that the difference between her and I was that the person she’d lost was still alive; but it was clear that she was mourning her loss like a death, like the person she loved most in this world had died.”

            “But… I was still alive,” Alistair protested.

            Aveline leaned forward.  “You didn’t mourn her when she left?”

            “I missed her,” he admitted.  “I… spent days crying over her.  I couldn’t live my life without her.  I’d done what was right, but Maker how was I supposed to go on without her by my side.  I had to… I had a duty… she’s a mage… I…  Maker, I cut out my own heart and there she was, the one bleeding on the floor; not literally, but those tears might as well have been… then she left… and it was like I’d lost a piece of my soul.  No, it was like a tiny piece that was all that was left.  It was cold and shriveled with the rest missing and without my heart to warm it, crying out for what it had lost.”

            “Yet, you continued to devote yourself to duty,” Aveline observed.  “I threw myself into work and duty after I lost Wesley.  Yet, there was no way I could have gone to the Maker and demanded him back, if there was a way I could, I would have taken it.  If I could have gone to the farthest reaches of the Anderfells and fought a dragon to get him back, I would have.  I would have faced an army of undead knights riding wyverns.  Duty be damned, I would have broken a thousand oaths to mere mortals for the right to hold him in my arms again, to hold him close.  You claim to love as deeply, yet you embraced duty.  You became betrothed to another woman, declared that she will be queen, on the very day Selene gave birth to your daughter.”

            “I… I didn’t know… she left me.  I had no idea about Siobhan.  I did try to find her.”  Alistair’s voice was lame to his own ear.

            “So Leliana told us when she found Selene,” Aveline confirmed.  “Yet you allowed duty to keep you from searching for her yourself.  You continued to search for this ‘acceptable queen’, as Selene refers to Gwen when she uses drawing of hers as target practice.  There is an old Alamarri legend that claims that the souls of mankind used to outshine anything else in this universe.  They had two hearts, as well, but their hubris became too much.  So, the gods split the souls and each soul took one heart.  The people were devastated, they’d lost the greatest light of their world, so they searched for the other half of their souls and the hearts that beat in time with their own.”

            “What happened to those who didn’t find their other half?”  He wanted to know.

            Aveline shrugged.  “I suppose they were either reunited in the next life or the settled for whatever came along to make them feel better or less lonely.  I wonder what happened to them, if their other half wondered by the day after they settled.  I hope they found someone that made them happy.  I’m sure those that picked duty over love, rejoiced when their other half found someone who made them happy.  I wonder if they ever regretted their decisions, if they wished they could turn back time and choose love over duty.  I wonder if they stopped yearning for their missing half.  I also wonder if their other half ever forgave them for giving up on finding them.”

            “I…”  It was the saddest thing Alistair had ever heard, but it was also how he’d felt for over a year, until he’d found Selene again.

            “Has Selene asked you not to marry Gwen?”  Aveline pressed.

            “She’s mentioned that she doesn’t want me to marry her,” Alistair admitted.  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to get out of the wedding, though.”

            “It’s very easy,” Aveline assured him.  “You say ‘no’.  I don’t know why it’s so hard to say sometimes, toddlers do it all the time. You should practice using it.  Decide what you want and fight for it.  You stand firm, plant yourself like a tree, and if someone tells you to move, you tell them ‘no’.”

            “No,” he sounded like he was testing the word.  “No,” he repeated.  “I think I can do this.”

            “Just pretend they’re Morrigan,” Aveline suggested.  “You seem to want to tell her no.”

Chapter Text

“I told him to go back to Gwenawby,” Selene stared into her mug, not drinking it; just taking solace in holding it.

            “You told the man you love to go to some other woman?”  Varric balanced Siobhan in a sitting position on the table before him.  “Why would you do that, Enigma?”

            “I… he… He still plans to marry her,” she took a deep drink, to try and keep the tears back.  “He… when he… when he broke with me, he told me that he couldn’t be unfaithful to his wife.  I’m just a passing fancy.”

            “I’m sure he didn’t tell you that you were just a passing fancy,” Varric moved Bianca before Siobhan could grab the crossbow.

            “No, he said he… but he had to… before he couldn’t…”  She realized that she was crying, the drink had done nothing to keep her tears at bay.

            “It appears he can’t.”  Somehow, Varric was keeping track of everything she was saying and wasn’t saying.  “You and he have been… Caboodling… since he arrived in Kirkwall.”

            “How did you…?”  She shook her head.  Of course, Varric knew.  Varric seemed to know everything.  She didn’t know how he knew to use that word.

            “Did his performance become bad since you two made Little Princess?”  He inquired.

            Selene gave a watery laugh.  “No!  He’s… it’s very nice, very nice.”

            “Did you stop loving him?”  Varric pressed.

            She stopped laughing.  “No!”  She gazed at him with sad eyes.  “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.  I can’t, no matter how hard I try.  Things would be so much easier if I could.”

            “He seems to love you very much, too,” Varric observed.  “I greatly doubt he’s riding back to wherever Gwen lives.”

            Selene was sure he knew where Gwenda lived and that he would know if Alistair was heading there even now.  “He won’t break off the betrothal,” her voice was soft.  “I can’t… I can’t take the heartbreak again when he… it hurt so much the first time.”

            “Then you had better figure out how to keep him from marrying her,” Varric’s voice was matter of fact.

            “I… I tried,” her voice sounded lame, even to her own ears.

            “I’m sure you asked very politely,” Varric agreed.  “Perhaps there was some fluttering of the eyelids, as you reminded him how much he adores you.”

            “Well…”  That was about how the conversation went.  “And he said he was still going to marry her.”

            “There is no pain as great as watching the person you love marry someone else,” Varric confided.  “It isn’t something you will ever forget.”

            Selene wondered how he knew this.  Looking at the pain in his face as he confided to her, she was sure he had suffered this pain himself.  “I don’t plan to attend the wedding.  I doubt I’ll even be invited.”

            “You’re the blooming Hero of Ferelden,” Varric reminded her.  “You’ll receive and invitation.  Even if you don’t go, you’ll know.  You’ll know the moment he pledges to her.  Looking back at that, you have to ask yourself if you did everything in your power to stop this pain.  Did you do everything you could to fight for the person you love.  Because the love won’t go away either.”

            “Who was she?”  Selene asked.

            “Who?”  Varric acted as if he didn’t understand the question.  “Do you mean Gwen?”

            “The woman you love,” she pressed.

            “The only woman I love is Bianca,” he patted the crossbow.

            “What about Raven?”  She knew Varric was devoted to her cousin.  She thought it was love, but now wondered if his heart wasn’t free to give.

            “Hawke has enough problems, between Fenris and Anders,” Varric insisted.  “She doesn’t need me to add to her troubles.”

            “So, you aren’t suffering from her confused romance?”  Selene questioned.

            “I worry about her decisions, neither one of those men are exactly… mentally stable,” Varric maneuvered his mug around Siobhan to take a drink.  Then he carefully set it back outside of her reach.  “We were discussing your misery, Enigma.”

            “It’s too late.”  She took another deep drink.  “He’s betrothed to Gwendydd.  He values duty over love.  How do I change that?  I found my family and I have Siobhan; I don’t need…”  She started crying again and wiped her tears away.  “I don’t… need… him!”

            “So, you’ll be alone forever,” Varric deduced.  “You will sit by while he ties himself to another, without fighting for him.  Then you’ll throw yourself into work and raising Siobhan, who will be without her father, who obviously adores her and she him.  You’d take that from her.  You will live in a world, alone, rather than fight for the one person you want most.  You’d rather be alone, knowing he’s bound to another.  You’ll then tell yourself that you’ll be satisfied with seeing him when you can manage, even though it’s hard; because you won’t be able to stay away.  You’ll fight to just be with him for a few moments, even though Gwen will send assassins after you.”

            “Gwendi will send assassins after me?”  Selene slammed her mug down on the table.  “I’ll finally have an excuse to kill her!  She’ll pay for ever thinking she can… wait, does she even know about me?  It doesn’t matter, if she sends assassins after me, I’ll fry her ass.  Is someone sending assassins after you Varric?”

            “I can handle myself, Enigma,” Varric assured her.  “We’re talking about your problems… and your apparent joy at the thought of someone sending assassins after you, so you have an excuse to kill them.

            She took another drink.  “If someone is sending assassins after you, you send me after them.  You understand?”

            “I understand that I may have to cut you off soon,” he chuckled.

            “Cut me off of what?”  She blinked.  “Oh… drink.  I’m not getting drunk, I sweeear.”  The last word was slurred.

            “You are, Enigma,” he took the mug.

            “Don’t,” she protested.  “Arl Eamon already took the man I love away and gave him to some woman named Gweneloena.  Don’t take my drink away, too.”

            Varric smiled indulgently at her.  “But you still have your father and daughter.”

            “I do,” she rested her chin on her hands and smiled at Siobhan who grinned back.

            “And I don’t know if you can just blame Eamon, if you told King Charming to go back to Gwen,” Varric pointed out.  “I doubt he goes.  If he doesn’t, you know that he hasn’t given up on love.  Neither should you.  Until he marries another, the war is still on and all is fair in love and war.”

