This is a story that wrote itself in my head when I was recruiting Loghain into my party. It's the only way I could explain why my HNF took leave of her senses and betrayed Alistair, and it was either get it out by writing it or go mad.

Edit: I have rewritten the story, and expanded it a bit. Some of it is relatively unchanged while other sections have been vastly altered. I consider this version much, much more solid. Almost all of the AU has been removed and it now hews far more closely to in-game lore than the original did. The original eight chapters have been replaced and an additional ninth chapter has been added.

If you read the story previously, feel free to give it another going over. As always, please enjoy and any comments are more than welcome!

I would like to thank the following people for taking me to task and making me do it better, for proofreading and helping me work out ideas: Ravenia, Xandurpein and She Who Shall Be Known as Su.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to DAO, DAOA, its characters or storyline.

Chapter One

"You know, you're a surprisingly difficult man to find."

Alistair turned quickly at the sound of the voice coming from behind him, his hand moving to grasp his sword hilt as he searched the darkness for the source of the voice. A shadow detached itself from the doorway of one of the hovels and moved into the street. Though the moon was not quite full, Alistair could plainly see it was a tall man wearing a suit of dark leather armor and wrapped in a black cloak. Two slim swords hung from his hips, but the man's arms were crossed and his stance gave no indication he was preparing for a fight.

The man looked at Alistair, almost bemusedly. The handbreadth of steel Alistair had bared gleamed in the pale light, and he raised his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. "Easy," he said quietly. "I have no desire to fight you. I just want to talk, though I would prefer someplace more private."

Alistair's eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. The angle of the moonlight didn't allow him a good look at the stranger's face, but he was fairly certain he didn't know him. "Do I know you?"

"No."

The silence hung there for a moment before being broken by a harsh laugh from Alistair. "But let me guess, you're going to tell me you know me."

The man regarded him for several long moments, head tilting slightly to the side as he thought and re-crossed his arms. When he spoke, it was slowly, choosing his words with care. "No, I do not know who you are. Who you were? Yes. Who you might be? Possibly. Who you are supposed to be? Most definitely. But as to whom you are right now? No, I don't know you."

Alistair jammed his sword back into his scabbard and turned on his heel, intending to continue on his way. "I have no desire to play games with you or anyone." He began to walk away and for a moment thought he was going to be able to.

"I need your help, Alistair. Or rather, a mutual friend needs your help. Whether or not you give that help is up to you, but I would appreciate it if you at least heard me out. Or has the son of Maric become a coward?"

The reference to his father stopped Alistair mid-stride. He thought he was unknown here, that he had finally outrun at least one of the demons that never seemed to stop chasing him. When was the last time he had thought of himself as that? Two years? Three? He couldn't quite remember, so many of his early memories muddled and hazy, if not completely lost. He slowly turned around to face the man again, his right hand wrapping itself around the pommel of his sword once more.

The man stood as he had been, regarding Alistair calmly. "I will repeat myself: I have no desire to fight you. Indeed, I will not fight you for I have no quarrel with you. If you attack me, I will defend myself. But only if you force me to."

"Fine. You want to talk, talk."

The man gestured behind him. "I would ask that you accompany me to where I am staying. While I doubt the back alley streets of Salle have any unwanted ears at two hours past midnight, I am…hesitant to risk it. Please, I ask only that you come with me and listen."

"And I should trust you? I don't know who you are or how you know my name, nor do I care that you've said you won't hurt me. I have no reason to go anywhere with you or listen to a damn thing you have to say."

The man sighed wearily. "If you were listening, I didn't promise not to hurt you. In fact, I fear that is exactly what I'm going to do. But I think we both know the greatest wounds come not from sword and fist, but from words."

Alistair felt the hairs along his arms and neck stand up, and every warrior sense in him screamed at him to get away. An odd fear gripped him and he knew he had to leave before the stranger said anything more. There was something wrong here. He cast his eyes about, seeking a way out of the street. The man continued to look at him, his gaze suddenly very alert. His arms dropped to his sides and he started to walk towards Alistair. Alistair slid back a few steps, but couldn't bring himself to turn and flee.

"You've felt it, haven't you? These last few days…. Oh, it's not darkspawn. That you would know for certain. But something similar. Something that would call to the taint in you in much the same way," he said softly. The man continued walking towards him and Alistair had continued to slide backwards, unwilling to turn his back on the man. "We need to talk, Alistair, and it has to be soon," the man continued. He had closed the distance between the two of them, standing now only about five feet away. "Don't you even want to know who needs your help?"

"No!" Alistair spat the word out, torn between anger that this man could unsettle him so quickly, and the unnamed fear that was settling into the pit of his stomach. He wanted to deny the man's words, to throw them back in his face. But he had felt that odd calling—the call to the poison in his blood that was killing him slowly. No, the man was right, not a darkspawn. But the only other thing that his blood would respond to….

