Ah…here it is. The final chapter I've been promising you all for oh so long! It was a difficult one to write, but I do have plans for a sequel. I'm just not sure when I can start it. But, hopefully, if I never get it done, this is an ending.

Chapter 83

The Halla Reborn

Chaos reigned. Death surrounded everyone and everything, the dying crying out upon the blood-slick rooftop before their voices stilled forever. Even the dying darkspawn could not die in quiet. Fingers, hands and shoulders aching, Adela's quick re-arming of her bow slowed as fatigue threatened to overtake her and she and her companions made their way toward the undulating form of the Archdemon.

Despite the chaos, she glanced about quickly, hoping to spot Roland and any of his companions, hoping that they had all made it to the rooftop as well. Her inattention almost cost her as one foot – the once soft doeskin, now slick and hardened with toxic blood – slipped upon the slippery stone. Had Oghren not been beside her, slashing at the oncoming Hurlock, the young elf may well have fallen. However, the dwarven warrior reached over and grasped her arm tightly and painfully, pulling his leader back to her feet.

Taking an unsteady breath, Adela nodded her thanks. The dwarf grunted unperceptively as he continued wading through the mass of tainted creatures, determined to get his Grey Wardens to the Archdemon and end this madness once and for all.

DA:O

Dark magic wove about the four, causing Leliana to frown slightly as she sighted her bow and let an arrow loose, taking one genlock in the eye. With a serious chuckle, the Antivan assassin slipped into the shadows, stalking his prey, clearing a path for their Warden to work his way with sword and shield toward the Archdemon. Brow furrowing in concentration, Morrigan let loose a volley of dark magic, not even watching as several nearby darkspawn convulsed in agony before dropping to the ground, black ooze flowing from ears and nostrils.

"Where is Adela?" Roland shouted over the cacophony of battle, not daring to glance away from the horde that stood before them. The question was moot; none of his companions would know if the elf and those who accompanied her would have made it to the roof. Dismissing that thought, and the hopeless feeling that threatened to take hold, the warrior steadied himself, watching as darkspawn nearest the walls suddenly began dropping in pools of their own blood. Accepting that as a sign, the Warden gave a great, wordless shout, and then charged forward, bashing the various genlock and Hurlock that stood in his path, knocking many down as Leliana's arrows found purchase in chest or face. Morrigan followed, hands darkened with magical energy as she cast hexes upon their foes.

Many of their enemies fell before them, and the group found themselves mere yards from the great corrupted form of the dragon. As Zevran appeared at Roland's side, the warrior scanned the area as Leliana and Morrigan continued to kill any darkspawn that approached. Green eyes flickered to his companions.

"Leliana," the redheaded bard turned her head slightly toward the other, indicating she was listening but still notching arrow after arrow as she continued her volley of missiles at their foes.

Pointing upward, Roland said, "That ballista seems to be ignored. It will give you a good height from which to barrage the dragon with." He frowned, scanning the path the archer would need to take to the rise. "Morrigan will help you clear a path."

Nodding, Leliana sent one final arrow into the eye of an approaching Hurlock, and then slipped around the group, saving what arrows she had for her assault upon the Archdemon. As the archer left, Zevran slipped to the perimeter, using his daggers in a deadly whirl as he cut down any of the dark creatures that approached the group. Magical energy surrounded the Orlesian, crackling about her as she raced toward the rise, trusting that the swamp witch would protect her. She staggered slightly as two darkspawn before her – a hulking Hurlock and a squat genlock – erupted into an explosion of blackened bile. Sending the mage a quick mental 'thank you', she hurried past the bloody debris, launching herself up the steps to find a good vantage point.

Morrigan sighed in relief as she watched the redhead gain the rise, sweeping forth with another walking bomb spell to encompass the trio of darkspawn that followed after the other woman. As they, too, exploded into nothing more than a pile of bloody flesh and bone, the witch then cast about the landing several hexes and glyphs. Turning back, her yellow eyes met the greens of their leader. Offering him a scowl in return for the concern she saw therein, she then swept about the trio a glyph, propelling any oncoming foes into the air, sending them crashing into other darkspawn or into the ancient stone walls of the fort. Smirking, she glanced back at Roland, whose attention was now focused upon Zevran, who had returned to Roland's side, the taller human bending slightly to whisper into the Antivan elf's ear.