            “Alistair doesn’t think so,” she muttered.  “He was so judgmental during the Blight.  He wouldn’t lead our group, but he’d sure tell me if he thought I’d done something wrong.  If Morrigan approved of my choice, he disapproved.  If he approved, Morrigan disapproved.  I had barely escaped the tower and I had those two judging my every decision, while refusing to take responsibility themselves.  It was awful.”  She hiccupped.

            “Yet, you still love him,” Varric reminded her.

            “I do, damn him,” she pouted.  “Things would be so easy if I didn’t.”

            “Kirkwall isn’t exactly the safest place for you and Little Princess, either,” Varric pointed out.  “Perhaps you should go back to Denerim with King Charming.”

            “And watch as he marries Gweneth?  No thank you,” she snorted.  “I could go to their betrothal celebrations and toast their happiness.  That doesn’t exactly sound like something I’d enjoy.”

            “You two would at least be able to see each other,” Varric argued.  “You know how hard it is to be away from the person you love.”

            “Who is she or he, Varric?”  Selene straightened.  “I’m not so drunk that I can’t tell that there’s someone out there that you lost, that you wish you could be with.”

            “This is about you and King Charming, not me, Enigma,” Varric insisted.

            “Fine, so you wish you could be with her,” Selene put her head down on the table.  “It will hurt to be with him.”

            “You hurt being away from him,” Varric countered.

            “Maybe I should just marry Bel and visit Alistair, then,” she threw her arms across the table.  “That way I can be miserable being with him and being without.  At least Bel would protect Siobhan and me from the Templars.  He says he’ll take me to Highever.”

            “Bel Cousland proposed to you?”  This was obviously news to Varric.

            “Sort of,” she admitted.  “He thinks I should fight for Alistair and that the threat of seeing me happy with someone else, even his friend, will… I don’t know… punch some scare, or sense, or something into that idiot I was foolish enough to fall in love with.  He is a nice guy and Highever is close enough to Kirkwall for regular visits to my father.”

            “Enigma, you are not marrying King Charming’s best friend just to spite him,” Varric knew where her thoughts were going.

            “Then tell me how to fight for Alistair,” she raised her head and saw a tear drop on the table.  “I’ve already learned that I have to keep breathing, keep living, despite have my heart crushed.  It seems you’ve learned the same thing.  So, I either stay here and continue with my shop, helping mages, and helping my father, or I marry the kind and charming man from Highever, which will further mage rights, and occasionally see the man I will always love and watch him live his perfect little life with Gwenevere, his acceptable queen.”

            “Or you do everything possible to stop him from marrying another,” Varric countered.  “You fight for the life you want.  You have his heart, Enigma.  That gives you an advantage on the battlefield.”

            “He took that heart from me once,” she reminded him.  “He’ll just do it again.  It’s like playing Wicked Grace with fate.  The winner takes it all and the loser, me, has to fall.  I was once in his arms, I thought I belonged there.  But… now she gets to have him.  She won and I have to fold.”

            “No, he took his affections from you, and the future you wanted, the heart was still yours,” Varric insisted.  “You didn’t lose that in any card game.  Telling him to go back to Gwen just tells him you don’t want his affections back.  You need to show him that you do and that it’s what he really wants as well.”

            “He’s stubborn,” she argued.

            “Enigma, so are you,” Varric picked up Siobhan and began gently bouncing her.  “You’re being so stubborn that you’d cut off your nose to spite your face.”

            “I… I’m protecting my nose,” she gasped.  “And my heart.  I… I admit that I’ve fallen back into his arms, well, I had.  I don’t know why he… caboodled… with me if he still plans to marry her, but he did.  Yet, he told me he is still going to marry her.  I don’t know how to stop that, even if everyone else thinks I do.”

            “It sounds like your Bel might have some ideas,” Varric shifted Siobhan to one arm so he could take a drink.  “Tell me about it.  What do you plan?  What do you hope to accomplish?  Where can it go wrong?  What happens if it does go wrong?”

Chapter Text

Killsin walked to the beautiful green valley reserved for the Great Ninjas of Wyrm’s practice.  As he watched, a man clad in black was thrown into a nearby lake.  There was a loud splash and then his head popped up over the water.  “That was a great one, Vengeance!”

            Discretion sat in front of a tent, meditating.  His warriors practiced around him, but not a single one disturbed the tea beside him.  He glanced at Killsin, but did react to the Head Priest’s presence.  He merely closed his eyes again.

            Killsin stood in front of the man.  “I need your warriors.”

            “The Great Ninjas of Wyrm do not go into the Outside World on anyone’s whim, not even yours, Killsin,” Discretion didn’t open his eyes.

            “Our men have been unable to retrieve the baby who carries Urthemiel’s soul,” Killsin explained.  “We’ve lost many and our numbers may soon suffer.  If we don’t move soon, we may never recover the Great One.”

            “Yes, I have heard that the Witch of the Wilds is formidable,” Discretion didn’t move a muscle.  “It may take new methods to retrieve her of her baby.  Don’t you have an assassin in Ferelden, one sent to kill their Grey Warden King.  Where is the baby now?”

            “The baby is in Kirkwall,” Killsin explained.  “And… Lydia has not yet been able to kill the Warden King.  Her handler doesn’t know what is wrong there.  However, the king is also heading towards Kirkwall.  You and your warriors could solve two problems with one stroke.”

            “I’m sure it will take more than one stroke,” Discretion responded.  “If each problem needed only one stroke, you would not be coming to me.  This does seem to be an opportunity.  So, I am searching for the Witch of the Wilds known as Morrigan, if I and The Great Ninjas of Wyrm accept your job.”

            “Does my position of High Priest mean nothing to you?”  Killsin suspected it wasn’t.  At least Discretion served their cause and their gods.

            “No, it really does not mean much, except that I come to you with spiritual problems,” Discretion admitted.  “It is the Seers who seem to commune and speak for the Gods.  You merely make sure they’re words and proclamations are seen to.”

            “Do you need me to go to the seers so they can confirm that the Disciples of the Old Gods need their Great Ninjas of Wyrm to recover the baby for us?”  Killsin was afraid of the answer.

            “That would help,” Discretion admitted.

            “Fine,” Killsin hissed.  “Let’s go see them.” 

            Discretion grabbed his tea and stood.  “Let us go forth.”

            When they were far enough from Discretion’s warriors, Killsin revealed more details.  “The Witch of the Wilds didn’t give birth to The Great One.”

            Discretion stopped walking.  “What?  Why do you need me then?”

            “The Great One was born to another,” Killsin confided.  “She’s a different mage and our sources believe that she may be a Grey Warden herself.  We’re sure that some of the friends helping her are.  Our sources believe one of those friends may be The Hero of Ferelden.”

            “The Hero of Ferelden!”  Killsin had never seen Discretion’s eyes light up before.  “Why didn’t you say so before?  They slayer of Urthemiel is among them, the famed Hero of Ferelden.  This is an honor to The Great Ninjas of Wyrm then.  We will serve the Old Gods by taking on this hero.  We’ll also bring the baby back.  Even if it means going to the greatest shithole in Thedas.”

            “I guess I should have led with that,” Killsin decided.

Chapter Text

He still hadn’t seen Selene’s shop.  The thought hit Alistair as he walked into her room, a letter from the white circle in his hand.  He’d meant to move back into his own room, after their fight by the Waking Sea, but Barkspawn had gotten in his way and forced him back to Selene’s rooms.

Not long after, Varric had arrived carrying Siobhan.  A large man, whom she’d kept calling Sten the Second, had Selene slung over his shoulder.  She was drunk and had passed out the moment Varric’s companion had tossed her on her bed.

Varric had turned to him and told him to ‘man up before he lost everything he cared about’ and then the dwarf handed him his daughter and walked out.  Alistair had been left staring after Varric.  Then he’d gone to check on Selene.

She’d smelled like the floor of the Hanged Man, but he doubted she’d be grateful to him if he’d given her a bath.  He’d sat beside her for a long time, with Siobhan cradled against his shoulder.  She’d told him to go back to Gwen and then gotten dead drunk.  Was she drowning her sorrows?  Was he her sorrows?  Part of him hated himself for causing pain, the other part rejoiced that he still could; it meant that she did still love him.  He hoped that was what it meant, at least.  He smoothed back a strand of hair, there was no doubt in him that he still loved her.  He just wasn’t sure what he should do.

Siobhan snuggled against his shoulder and then looked up at him.  She smiled.  That smile tugged at his heart.  No, it grabbed it and held on.  Here was his everything, here in this room.  Everything, but his duty.  Yet looking down at the child he’d helped create, he knew he had an undeniable duty to her. 

Aveline had told him he had a duty to himself as well and to Selene, if he loved her.  Looking down at her passed out, drunken form, he had no doubt that he would always love her.  He just needed to figure out how to get her back, and keep her, before she married Bel.

