A/N This year I participated in the Cheeky Monkey of Dragon Age's 2012 Secret Santa Story Exchange and was paired with Dasque. Immediately I got hooked on her Here Without You story… if you have not read it, go now! It's a fantastic piece and completely inspired this work. This story can serve as a standalone, but it makes much more sense inside the Here Without You universe. Merry Christmas to Dasque!

"Just one more story…" Daniel's eyes sparkled in the firelight as Alistair tousled his dark hair, torn between frustration at his son's delaying tactics and delight that he finally had the time to perform the bedtime ritual. He pulled the quilt over his son's chest, tucking it in around him. How could he say no? He had not complained once since they had arrived at Soldier's Peak three days ago. Although the former Warden base had been restored to some of its former glory, it was not an ideal place for a young boy to be holed up in during one of the worst snowstorms in recent memory. Just one more story would not hurt.

It had been Elissa's idea that the four of them escape their routine in Denerim and head north. Originally, the King had suggested that they spend some time at the Cousland's winter estate further south, where the ocean breezes were more inviting, but Elissa had had loftier ideas. She had thought it would be good for Daniel to spend some time amongst Warden history and appreciate some Dryden family hospitality. Alistair doubted that she anticipated the cold, however. Ever since they had arrived, the biting winds had seemed to creep their way through the stone and mortar and slink around Alistair's toes. He was looking forward to curling up under his bearskin blanket and warming up next to Elissa, but the look in Daniel's eyes temporarily melted that previous thought.

Alistair blew in his palms and rubbed them together. "How about the tale of the Black Fox?"

The boy propped himself up. "You always tell that story. Tell me about the griffons!"

"The griffons…" Alistair scratched his chin and mulled over the request, realizing that he had not used his straight blade since he had left Denerim. "Who would want to hear a story about that? Terribly dull."

"Da!" Daniel knit his eyebrows together and screwed up his pursed lips at his father's playful teasing. "Mama said they used to battle the Blights with the Grey Wardens, and then Levi showed me the tapestry in the dining room…"

"Well, then, I suppose you heard all about Ser Cassidan, High Constable of Weisshaupt?" Alistair slipped under the cover and curled up beside the little boy. At the end of the bed, Rozz, Daniel's mabari pup groaned, as if the movement in the bed caused her a great offence. Alistair wove his fingers together and rested them on his chest. His toes were cold.

"What's a High Constable?" the little boy asked through a lengthy yawn.

"I thought your mum told you everything about the griffons! How could she forget the High Constable? They had the very best jobs of all the Wardens. They were the keepers of the griffons and tended the great sky cages at Weisshaupt. Ser Cassidan was the last of his kind. He lost the last griffon."

"Sky cages? What's a sky cage?"

"Weisshaupt Fortress is nestled amongst the Kurzweil mountain range. It's so high that you can see all the way to Tevinter. The summit… they call it the Spike… has the most exceptional caves carved into the face of the mountain. It was said that a great paragon and a host of dwarves from Orzammar were sent to work the stone and create the most magnificent stables for the great griffon herd that the Wardens commanded."

The wood in the hearth snapped, sending a twirling column of glowing sparks up the chimney. Daniel waited patiently for his father to continue the tale. For a moment, Alistair lost his train of thought as he watched the gentle shadows play over the boy's delicate features. A little hand tugged on the laces of Alistair's tunic.

"What happened to all the griffons? How did Ser Cassidan lose them all?"

"He didn't lose them all. Just the last one. No one knows exactly how their numbers went into decline. I suspect the darkspawn or one of the archdemons did a great many of them in. Did you know that the griffons mated for life?"

For a moment, Alistair regretted asking the question even as Daniel shook his head vigorously. Before he could downplay his last statement, his attention was drawn to the window as it rattled against the wind and snow was piling high in its corners. "So many were lost during the Battle of Ayesleigh while Garahel fought Andoral… many of the griffons lost their mates… and, therefore, died of loneliness. Eventually, there came a time when all that was left was old Ser Cassidan and his lone griffon, Marganor."

