She finds him in the Chantry, at the very end. Hands clasped tight, his eyes are tightly shut and his lips are moving silently, and she almost wonders if this really is the same Alistair that led the battle charge, that held her in the dark nights, that.. well, that's not exactly appropriate thoughts for a Chantry, now, she thinks, feeling a blush creep along her skin. She is slow to approach him, wary now of this man who branded her a traitor. Somewhere in the city, Loghain and Riordan are performing the most important ceremony, but she cares not for that right now. For here is the man she wishes had never ran from her side, on bended knee in front of the eyes of the Maker and His bride Andraste, praying with fervour.

He stops suddenly, wiping his face, and stands to face her, the gap between them just a fraction of the gaping chasm she could feel between them. This morning they had been friends, lovers, comrades and confidants. Now? Well, not enemies, but not what they were. He would never smile at her decisions, never laugh at her jokes, kiss her neck under moonlit skies, hold her tight as the tears ran down her cheeks, promise her to be there at the end when the world went dark..

"I.. I know it's probably not worth much to you, but.. I'm sorry. I really am." Her words fall into the void between them, his eyes like steel on her. After a pause, something in him softens, just a little, and he nods. She almost steps forward, wanting to be swept up in those arms just one last time, but they are resolutely at his sides and she thinks he will brook no quarter today. This is something that cannot be undone with a soft touch and a smile.

"I've stood by every decision you've made in the name of the Grey Wardens," he murmurs, and his voice is rough and worn, older than he has ever sounded. "I.. trust you. Much more than I ever thought possible. But this is.. something I'm not ready to face. I cannot walk into battle with that man." And here his voice catches slightly, and that hardness in his soul is back. Back straight, he strides past her, stopping at the door. She sinks to her knees, back to him, body trembling violently. "Goodbye.. my love." And as the Chantry doors close loudly, finally, at the end of all things between them, she cries, guttural moans that rip from her throat and echo around the building with a horrible sense of death and loss.