That had been three weeks ago.  Glancing over at his sleeping love and their daughter, he smiled gently at them.  Selene had left early to work at her forge on the docks and then had Bel bring Siobhan to her shop.

Alistair had kept his daughter with him until then.  Siobhan had easily transitioned to varying between being breastfed by her mother and taking a bottle, filled with her mother’s milk.  They kept the bladder in a chest of ice, that Selene and her fellow mage friends kept refreshed by using their magic on it.  They would open it up and just blast ice magic.  Alistair wondered if a mage could make money doing something like that… or if they could if Templars wouldn’t have swooped in on them the moment, they realized they were dealing with a mage.

He’d taken Siobhan with him when he’d gone to speak with Lirene.  The woman had asked him, point blank, at that point what his real connection with Selene was and even went so far as to ask him point blank if he was really Siobhan’s father and that everyone was mistaken about Selene being a widow.

He admitted to being Siobhan’s father readily, not thinking that it might put Selene in a bad position.  Had she told everyone that he was dead?  Being a widow from a land that had just suffered a Blight was likely more acceptable than a single mother.  Yet he had thought that it was only noble bastards who were given a hard time.  He’d looked down at his daughter and realized that she, like him, was a royal bastard.  She was exactly like him.  Did admitting that she was the king’s daughter make her life worse as it had his?  Yet he knew that if he had the power to go back in time and change her creating, he wouldn’t.  For so many reasons, he would never do that.

He'd made a mental note to tell Selene that he’d revealed Siobhan’s parentage, sort of, as he made his way to the Viscount’s Keep.  There, he’d told the Viscount’s seneschal, Bran, that he wasn’t king Alistair.  He’d told him several times, insisting, and laughing when Bran insisted, he looked just like Ferelden’s King.  He had sent a letter to the White Spire, in Val Royeaux from the Keep.  Then stopped by to see Aveline.  The guard captain had been giving him advise on how to win Selene back, but she kept insisting he had to find a way to break off his betrothal.  He had once told Selene he would never be unfaithful to the woman he had married and he now had to choose between the woman that the Fereldan Bannorn was willing to embrace and a mage.

He wrestled with that decision, even as he waited for an answer to the letter, he’d sent to Orlais.

Alistair now had that letter in front of him.

King Alistair,

He’d addressed the letter as Duncan; even sealed, he hadn’t trusted those in the Viscount’s Keep, or those in the White Spire, to not attempt to read his missive.

I am sure that you had your reasons for claiming to be Duncan, but I know that Duncan, the Grey Warden Recruiter to be dead.  He was killed at Ostagar with so many of our brethren.  Yes, I knew Duncan.  He and I were once very close friends.  I know that he was like a father to you, having delivered you into Arl Eamon’s care and then having taken you from the Templars, and to the Grey Wardens, as soon as he could.  I imagine you saw him several times before you became a Warden and it would honor him that you choose to use his name while hiding from your nobles, or the Wardens.  I’m not clear on which you are hiding from.

Alistair found himself staring at the parchment before him.  Duncan had taken him to Arl Eamon?  Had he not been born in Redcliffe castle or did the mage he’d written mean that Duncan had carried him from his dying mother’s bed to the arl?  Either way, how did she know?

He must have made a noise, because Selene lifted her head and blinked at him.  “Are you all right?”

The warmth and concern in her voice warmed his own heart.  “It’s just a Grey Warden matter,” he assured her.

Selene sat up.  “Grey Wardens?”

Great, now he’d scared her.  “They don’t know where either of us are,” he assured her.  He held up the letter.  “This isn’t from a Grey Warden.”      

“Who is it from, then?”  She wanted to know.

“I… it’s just a matter I’m looking into.”  He fidgeted.

She frowned.  “Alistair…”

Siobhan babbled from the bed and he swore that she was warning her daddy to fess up.

“I…”  He gulped and Siobhan shook her rattle at him.  The rattle caught his attention.  “Is that the Theirin crest on ‘Bhan’s rattle?”

“It’s a long story,” Selene waved his concern off.  “If you aren’t writing the Grey Wardens, then how does this person involve them and what did you need from them?”

“I…”  He hadn’t meant to tell her what he was doing, not yet.  “She used to be Grey Warden.  I learned that there is a mage in the White Spire who lost the taint, like you did.”

“Was it the same?”  Selene moved so she was now laying on her stomach, her chin propped on her hand, and facing him.

“I haven’t gotten that far,” he admitted.  “She talked about Duncan at the beginning.  She knew him.  She claims… she says… I don’t know how she would know or if she’s telling the truth, but…”  He was in such shock he couldn’t say it.

“The truth about what?”  She crossed her ankles.

Siobhan gave him a little whimper that would melt anyone’s heart.  It was more impressive than any whimper he remembered making.  Her mother laid a gentle hand on her back.

“She says that Duncan took me to Eamon,” Alistair revealed.  “She… it sounds like I wasn’t actually born in Redcliffe Castle.  I remember Eamon saying that they maid, the one who was mother, had me in his castle.”

“Maybe he was lying to you,” Selene suggested. 

There it was, the accusation he hadn’t wanted to make himself.

“He isn’t the paragon of virtue you seem to think he is,” she continued.  “Alistair, I love you, yet I’m living proof that many people are only looking out for themselves.”

“You never merely looked out for yourself,” he was sure of that.  He’d seen her help so many others during the Blight, with little concern for her own wellbeing.  There’d been plenty of times that Morrigan had urged her to abandon others and concentrate on defeating the archdemon.  He still remembered Selene standing up to Morrigan when the witch had insisted, they leave Redcliffe to face the undead alone.  Then she’d stood up to Zathrien, insisting he break the curse on the werewolves of the Brecilian Forest.  They’d stood up for what was right.

“Yet, I’d still found myself bereft,” she argued.  He caught the soft sob that she clamped down on.  “I’d been twice rejected by the man I love and my friends were abandoning me.”

Barkspawn lifted his head and grumbled at her. 

“You were off to make little mabari,” Selene even argued with her dog.  Then she looked at Alistair.  “If you weren’t planning to parade me in front of the Ferelden People, like some strange novelty or freak, no one have even noticed I was gone.”

Barkspawn whined.  Alistair remembered the howls of grief from the mabari when he’d discovered Selene’s disappearance.  He remembered his own tears and howls of grief.  Yet, he’d brought it on himself, Barkspawn hadn’t.

“I didn’t mean you, Barkspawn.”  Selene put her arms around her war dog and hugged him close. 

Barkspawn laid his head on her shoulder.

“Zevran would have noticed, but you took him with you.”  Alistair realized he was bitter about that.

“He realized I was leaving,” she explained.  “Apparently, he’s so good at reading people that he knew I was leaving before I did.  Even he’s left me, from time to time, to avoid the Crows to time.  And for his missions.  I’m sure Eamon was dancing in joy when he realized I was gone.  You do know that he wants to keep us apart for his own reasons.  That it’s what is best forhim.”

“You’re being unfair.”  Alistair still didn’t understand Eamon and Selene’s ire towards each other.  They had allied to stop Loghain and the archdemon.  “Eamon just wants what’s best for Ferelden and for me.”

“I’m sure that’s why he let Isolde throw you out of your rooms in Redcliffe Castle and why you were sent to the Templars,” Selene rolled her eyes.  “Why do you always take his side?”  She paused for a moment.  “Are you still punishing me for Connor?”

Alistair flinched.  He hadn’t thought about Connor for over a year.  He was still not happy about what had happened to Eamon’s son, but he wasn’t sure how he would have saved the boy.  It wasn’t like Selene went around hurting children.  “I still think there had to be a way to save him.”

“Yes, we could have used blood magic and killed Isolde instead,” Selene reminded him.  “Teagan sure seemed to like that option.  I have this thing about blood magic, though.  It’s not me.”

“What about going to the Mage Tower for help?”  Alistair had only thought of that after the matter was dealt with, though.

“How many people would have died while we travelled there and back again?”  She challenged.  “Sure, Jowan claimed that he could keep Connor under his control, but I know Jowan and he really wasn’t a strong mage.  It’s why he turned to blood magic.  He was terrified of the Harrowing, because he knew he couldn’t pass it.”

“Is the Harrowing really that bad?”  Alistair questioned.

“Knowing that the Templars were waiting to kill you if you took too long was the worst part,” she admitted.  “It was no walk in a rose garden, though.”  She picked up Siobhan and gazed at her daughter.  “That was the beginning of the end for us, wasn’t it?  Things were bad between us when we left Redcliffe.  Then we’d barely made up before the Landsmeet… I should have seen it all coming.  I don’t know why I delude myself in thinking that we could… that you…  You blamed me for the results of one of the hardest decisions I made, you obviously jumped on the chance to break with me and I keep…”  She shook her head.  “I guess I’m just never going to be fully over you.  I’m here, acting like we have a future, when you have… Gweirful… and you keep telling me the truth… that you…”  She thrust Siobhan at him.  He could see the tears in her eyes.  “I need to go to the forge.  You have that torc you ordered.  The one you mean for her and I need to go use a hammer on it.”

Alistair looked down at Siobhan.  “What did I do?”

