Arise, slumbering fic! *casts various magics* Yes, it's been a while. But even though I don't update regularly anymore, I haven't given up on these two.
Hello to any returning readers (wow, you deserve a cookie!) and welcome to any new ones (you can have cookies too) ;D

Just as Elissa predicted, bringing Leliana up to date, and vice versa, took the remainder of the journey to where Morrigan, Sten, Sandal and the Mabari awaited the return of their little group. Once the two women arrived, it was a small matter to return the likes of armour and weapons to their respective owners, and the companions were once more on the road. They would travel by the West Road, skirting around the likes of Lothering which was already besieged by darkspawn, and head for Haven, hoping to locate Brother Genetivi so that they could assist in his search for the Ashes of Andraste.

The lack of distraction allowed Elissa to dwell further on what had occurred in Denerim. Given how Riordan had behaved towards them, it was not difficult for her to rile her temper at just the recollection of the encounter.

"He only trusts us to fulfil the treaties," she fumed, stamping her frustration upon the road. Bodahn travelled about half a mile ahead of them, acting as a lookout in case of any travellers or refugees also using the road. "He wouldn't even say what happens once the treaties are filled. But we're not to contact the Orlesians and Riordan is likely imprisoned by Howe." Her stomach twisted at the thought that it might be far worse than just imprisoned. She could only hope that she and Alistair were sufficiently valuable to Howe that he would not eliminate the only direct link he had to them. "How are we supposed to know what to do next?"

Walking by her side, Zevran lifted an eyebrow. "You have not known what to do next at any stage of this journey, my Warden. Why does it bother you now?"

As much as Elissa was inclined to shoot the assassin a dirty look, she had to concede there was truth in every word. They had been stumbling from objective to objective, doing the best they could with the limited information they had. Sighing, her shoulders hunched as she acknowledged why it bothered her so much. "It just... it felt like he knew information which we have no idea about. Important information. I assume to do with defeating a Blight."

"My mother might know."

Both Elissa and Zevran turned to catch sight of Morrigan, walking behind them on silent steps, cradling a small handheld mirror in her hands. When Bodahn had returned all their items to them, he had included the mirror which Elissa bid him buy during the first uneventful visit into Denerim. She had not seen him since to instruct that it be given to Morrigan. So when he made to pass it to her a few hours ago, Elissa shook her head and told him to give it directly to the Witch.

Morrigan had been quiet ever since, more so than usual, preferring to remain at the rear of the group. Now, she still seemed distracted, her eyes shifting to and fro as her gaze followed the line of the horizon whilst her thumb circled over and over the same spot on the gilt handle of the mirror.

"Not everything said about my mother is correct," Morrigan hesitated, seeming to pick her words carefully, "but 'tis true that she possesses a vast knowledge. This matter may be one such thing."

Elissa gnawed on her lip, considering this unexpected boon of informtation. "Do you think she would tell us?"

"I believe that she is as threatened by a Blight as any creature." The Witch had regained some of her imperiousness, her posture straightening and her tongue sharpening. "You can but present your case, Warden. I do not claim to know how my mother's mind works."

"We will pass by the old Imperial Highway in a day or so," Zevran pointed out. "That is the swiftest way to return to the Korcari Wilds, yes?"

Elissa gave a slow nod. She was desperate to know more about the Blight, especially now she suspected that something was being hidden from Alistair and herself, but there was no time to return to the Korcari Wilds and search for Flemeth. They needed to search for the cure for Arl Eamon's mystery illness. But if Flemeth could offer some insight...

"I'll think about it," she declared, offering Morrigan a small smile. "Thank you for suggesting it."

She should have known that Zevran could not keep a secret. No, that was incorrect. Zevran was a skilled Antivan Crow who understood the power of secrets, especially in his line of work. Elissa should have known that Zevran would choose not to keep the conversation with Morrigan to himself.

So it was that whilst Elissa was still wrestling with the decision of whether to search for Flemeth or not, Alistair approached her that night in camp.

"You're not going alone," he stated—and he did state it. His tone brokered no argument whatsoever.

Sighing, Elissa rubbed at her temples, able to discern exactly what he referred to. It was hardly a challenge. "I haven't decided what to do yet. Arl Eamon needs the Ashes. We can't afford to divert—"

"The others can handle the Ashes," he interrupted, though not without some consideration. That was when she knew she was in trouble. Not burdened with the necessity of making the decision, Alistair had simply assumed Elissa would leave for the Korcari and then proceeded with his line of thinking on that basis. It meant he was far more ready for this discussion than Elissa was. "There's no reason to think the darkspawn are in Haven. I trust the others to find the Ashes." He eyed her. "We might even catch up with them if we can find Flemeth quickly enough."