Then, straightening, the warrior focused his attention upon the Archdemon. "Morrigan," he addressed the witch without turning to look at her, "I need for you to protect my advance upon the dragon." He then did turn toward her. "Make sure that I can get there without fear of any darkspawn on my back."

The scowl once more fixing itself upon her face, Morrigan retorted, "Of course I shall 'watch your back'", her rebuke came sharper than the warrior had expected, and he glanced back at her again, concern furrowing his brow once more. "Think I am here simply to enjoy the sight of this marvelous and wondrous structure?" she scoffed. "The view is not that captivating." Then the witch tilted one dark brow, the smirk returning, taking some of the sting of her words with it.

Shaking his head, Roland fixed his attention once more upon the dragon. "Zevran knows what he is to do," he glanced sidelongs at the assassin as the elf nodded his head once and then turned, melting into the shadows. Taking a breath, trying to calm his overbeating heart, the Warden then nodded. "Let's do this," he said quietly as he braced his shield and sword, and then started forward, bashing aside any foe in his path, feeling the dark static of Morrigan's magic as it filled the air.

DA:O

"Looks like Red got here first," Oghren stated as he cheerfully surveyed the dead darkspawn that littered the ground. "I hope he left some fer me…" the dwarf lamented as he glanced back up to his companions.

Nodding, relief sweeping over her, Adela turned to scan the area. Many of the dead darkspawn that now surrounded them had been killed in various methods – arrow and blade, and Morrigan's favorite spell usage – and the elf could not deny the relief that it appeared Roland's group had made it to the rooftop. She neArly jumped as Niall's hand landed upon her shoulder, getting her attention as he pointed forward.

"Roland has made it to the Archdemon!" he shouted above the battle that continued to rage around them. He squeezed her shoulder before releasing it, watching as the elf fixed her gaze ahead, toward where their foe lay.

Taking a deep breath, raising her mother's bow, she notched an arrow with slightly shaking hands. "There lays our foe," she spoke to those who gathered closer. A small, determined furrow formed between her brows as she began to move with the speed and grace of an elven rogue. "Come on, Oghren," she called back to the dwarf, "or Roland may well take more kills than you!"

Grumbling "He'd better not!" the dwarf picked up his rolling pace, slashing out about him with his greataxe, felling many of those darkspawn foolish enough to get in the way of a dwarven berserker. Swearing slightly, both mages began casting about them with primal and creation magic, moving quickly to match pace with the agile elf and battle-hardened dwarf.

DA:O

Leliana rained arrow after arrow upon the Archdemon, most of them bouncing from the toughened leather that covered the corrupted dragon. From level with the blight driven creature Adela's arrows likewise found little purchase within the near impenetrable hide. The human archer watched as the elven Warden sidestepped, keeping her aim toward the beast's face, obviously hoping for a viable target within the dragon's face.

The three mages had found spots around the dragon, and each used their special magic upon the beast, likewise hoping to weaken it further. Morrigan's darker magic seemed to have little effect, other than keeping the other darkspawn from the group as they continued to wear the Archdemon down.

Niall's primal magic had more obvious results, the ice and electricity particulArly effective against the leather armor Anders' creation magic was particulArly effective, both with the various glyphs keeping the beast in place as he also used the magic to bolster his companions.

The four melee combatants were having as much difficultly against the Archdemon as were the archers, although Roland had managed to get dangerously close the dragon's snapping jaws. Dancing aside, fatigue starting to take its toll, the human warrior bashed at the beast's face, slashing outwards with his silverite blade, glaring as the creature managed to pull away, avoiding potentially deadly strikes.

