"I have another option."

She seemed to appear from the shadows of his room, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. The bolt fastened as she locked the door and before he even turned, she was behind him, her hands on his arms. Morrigan never did seem to make unnecessary noise like footsteps.

"I would ask how you know, but I think I'd prefer not to know the answer," Daylen said.

Morrigan did not smile as he turned to face her. "I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed... and it could be you." She took a step back, her dark eyes as impenetrable as always. She may as well have never touched him. "But I know of a ritual, performed on the eve of battle, that offers a way out. No Grey Warden must die, but the Archdemon's soul is permanently destroyed."

Daylen looked for any sign of what Morrigan would say next, but she merely folded her arms. "The taint is what causes the Archdemon's soul to enter the Grey Warden. You possess that darkened blood, and if you administer the final blow, its essence will combine with yours, killing you both. But if there were to be another taint, one that was weaker, the Archdemon's essence would merge with it instead, leaving you unharmed."

"What do you mean by weaker?" Daylen asked. His heart was beating uncomfortably hard.

Morrigan shifted, yet her eyes remained fixed on Daylen's. "If you were to lay with me tonight, we would conceive a child that would receive the Archdemon soul."

Their eyes remained uninterrupted for a few seconds before Daylen finally looked away. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "That… that would solve the dilemma." He looked at her again. "And a child!" He shook his head, breathing in and smiling slightly. "I… I had wanted this with you someday."

Morrigan took a deep breath and for a moment he thought he saw an expression on her face, one of… sorrow? Concern? But it was too short to tell. Replaced by it was the cool indifference she always carried. She walked to his bed and sat down. "If you were to lay with me, the child would absorb the Archdemon's soul yet remain unharmed. You would not die. If you are interested, say so now."

"Of course I am," he said, turning to her. "Do you think that after all of our travels, I would want to die tomorrow?" His voice lowered. "Or to never see you again?"

Morrigan looked away for the first time. She stood up and walked to the fire, her dark clothing sharply contrasting the intense light. "If you lay with me, I leave after the Archdemon is slain and you never see me again."

"Wait," Daylen said, stepping towards her. "Why? Why would you leave? I survive, and you punish me by leaving me with nothing but memories?"

"Our entanglement was not what I anticipated when Flemeth placed me in your company," Morrigan said, her voice cold. "I am here to perform the ritual. If you accept, you will not die tomorrow when the moment comes. If you deny me, then my travels with you have been pointless and I leave now."

"Pointless?" Daylen said, his eyes narrowed.

Morrigan looked at him, her stone exterior softened for a moment. "No… not pointless. Were we different people in a different place… but no matter. This ritual has implications far beyond the lives of two mere individuals."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "I cannot tell you more, but I cannot see you again."

"Morrigan," Daylen breathed, his voice wavering with anger, "why is it that any time I come close to you…" he gathered himself, taking another breath. Before he could continue, Morrigan turned to him and grabbed his hand.

"I would not ask this of you if there was another option!" he realized she was pleading. "The fact that this can save your life only reinforces my desire. The ritual is completed, and you are safe… please," she said, and he thought he saw her eyes water, "do not try to complicate the matter with us! Perform the ritual with me, or I swear I leave now."

He wanted to show her how far his stomach had dropped since she entered the room, so casually announcing that the only source of happiness he had had over the past year was ending tonight. He remembered the conversations they had shared in the glow of the campfire, her voice and words in his head long after he had entered his tent and closed his eyes… He wanted to tell her that she had simultaneously melted and frozen his heart at the thought of a son or daughter with her and yet the knowledge that Morrigan, whose determination never faltered, would be somewhere in the world not next to him. He took a breath.

"Ok."

* * *

The first thing Daylen had noticed was how far from the others she had set her tent. She seemed determined to keep her distance, as though spending any more time with him and Alistair was more than she could manage. Alistair he understood, Daylen thought, smiling to himself. He and Morrigan had started bickering before Flemeth had even mentioned Morrigan joining them. Yet Morrigan appeared adamantly neutral towards him. She had sarcastic commentary on anything he spoke with Alistair about, yet she never directed any of her cynicism towards him. Determined to break her shell, he headed in the direction of her tent.