When Daniel heard his father say the name of the griffron, he whispered it aloud, full of awe and reverence. "What happened to Marganor?"

He was about to continue when the door creaked open, ushering in a gust of cold air and causing the lone candle to flicker. Elissa tiptoed in; her loose woolen bedclothes were awash in golden candlelight. The sight of her ebony tresses cascading in loose curls down her neck never ceased to hitch his breath momentarily. Her presence at the door told Alistair that she had had better luck at putting Abbie down for the night than Alistair was having with Daniel.

"You are supposed to be asleep!" She cocked her head to the side, allowing a curl to tumble onto her shoulder.

"Mama! Da is telling me all about the griffons!"

"Is he? If that's the case, mind if I join you?" She shot Alistair a crooked smile as she placed the candle she had been carrying on a nightstand. "Move over." Alistair lifted the covers and scooted toward the centre of the bed. Rozz grumbled at the foot but refused to move as Elissa curled up on her side, propping herself up on the pillow.

"So, what have I missed?"

"He's just about to tell me how Ser Cassidan lost the last griffon."

With a curious glance, Elissa nodded slowly, compelling Alistair to continue.

"Ser Cassidan and Marganor became quite the attraction, you see. Wardens from all over Thedas travelled to Weisshaupt to pay homage. Of course, Ser Cassidan grew old and rather cranky at becoming a mere carnival sideshow exhibit. And, as you know, there was a long time between the Fourth and the Fifth Blights… many were beginning to think that the Wardens had killed all the darkspawn for good. Eventually, talk made it all the way to the Spike, and poor Cassidan had to wonder if the Wardens would just fall into obscurity and become mere shadows of their former glory." Alistair pouted slightly, thinking of what that must have felt like. Elissa wove her fingers in his under the covers.

"I've been to the sky cages at Weisshaupt," Elissa broke in, "there are no words to describe it. The entire face of the mountain is covered in them—twenty across by twenty high. Each bears intricate carvings of heroic griffons and High Constables… every Warden must experience it."

Alistair had yet to make a pilgrimage, and could never find a good time to forfeit his duties for a summer. Whenever he mulled over the idea, the various voices of the Landsmeet rattled in his head and nagged about how such a journey might be misconstrued as bearing an overt political gesture. Elissa combed her fingers through her hair with a faraway stare. He wanted to reach out and trace his thumb down the soft contours of her cheek, but thought better of it—there would be plenty of time for that later.

"So, how big were the griffons, Da?"

"I would guess that they were slightly smaller than a horse, sturdier for sure, but their wing span would have been impressive. I've only seen them in paintings. Warden historians say that Marganor was the most handsome of all the steeds, with thick golden fur and silver plumes. Mages coveted their claws and feathers, claiming they had exceptional healing properties. Ser Cassidan had to be on constant guard because alchemists would show up at all hours demanding a sample or a clipping. If Ser Cassidan was not careful, he feared that his beloved Marganor would be completely plucked! Imagine how sad a sight that would be? A griffon without feathers! So, even though Ser Cassidan was still able to fulfil his role as High Constable, Marganor eventually grew lazy from lack of purpose. With no darkspawn to fight, he found that his daily flights around the Kurzweil Mountains were not enough."

Elissa slipped from under the covers and padded around the bed, giving Rozz a scratch on the top of her head as she passed. She stood in front of the window and rubbed off a small circle of frost, peering into the darkness and whirling snow. Looking over her shoulder, she grinned as she noticed Daniel's eyes starting to flutter. She placed a finger over her mouth and returned to the bed and crawled in again, sandwiching the boy between his parents.

"Poor Marganor." Daniel yawned and his parents allowed a long stretch of silence to linger. Alistair's eyes grew heavy and he fought to keep them open. It was not until Elissa's icy toes brushed up against his that he realized the battle was lost. He blinked against the tremendous pull of sleep and sensed the lights dim. Darkness. Sleep.