Oghren hacked at the dragon's flanks, chopping at the thing as though it were a huge tree that stood in the dwarf's way. The dwarf was counting aloud, each chop. "That's fer Aeducan. One fer Amgarrak, and another fer Bownammar. Here's another," he grunted out, "fer Cad'halash. And more, this one…Cadash…"

Each blow from the dwarven berserker cut deeper, and soon black oozing blood seeped through. Screaming in pain, the dragon kicked out, knocking Oghren back and against the stone wall of the rise where Leliana continue to rain arrows upon the undulating form. Gritting his teeth, the berserker stepped forward, shaking his shaggy head to clear it before he began hacking again, "Think that can stop me?!" he bellowed. "You big oversized Duster! Here's another," he hacked again, "fer Darmallon. And another, fer Gundaar…" Panting the dwarf stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "I've more…an' we dwarves have a lot of lost thaigs fer you to answer fer, duster!" Setting his axe against his knees, Oghren spat into his hands, rubbing them together and then grasping the hilt of his weapon once more. Raising it, he stepped forward, preparing for another swing, when the dragon kicked out again, this time bracing the bulk of its massive body upon its forelegs, and kicking out with both legs, smashing and crushing the dwarf against the unyielding stone of the ballista rise. Blood erupted from the berserkers mouth as he slumped to the cold ground.

Unaware of Oghren's fall, taking careful aim, Adela let loose an arrow, then another. Roland's administrations at the beast's front had caused it to become careless as it raised its head away, eyes open as it glared death upon the human. The first and then second arrow found purchase, embedding themselves deeply into one red glaring eye. Screaming in agony, the dragon thrashed about, raising more to its feet as its tail swept out, knocking Niall back and against the fortification that edged the roof. Stunned, the mage, twisted painfully, grasping the rough stone wall, his upper body bending slightly over the jagged, ancient stone, finding himself staring momentarily over the abyss. Fighting against rising panic, Niall twisted his body, overcompensating slightly, keeping himself off balance. The Archdemon's tail thrashed again, smashing downward and pinning the mage painfully against the stone, the granite hard against his stomach as agony rose in him as the dragon snapped his spine, rupturing internal organs and causing blood to gush from his mouth. The dragon's tail thrashed again, and the Warden mage could not save himself, briefly registering the cries of Adela and Zevran as he was flung over the fortification, to break upon the blood and body lined streets below.

Seeing his lover thrown from the rooftop, Zevran gave out a great cry, shouting Niall's name as he stepped from the shadows, daggers bared as he dashed over the dragon's back, striking forcefully into the great creature's neck, trying to stab through the toughened hide. As though in irritation, the dragon shifted violently, and even the agile elf could not save himself from being slammed painfully to the ancient granite of the rooftop. Groaning, Zevran twisted, pulling himself to his knees.

Distraction cost Anders as he, too was caught in the dragon's thrashing and he found himself sailing through the air, to land heavily upon the rise where Leliana had been, hitting his head harshly. As the Orlesian raced to her friend, the mage lost consciousness, blood seeping from the head wound that had opened.

"Morrigan!" Roland shouted as he took advantage of the dragon's pain and confused thrashing as he raced along the tail, straddling the shoulders as he tossed his shield aside. The witch turned to cast hexes upon those darkspawn that seemed eager to take advantage of the group's injuries. Adela turned to fire volleys of arrows. The dragon's roars filled her head painfully, and the elf winced, blinking fiercely against the agony that erupted in her head. Gasping, she stumbled, unaware that the dragon had twisted around, the deadly tail sweeping over the prone form of Zevran, smashing into the female elf, sending her soaring, twisting about in the air. She barely registered the pain as rusted talons from twisted remains of a portcullis pierced through the leather of her armor, sinking deeply into soft flesh, piercing through her chest and abdomen. Once her body had settled, a piercing shriek rose from her throat as the tips shone bloody in the grey sunshine. Zevran, near panicked, rose to his feet, slashing at the oncoming darkspawn to gain her side, defending her as she lost consciousness, unaware that Morrigan had likewise been thrown from the rooftop.