Siobhan’s answer was to bunch up her fists and begin to cry.

“I know it’s my fault,” he assured his daughter, as he shifted her to his shoulder and began to rock her gently.  “I’m just not sure what I’m doing wrong.  I… I know how I messed up the first time… or was it the second, but I don’t know how I keep making things worse.”  He had his daughter in his arms, so he supposed it wasn’t worse.  Maker, he had slept beside Selene the night before, it was an improvement, but he didn’t want to lose her again.  There was only one person to go for answers.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to Leliana about love, she’s a minstrel,” Bel pointed out, as he poured a glass of whiskey for himself and another for Alistair.

“She’s Selene’s friend, but you should know she’s a bard,” Alistair warned him.  “As in an Orlesian Bard.  She used to spy for one of them.   Still, she does seem to be the hearts and flower, type.  I…you… somehow, you’re unofficially betrothed to Selene.  If I don’t fix this, she’s going to marry you.”

“Yeah, me,” Bel took a drink.  “I’m sure she’s told you what to do to stop such a thing from happening.  It likely has something to do with you not marrying another woman and finally just telling the Bannorn where to get off.”

“I…”  Alistair flinched.  How could he just do that?  The bannorn would come after them.  Could he fight the bannorn?  A small voice reminded him that Selene had already taken on the Landsmeet once and won.  Yet, a realization hit him that he’d immediately broken with her after that meeting; perhaps she didn’t see it as a win.

“She told me that if you had just decided to keep her as the royal mistress, after the Landsmeet, she would have settled for the position,” Bel revealed.  “You were going on about having to marry a suitable woman and freaked when she suggested you stay together anyway.  You said you would never do that to the woman you married.  She doesn’t trust you not to break her heart again, not when you insist on still marrying Gwendolyn.  Either marry Selene or back off, Alistair.”

“But…” He couldn’t, he couldn’t just leave now that she was back in his life.  He couldn’t bear to let her go again.  “Siobhan… the cultists!”

“Selene and her friends are perfectly capable of protecting her,” Bel argued.  “They were proving that when we came to Kirkwall.  “Your daughter is perfectly safe.  By the way, do you intend to tell your intended about ‘Bhan?”

“Of course!”  His daughter was not going to grow up without her father, like he had.

“That’s something,” Bel conceded.  “But Gwen may see her as a threat to any children you have together.  Her mother is the Hero of Ferelden, after all.  She’s popular in many Fereldan crowds.  Not to mention a threat to any children Gwen may have. The daughter of the King and the Hero of Ferelden? Many people would rally behind her.”

“I…”  Alistair wasn’t sure talking to Bel was a good idea, he was more conflicted than before.  “She is my daughter.”  That was at the center of that matter.  He wouldn’t deny her and he wouldn’t’ ignore her; not like he felt his father had ignored him.

“And Selene?”  Bel prompted.

“I love her.”  The answer was soft, simple, and undeniable.  He’d once told her he loved her more than anything and knew now that he always would.  After the Landsmeet, he’d told her he had to make the break before it was too late for him to do it.  He wondered if too late had occurred the moment he met her Ostagar.

“Then you fight for her,” Bel told him.  “When you love something, you fight for it.”

Chapter Text

“What happened this time, Enigma?”

Selene turned from the torc she was making, to look at Varric.  Alistair had commissioned the torc and she was sure it was for Gwendeth.  He hadn’t said as much, but who else would he commission a female sized torc for?  It was obviously a gift for his betrothed, likely something that she could wear in front of the Fereldan Refugees so they thought of her as one of their own.  She wasn’t, though, and they wouldn’t be fooled.  She was detailing roses and vines into the design, so every time Alistair looked at it, he would think of her.  Did he give Gwendi roses, too?  She felt jealousy wash through her and forced herself to concentrate on her friend.  “What do you mean?”

“You look like a storm cloud and I suspect that you’re planning on hammering that torc into submission,” Varric informed her.

“Torcs are rather difficult to make,” Selene confided.  “Maybe he thought I couldn’t do it… or wouldn’t.  I’m going to, though.  I’ll do it and I’ll make sure every time he looks at it, he thinks of me.”

“Let me guess, ‘he’ is King Charming,” Varric studied her.  “He’s the one who has your knickers in a twist, too.  He usually does, but in a good way.”

“Keep my knickers out of this,” Selene grumbled.  “There we were, talking about some letter he received, a letter that I’m pretty sure has something to do with me.  Not that he seems overly worried about letting the Wardens know where I am.”

“Don’t worry about the Wardens,” Varric soothed.  “They’ll leave you alone.”

“How do you know they’ll…”  She trailed off.  “Varric, what did you do?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged.  “Nothing you or Blondie need to worry about, anyway.  The letter didn’t put you in this state.  What happened?”

“The letter mentioned a few things, things that throw… other things into doubt.”  She wasn’t sure how much to say or how to say it.

“What sort of ‘other’ things?”  He pressed.

She shook her head.  “They have to do with Redcliffe… and Alistair’s childhood.  If what the person in the letter says is true, Alistair may… well, Eamon may have lied to him about a few things around his birth.”

“That’s serious,” Varric became introspective for a moment.  “Well, shit.  How did King Charming handle it?”

“He’s in denial,” Selene informed him.  “He doesn’t believe Eamon would every lie to him.”

“And Eamon is the man who encouraged him to part ways with you after the Landsmeet,” Varric recalled.  “I know you aren’t a fan of his.”

“Gweneira is, though,” Selene glared at Varric, as if it were his fault.  “That came up… and the fact that Alistair still plans to marry her.”

“And you two started fighting about it, again,” Varric concluded.  “Enigma, I fully encourage you to keep fighting him over the matter, but you seem to be throwing away some of your weapons here.  You need to remind him why he wants to be married to you, not her.”

“He doesn’t want to be married to me, Varric.”  Her voice had softened and she found tears springing up at just the thought.  “That’s why… after the Landsmeet.”  She just shook her head.  “Did you and… well, after our last talk, I realized there was someone who… married someone else.  Did you two ever… why did she… never mind, it isn’t my business.”

“I don’t want you making my mistakes, Enigma,” was all Varric would tell her.  “You’re a fighter and you need to fight for the man you love, for the family you want.  You need to fight, because… I didn’t fight and I need to know that you did… I…”  He shook his head.  “I’m messing up.  Just talk to him again and promise me that you won’t literally throw King Charming at another woman.  If you throw anything at her, make sure it’s your fist… or a fireball.”

“He would be awfully mad if I threw the fireball,” Selene assured him as she turned her attention to the torc again.

“Well, if you’re going to lose to her anyway…”  Varric shrugged and made a face.  “We discuss it more tonight.  Bartrand decided to return to Kirkwall and Hawke and I are going to pay him a visit tonight.  I’d love for you to come with us.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised.

“What else was in the letter?”  Varric changed the subject.

“You know,” she set the torc down.  “I don’t know.  I should find out.”

Chapter Text

Selene left Siobhan with her father and met Varric and Hawke in an alley not far from her estate.  Her friends were easy to find, they were fighting bandits, as usual. 

Apawstate seemed to be enjoying herself as she jumped in the air and caught one of the bandits.

Selene threw a fireball at another as they jumped off a nearby rooftop.  The man screamed as he plummeted to the ground.

“That’s what I call a cooked bird,” Hawke commented.

“That’s bad, even for you, Waffles,” Varric reprimanded her.  “Keep working on her.”

“I laughed,” Anders claimed.

Raven smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

“Stop trying to kiss up to Raven,” Fenris growled at her.  “She already slept with you.  You’re living with her now, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Anders beamed at the woman he loved.  “You’re just jealous, because you were stupid and now, she’s all mine.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fenris growled.  “But I’ll happily fight you if you can’t be quiet.  I wonder if she’ll cry when I rip your heart out.”

“Fenris!”  Raven looked like she was going to cry at that moment.

“Fenris, if you hate mages so much, why don’t you just return to Tevinter and hunt Denarius down on your own?”  Selene questioned.  “You just keep hurting Raven, who is a mage.  Why do you reject a woman, but then keep coming around her like you’re still best friends, like you didn’t metaphorically rip her heart out and stomp on it?  She’s happy with someone else?  Is that it?  Do you want to just keep adding to the pain?  Do you want to make sure she’s still suffering?  I don’t see you trying to make things right with her.  You just keep insulting her people and threatening the man she lov…”  She broke off, realizing she was channeling her anger at someone else, projecting the hurt done to her.

“I was here to help, but I wouldn’t want to cause Hawke anymore pain,” Fenris looked at Raven, then Anders, and back.  “Although, she’s made her preferences very plain.”  He turned to leave.

“Fenris, wait!”  Selene called after him.  “I’m projecting, I…”

Fenris turned to her, his expression softened a bit.  “Why don’t you just rip her heart out, I should have done that to the mage when I met him.  I’ll meet you at Bartrand’s estate.”

Selene’s shoulders slumped.  “Gwenesha isn’t the problem.  She’s just a symptom.”  She turned to her cousin.  “I’m sorry, Raven.”