"Alistair," she reached out to brush her fingers against his shoulder but stopped short, pulling her hand back. "I honestly haven't decided whether to go or not. Yes, we need to know more about the Blight. But Flemeth has survived this long. We can come back after we've found the Ashes."

"Flemeth may have survived this long but there's no guarantee any of us will," he argued. "The remaining treaties are with the Circle and the dwarves. Redcliffe is as close as we'll be to the Wilds from now on. If we don't take this opportunity, it'll take weeks of travel for information which might help us to form a plan now rather than later."

He had a point. Save for unexpected demands—not an entirely unlikely thing—there would be no reason for the Wardens to come this way again. Not unless the Archdemon was hiding in the Wilds.

"What we also have to consider is that the Wilds are probably overrun with darkspawn by now. Only Wardens can travel safely through the taint. If we have to retrace our steps, it means leaving the others to cool their heels. They can't enforce the treaties." He paused, rethinking his tack. "Well, not that anything proves that we're Grey Wardens, but I think our conviction comes from honesty. Besides, the like of the mages and the dwarves probably have ways to tell. Sneaky ways."

She smiled at that. It seemed to relax Alistair too.

"Look," he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, "I think we should go. Both of us."

Elissa stared at him for a good long while. "Things would be a lot easier if you weren't so infuriatingly noble at times," she sniped.

He arched an eyebrow. "Must run in my blood," he remarked drily.

She had to bite her lip to stifle her laughter. Such a strange thing to joke about and yet here they were. Proof, she supposed, that they could still behave as they once did, making gentle fun of one another. Grinning, she shook her head. "Pity common sense doesn't." She hesitated but then did reach out and squeezed his arm. "I really wasn't sure what to do. Thank you."

"Don't worry," he flashed a lopsided grin. "I'm not about to claim the role of leader. That's still you."

As if Elissa would expect anything else.

Whilst the remainder of the group carried on towards Haven, Elissa and Alistair broke off and made for the Imperial Highway which led between the Hinterlands and the Southron Hills into the Korcari Wilds. What it also led towards was Ostagar.

It was indecipherable at first. A nightmare here, a tingling sensation there. So when there were odd pockets of darkspawn ready and able to attack, it did not seem such an unusual challenge. Yet as they neared Ostagar, intent on using it as a bearing with which to navigate through the Wilds, the two young Wardens began to falter, struggling to withstand the realities of returning to a place which held such significance for both. For Alistair, it brought nightmares whenever he closed his eyes. For Elissa, it reignited the intolerable fire in her blood. Nights were spent first in terror as Alistair thrashed in his sleep and then in pained misery as Elissa dealt with the aftermath of her clawing at her neck, her fingernails flecked with bright beads of blood. In the end, they stopped making a camp and dozed where they could, entwined about one another so that both would wake if either suffered in their own way. The problem was that they became disorientated as they lurched through the Wilds, drawing far closer to the ancient Tevinter ruin than they had initially intended.

The sight broke Alistair. As he crouched on the ground with his head bowed, struggling with his grief, Elissa could do nothing else but kneel beside the man, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek against his as she held him tight. She recognised this feeling, this desolation, all too well. Nothing she could say would help.

This was his Highever. She had experienced her own terror here, realising that Fergus too must have died in the battle, but she had been disconnected from the reality of it. Just as well considering what had occurred in her ancestral home. She could not have borne another experience such as that.

Yet she had to wonder whether Alistair felt the loss of King Cailan all the more personally. Brothers in blood, and even then only just. Did someone feel as keenly over kin who were never a part of their lives? Hardly the time to ask—if ever.

"Alistair," she said at last, voice sotto. "We have to go. If we stay, we'll draw the 'spawn." The constant heightened thrum at the base of her neck reminded Elissa of the dangers. The ruin was overrun with the creatures and not even two of the fabled Grey Wardens could hope to emerge victorious against such numbers. Discretion was the better part of valour. She pressed a kiss against his stubbled cheek. "Please."

He remained still for a long moment before heaving himself up onto his feet. Elissa rose with him but entwined her fingers with his, guiding him away from the battlefield overlooked by the eerie ruin. They walked in silence, keeping the shriek of the taint at their backs in the hope that moving away from the 'spawn would help them locate the hut. Their hands remained entwined.