There was another thing that had taken Daylen little time to notice. Morrigan was beautiful. She emanated an essence of nature – dangerous when crossed foolishly yet with a splendor beyond anything the tame world could offer. He wondered how many years she had spent in the wild, or whether this was the first time she walked with people in daylight. He cleared his throat as he neared her and she turned to him from the fire she had prepared, her eyes like a cat's for an instant – or was that his imagination – before she said, "You wish to speak to me?"

"Yes," Daylen said. "Well, not about anything in particular."

"Oh?" she replied. "Then I advise you go to your tent and rest. We leave early tomorrow."

"I," he said, a little surprised, "just wanted to talk."

"I heard you. And I think that we should both rest before tomorrow."

"I want to get to know you," Daylen said, flustered. He glanced at the wet grass by her boots, the shadows moving because of the nearby flame. "Is it so much for me to get to know a fellow traveler when we will be spending every day for the next few months together?"

Morrigan paused, eyeing him. She looked ready to reject him again but then she said, "I suppose there is no harm in that. I assure you, however, you will find me quite boring."

* * *

Daylen awoke. He was alone in his bed and the sun had not risen yet. He could already hear sounds of movement outside his door and voices from downstairs. Amazed he had fallen asleep at all, he quickly put on his robes and armor, grabbed his sword and staff, and headed for Alistair's room. The knight was already eating breakfast, a servant said, and Daylen hurried downstairs, anxious for anything to relieve him of his thoughts from last night. A voice in the back of his head joked Something like an Archdemon, perhaps? but the thought only made him grip his staff harder as he headed for the dining quarters.

He met Wynne on the stairs but they said little until they entered the grand hall, Wynne offering to eat together but Daylen declining as politely as he could before walking to Alistair. His silver armor shone slightly from the torches on the stone walls. He was sitting at a wooden table with Riordan, who excused himself as Daylen approached.

"Good luck today, friend" Riordan said, clasping Daylen on the shoulder. "The Maker knows it ends today… I merely hope that we do not meet Him in the process." Daylen tried smiling but failed, settling for a brief nod as he sat down next to Alistair. Alistair's plate was empty except for a loaf of bread that had two bites in it. Daylen doubted he could eat even that much.

"How are you holding up?" Daylen asked.

"Oh, you know," Alistair said, reaching for his goblet and taking a swig. "Perfectly fine, really. I don't know what the big commotion is about. It's not like we're about to fight a Darkspawn army or anything."

"Yes," Daylen said absentmindedly. He debated telling him about last night. "Have you seen Morrigan?"

Alistair shook his head. "No, I have not been fortunate enough to have her grace my company today yet." He smiled. "Pity! Listen, we leave in half an hour. You should eat something before we go… last thing we'd want is to have to intimidate our opponents with growling stomachs."

* * *

"Why all the touching?" she asked. "Why do people shake hands, or embrace before they depart? T'is the most peculiar thing."

Daylen laughed. Contrary to what Morrigan had said, she was intensely interesting, enough to keep him up the past four nights with conversation by the fire. He found himself trying to come up with more questions for a reason to continue talking, which Morrigan found very amusing.

"I am being serious," she said, the chirping of insects in the campground quiet in the background. "In the wilderness, the only time something would try to touch you would be to get you in its belly. I don't understand why people have such a fetish for physical comfort."

"What about your mother?" Daylen asked. "I find it hard to believe you avoided her touch your entire life. Flemeth seems kind… I mean, she saved my life."

Morrigan burst into laughter, nearly startling Daylen at the sound. Over the past few days, he had never seen her smile, much less laugh. "Where did you gain this outrageous misconception that my mother is 'kind'? Her hand was strict and because of that I survived. T'was necessary for the type of life we had."