“No, you have reasons to be upset,” Raven assured her.  “However, you should know that my… night… with Fenris never would have happened if a certain handsome, charming healer hadn’t kept telling me that we could never be together.  Justice caused my mess.”

“I should have told you how I felt sooner,” Anders pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.  “I’m very fortunate that you didn’t give up on me.”

“There was that one time,” she admitted.

“Then I’m fortunate that Fenris screwed things up, although not as bad as a certain handsome king did,” Anders pointed out.

“Let’s go get Bartrand,” Varric led the way to the estate.

As they walked, Anders turned to Selene again.  “Is there a way you could get this betrothed lady to make a mistake as stupid as Fenris’?”

“Why would Gweness just leave a king?”  Selene shook her head.  “Why would anyone leave Alistair?”

“You know him better than anyone, Enigma,” Varric reminded her.  “I’m sure you could come up with a veritable list of his faults.”

“Well, yes,” she admitted.  “I couldn’t name them as readily as Morrigan could, but he does have plenty.  But… they aren’t more than his virtues; he’s brave, and funny, he fights for those who can’t fight for themselves, he strives to do what’s right, he has the cutest snore, he loves cheese, he…”

“You list a love of cheese as one of his virtues?”  Raven interrupted.

“Well, yes.”  Selene was confused as to why that was a question.  Who would love someone who didn’t like cheese? 

“And his faults?” Raven prompted.  “Why did you two part ways in the first place?  Didn’t it have something to do with a prejudice against mages?”

“Alistair believes in mage rights!”  Selene found herself defending him.  “It’s the Bannorn that doesn’t.  He insists that they would never accept a mage as queen.”

“That sounds like a prejudice to me,” Anders grumbled.  “Why would he have… in the first place… if he knew he would never marry you… or keep you in the long run.”

“He didn’t plan to become king,” Selene was still defending him.  “Although… he must have realized when Cailan died that it was a possibility.  He didn’t even tell me who his father was until we were in Redcliffe, the one place where everyone knew.”

“Why not?”  Raven pressed.

“He said people treated him differently when they knew,” Selene explained.

“He was keeping secrets,” Anders tsked.  “I told Raven about my… condition when I met her.”

“That’s an interesting way to refer to Justice,” Varric told him.

“Plus, I’d seen him,” Raven reminded Anders.  “You had to tell me.”  She turned her attention back to Selene.  “So, he dumped you the moment you made him king?”

“Not the exact moment,” Selene explained.  “He wouldn’t have done it in front of the entire Landsmeet, although he did mention that I couldn’t be queen in front of them all.”  That had stung, but not hurt like what came next.  “When the Landsmeet ended, he was sequestered with Arl Eamon.  Then he… then he threw me away.”

“I saw King Charming when you two came face to face again in Kirkwall,” Varric reminded her.  “That wasn’t someone who’d just thrown love away and happily gone on with their life.  Whatever happened, he’s suffering too.”

“Could this Arl Eamon have said something to him?”  Raven pressed.  “Would Alistair listen to him?”

“Alistair thinks Eamon is his uncle, or sort-of uncle,” Selene revealed.  “His sister, Rowan, was Maric, Alistair’s father’s, wife.  She died years before Alistair was ever born, but everyone seems to accept the connection.  The entire Bannorn seems to think of Eamon as Maric’s brother.”

“But he isn’t,” Raven protested.  “He isn’t even King Alistair’s uncle.”

“It seems that this Arl Eamon is the problem,” Anders deduced.  “Perhaps we should convince Fenris that he is a slaver and let him rip his heart out for you.”

“That wouldn’t win me back Alistair,” Selene disagreed.  Although, she had to admit that she liked the vision of Fenris ripping out Eamon’s heart.  It might bring her some happiness.

“Alistair has come back,” Varric argued.  “Now, you just have to keep him with you.”

“He is only back physically,” she disagreed.  “He still plans to marry Gweneta.”

“Which takes us back to just getting her out of the way,” Raven pointed out.  “I’m sure if Varric and I put our heads together, we can figure out something.”

Selene let them plot as they moved through Hightown.  She realized that there was one thing that was still true.  Alistair was an idiot, but he was her idiot.  She would let her friends fight for her.

Fenris hadn’t gotten far.  He and Isabela were waiting for them in front of Bartrand’s estate. 

“Oh, you beat me here,” Aveline nodded at them.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Raven admitted to her friend.

“Bartrand tried to kill several of Kirkwall’s finest citizens,” Aveline reminded her.  “That isn’t something the guard lightly overlooks.”  She nodded to Selene.  “Where is ‘Bhan?”

“She’s with her father tonight,” Selene told her friend.  “It was the only way I could keep him from joining the party.  If we’re not back in an hour, Bel is coming to save us, along with Morrigan.”

“Not Leliana?”  Aveline questioned. 

“She has some Chantry business she’s dealing with.”  Selene still didn’t like her friend’s unusual devotion to the Chantry, but she apparently had an even closer relationship with a grand cleric than she did to Selene. 

“This house looks abandoned,” Raven pulled Selene out of any thoughts about Leliana. 

She was right, Selene realized.  She heard no sounds coming from inside and the windows were filthy.

“Hm,” Varric grunted.  “I don’t get it.  My sources say people were making deliveries here just last week.  This… looks like it’s been empty for months.”

“Let’s take a look anyway,” Raven suggested.  “If nothing else, we can paint Varric was here on the walls.”

“We can’t just…”  Aveline started, but then changed her mind.  “Sure, I’ll let you guys have your fun.”

“Good, then we’ll drink all of his wine, too,” Fenris declared, his brooding lessened by a millimeter.

The foyer was empty when they entered the house.

“Well, this is disappointing,” Varric declared.  “When I retell this, the house is going to be full of guards that I took out singlehandedly.  Then Bartrand begged for my forgiveness, declaring that he knew he could never compete with me for our mother’s love.”

“That does sound like a better story,” Raven agreed, looking around.

Apawstate let out a howl of warning.  Her hackles were raised.

Hawke unsheathed her stave and moved to a combat ready position.

That’s when Selene noticed all of the dead bodies in the nearby hallway and on the other side of a nearby settee.  She unsheathed her sword.

“This is a lot of fresh corpses,” Varric noted.  “Someone’s been in here today.”

Raven moved to the closest door.  “Let’s make this quick!”  She shouted and rushed in.

Selene quickly followed, to find the room full of guards who attacked them immediately.

“And to think, I thought I was having a quiet night!”  Isabela laughed.  She threw one of her long daggers at one of the guards and then blended into the shadows to retrieve it.  “That’s mine,” her sultry voice came from the dark as one of the guard’s friends grasped the dagger in his comrade.  “As is this,” she thrust the dagger into the man.

Selene blocked another guard’s blade with her own.  Then she kicked him.  She would have to have Alistair give her more lessons.  He’d given her a few after she’d gained the ability to channel her magic into strength, through Arcane Magic, but she needed more training.  The guard stumbled and she shot him with lightning.

She turned to see another guard charging at her, but then he was pulled away, along with several of his companions, as Raven used her telekinesis.  Then she threw a fire ball at the area where she dragged them all to.

“Oh, Bartrand, Bianca wants to see you!”  Varric called, even as his Bianca put a bolt in the last of the guards in the room.  Then he looked down at the bodies and grit his teeth.  “What did my brother do to these men?  They were completely out of their heads.”

“We’ll find out,” Raven assured him, even as she went through the room, looting the bodies and crates.

Raven then led them to another room, where they were met by yet more guards.  “Stand back, let the mages take care of this,” she ordered the others.  Then she exchanged a look with Selene.

Selene nodded.  She summoned a storm in the room, even as Raven rained fireballs down on them.

“You’d think I’d have more fun when she says things like that,” Anders sighed, even as he checked his friends… and Fenris… for injuries.

“I know I had fun when you said it last night,” Raven smiled coquettishly at him.

Anders coughed.  “Yes, well… good.”  He took Raven’s hand as they continued on.

They’d only made it two doors down the hall when trouble met them again.

“Grab something sharp and pointy, because we have company!”  Varric shouted.  Then he knelt and quickly disabled a trap that Bartrand’s men had laid.

Selene hit one of the new opponents with an arcane bolt, as Hawke used her telekinesis to pull their foes closer, so they could use swords on them.  The men screamed as they struggled, in effectually, against her powers.

“This is fun,” Selene commented as she used her sword on one of the men.  “I see why Templars like them so much.  Alistair told me I lacked the discipline to learn Templar training.”

“Could a mage, even one with your powers, Enigma, use Templar talents?”  Varric’s voice conveyed the fact that he doubted it.

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But it would be fun trying.”

“It would be nice to turn their tricks back on them,” Anders agreed.

Soon, the room was filled with Hawke’s team and dead bodies.  They waited as Hawke looted the guards’ bodies, coming up with a few coins and a moth-eaten scarf.

“Everyone stays still and try not to make a move,” Varric ordered as they entered the next room.

“Have you ever noticed how many of the estates in Highever look exactly alike?”  Selene asked Raven as Varric disarmed the trap he’d found.