Roland watched, helpless, as Adela flew through the air, becoming pinned by the portcullis grate. He turned, not watching, hoping…he braced himself, locking his knees about the dragon's shoulders. "You soulless bastard!" he spat at the dragon as he raised his blade above his head, driving it point first into its massive head, just where the skull and spine met. The former knight fairly smiled as he heard the sickening crunch as the blade severed any bone, piercing the dragon's brain. With a scream of pain, the dragon rose up onto its hind legs, rolling over and smashing its back upon the stone ground. Grunting as he felt several bones in his body give way and break as he connected heavily with the stone, Roland kept his grip on both dragon and sword, his knees shaking under the strain, as the great ancient creature righted itself, bellowing its outrage as it reared up, smashing its back against the very same wall that it had crushed Oghren against mere moments before. As it connected, pressing Roland's yielding body against the ancient fortification, the Warden was pressed against the hilt of his blade, driving it deeper into the dragon's brain, driving it to the hilt, the force of the strike causing the blade to sink even deeper. Roland could not feel the pain as his body was crushed, and his thoughts were hoping he had succeeded in defeating the dragon and that Adela would survive. He could not turn his head as darkness descended upon him, but he could picture the elf's smiling face in his mind as the blackness consumed his consciousness. As Roland's body began to fall from the massive beast, a great burst of white light erupted from the corrupted dragon, exploding as a ball of pure energy, forcing both Leliana and Zevran to their knees as the Archdemon lay, dead, upon the ground, next to the body of Roland.

Stumbling to their feet, both raced to where Adela still lay, her body pierced by the rusted iron, yet, somehow, still breathing, albeit it had the wet sound of a punctured lung. Though, mercifully, unconscious.

"Stay with her," Leliana ordered a stunned Zevran as she rose, picking up Adela's discarded quiver, notching arrow after arrow upon the now confused and disoriented darkspawn hoard. She glanced about, taking note of the bodies of Oghren and Anders, but unable to locate Morrigan. Forcing herself to remain calm, the bard continued firing arrow after arrow, felling foul beast after foul beast as she made her way in search of any mage with sufficient healing that could help their friends.

DA:O

Dark grey eyes focused ahead, his steps purposeful and determined as he gained the rooftop far ahead of his companions. Bright goldtone armor was blood covered, his shield and sword as bloody, the white and red of his heraldry so caked in blood as to be unrecognizable.

Easily, however, he found his prey. The noble paused, staring at the elven male that knelt beside the female, holding her hand, speaking in low tones in that heavy accent of his.

A shame for such beauty to be wasted.

"Zevran," he stepped forward, calling out the Antivan's name.

Startled, for he had been far too focused upon his suffering friend, trying to numb himself to the loss of his lover, the elven male glanced up, confusion marring his bloodied and battered face further. He did not rise, however, deciding his friend needed comfort – despite being unconscious – far more than the nobleman needed a show of deference.

"Arl Eamon?" The elf questioned. "How…why are you here? Is Alistair with you? Wynn?"

Offering the elf a small, condescending smile that could be taken as pity, Eamon stepped closer, glancing once at the male before settling his gaze upon the prone and damaged figure of the elven woman. "I am here…alone…"

Thoroughly confused, instinct beckoned the elf to rise, weapons in hand as he studied the human before him. Something seemed off…yet the assassin could not decide what, exactly, was off.

"We need to get help to Adela," Zevran remarked, watching closely as the grey eyes moved to acknowledge the Crow's presence. That smile widened, almost impossibly, as he turned his attention fully to the elf.

"And she shall get help," the Arl assured the elf. "however, not from you."

Zevran moved, as quickly as his numerous injuries would allow. However, the Arl merely waved one hand and the elf was frozen, still, watched as the Arl moved closer to Adela, dropping his shield to the ground as he neared her still body.

Unable to move, Zevran would only watch as the human knelt before the young woman, and placed one bloody hand to her forehead. "You really need to wake up, Adela," the Arl's voice was smooth, soft, gentle and coaxing, and Zevran watched with mounting horror as Adela's eyes – darkened with unbearable agony – opened and fixed dazedly upon Eamon.

"What are you doing to her?!" Zevran demanded, amazed he could still control his voice. Chuckling, Eamon spared the elven male the barest of glances, before refocusing upon the girl who lay helpless before him.

"It is a shame, I admit," the Arl spoke, in a voice that both was and was not his. Lips barely moved as the voice, an echoing voice tinged with power continued. "I have no quarrel with this young girl. In fact, I quite admire her. The tenacious way that she – a mere elf – managed to gather the armies to defeat an Archdemon," the grey head rose and then he did meet the honey golds of the assassin, "I'm rather impressed. However, her death will accomplish something this one desires."