Dusk was beginning to settle over the Wilds, draping the trees in gloom, and still the two Wardens walked. Yet Elissa remained confident that they were headed in the correct direction. Whilst there was taint all around them, one white spot had appeared in her senses. She bet that it was Flemeth's hut, protected by whatever magics the woman possessed.

Too far to reach tonight, though. Fortunately the old ruins which existed throughout the Wilds offered some form of shelter. The remnants of an old sentry post stood at an odd angle, sinking into a slumber amidst the weeds. The roof was open to the sky but the walls were sturdy enough, especially if they bedded down on the soft ground. She gestured to Alistair that they should stop and rest.

"Hey," she murmured as she settled down in front of him, her back nestled against his chest. He put his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his cheek against her hair. For the sake of body heat, that was all. "I want to ask if you're OK but it sounds a stupid question."

A slight wheeze passed for a strained chuckle as Alistair acknowledged the point. "Thank you for asking anyway." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "it doesn't affect you?"

"Not in the same way as you." Elissa half-twisted in his arms so she could tilt her head upwards and catch his eye. "I had no idea what was happening here, Alistair. Coming here was a blur, going out hunting in the Wilds was a blur, the Joining was a blur. All I know is that Fergus was there somewhere." Her stomach did twist then causing her to wince. "But I don't know where exactly. It... makes it easier. You'd think it wouldn't. But it does."

"I'm glad," he murmured thickly.

She was tempted to tell him that she wished she could make it easier for him and take away his pain. But she would not thank anyone for doing that over Highever, not now, and she assumed that Alistair felt the same. So she rested her hand on his arm around her waist and squeezed, trying to communicate through touch rather than words. It had become a common behaviour between them since entering the Wilds. Whether it helped or not, she could only guess. But both of them were able to catch a few hours slumber that night.

Daybreak saw the young Wardens within sight of the small lake upon which shores Flemeth had staked her claim. Her hut remained as it had looked all those months ago, seemingly unaffected by all that occurred around it. Somehow, Elissa could believe that was true.

Their arrival was not unexpected. Even before they set foot upon the worn track which led to the hut, Flemeth was already there in the doorway, arms folded and her keen eye raking over them. She welcomed them with the same husky voice and deep chuckle with which she had spoken during their first meeting, making a variety of enquires about their welfare as well as Morrigan before inviting the pair into her hut, insisting upon providing a safe haven if only for a few hours.

Throughout it all, her hospitality was sublime but Elissa could not help but feel the gaze of the woman. It was trained upon them, cold and calculating, noting every gesture and word and look. It was the reason why Elissa realised that she become far more comfortable with being tactile with Alistair, often relying on a brush of her fingers against his arm or a nudge of her shoulder against his to communicate, and all too ready to lean against him or curl up beside him.

It was returning to the Wilds, she was certain. It was only natural that they would turn to one another in such circumstances. Their reliance upon one another was why they managed to escape the chaos of the battle between the King's forces and the darkspawn– along with some help from the fabled Witch of the Wilds, of course. The problem was that Elissa was struggling to believe her own silver tongue.

Yet the issue of her complicated association with her fellow Warden was soon put to one side as Elissa explained the purpose of their visit to Flemeth and the hope that she would be able to provide the answers which Riordan could not or did not share with them. For a very discomforting moment, a tension settled over the cottage as Flemeth stared at them, the edges of her smile overly sharp as she studied them. But whatever the fabled Witch of the Wilds sought in their expressions, she did not appear to find it. Her demeanour eased once more and she gave one of her throaty laughs, moving towards a trunk which sat at the foot of the bed.

"You will find answers in here. But tell Morrigan that it would not have mattered how you came by this grimoire," Flemeth smiled as she handed Elissa the ancient leather-bound tome. "Survival is a talent of mine; one which my daughter shares, Warden. You would do well to remember that."

It made no sense to Elissa but she nodded anyway, assuming if she relayed what the woman had said, Morrigan would understand. She carefully stashed the book – grimoire, was it? – away in her pack and looked to Alistair, enquiring with a raised brow whether he was ready to depart. There was no need to remain in the Wilds now they had spoken with Flemeth.

Stuffing the last piece of bread and cheese into his mouth, Alistair gathered his belongings before following Elissa out of the hut. Flemeth stood in the doorway, much as she had looked as they first arrived, her arms folded over her chest and a sharp eye upon them.