“I always figured that the Tevinter Empire had only one architect in the area,” Raven Hawke commented.  “Through the years, subsequent builders have just used that single architect’s designs.”

Selene looked around.  “I do believe you’re right.”

They continued on and were again attacked a few rooms later.

“See!”  Selene pointed at one of the fire places.  “They only have about three designs and just keep repeating them!”

“Take it up with the Viscount,” Varric suggested.  “We can insist he hire architects to redesign the estates in Highever, maybe build some more.  Then perhaps he can do something about the hovels in the alienage.”

Selene sighed.  He was right, the Alienage was a serious fixer-upper.

As they entered the master suite, they were attacked yet again.

“Why is it no one is ever happy to see us?”  Varric demanded to know.

“We do have a tendency to make a lot of people dead,” Raven pointed out.

“You’re right Hawke,” Varric grinned at her.  Then he shot another guard.  “I got another one, how many are you on Hawke?”

“Thirty-two,” she answered.

“There’s…”  Varric began and then stopped.  He looked around the room.  “What has Bartrand done?”

There were bodies lying around the room.  They didn’t appear to be guards, they looked as if they had been Bartrand’s servants.

Varric started picking the locks on the chest, as Raven looted the room.

Selene studied the bodies.  They hadn’t had easy deaths.  There were marks that suggested pain and terror.   This was almost as bad as anything she’d seen the darkspawn do.

“We need to find your brother,” Fenris growled.  The elf was upset.

As Raven led Varric and their friends up the stairs towards Bartrand’s office, they were attacked by yet more guards.

Selene was beginning to wonder where they found them all.

When more guards poured out of the office, Isabela said something.  “He must have hired every thug available on the docks!”

As the last guard fell, a dwarf poked his head out and then slowly emerged.  “Varric, is that you?  Praise the ancestors!”

Raven began to approach the dwarf, but Varric put an arm out, blocking her.  “Hold up.  I know this man.  He’s Bartrand’s steward.  He turned back to the steward.  “Hugia?  What happened here?”

“Varric, your brother…” He looked nervously back at the office.  “The statue he brought out of the Deep Roads… Bartrand said it sang to him… even after he sold it.”

“Hearing inanimate objects singing to you is never good,” Raven huffed.

Hugia nodded.  “I’ve been hiding in here, but the guards… they’re like crazed animals.  I didn’t dare go past them.  Everyone in this house has gone mad!”

“You said he sold the statue,” Raven honed into that scary detail.  “To who?”

“I don’t know,” Hugia claimed.  “It’s why we came back to Kirkwall.  He was already starting to rant about the sodding idol and its singing.”  He took a deep breath.  “On his better days, he hated that thing, wanted to get rid of it.  But the minute it was gone, he grew worse.”

“We killed the guards,” Raven waved a neglectful hand towards them.  “But what about the staff?  I don’t recall Bartrand knowing how to boil an egg.  Where are the cook, the maid, his backwasher?  Don’t look at me like that, Selene, he brought his backwasher to the Deep Roads with us.”

“I don’t know,” Hugia admitted.  “I haven’t seen Garyanna in days.”  Selene assumed he was talking about the unfortunate backwasher.  “I don’t know what Bartrand did to them.  By the ancestors… the sounds coming from his study…”  He shuddered.  “They’re dead by now, I hope.”

“What do you mean you hope?”  Varric was offended and horrified.

“Just… whoever… whatever… you find in the room, Varric, give them a merciful death,” Hugia pleaded.

“There are worse things than death,” Selene informed her friends.  She still remembered Hespith and she remembered Laryn.  What happened to Laryn still haunted her dreams on rare occasions, it likely always would.  “I think I told you about it Varric… about what we found in the Deep Roads while looking for Branka.”

“What happened?”   Raven wanted to know.

“It’s bad enough I know, Waffles, I don’t think I should tell you,” Varric assured her.  “I like you too much to tell you.”

“He forced the guards to eat lyrium,” Hugia apparently decided to try to compete with Selene for the worst thing they’d ever seen.  “The others… he cut pieces off of them and… did things… he says he’s trying to help them hear the song.  Please, stop him.”

Varric looked into Raven’s eyes.  “Bartrand’s not exactly a nice guy, but this doesn’t sound like my brother.”

Selene only half heard him.  The mention of a song had memories working to the surface; a song only certain people could hear.  According to Alistair, Grey Wardens heard a song when the Calling was upon them.  She grabbed Ander’s sleeve.  “Could this be like the Calling?”

“I don’t know?”  Anders whispered back.  “I’ve never heard the Calling.  I haven’t even been around a Warden who has heard it.  “Have you?”

She shook her head.  She hadn’t and had no way of knowing if there was a connection.  For now, she had to help Raven take care of Bartrand and then get back to her baby.  She found that she wanted to talk to Alistair about her theory.  The thought of him ever hearing the mysterious song made her blood run cold.  Even if they had to go their separate ways again, she never wanted him to go through… that.”

“Everything will be alright,” Raven was blowing sunshine into Hugia’s ear.  “I’ve got it all under control.”

“I wish I believed that, human,” Hugia told her.  “Bartrand took the servants and locked himself into the study.  No one’s come out for days.”

“Great,” Raven declared.  “Maybe he’s starved himself to death and we don’t need to worry about him.”

“And those sodding lunatics keep prowling the halls,” Hugia added.

“We killed all of them,” Isabela shrugged, callously.  “You’re welcome.”

“Then we go in after him!”  Varric bravely declared.  “Come on, Waffles, let’s finish this.”

Chapter Text

Raven Hawke looted the bodies of the guards, and the open rooms of the second floor, before going into Bartrand’s study.

When she did step in, there was a scream and something flashed before her.  “Run for cover!”  She ordered her friends.

Yet more guards began running up the stairs.  Selene wondered where they had been hiding.  She considered they had possibly been in the cellar.  Still, how did Bartrand afford this many guards?  Did whatever he did to them keep him from having to pay them?  That would mean he could get even more guards.

Raven ran past her, using telekinesis to pull the guards together and then throw them against the wall.  Selene summoned a storm and watched as lightning struck the guards who survived Raven’s attack. 

Isabela and Fenris moved in to dispatch any more survivors.

When they walked back into the study, Bartrand was standing in the middle of the room his hands in front of his face.  “I can’t… I can’t hear it anymore.  I just need to hear the song again… just for a minute…”  Then he shook his head and turned, as if someone else was talking to him.  “Stop saying that!  I know I shouldn’t have sold the idol to that woman!  It was a mistake!  A mistake…”  He shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of a Warden wanting to hear the Calling,” Selene whispered to Anders, but it still sounds like what Alistair described to me.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Anders agreed.

Varric stepped in front of his brother, trying to get through to him.  “Bartrand, get ahold of yourself!  Do you know where you are?  Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Varric,” Bartrand didn’t seem overly surprised to see his brother.  “You’ll help me, won’t you, little brother?”  His voice was raspy.  “Help me find it again.  You were always the good one…”  He shook his head.

Varric’s eyes widened and he drew his shoulders back.  “Help you?  Bartrand, you left me to die!  You left all your men to die!  And for what?  Some trinket?”

“He doesn’t seem overly concerned for his men,” Selene pointed out.  “I’m wondering just how many of them we’ve had to kill already.”

“He does seem to have a lot,” Raven agreed.

Varric walked halfway to the fireplace and then turned back, still addressing his brother.  “Look at yourself!  Look at what you’ve done to the men and women who served you!  Where’s your nobility, brother?  Where’s your dwarven honor?”

“Why is he calling him brother?”  Selene asked Anders.  “Did he forget his name?”

“I don’t know,” Anders admitted.  “I don’t remember if I even have siblings.”

“I do.”  The admission hurt Selene.  “I vaguely recall them, but I have no idea where they are.  I don’t think I ever just called them brother or sister.  Isabela?”  She turned to her friend.

“I’m an only child, thank the Maker,” Isabela informed her.  “I’ve heard Hawke call Carver ‘brother’, though.”

“Yes, I call Carver brother sometimes,” Ravne confirmed.  “Anders, can you do anything for Bartrand?”

Anders shook his head.  “This doesn’t feel natural.  If he wasn’t a dwarf, I’d think a demon did this.  His mind has been… poisoned by something powerful.”  He drew on his magic, blue glowing between his hands.  The blue went through Bartrand.  “That’s all I can do.  It won’t last, I’m sorry.”

Bartrand’s head lowered and then raised.  “Varric?”  Now he was surprised to see his brother.

“I’m here,” Varric assured him.

“Varric, what have I done?”  Bartrand didn’t sound like he really wanted that answer.

“I don’t know.”  Varric gave a slight shake of his head.  “I honestly don’t know.”

“Make it stop, little brother,” Bartrand pleaded.  “Don’t let me…”  His fists clenched in his desperation.  “Don’t let House Tethras fall like this.”  His head lowered and almost touched Varric’s.  “I know… I don’t deserve it; but please, Varric… don’t leave me like this.  Make it stop.”