..:._.,-*~'`*`'~*-,._.:..

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Alistair grinned and balanced Abbie on a knee while feeding her oatmeal, not caring that most of it was ending up in his lap. Daniel was perched beside him, teasing Rozz with a link of sausage. With sleep still in her eyes, Elissa grinned and shuffled over the cold stone floor in a pair of oversized slippers. A small table had been set up nearest the fieldstone hearth in one of the smaller meeting rooms. It seemed to retain the heat the best and sheltered them from the biting chill. She took a seat across from Alistair and repositioned her shawl over her shoulder.

"Still storming out there I see. At this rate, we won't be able to get back to Denerim before spring." Elissa scratched her head half-dreamily, and accepted a cup of tea from one of the servants.

"Really, Mama? We get to stay here all winter? A whole winter without having lessons…"

Alistair tousled Daniel's hair. "Not so fast, champ…" Before Alistair could explain that Fereldan politics could not wait until the thaw, Levi Dryden appeared bearing an ancient leather-bound book.

"I've found it, Master Daniel."

Small mercies for Levi. Both children were notoriously early risers and, even before dawn had broken, both had dragged their exhausted father out from under the warm covers and insisted upon exploring the rest of Soldier's Peak together. Levi had run into them in the hallway and had offered to amuse Daniel and Abbie for a couple of hours so Alistair could return to bed and sleep in—a rare activity bestowed upon the King. Of course, sleep had been the last thing he had on his mind. Elissa had kept his side of the bed warm and there had been little need to stoke the fire. Her smouldering touch had been all he had needed.

"What's this?" Alistair leaned on the table and watched with equal curiosity as Levi opened the first brittle pages of the illuminated manuscript. He preoccupied Abbie's chubby and curious fingers with a piece of toast. Her governess appeared, as if she could sense that inquisitive toddlers and ancient manuscripts were a disastrous combination, and offered to take her to get washed and dressed. Abbie pouted as she was escorted from the table, but was easily distracted with a cheerful nursery-song.

Levi pulled up a chair beside Daniel. "We still have quite a collection of books here at the keep. Master Daniel was asking about Marganor and Ser Cassidan…"

Elissa was topping a warm biscuit with jam and watching with interest. Each page had an elaborately decorated border and the coloured inks had yet to fade from age. Levi flipped toward the middle of the book and smoothed out the page, showing Daniel an elaborate drawing.

"This here is Ser Cassidan and Marganor. Done by none other than the famous Storm Age artist, Brunellesco," Levi recited the fact proudly and pronounced it in his plebeian accent, demonstrating how hard he had worked to retain the details. If he was trying to impress the King, it had worked. Alistair always appreciated anyone who endeavored to preserve Warden history.

Daniel leaned over and pulled the book closer, tracing his finger over the elaborate engraving. A careful brush had applied subtle dashes of colour throughout the richly designed portrait. The griffon sat proudly beside his Warden, his ears perked in rapt attention and a forequarter claw reached out, poised for battle. A ruffle of white and copper feathers wreathed the beast's proud neck and golden ink illuminated his curved beak. Two topaz eyes stared out at the young prince.

"According to this official history, Warden initiates and their griffons would take their Joining together." Levi touched the edge of the page reverently.

"A griffon had to take the Joining?" Elissa quirked an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

"Aye!" Levi exclaimed. "If the initiate did not make it through the Joining, then the griffon was returned to the sky cages and never sent into battle. Very sad—apparently the mages would harvest their feathers and such, and they were used for breeding, but never taken into battle. I think, at one point in time, if the Warden did not survive his Joining it was considered such an ill-omen that the griffon was sacrificed and burned on the spot but, of course, when their numbers started to dwindle, the First Warden changed that policy."

"What's a Joining, Mama? And why does it kill the Warden?"