A Grey Warden.

Maker, he had thought himself done. He had sensed Grey Wardens in various cities and towns he had come to since leaving Denerim. He always took care to avoid them, moving on himself if they did not do so after a few days. Alistair never knew if it was coincidence or if they were looking for him. Since he never sensed any pursuit, he had put it down as random chance. There were far more Wardens outside of Ferelden after all, and who would come looking for one who had quit and left the Order when he was needed most?

Once a Grey Warden, always a Grey Warden.

He shook his head dumbly, the events of that fateful Landsmeet suddenly vivid in his mind. He glared at the man standing before him. "Leave me alone. I have nothing you want. Just…leave me be." He turned away. He was suddenly too tired, too worn out to care if the man did slip a blade into his back.

"She's dying, Alistair."

Alistair froze, his heart seeming to stop inside his chest. He turned back slowly to face the man once more.

"Lya is dying."

Alistair wondered what cruel sense of the humor the Maker had that caused him to be sitting here now. He looked at the man, who had introduced himself as Kaden, sitting across the table from him and struggled to find the words to voice his feelings. "You get me here by telling me that…she…is dying, only to tell me that you lied and she's really not?" The cold fury in his voice was unmistakable. Those memories were buried, had been buried. There was no reason to disturb them, to dredge them out of the dark past. Yet Kaden had, and Alistair found that those memories were not buried nearly as deeply as he had thought.

Kaden nodded, accepting the anger. "I phrased it badly," he admitted. "But my words were true nonetheless. She is dying, Alistair, though it is a thing more of spirit than of flesh. But given enough time, a thing such as this will kill a person as surely as a sword through the heart will." He looked somberly across the table at Alistair. "She's suffering Alistair and it needs to end."

Alistair laughed harshly at that. "She deserves it," he said savagely. "She made her choice and now she has to live with it. She's suffering? Good."

Kaden shook his head, his blue eyes dark. Alistair heard him mutter "…two sides of the same coin." Alistair stared at the man stonily, waiting for more of an explanation.

Running a frustrated hand through his brown hair, Kaden said, "It's a saying I've picked up in my travels. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, and you cannot truly hate someone until you have truly loved them. I know you loved her, and I believe that some part of you still does. But for all the anger you bear her, I cannot bring myself to believe that you truly hate her that much."

Angrily opening his mouth to declare that, yes, he really could hate her that much, Kaden forestalled him by raising a hand. "I know I only asked you to talk, but now I don't think all the words in the world will do much good. So instead I'll ask for something different. I want you to see her."

"You want me to see her?" he asked incredulously. "To do what? Walk up and say, 'Why, hello, Lya! How's life been treating you since you stabbed me in the back?' Yes, I'm sure that will do everyone a whole lot of good. No, I think I'll pass."

He slid his chair away from the table, and stalked towards the door. A hand on his shoulder spun him around and slammed him against the wall. Maker's breath, but the man was fast. Alistair hadn't even heard him get up or move towards him. Right now, Alistair was seeing anger on Kaden's face—anger and desperation.

"Of all the things she's said about you, she never once mentioned that you were a damned fool! Though given what you did in Denerim it should be obvious. You should know damn well that's not what I expect you to do. All I want you to do is to look at her. Take ten minutes out of what has become of your miserable, pathetic life and look at her! If you can do that, and then look me in the eyes and tell me you cannot—will not—help her, then so be it. I will accept that and you will never hear or see from me—or her—again. I will ensure that, and you can go about doing whatever it is you do now."

And then the anger was gone. Kaden's hand fell away from his shoulder and he backed away from Alistair. He looked old and tired and defeated. He rubbed a weary hand across his face and looked at Alistair gravely. "Think about it. That's all I ask. I'll come back tomorrow night. If you're gone…then you are gone and I will have my answer. But, please, truly think about it. I have no right to ask this of you, I know that." Kaden's eyes bored into him, somehow damning in their directness. "I only ask this, Alistair, because I believe you're the only one who can reach her now. She needs help. She needs to be saved. And don't you think, that maybe after everyone else she saved, someone should try to return the favor?"

Kaden gestured to the inn room they occupied. "This is paid up for two more days. I'm not getting any sleep tonight, so you might as well use it." With that, he gathered up his cloak and left. Alistair leaned against the wall for several long minutes, trying to absorb the bizarre direction his night had suddenly taken.

He had spent the last two years trying to rebuild his shattered life, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in a world that had seemed to have gone insane. And in less than an hour, a stranger destroyed even that small comfort. He stumbled over to the bed and sank down onto it, memories coming back to him against his will.