Varric gently gripped his shoulders.  “Enough with the speeches!  I’ll get you a healer, and you’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Raven declared.  “Anders…”

“I’ve got this.”  Anders put a gentle hand on Bartrand’s shoulder.

Selene watched them leave, while Raven looted the room.  “I have a baby waiting for me at home.”

“We have everything under control,” Isabela waved her away.  Then she went and began peering behind paintings for hidden safes.

“Do you think the cheese in the pantry is safe?”  She asked Fenris as she walked out.

“You’re out of cheese?”  His surprise interrupted his brooding for a moment.

“Alistair loves cheese,” she confided.  “He’s obsessed with cheese and his hair.”  She walked home. 

Selene kept an eye out for cultists and bandits as she walked home.  One person she didn’t expect to see was Percy.

            The man rushed to her.  “Selene!  There you are!  I’ve tried to come to your home to see you, but your father wasn’t there.  Then that man who claims he’s your boyfriend said you’re engaged and not to come sniffing around you anymore.”  He sounded desperate.

            Selene was confused for a moment.  Fiancé?  Then she realized he must have encountered Bel.  Maybe should marry the darling man, if only she wasn’t in love with someone else.  Someone else is marrying someone who isn’t you, a nagging little voice reminded her.  “Why?  I mean why did you come to see me?  Bel can be a bit protective.”

            “I miss you,” Percy gave her an imploring look.  “I miss both you and Sinead.  I want to see you again.  Could you meet me, with her, tomorrow night?”

            What in the Maker?  Did he know that Siobhan was Alistair’s daughter and he planned to use them against the king?  No, he was an accountant, he wasn’t interesting enough to be plotting something like that.  Could he be one of the cultists after he baby?  No, he couldn’t even remember Siobhan’s name.  “No, I’m sorry.  I am going to marry Bel and I shouldn’t be meeting other men secretly.”

            “Does he know that you are sneaking around behind his back with his friend, Duncan?”  Percy accused.

            Selene narrowed her eyes at the boring accountant.  Had he been spying on her?  “My life is none of your business.”  She moved past him, letting her magic out enough to give him a strong zap as she moved by. 

            She was grateful when he didn’t follow, but she could swear that someone was watching her.

Chapter Text

“There’s my little girl!”  Lord Amell greeted Selene as she came through the front door.

            Selene went to her father and wrapped her arms around him as he held her.  She wondered if she even wanted to leave Kirkwall.  She could just stay with Siobhan.  Didn’t she come to this Maker forsaken city?

            “That boring accountant came sniffing around again,” her father informed her.  “I don’t know why you let him court you in the first place.”

            “You liked him well enough at first,” Selene reminded him.  “You just think I can do better now.”

            “I’ve always thought you could do better,” her father insisted.

            “He stopped me in the street on my way home,” she admitted.  “He still doesn’t know Siobhan’s name.”

            “Just another reason to avoid him, darling,” Lord Amell insisted.  “That shouldn’t be a problem when you go back to Ferelden.”

            She hadn’t told him that she was going back.  She still wasn’t sure that she was.  “What if I just stay here with you?”

            He smiled.  “I might move in to my daughter and son-in-law’s estate, but on one should stay in Kirkwall.  Things are… I don’t know… there is something wrong with this city.  It’s like some evil slumbers nearby.”

            That gave her pause.  “Do you think there’s an Old God near here?”

            “It’s more like someone put a horrid curse on this town,” he assured her.  “Why wouldn’t you go?  Alistair wants Siobhan near him and… I had to live not knowing where my daughter was, not being able to see her; I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

            “I… He’s going to marry Gweneta.”  Those words hurt, no matter how many times she said them, they hurt.  “I… I can’t watch him building a life with someone else.  I should want to see him happy, and I do want him happy, but I don’t want to watch him being happy with someone else.  He once told me he would never be unfaithful to his wife, even one he married for duty.  He won’t take a mistress; I know I tried.  I…”

            “You tried to become his mistress?”  Lord Amell sat down.  This didn’t seem to surprise him.

            She nodded.  “When he said the people would never accept me as queen.  I… I just didn’t want to lose him.  You should have heard him when I made the suggestion; you’d have thought I proposed sacrificing infants and puppies to some strange god.”

            “You might want to propose it again,” Lord Amell suggested.  “Or you could just marry Bel.  Sure, you don’t love him like you do Alistair, but you two would honestly be happy together.  He’s a good man; he’s brave, true, and would protect Siobhan from Templars.”

            “I’ll protect her,” she vowed.

            “My little one, you may find that you are not enough,” he warned.  “Sometimes even the mightiest warrior standing alone isn’t enough.  That’s why the Maker gave us families, that’s why he gave us friends, that’s why he gave us those we love.”

            Selene stopped in the nursery, but Siobhan wasn’t in her cradle.  She felt a moment’s panic, but knew she had to be nearby and who she was likely with.  Alistair wouldn’t let anything happen to their baby.

            Sure enough, Alistair lay on her bed, really it had become their bed in the time he’d been in Kirkwall.  Siobhan lay on his bare chest.  They were chest to chest and their breathing had become one.  When he returned to his betrothed’s side, it was going to crush her all over again.  Yet now she wasn’t sure if she could keep father and daughter separate.  He’d been separated from his own father and it had hurt him.  She wondered if Gwenevere knew that.  Had he shared the secrets of the past with her?

            Speaking of secrets, the letter was still on the desk.  She sat back down and reread the beginning.  Why did she suspect that the writer knew secrets about Alistair that had been kept even from him?  Why had Duncan delivered Alistair into Eamon’s care?  Eamon would not have been in attendance when a mere maid gave birth… or would he if it were the king’s baby?  The big question was why was Duncan there.  She continued to read.  She found the spot she had left off on…

            … nor am I clear as to why your friend is hiding from the Grey Wardens.  Although, I have several ideas.  The Grey Wardens heavily discourage their handful of female members from starting families.  The belief that Wardens cannot have children is erroneous.  It is a rumor encouraged by Weisshaupt, but it’s not true.  The life of a Grey Warden is not conducive to having children, however.  There is no place for them in the fortress and no one would want them near darkspawn.

            As for the idea that giving birth can undo the taint… that has only happened one other time to my knowledge.  Yes, it was me.  There is more to the matter than just giving birth.  There seems to be something in certain bloodlines that causes the phenomenon. 

            At least, I believe it is certain bloodlines.  It’s a working theory and not one that I have been able to pursue.  When I lost the Taint, the Wardens tried to put me through the Joining again.  It didn’t work.  I doubt it will work for your friend, either.  The other Wardens didn’t take too kindly to my ‘condition’, they felt that I had someone cheated the Calling; I had cheated death.  I was no longer welcome and the Circle was the only place I had left to go.  I gave my child to a good friend, rather than let the Templars take him…

            Selene’s heart clenched.  She glanced to her daughter’s sleeping form.  Maker, she would burn down the Chantry, and Thedas along with it, before she let the Circle take her baby.  She turned her attention back to the letter.

            Let your friend remain hidden.

            As to the Dark Ritual that you mentioned and the soul of the Old God, I’m not sure what is going on there.  The fact that two Wardens faced off against an Archdemon and both still live speaks of either magic or a miracle.  From my preliminary research, I suppose it is possible that the child the other Warden carried could possess that soul.  Although, for reasons I do not wish to get into in this letter, I’m sure it is the pregnancy, and something about the mixing of mother and child’s blood, that caused your friend to lose the Taint of the Grey Wardens.  There are some similarities between what happened to her and what happened to me to doubt the cause.

            Was the writer’s baby and Siobhan related?  Selene felt that the writer was hinting to the same bloodline.  The writer was a mage, perhaps she or the father were Amells.  Except it didn’t sound as if Alistair had used her name, so how would the writer know?  He had told someone about Siobhan’s possible… condition… though.  What if the Grey Wardens came for her because of that?

            Selene gazed at the pair asleep on her bed.  He was an idiot and once he’d been her idiot.  Still, he likely thought he was doing what was best for their daughter.  She just hoped his source would keep their secret.  Perhaps she should write the mage herself.  But how did she go about that without revealing who she was and her location?

Chapter Text

“Oh, Great Ones, here our words and bless our journey!”  Discretion stood before a large, white marble altar.

            “Bless our journey!”  The rest of his ninjas echoed.

            “Bring forth the sacrifice!”  Discretion ordered.

            A man dressed in the black of his office, stepped forward.  His blonde curls stood out in contrast against his dark clothes.  “I look forward to serving the Disciples of the Old Ones and our gods!”

            The other warriors cheered him.

            Noah was his best fighter, that was why he had been chosen to travel to the gods to give them word of their mission and to obtain their favor.  It could not be obtained by mere prayers, but required the messenger.  Only his best warrior was worthy of this mission.

            “Your place amongst the gods is assured, Ninja Noah,” Discretion assured him. 

            “I am honored to be chosen,” Noah assured him.  He threw off his robes and was clad now only in white smalls.  He then climbed on the altar and looked up at the sky, his eyes looking towards his coming glory.