Heart beating in fear, Zevran glanced at Adela, who was still awake and aware. "Why?" she had croaked out, but the effort caused her to start coughing uncontrollably, forcing blood up her throat, spraying outwards and upon the Arl's chest.

Smiling with sympathy, the Arl reached over, patting the girl upon the head as though she were a child. "Ah, should I tell you?" he leaned forward, the sympathetic smile change, morphing into something more sinister, something a human face should be unable to wear. "I have nothing against you, Adela. You are merely a tool for the revenge this one desires. Your suffering, your death, shall hurt the one who caused the injury. He shall be the one to continue to suffer always, whereas your suffering shall end soon."

DA:O

Pain lanced through his head, down his neck, and for a moment he feared that permanent injury had been done. Dazedly, Anders forced himself up to his knees, bracing himself on the floor as nausea overcame him. "Damn," he muttered as he raised a hand to his head, grimacing at the caked blood that matted his hair. "nice time for a concussion, Anders." Muffled voices reached his ears, and the injured mage cautiously shifted, raising slightly to view the scene below.

It took only a moment to realize that Adela was in danger. Taking a deep breath, he raised a shaking hand, applying minimal healing magic to his injury. Feeling the nausea fade slightly, he took another shaky break, and began to make his way as unobtrusively as possible from the rise, pausing momentarily to check on Oghren. Relieved the dwarf lived, Anders spared a small amount of healing to accelerate the healing process in the tough dwarf, and then carefully made his way for the rise.

DA:O

"Leave her alone!" A familiar voice rang out as Alistair, Fergus and Loghain stepped onto the rooftop and neared the trio. The three newcomers were covered head to toe in blood, and each moved stiffly as though suffering injury.

"Ah…" the Arl purred as he rose gracefully to his feet, turning as he held his sword loosely in one hand. "And here he is. The one who caused such pain to this one."

"He makes no sense, Alistair," Zevran ground out, gasping as the field he was in tightened with the slightest wave of Eamon's fingers. "He talks…"

"Like a demon," Alistair finished as he grasped his sword and shield, stepping closer. He stopped, stunned and anguished as he spotted the condition that Adela was in.

"How is she even alive?" Fergus gasped from behind, having moved closer along with Loghain.

Chuckling, Eamon glanced behind him, smiling at the agony so evident upon the elf's face. Turning back, he looked directly at the younger noble. "She is very strong," he said, a hint of admiration in the distorted voice. "Very strong."

"How is it possible?" Loghain stepped to Alistair's side, glaring at the man before them. "Last I knew, Eamon was no mage."

Eamon offered no explanation, merely turned his attention to Alistair. "You caused this one great harm, King Alistair," the title was mocked as the demon in the Arl's body moved slightly. "Therefore, you must have done to you a great harm of…equal worth."

"You leave her alone!" Alistair shouted, raising his shield and charging at the Arl. Grinning manically, the Arl raised his sword, not even bothering to pick up his shield as he spun about, raising the sword above Adela, over his head…

"Oh no you don't!" Came the shout from Leliana as she loosed an arrow, striking the possessed man a glancing blow off a shoulder.

Chuckling, the Arl regained his balance. "Come now, pretty little bird," he taunted as he raised his sword again, "you must try better than that."

"How about this?" Alistair ground out from directly behind him, driving his blade deeply into the demon possessed man's back.

Laughter erupted from Eamon as he pulled himself free, stumbling backwards. His body shifted, shivered, and then dropped to the ground. Above his bleeding body stood the near-naked form of a desire demon, her pretty face twisted in a pout as she surveyed the fallen body of the man she had possessed.

"Tut, tut," she turned her attention to the stunned king. "Now you've gone and destroyed the family of Guerrin. Have you truly no love for the man that raised you?"

"That," he spat pointing at Eamon's bleeding form and then back to the demon, "was not Eamon! He would never…"

"Oh of course he did, silly boy," the demon taunted, her form undulating. "As he slept in that poisoned dream, and you killed his son, I knew that he would serve just as well as a host." She smirked slightly. "So, before the cure was found, Eamon and I spent quite a bit of time together in the Fade. He was most distraught to learn of Connor's death." She smirked at the pained expression that crossed Alistair's face as an arrow crashed against the shield she had raised about herself, and she turned to smile prettily at the stunned archer. "Come now, little bird. Really?" Purple eyes fixed once more upon Alistair, ignoring completely the two teyrns as they moved just behind their young king.