Alistair shot Elissa a knowing look, realizing that they had had never explained that part of their lives to their son, wanting to share those details when he was much older. The King squirmed in his chair, not wanting to dismiss the question, but wishing to soften the blow without actually lying.

"Oh, that's just Warden business Master Daniel. Your Ma and Pa, they are bound by oaths of secrecy. All we need to know is that a Joining is a dangerous affair."

Daniel nodded, satisfied with the answer, and took a bite of toast. Levi continued.

"Centuries before Ser Cassidan and Marganor, Warden initiates had to wait years to get matched with their griffon. When a griffon takes the guard position as you see in this picture, they are to be the same height." Levi pointed to the engraving.

Alistair looked across the table for a moment to admire the sapphire and silver detailing of Ser Cassidan's ceremonial armor. Elissa once told him that it was still on display at Weisshaupt and another had not been crafted since. He knew that Master Wade had the talent and started devising a bit of a plan, thinking that Elissa might someday appreciate such a gift. He decided to tuck that idea away for a rainy day.

"But… how could Ser Cassidan just lose a griffon? That does not sound like a very heroic story." Daniel asked.

"Why don't you get all cleaned up and dressed and I will finish the story later."

"But… but… Da!" Daniel pleaded in a singsongy voice.

"Do as your father says, love. March yourself upstairs…" Elissa affectionately patted him on the behind as he reluctantly passed. Alistair knew his ill-mood would be short lived.

..:._.,-*~'`*`'~*-,._.:..

Later that day, Alistair found Daniel in a window seat, leaning on the sill and glowering out the window. The surrounding forest was a grey smudge, completely obscured and veiled in speckled white. The winds howled and whipped the snow into a frenzy, forming a massive drift on the great staircase leading to the front of the keep. Clearing a path would take a number of able-bodied men a number of days, and Alistair tried not to grow anxious when he thought of how long it would take them to return to Denerim. Rozz was next to Daniel, chewing on a stewing bone and jumped to the floor when Alistair approached.

"What's up, champ?"

He and Elissa had spent the entire morning going through important documents that Levi had since unearthed from Sophia Dryden's archive. Daniel had poked in his head a number of times, but had been shooed away so his parents could quickly and efficiently complete their business. Each time, a pang of guilt had churned in Alistair's gut, but he had remained focused nevertheless. He had developed [i]some[/i] skills as King, after all.

"Nothing. When can I go outside and play? Can we go now, Da?"

"No living creature would willingly head out in that storm; even the bears have hunkered down and have gone into hiding."

Daniel leaned back, seeming to resign himself to the lack of stimulation.

"Cook tells me that you were in the larder causing some trouble…" Alistair said.

"Rozz was sniffing out rats. Even the rats have hunkered down."

"So, did you want to hear how Ser Cassidan lost Marganor?"

"Naw. It's just another sad story."

Alistair took a finger and tipped up his son's chin and looked deep into his eyes. They were still wide with wonder, but a deep sadness was starting to creep in. "How do you know? You haven't even heard the ending!"

"But, the griffons are all gone. It's got to be a sad story."

Alistair smiled and pulled Daniel in closer, enjoying how their conversation echoed in the chamber. "Out of the blue one day, a messenger arrived, ran all the way to the top of the Spike with a note for Ser Cassidan."

"Who was the note from, Da?"

Alistair was relieved that he had a captive audience again. "The High Constable, so used to being irrelevant, had not received a letter in many years—he nearly fell out of his chair when he received it, so shocked he was. Nervously he opened it, thinking it was a message from the First Warden relieving him and Marganor of their duties. The message fell from his hands as soon as he read it, and he immediately saddled Marganor. It was from the Prince of Starkhaven, begging Ser Cassidan to come and help battle a dragon that many suspected to be an Archdemon. It was certainly large enough… however there were no rumours of any darkspawn attacks upon the northern Free Marches and no Wardens had been called to duty in the area. Regardless, Ser Cassidan was not about to ignore such a summons and flew out to meet Starkhaven's militia."