"Boy," Flemeth suddenly spoke up, prompting the two Wardens to turn to face her. "What would you do for her?" The way her eyes flickered towards Elissa made it clear who she referred to.

Alistair frowned, glancing between the two women. "I don't—"

"You would die for her, yes?"

Elissa felt her eyes widen. Not because it was an unlikely outcome—Alistair, with Sten, put himself front and centre of every attack—but because it was so personally painful. It was clear that Flemeth did not intend it to be any other way.

She snuck a sideways glance towards Alistair. He stood rigidly, his eyes fixed upon Flemeth, and his pallor was a little more blanched than normal. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, "for any of them."

The older woman snorted, apparently reading more into his answer than should have been possible. Or maybe it was the answer she expected. "Just remember any fool can die, boy. It is not so great a sacrifice." She kept a cold calculating gaze upon him. "Sometimes the true sacrifice is in doing what it takes to survive."

The thought did cross Elissa's mind that if only they could work out the riddles which Flemeth readily delivered, they might solve a great many mysteries beyond that of a mere Blight. But for the moment, it seemed that they were destined to depart from the canny woman with as many questions, if not more, than when they arrived. Hooking her hand around his elbow, Elissa tugged slightly at Alistair to signal they should leave. It was hardly as though they would get any further answers from Flemeth.

The two young Wardens retraced the path which Morrigan had led them along months before, a strange lack of undergrowth upon it.

"What in the Maker's name was that about?" Alistair muttered through a long exhale, evidently unable to hold his tongue any longer. There was still a dusting of pink across his cheeks as he spoke.

"I have no idea." Elissa kept her eyes firmly upon the path ahead of them. "But let's just concentrate on catching up with the others." Whatever was contained within Flemeth's grimoire would surely provide more answers about the Blight but it was likely only Morrigan who would understand the writings of her mother. There was also the matter of Arl Eamon and the need for the Ashes – if they should exist. Yet Flemeth had not dismissed the idea when it was presented to her, only confirmed that she did not have the necessary skill to aid them. The woman was indeed full of secrets.

Alas, her words proved not to be the answer Alistair wished to hear. "Wait," he grabbed her elbow, pulling her to a halt. "Elissa, stop."

With little option but to obey, she did indeed stop. They were a good distance from Flemeth's hut although it would be folly to presume they were outside her realm of influence. Yet it was doubtful that the fabled Witch of the Wilds would bother herself to eavesdrop upon the idle chitchat of two young Grey Wardens who had very little clue about anything.

"You're really not going to say anything?" Frustration was uppermost in his voice.

"Say what?"

His voice leapt in volume. "About..." Snapping his mouth shut, Alistair hummed his irritation, staring at her for a few moments before his gaze slid to the side. "What Flemeth said."

She could have played the fool but it would only have drawn this out longer. "About how you would die for any of us..."

"No, that was my answer." He interrupted, his gaze now fully focused on her. "That's not what she asked though. And that's not what she meant."

"I think it's safe to say that Flemeth thrives on the dramatic," Elissa summoned a strained smile, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. "Don't worry, I won't hold you to what you said."

"Maker's breath," he muttered, closing his eyes as though in pain. Apparently the only one permitted to be obtuse about things was Alistair himself.

The truth of the matter was that Elissa was at a loss. What was there to say? But clearly she was going to have to think of something otherwise it would be a very long and very awkward journey until they reunited with the others.

Before she could even summon a stammered reply however, Alistair reopened his eyes and fixed her with what could only be described as an exasperated look.

"I know," he stated. "I know things are strange between us." His cheeks had deepened into a rosy hue and he ran his hand through his hair as he spoke. "It doesn't change the fact that every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's going to explode. I-I can't think straight." He threw his hands up and spun on the ball of his foot, striding away from her before abruptly about-turning. "Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy," he half-chuckled and half-groaned as he spoke, "but I can't imagine being without you." His head fell into his hands but he spoke clearly enough for Elissa to still hear. "Not ever."

"Neither can I," she admitted without even having to consider her answer. The times when she was at odds with Alistair and denied his friendship were the most difficult. "But…" She raised her shoulders in a hapless shrug. "After what I said about bloodlines and…"

There was an odd glint in his eyes as Alistair took a step towards her. "Are you convinced my mother was an elf?"

Elissa opened her mouth then shut it again, unable to decipher what test was in his words. "Lanaya said..."