"You took something that was the most precious thing to him in all the world," she scolded Alistair. Tilting her head slightly, she purred out, "Although the Arl would have been more than happy with the destruction of your marriage to the little elf, this will make certain the pain is everlasting. As the possibility of reconciliation would be greatly reduced." She smiled then, impossibly wide and catlike.

"You…" Alistair stumbled over his words as he realized what she meant.

"…are responsible for the little scene Sir Perth witnessed between 'Roland' and 'Adela'," she laughed merrily here. "Really? How easily you fell for that little trick. In Ferelden, how difficult is it to find a red-haired man and blonde elven woman?" Her mocking laughter ceased as she then 'tsked' 'tsked' the young man. "Your jealousy is so tangible and delicious. It made that part so very easy."

"Kill it!" Zevran shouted, gasping as his prison tightened about him, grating his joints, popping a shoulder out of its socket with the pressure. Taking a shallow breath, he cried out, "She's letting Adela bleed out!" He gasped painfully as the other shoulder popped as his prison tightened its grip upon him.

Ignoring the trapped elf, the demon swept a hand out, trapping Leliana in a similar field. Gasping as the prison tightened about her, the bard began to pray.

"The armies of the Maker marched to the heart of the Imperium.

They looked upon those gates guarded by the Juggernauts of old

And despaired, for surely neither army nor god could oppose such might."

The prison tightened more, leaving the bard gasping but otherwise silent.

The distraction cost the demon, however, as Alistair sent a concentrated burst of smiting power against it. Snarling, the demon turned her attention fully to the three armed men before her. Realizing that they were fatigued, and that Adela lay dying mere feet away, she was in no hurry to end the game.

"Come, come," she taunted as she staggered back and away. "Shall you battle me? Wasting such precious time that your love has so very little left to her?"

"Go ahead and take her out," Anders' voice rose up, weak and pitiful, but very much alive. Four pair of eyes fixed upon the spirit healer, who now knelt beside Adela, gently sending the grievously wounded elf into a deep, healing sleep. "I'll keep her alive until you kill that…." He raised angry brown eyes to fix upon the demon. "thing and help me free Adela."

Relief rushed through Alistair as he turned toward the demon, the other two nobles flanking their king to face off against the evil that had taken hold of one of their own. "Time to die, demon," Alistair grated out harshly, pulling on old talents and quickly dispelling the magic the demon had filled the area with, carefully controlling the radius to not affect any magic Anders may be using. The prisons that had encased the two rogues fell away, and Zevran fell to the ground, far too injured to be of assistance. Leliana, however, immediately notched and arrow and began sending the missiles at the demon as the three warriors pursued it across the rooftop, quickly ending its threat.

As Alistair and Loghain rushed to where Anders sat tending to Adela, Fergus bent over the bleeding form of Eamon. Taking a deep breath, relieved the elder noble was yet alive, the young noble carefully pulled the Arl into a more comfortable position as he unbuckled the armor that encased the elder's body, hoping to assess the damage Alistair had done when he stabbed him.

"Damn it!" Loghain swore as they knelt beside Adela, unsure how to proceed to extract her from the tangle of iron. "We can't just pull her free! It will tear her apart!" The teyrn stormed.

"Not if you listen to me, it won't," Anders berated the teyrn, having no patience as he fought his own fears for his friend. "I will tell you how to pull her free, which part, and then will heal as she comes free. If we work together, we can do this."

"Damn it, Adela," Alistair whispered as he settled in front of her, thankful she was unconscious. This reminded him too starkly of the Cult of Andraste. He couldn't lose her, not so fully as to death….

"Anders, please…" the young king all but begged his – former? – friend. Tired hazel-brown eyes met tired brown eyes, and Anders could feel nothing but sympathy for the former Templar.

"Just, do it slowly and on my word," hesitating, he reached over and patted Alistair on one broad shoulder. "We can do this."

Nodding, Alistair braced himself, slipping his hands into Adela's as Anders assessed the damage and Adela's entrapment more fully.