"Da, how long does it take it get to Starkhaven?"

"Many nights for sure, but I can't say exactly—I've never ridden on the back of a griffon before! Imagine the wind at your back and to watch the world pass below… As soon as Ser Cassidan soared over the Minanter River, he would have seen a great plain between the river and the Vinmarks. There, Starkhaven's army waged battle with the mighty Urzara. Ser Cassidan was almost looking forward to feeling the connection that all Wardens feel toward the Archdemons but, as Marganor's mighty wings flapped in the wind, he felt nothing. They both felt a deep emptiness. This beast was nothing more than a High Dragon. Ser Cassidan swooped in and laid waste to it."

"How, Da?"

"Griffons are born to kill dragons. With primal speed, Marganor attacked the dragon from the air, tearing open its throat with his razor-sharp claws. When all was said and done, the great beast lay shredded on the great plains and the citizens of Starkhaven named Ser Cassidan as their hero—a great many songs were composed about Cassidan and Marganor's bravery. It was a hollow victory for the Wardens. Cassidan had secretly hoped that the last griffon and High Constable would offer their lives as the final sacrifice. But, they were meant to endure.

During one evening of celebration, a bard from the Donarks, who had volunteered to serve in Starkhaven's militia, told Cassidan a strange tale. He spoke of wild griffons in an ancient wood north of the Weathered Pass… They were very shy, but were often spotted peppering the sky on moonlit nights. Ser Cassidan listened in rapt attention as this bard told him how a wild griffon had attacked him and his horse one night. He even had the scars to prove it.

That night, Cassidan took Marganor to a secluded mountain pass and removed his armor and harness, tossing it into the rushing Minanter. Cassidan broke his bond and set Marganor free. Through weepy eyes and in a broken whisper, he instructed his oldest friend and companion to fly north and not stop until he saw another living beast of his kind. Marganor gave Ser Cassidan a long and knowing look and took flight… Cassidan watched the moonlight reflect from his ivory wings until he was nothing more than a speck against the star-filled night."

..:._.,-*~'`*`'~*-,._.:..

The pine branches sagged and could hardly bear the weight of the snow. Fluffy flakes drifted from the moody sky, and Alistair worked up a sweat as he cleared the heavy snow from the keep's stairway. It felt good to put in the effort, and he was greatly enjoying the rare opportunity of offering something more than a royal decree. He leaned into the handle of the shovel and pushed it ahead, letting it pile high with snow. Something cold hit his cheek and startled him from his reverie. He looked up to find Elissa grinning fiendishly and preparing another handful of snow to throw at him. Setting the shovel aside, he threatened to toss her in a snow drift; her shrill squeal echoed across the yard. Daniel and Levi watched from a distance while packing the beginnings of a snow fort.

Elissa wrapped an arm around Alistair's waist and brushed the snow from his hair with a wet mitten. "So, Daniel told me about how Ser Cassidan lost Marganor." She kissed him and her lips were like fire against his.

Alistair pulled her closer. "Mmmm."

She pulled away. "According to Warden lore, Ser Cassidan and Marganor took their Calling after they slew the High Dragon."

"I know."

She cocked her head and gave her husband a curious look. A snowflake landed on her long dark eyelashes.

"I like my ending better." Alistair said with a grin, gently brushing the flake away with his finger. "Daniel wanted just one more story. If I told him about their Calling, then that would have been the end of their tale. With my ending, Daniel can keep telling the story. No one really knows if Marganor was the last griffon, so I chose the hopeful ending." Keeping an arm around Elissa, he walked with her along the freshly shovelled path.

Elissa bit her lip. "But, won't this just set him up for disappointment later? He'll eventually read the official story and know that they died in the Deep Roads." Elissa's pragmatism was one of the many traits that he had fallen in love with. But, the downy whiteness that had embraced Warden's Keep had enchanted him; today, his thoughts had taken on a more dreamy quality.

"Hope is the greatest story we can tell to each other. That has to be worth something, right?"