Daylen shook his head. "I still can't believe you never touched her."

Morrigan looked at him, her golden eyes illuminated by the fire. "Of course I touched her. She merely did not brood on our departures. The wild is not a place to develop attachments and grow weak. Touch is something I grew without, and I am stronger for it."

"But you are not in the wilds anymore," Daylen said before he could stop himself.

The fire was the only sound in the silence. "Do you mean to tell me that I should be some helpless doll in your company?" Morrigan said, her voice deadly still. "Do you mean to tell me that I should fall into your saving embrace and close my eyes? I am not," she shouted, "weak!"

"No, that's not what I meant," Daylen said but Morrigan was already walking to her tent. "I will see you tomorrow," she said as she disappeared, the swish of the tent curtain signaling the end of the night.

* * *

The overhead clouds spared little light as the armies marched for Denerim. They met few people on the road, though Daylen had little difficulty understanding why – evidence of the Darkspawn's passing could be seen, from the thousands of clawed footprints on the dusty ground to the occasional bloodied corpse still lying on the road. Daylen was at the head of the line with Alistair; if a preemptive ambush awaited, they would sense the Darkspawn before they attacked. He wished he could be further back in the midst of soldiers, though… it would make his glances into the throng less awkward.

He had not seen Morrigan the entire day, nor had Alistair and Leliana. Zevran had seen her when they had been leaving Redcliffe, but she had disappeared into the mass of people momentarily afterwards. Daylen resisted the urge to look behind him again. Morrigan had never just "disappeared" during their travels, and the memory of the previous night's events only amplified his desire to see her. There were so many unanswered questions. Morrigan made everything she said seem so final, but Daylen knew there had to be something from last night that he could change if he could just talk to her. The witch of the wild he had romanced was the most complex woman he had ever known – every conversation, she had been two steps ahead, speaking in a way that led their talk into territory she wanted and sent it spiraling away when it approached an area she thought better left unexplored. He felt he could barely keep up with her sometimes, but the instances where he said something that made her smile stuck in his head long into the day after their late-night exchange. The thought that they would talk the next night quickened his pace and cleared his mind; despite how unpromising or trying their journey seemed, there was one point of certainty every day.

"Look out!"

Daylen snapped out of his thoughts just as a fireball barreled past his ear, scorching the air with sick burning. Then, a tremendous blast of heat and sound knocked him forward onto his face. Shrieks and panicked shouting filled the air as the smell of burning appeared, only to be replaced by a stench far worse: it smelled as though something had died, been rubbed in mud and excrement for days, and then risen again. The Darkspawn were nearby. Daylen cursed himself for letting his mind wander. Now that he was focused, Daylen felt the uncomfortable tinge in his naval.

Looking up, he saw Alistair running towards several dark figures atop a hill to the right of the road. Arrows flew at him but he grazed them off with his shield. One of the disfigured humanoids shouted a terrible sound of tortured screams that made Daylen wince, less for the pain in his ears than the knowledge that sound brought – an emissary was with the group. Forgoing a glance backwards, Daylen pushed himself off the ground and began running after Alistair, pausing only to cast a protective ward around the knight. Something passed him to his right and he saw Dog speeding towards the hill, his thick muscles stretching and compressing the red war paint on his body.

As soon as he was in range, Daylen began reciting the elements for a spell in his mind. Energy spiraled around his staff as his thoughts darted faster and faster, Daylen's mouth moving silently as he worked the magic to exclude Alistair and Dog. As the last element passed the spotlight of focus in his mind, he raised his staff into the air and a thunderbolt erupted into the sky, shooting down onto the hill a moment later and bathing the air in a cloud of blue electricity. Guttural screams met Daylen as he started to run up the hill again, his boots flattening the yellowed grass. His magic was working – two grunts fell to the ground, their skin burnt black from the electricity shooting left and right out of thin air and disappearing into rocks and Darkspawn. The emissary, with his horned helmet, yellow eyes, and plated armor was not so quick to fall. The tempest knocked him and jerked his muscles tense, but it did not stop him from throwing an orb of green energy at Dog. The mabari yelped.