"Okay, now, on my word…"

DA:O

Adela stirred, feeling every ache and pain in her body as a dull memory. Forcing her eyes open, she glanced around, surprised to find herself alive and in chambers that were familiar to her – Anora's old rooms.

Frowning, she blinked, trying to push herself up when a familiar, amused voice interrupted her. "Now, now, my Dulcinea," Zevran purred as he placed his hands upon her shoulders, gently pushing her back down. "We shall have none of that, now, eh?"

Forcing a smile, Adela opened her eyes fully, focusing upon her friend. Another voice interrupted, one painfully familiar as well. "You had us all scared, Adela," the elf turned to face her former husband, taking in how pained his expression was, how pale his complexion. "You do that far too often, Love, for anyone's own wellbeing."

"Eh, lass was just taking her own sweet time, is all," Oghren's rough voice chuckled from…somewhere off Zevran's left. "Canno' take such a hit wit'out needin' some time to repair."

"Yes, well," Anders scowled in the dwarf's voice's direction before stepping in front of Adela, blocking her view of Alistair as healing magic rose to his hands. "What were you thinking, Adela?" the spirit healer admonished as he gently applied healing to her mending body. "Leaving us to wonder if you would ever wake up?"

Frowning, the elven archer settled back against the pillows, eyes closing slightly. "I…think…" her frown deepened. "I think I was Fade walking again," she shook her head, "but…ah, it's gone."

Chuckling slightly, Anders finished his healing, and then stepped away. Adela could not help but notice the absence of several of her closest friends, and turned her questioning face toward Alistair. "Ah, Adela," the former-Templar stammered, rising and then kneeling beside her bed. "We've," he glanced at the others, who were as pale and composed as he, "a great many things to tell you…"

DA:O

Two weeks later found Adela in the courtyard, handing Anders a heavily packed backpack. She was still coming to terms with the deaths of Roland and Niall, and the disappearance of Morrigan. Oghren had healed fully and quickly, although every now and again the dwarf would rub at his chest as though pained.

"Are you certain about this, Anders?" she asked as the mage settled the pack onto his back. "The Templars can find you again, you know."

"Me?" the blond mage turned to gaze at his friend – his dearest friend – with open affection. "I'm a hero, Adela. I helped the Hero of Ferelden," he chuckled at her scowl at the title, "defeat the Archdemon! I can go wherever I want now!"

Sighing, Adela shook her head. "Last I knew, the Chantry does not care what mages do to benefit the lives of others. There are still laws…"

Lifting a hand, Anders smiled. "I will be fine, Adela. I promise."

Giving him a skeptical look, Adela said, "Well, if you ever need me. I should be in Amaranthine within two weeks' time. You will always have a place there."

"Oh, yes," the mage quipped, "among all the stuffy 'gotta stop the Blight' Grey Wardens that will soon be invading the tranquil city of Amaranthine."

"Eh? I'll be there, too, Sparkles," Oghren grated out as he stepped to the pair, green eyes amused as he took in the mage's appearance. "Gonna join the Wardens!"

"All the more reason to go the other direction, my fine obnoxious and odorous friend," the mage teased, shifting his shoulders slightly to adjust the pack.

"Heh! You'll miss me, fer sure, Sparkles," the dwarven warrior chuckled. "Ev'n though you were always a pain in the ass."

"Only in your dreams, dwarf," Anders smirked. "Besides, you are certain to miss this fine ass."

Shaking his red, hairy head, the dwarf could not resist as he gave a sidelong glance in the general area of said body part. "How can ya tell? Wearin' that dress like ya do…"

"You are just jealous that you cannot pull off this fine attire," Anders swept graceful hands downward to encompass his figure, "and still make it look so masculine."

"Hee heh! Only in yer dreams mage!" And with that, Oghren turned and sauntered away, taking time to raise one hand up, limp wristed, to the mage, who sputtered at the dwarf.

Shaking her head, Adela stepped forward, leaning up on tip-toes to deliver a soft kiss to her friend's cheek. Patting his chest, she settled flatfooted again. "Please, Anders…"

"I'll be fine," the mage said softly, his voice turning from playful to serious. "You need to take care of yourself, Adela. You're still not fully healed. Make sure you listen to Wynn." He frowned, adding, "And that trip won't do your health any favors…"

"I need it, Anders," Adela responded just as softly. "I can't stay here, not for much longer."