            His brothers in the way of the hand gathered around him, chanting to their gods.  Sister Abuse-Not Arrowsmith stepped forward and lifted and flute to her lips, adding to the music being sent to the Great Ones.

            Discretion lowered an athame, sliding it quickly and neatly along Noah’s neck.  The man gave a little choke and then went to the gods. 

            After a few moments, Discretion steeped away from the altar.  “We are ready to depart to the shithole that is Kirkwall.”

Chapter Text

“How long do we have?” Alistair fidgeted nervously.

“Arl Eamon will be here, with your blushing bride, by week’s end,” Aveline revealed. 

Alistair had received a summons from the guard captain just an hour after talking to Bel about his latest fight with Selene.  He hadn’t told Bel that the fight was caused when he tried to forbid Selene from marrying Bel.  He wanted her in Denerim with him and she refused to be there if he was married to someone else.  He reminded her that it was his duty and she said Damn with duty, if you’re willing to sacrifice love for duty then you were never truly in love.  The woman He loved more than anything thought he didn’t really love her.  Hadn’t he assured her he loved her more than anything?  Then she had just left in the middle of the night.  He made the mistake of bringing that up and she coolly informed him that she’d gone to find her family, which she had.  And they were better than those he called family, because they were related to his father’s dearly deceased wife, who was not his mother. 

That claim had led to her then thoroughly insulting Eamon, as Alistair tried to defend him.  She’d proclaimed that any man who had not realized his son was a mage, when his wife had brought someone like Jowan to tutor him had no business giving a king advice.  She proclaimed that Jowan was as subtle as a desperately horny high dragon in mating season and Eamon a fool.  That’s when Alistair had gone to talk to Bel, who ended up agreeing with Selene.  He again told Alistair that he was king and if he wanted Selene with him, no one could stop him from marrying her.

Now, Alistair stood in front of Aveline and gently bounced Siobhan.  “Do the nobles know that I’m here?”

“Lirene will be stopping by Selene’s shop later to tell her she needs help with her part for Ferelden’s King,” Aveline informed her.  “They’re acting like you’re with them.  They obviously plan for you to be with them for the celebration.”

“They found me,” he found a chair and sat down.

“Or they’re just continuing the tour and pretending you’re with them, Your Majesty,” Aveline suggested. 

“Either way, they’ll have found me now.”  He looked down at Siobhan.  What was he going to do?  He knew he couldn’t leave Kirkwall, if Selene wouldn’t come with him.  Yet, he still had a duty to his people.  Two conflicting voices whispered in his head, one sounded like Eamon and told him he was right; his people had to come first.  The other was Bel, telling him that most people were only thinking of themselves, that he needed to start thinking of himself once in a while, and that love should always come before duty.

He'd already chosen duty over love, yet fate had given him a second chance.  It was a chance to change that decision.  He had to decide if he was going to take it.  What would be the fall out for Ferelden if he did?  What would be the fall out for his heart if he didn’t?

“Ah, you really are here, Duncan,” Bran, Viscount Dumar’s Seneschal walked in.  “Good.  The Viscount has received word that King Alistair and his people will be here by the end of the week.  He expects that you and your friend, Bel, will want to rejoin your king as soon as he arrives.”

“That would be a good idea.”  Alistair didn’t want to go back to being king.  No, he realized that wasn’t it.  He didn’t want to go back to Eamon and the others.  He wanted to be with Selene and Siobhan, not Eamon and Gwen.  Yet, duty demanded once again.

Chapter Text

“The king will be here at the end of the week?”  Selene repeated.

“Yes, I received word from Arl Eamon himself,” Lirene informed her.  The woman who had done so much for so many refugees had no idea that she was bruising Selene’s still mangled heart.

“I imagine his betrothed is coming, too,” Selene managed. 

“Oh, yes, Lady Gwendolyn will grace our presence,” Lirene beamed.  “We have to make sure the celebration is perfect.  We’ll need dancing of course; the royal couple should be able to waltz together among the other Fereldans in Kirkwall.”

“She’s not Fereldan.”  Selene’s voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

“Alas, we don’t have the room or funds for a joust,” Lirene continued on with her plans.

“I’m sure they’ve had plenty of jousts and tourneys in their honor,” Selene assured her.  She suddenly seemed to celebrate Alistair’s marriage to… the other woman, the acceptable queen.

“And you can dance with your Bel,” Lirene continued her excited plans.  “I’ll be sad to lose you, but everyone seems to think you’ll be going back to Ferelden with him.  Your friend Zevran is certain of it, so is Leliana.”

“Have they been by?”  That surprised Selene.

“They’ve been very helpful lately,” Lirene assured her.  “They seemed to think you didn’t need extra distractions lately.  Although, your Zevran seems to be gathering ingredients for a secret aphrodisiac.  Perhaps for your own wedding, once you set a date with Bel.  I hope he isn’t using it on some poor hapless woman.”

“He isn’t the type, he is proud of his seductive abilities,” Selene assured Lirene.  “I’ll make sure they are able to help you with your plans.  Fereldans love their king, after all.”

“After all he and the Hero of Ferelden did for those we left behind, how could we not?”  Lirene questioned.

“How could we not?”  Selene repeated.

Selene let Isabela run her shop and locked herself in her smithy.  That was a figurative lock, she’d never close her doors when the forge was going.  She hadn’t faced and defeated an archdemon just to be killed by her own stupidity.

“I see you’ve heard the news,” Bel stood at the doorway, watching Selene work the heated metal of the torc Alistair had commissioned. 

She was etching, the delicate work of crafting in the roses took a gentle touch.  Every time Alistair saw the torc, he’d think of her, no matter whose neck it was around.  “Yes,” she answered.  “Eamon, our favorite person, is coming.”  Sarcasm dripped heavily as she said favorite person.

“So, what are we going to do about it?”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Are we going to slightly peeve off Ferelden by marrying?  Or shall we greatly shake Thedas to its core by fighting for love?”

She quietly worked on the torc for several moments while he waited for an answer.  Marrying her friend had less potential for adding to her heartache.  She could be… content.  Fighting for love, left her vulnerable again and she’d already been hurt.  “I could stay here with my father.”  She finally reminded him.  “Not to mention my cousins.”

“Yes, you could,” he agreed.  “We could wed and live here, if you’d still have me.  I could help protect Siobhan.  I could help the refugees.  Or you could reject my suit, you can more than take care of yourself.  Or you could fight for the man you do love.  You could win him back from his suitable bride.”

She gave a little laugh.  “I’ve never called her that in front of you, although I have called her that plenty of times with others.”

His laughter joined hers.  “You call her that, too?  She’s nice enough, but… they don’t love each other, Selene.  Are you going to let the man you love make a huge mistake?”

“I couldn’t stop him from leaving me, from choosing her before he had even met her.  What chance do I have now?”  She questioned.

“You lost a battle you didn’t know you were fighting,” Bel countered.  “Your friends didn’t know you fighting it.  Leliana told me that your friend Wynne had worried about you hurting Alistair and not the other way around.  Your friends are with you.”

“Wynne isn’t,” she disagreed.  “She believes Alistair should do his duty.  She used to go on and on to me about my duty.”

“A friend who thinks doing your duty is more important than your happiness, isn’t your friend,” he stated. 

She smiled gently.  “You are a good friend, Bel.”

“Yes, I am,” he agreed.  “So, trust me.”

Chapter Text

Alistair called himself a coward and a fool for the third time, as he approached the Viscount’s Keep.  He’d kissed Selene and Siobhan goodbye and headed back to his duty.  Bel had glared at him, as he did so.  Selene had stared stoically over his shoulder, refusing to even look at him.  He’d seen her eyes water, but she’d refused to cry this time.  The woman he’d once left sobbing now refused to shed a tear for him.  Was it horrible of him that he’d wanted her tears, that he needed that reminder that she still cared?  That he needed to know that her heart bled even a small amount when his was gushing?  That heart reminded him that he’d been the one to put a knife into it and twisted the blade.

Siobhan had whined and then began crying.  That had just dug the blade in further.  His daughter cried for him and he just walked away.  What choice did he have?  If he didn’t meet Eamon and his nobles, they’d come looking for him.  People could be hurt.

Still, Morrigan had told him to “Go crawling back to your simpering bride and invalid father figure, fool.  Be an even bigger idiot than I thought you were.”

Bel had simply said he’d take care of them.  Alistair knew his friend planned to make them his family.  His daughter wouldn’t be without a father like he had.  But he was her father, he needed to have a relationship with her.  He needed her mother.

Still, he had to at least meet with Eamon and talk to Gwen about Selene.  He couldn’t just hide.  Ferelden needed him.  If he was the type to run away, he would have done it during the Blight, when the rest of the Grey Wardens had been killed.  No, he realized he wouldn’t have, because that would have left Selene to face the Blight on her own.  Yet, there had been an instance when she’d asked if they should go find the rest of the Grey Wardens.  He had been tempted to go then.  To sneak out of Ferelden and let the rest of the Wardens deal with the mess.  Yet, honor and duty had kept him there.  Now they forced him to return to his sort-of uncle.