Disclaimer: Bioware is awesome and it owns Dragon Age, not me sadly.

Authors note: I'm still working on Heart of the Hero, but my favorite story is the one as the human Noble. Killing Howe was just so much more satisfying. Alistair walked out on my party, and that made me so sad. I loved him. So here is my happy ending

Chapter 1: Where do we go from here?

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." - Mother Teresa

The night air was chill, crisp. It felt wonderful on her heated skin. Ever since she had returned to Castle Highever she had been having terrible dreams again. Only this time they were different. It was of her family. The last time she had seen her brother and his family. Oren and his youthful laugh filling the halls if the castle. Her mother cradling her dying father's body, the last thing that they had said was that they loved her. Why had things gone the way they had. Why did there have to be so much death?

She rubbed her face hard with her hands, trying to erase the pictures flying through her head. It wasn't working. Evaine, at twenty years of age, was the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She was also Lady Cousland, being the last of her line.

She looked up at the night sky, rubbing her face again. Why couldn't the stars have answers? She didn't realize how cold it was until she was shaking. It wasn't enough to make her go v=back to sleep and those horrible visions. She felt pressure on her shoulders where someone had laid a cloak on them.

"Soren, don't sneak up on an un-armed woman like that. I could have hurt you." She smiled at her captain. He was one of the remaining guards to castle Highever, when she had returned he had begged a place with the Grey Wardens. She was happy to accept. They needed all the able bodied soldiers they could muster. The one good thing that Loghain had done was boost Grey Warden ratings. It seemed that everyone wanted to be a Grey Warden. A little ironic, seeing as though he was responsible for the death of almost all of the Ferelden Wardens.

"It's a clear night, you can see just about every star out this night."

"Yes, that is what brought me out on my night time stroll through the Castle. Speaking of, what are you doing out here?"

"Night guard duty, the boy that was supposed to have it is ill, someone had to take it, and else we would have no one to keep watch." He smiled at her. Three years together had formed a close friendship between her and Soren. It helped that they knew each other previously, though very little.

"Well it's a good that that it's you, I would hate for one of the new recruits to see me in anything other than my leather armor," She smiled, "What would they think, maybe that I was a real lady." She barked a small laugh.

"We wouldn't want that now my lady, would we?" They laughed together for a few minutes. She turned to face the outside, both of her hands resting on the outside wall. Looking down she noticed something approach the castle.

"Soren, are we expecting anyone?"

"No my lady, why do you ask?" He turns in the direction that she is facing.

"Because someone is approaching the castle, I can't tell who or what it is though."

"Well you should return to your apartment, I will check and see what it is. You wouldn't want to greet whoever it is in your night shift would you?" he smiled and headed down towards the gate. The two guards at the gate probably could have handled it, but at this time of night, it was a good thing that Soren went to check.

She shook her head, and started in the direction of her rooms. He was right of course; she wouldn't want anyone to see her in what she was wearing. She yawned, plus whatever it was could wait until morning. She climbed back into bed and closed her eyes. What seemed like a minute later was a loud knocking coming from her door. She looked out the window, the sun wasn't up yet, it must still be nightfall.

"My lady, we need some assistance please." Oh bother, what was it this time? She threw the covers back and groans. She shoved herself out of bed and hurriedly put on her worn leather armor. The knocking became more insistent. She lifts the latches with fingers and slowly tugs the heavy oak door open and found one of her guards in mid knock.

"Is there an attack? Where is Soren, what's going on?" She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and vigorously rubbed her face with her hands.

"He is trying to take care of the situation in the dungeon currently, my lady. He asked us to retrieve you and being you to him directly."

"Well then, let us get underway. Is there a reason that we are headed to the dungeon? Who is there?"

"He would not tell us, lady. He only said to bring you to him." They walked at a hurried pace down the many flights of stairs to the dungeons. Castle Highever has stood for over eight hundred years old. It has only been in her family for barely over three hundred years. The castle dungeon was huge, with many different cells and torture chambers. She used to hide down here as a child.

They took her to the most remote of all the cells. There Soren was standing, with a disgusted look on his face.

"Soren, what is the meaning of this. It is not our policy to keep prisoners?"

"Look for yourself, my lady."

She stepped in front of the cell and peered in side. This was very odd behavior for Soren. There, sitting in the dark with his head in his hand was Alistair. Or at least she thought that it was Alistiar. He was un shaven, and un kempt. He smelled of Ale, and looked like a sort of wounded animal. But his eyes were what hurt her the most; They looked ghostly, like nothing was left in them.

Her heart stopped. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. How long has it been since she had seen Alistair? Two, three years, he had left camp the eve before the battle with the arch-demon. Stomping like a spoiled child that had not gotten his way. She had half expected him to return before morning, after everything that they had been through together couldn't believe he would leave just like that. Not after everything that he had said to her. But he did not return he left her to face the most difficult thing she could imagine alone, without the one person she thought she could count on the most.

His head lifted from his hands, and recognition returned to his eyes. He jerked up from the stool he was sitting on and rushed to the door. "Evaine…." When he reached the door he was thrown back by Soren. He had reached through the bars and punched him, hard, in the chest.

"YOU, do not get to address her as such. She is Lady Cousland, or My Lady. You do not deserve to acknowledge her as anything else deserter!" Soren almost spit the words out.

Evaine was speechless. She could face down a horde and an Arch-Demon, but Alistair? That was something completely different. What was the protocol for this? He was a Deserter, protocol was death. She couldn't bare to kill him though. Even after everything that had happened.

"My lady, what is to be done with him? Are we to execute him like the traitor that he is?" Soren almost sounded gleeful at the prospect.

She had to think. She couldn't stand looking at him in that prison. He looked so helpless.

"I accept any punishment that Lady Cousland sees fit. I understand the law." Is this what he wanted? Is this why he returned? TO be put out of his misery? Anger flashed up again, the anger and pain of being left. The pain of his desertion.

"I will not be your executioner Alistair! Take him to one of the rooms upstairs and put two guards on the door. I can't think clearly right now."

"But, Evie…"Alistair flinched at Sorens use of my nickname," He is a deserter, a traitor. The law is clear." He said low to her off to the side. But it was not low enough for the two other to hear.

"Soren, I am Tyrna here. It is I that make the rules. I am also the head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Just do what I ask." She stormed out of there with such force; the guards were expecting lighting and fire.

She walk straight back to her room, ignoring all else. Once inside she barred the door and leaned back against it. Her fists wound tight. Why did he have to come back? She started to pace her room, all the while becoming increasingly angry. She stopped and put her hands down on her desk and leaned against it. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus. Finally she gave up and with a frustrated scream she threw everything off her desk with one sweep of her hands. Looking around in dismay she crumbled to the floor and began to let the flood take hold of her. Curling into the fetal position, she let out three years of repressed tears and sadness.