Puffing out a breath, the mage wrapped the small elf in his arms. "Another week, huh?"

"I'm surprised you're not staying for the coronation."

"I'm surprised you are."

Chuckling softly, Adela pulled herself free, gazing again up into Anders' handsome face. "Take care, my friend."

"And you," Anders responded, placing a gentle kiss on the elf's forehead, and then turned and began his journey away from the palace, and away from Denerim. Raising a hand, he called back, "I promise to write you of all of my adventures."

Smiling at his retreating back, Adela whispered, "You had better." And then turned to where Zevran had waited patiently in the shadows. The assassin moved quickly, wrapping an arm about the other's shoulders, helping her as she limped back toward the palace, leaning her head against the Antivan's strong shoulder.

DA:O

A week later found Adela and Oghren in the courtyard, packing their mounts. Zevran entered the courtyard, leading a fine Antivan gelding, the fine boned stead already packed lightly. Alistair was standing on the landing of the stairway, staring at the elven woman as she gave her pack another tug, satisfied it would stay put during their journey.

"I still do not know what Fergus was thinking," she was complaining as Zevran brought his horse beside her. "Granting me – me! – Amaranthine! Who is going to accept an elf in such a position of power?!" She gave the pack another unnecessary tug, wincing as her horse – a sturdy Feraldan forder – took an involuntary step sideways. Shushing the animal, she gave it a pat of apology before turning blue eyes to the Antivan, who was chuckling.

"Perhaps, my Dulcinea, that is why he called your official title 'Steward' rather than 'Lord' or 'Arl'."

Glaring at her friend, she muttered, "You are no help," and gave her horse another calming pat.

"Who cares why the bugger did it?" Oghren demanded as he glared at his pony. "He's given ya a place to be, a place fer the Wardens to be and…" the dwarf cast a baleful glare at the king who stood mere yards from them and raised his voice, "a place….away from….others."

Adela rolled her eyes as Zevran offered, "Seems the Cousland family enjoys causing a stir regardless of the direction the pot lays."

"Not helping," Adela muttered to the other elf as she stepped back. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned her gaze to where Alistair stood. His red-gold hair caught the sunlight and shone, his soft brown eyes fixed steadily upon Adela. "I may as well say my goodbyes…"

"Funny how Alistair made himself scarce earlier as you bid farewell to the others," Zevran commented, his own honey-gold eyes fixing upon the forlorn figure of the Ferelden king.

"Yeah, funny that," Oghren agreed, frowning in Alistair's direction, "the little pike twirler."

"Behave, you both," Adela admonished as she stepped away from the pair and made her way to the steps.

Watching Adela approach, Alistair stepped down to the ground, keeping his arms at his sides, though he ached to pull the elf into his arms and beg her not to leave. He knew, however, it would do no good.

He had already tried.

So, here he stood, watching as the woman he loved, the woman he had wrongly accused of betraying him, approach him to say farewell. Amaranthine isn't that far, he had reminded himself as Adela stopped before him. I still have a chance.

"So, this is goodbye?" Alistair spoke first, unable to keep silent and wait for Adela.

Sighing slightly, Adela nodded, and then took one small step forward, placing a hand upon Alistair's chest. "Take care of yourself, Alistair," she said very quietly, feeling her own tears rise in her throat.

"Adela, please..." Alistair started, but the elf shook her head, stepping away and glancing over to where Zevran and Oghren awaited her.

"I can't, Alistair," she frowned, turning back to him. "Maybe with time, I will be able to forgive you, but I can't make any promises that with forgiveness comes a renewal of our relationship."

"I love you."

She smiled sadly, moving closer to stand on her toes and kiss his cheek. As she moved away, tears shining in her eyes, she replied, "And I love you." She frowned. "But, sometimes, that just isn't enough."

With those words, she turned her back to the Fereldan king, and made her way to the horses.

Her words fresh in his mind, Alistair nonetheless felt hope, and raised a hand as the trio mounted their horses and turned them to leave Denerim. Taking a breath, hoping that Adela would not need time to realize that with love and forgiveness they could be together, the young king turned and made his way up the staircase and into the palace.