"I've heard repeatedly what Lanaya said," he interrupted tersely. "Do you think she was an elf?"

"Yes."

"You realise that makes me mixed blooded?" The odd glint was now accompanied by a strange look upon his face.

"Yes." All of this was details they had already discussed or which had been highlighted through various events. She could not see the purpose of dwelling on such things, especially when it tended to provoke arguments between them.

"That means I can't be heir to the throne."

Elissa greeted that particular assertion with a snort. "It means nothing of the sort," she snapped. "No one knows except Lanaya and she won't tell."

"You know." He still had that peculiar look upon his face, as though he was waiting for Elissa to catch up with whatever conclusion he had already reached. It was a disconcerting sensation - and she hoped this was not how he felt when she was the one to be a step ahead of the game.

Her mouth fell open as Elissa discovered that she was somewhat dismayed to be doubted. Just because she did not trust her own intentions did not mean she would tolerate anyone else manipulating Alistair for their own ends. "You don't trust me to keep a secret?"

"I trust you with just about anything," he said quietly, his expression smoothing out into the earnest one which held an uncanny power over her at times. "And it seems to me that a social-climbing noble who knows a secret but doesn't use it to her advantage might just care about that person."

It was a flimsy argument. In fact, her determination to keep the secret hinted at an obsession with power, but if Alistair saw fit to see past that, Elissa was beginning to regard it in the same way.

"Of course I care about you," she shot him a look from beneath her lashes, but her stomach twisted. Not this. Please, we can't talk about this.

"Even though my royal blood is thinned out by elvhen blood," he half-smiled, his eyes alight with something which made her feel strangely warm. "And you know what? I'm tired of waiting for you to properly realise it. So here's what will happen when you do." He caught hold of her chin and pressed a sweetly clumsy kiss against her lips.

What possessed her, Elissa would never know. But her hands flew upwards until she was cupping his jaw, pressing her lips hard against his. Her unexpected enthusiasm caught Alistair off-guard and his eyes flew open, staring at her in cross-eyed shock. The angle was awkward, the position was awkward, the moment was awkward. But what did either of them expect?

Squeaking with nervous laughter, Elissa dropped her hands and danced out of reach before Alistair could recover from his surprise. Pressing her hand against her forehead, she closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to settle. "Sorry, I shouldn't… I didn't mean…" Blowing out her cheeks, Elissa reopened her eyes and focused upon Alistair, the tip of her tongue running across her lower lip as she tried to work out to what extent he was exasperated, confused, irritated by her. Again.

But she was to be sorely disappointed. Far from any of those reactions, Alistair was wearing what could only be described as an impish grin – if imps also blushed whilst they grinned. "I may be new at this," he began, raising an eyebrow, "but I'm almost certain I shouldn't be offended you kissed me back."

She stood for a long moment whilst staring at him in stunned silence. Little by little though, she felt her mouth twitch as the beginnings of a smile forced its way through her embarrassment. "Only 'almost certain'?" she teased, though it was more habit than anything else. Her thoughts were in turmoil: what of all the bitter words and harsh disagreements between them over the course of their journey? If they pursued this…

"I know it's not perfect," Alistair broke through her building panic, seemingly able to read her troubles in her expression. "But if things were perfect, we wouldn't even have met." He raised his hands up in mock-surrender and she knew what was about to come next. He would offer to give her the time and space to make her own decision, to think about how she truly felt, to weigh up whether it was worth such selfish indulgence.

But the truth was that Elissa did not want to be persuaded otherwise. She did not want to take the time to reflect and consider, especially when the answer may be contrary to her own desires. In the future, perhaps she would rue this moment, but for now she was eager to throw the consequences into the Void. How much harm could truly come from sharing such a bond?

So before Alistair could even make his offer, the young woman closed the distance between them in about three strides, pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and flung her arms around his neck so that she could draw him close. Alas, there were too many little things which impeded their sharing a truly romantic moment – who knew that foreheads, noses, teeth and even the act of breathing could all prove so troublesome.

"Um, we might need to practice this a few times," Alistair mumbled with a half-chuckle, his forehead resting against hers as they admitted defeat. Impassioned embraces would need to wait, it seemed.

Rolling her shoulders in an easy shrug, Elissa let out a rueful laugh. "Well, we've got until we reach the others near Haven." She drew back so that she could catch his gaze, her own impish glint now brightening her eye. "Call it a hunch, but I think we might have worked it out by then."