Daylen raised his staff again and shot poison at one of the four remaining beasts. Now that he was closer, he could see the Darkspawn more clearly – their vivid faces like skulls, their mottled skin stretched taut over their hunched bodies. Alistair shouted something but the clang of metal on metal as he struck a grunt's chest piece with his sword overrode his words. Daylen healed his friend before throwing a projectile of condensed energy at the emissary. The tempest of electricity faded, leaving nothing but the occasional crackling in the air, but Daylen knew another round was unnecessary. In a few short moments, the march would resume for Denerim, Daylen thought as the emissary stumbled from another bolt of energy he launched.

Alistair shouted again and Daylen turned to heal him before opening his eyes in surprise. From behind the hill, another emissary, two massive ogres, and what looked like a dozen grunts had appeared and were running towards Alistair. Dog leapt onto one of the ogres and bit into its neck, but the enormous beast flung Dog off and down twenty feet of hill. An arrow flew from behind Daylen at one of the ogres and he looked behind him. Four or five Dalish elves ran towards the battle, their longbows drawn and fitted with arrows. Behind them, several armored men were leaving the mass of soldiers and heading in Daylen's direction. The crowd below, he saw, was clustered around several people lying on the scorched ground. Remembering the fireball, Daylen began constructing his own, the elements running through his mind as he turned to the top of the hill. Two elves stopped next to him and shot at the Darkspawn archers that were aiming for Daylen before continuing upward. Struggling to maintain concentration, Daylen released the spell too early and it flew wildly into the sky.

Cursing angrily, he drew his blade and muttered a quick spell that resulted in the blade bursting to flame. He sheathed his staff and began running up the hill to meet a hurlock. He swung upward, cutting into the Darkspawn's armor as though it were butter. Another swing and its face was torn in two, the two halves flapping grotesquely as Daylen kicked the monster down the hill. The sound of clinking armor behind him announced the arrival of the Redcliffe soldiers and together they charged an ogre that was lumbering towards them. Daylen slashed at its arm, leaving a black burn but cutting little of the thick skin. The knights around him alternated piercing and hacking at the beast, which roared in agony and tried grabbing at the soldiers. Daylen swung at its knee before taking a step back and then leaping up to strike it across the face. Unfortunately, one of the ogre's massive swipes made contact with Daylen just before he reached the beast.

Daylen fell to the ground and rolled, tumbling down the hill. His vision swam with stars of vibrant colors and he bit his tongue as he hit a rock. He finally stopped rolling at the foot of the hill, away from the ogre and the rest of the battle. Blood dripped from his mouth as he slowly rose up, his arm shaking violently underneath him. It seemed he was on the far side of the hill, opposite of the road and in the midst of where the Darkspawn had come from. His sword lay on the ground twenty feet away but his staff, where was his staff? Before he could look further, he heard a footstep behind him and suddenly a cold hand pulling him up by his robe. It was the Darkspawn emissary from before, its bloodied horns wicked against the grey sky and its breath rank in Daylen's face. It raised a curved blade to his face and slowly placed the tip into his cheek, making a small incision. We are not even at Denerim, Daylen though hopelessly as the emissary tensed its muscles to rip him apart.

Suddenly a flash of blue enveloped the monster and a wave of cold and snow hit Daylen. He dropped to the ground, the rest of his face fortunately missing the emissary's blade. Clearing his eyes, he opened them to see his former assailant frozen solid, a thick layer of ice completely engulfing the monster. Then with a shout he knew all too well, a strike broke the Darkspawn into pieces, forming a cloud of frost and blood around a staff. From that familiar weapon, Daylen's eyes traced the hands, arms, and finally face of his love.

"I think t'is thrice you owe me now," Morrigan said, a smile at the corner of her lips.

End of Part One