Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or its characters, they are the property of Bioware, EA and the respective writers and artists of the series.

Hey people, anyone who had read the first few chapters of my fic Dragon Age 3: Vox Populi, know that I'm changing the plan. I'm no longer putting a three in the title and while this would technically be a Dragon Age sequal I'm establishing from Dragon Age 2 and alternate ending and alternate plot.

This story focuses on a theory I have, or rather a concept I came up with. It also introduces my OC main character, the Grey Warden Nomad/Deserter, named Vires (latin for strength) Honestas (latin for honour) whose look and armour was inspired by the new character for Dynasty Warriors 8 Wen Yang (look him up on google images if you want)

This fic along with two other one shots labelled Vox Populi establish the world of Dragon Age and hint at the plots, acting as prequals to the new rewritten Dragon Age Vox Populi I'll be publishing

Vox Populi: Born Tainted

Shadows Darker than any tainted creature

You know of the old legend, of how the Darkspawn came into being. You must also know of the taint they and other creatures related to them carry. The blood of a Darkspawn is poison and can even singe the skin or burn it completely in large doses. But the danger is always when that blood is exposed to an open wound, or the eyes or the lips. Once it flows through the body of a victim, that victim carries the taint and it turns them into ghouls with the same desire the Darkspawn have, to find the old gods buried in the Earth and pass the corruption of the taint to them, creating an Archdemon. Grey Wardens drink the blood of Darkspawn, absorbing the taint into their own bodies in a way no ordinary person could. They can tap into the 'hive mind' of the spawn and are sworn to fight them. Though the times have changed, the Grey Wardens are supposed to abandon birthright, prior duty and even family. But sometimes they find love amongst their fellow Wardens or they continue to see old lovers despite what the First Warden states.

It is extremely difficult for Wardens to have children, especially when the union is that of two Wardens. But rarely the Wardens succeed and thus a child born with the taint enters this world. During these rare times, the First Warden of Weisshaupt orders either two things, the aborting of the pregnancy no matter how far it has progressed or the enslavement of the child. For a child that bears the taint cannot live longer than thirty years before it hears the song of the old gods. The Grey Wardens are sworn to wipe out every trace of the Dark spawn corruption, even if that is the children they bring into this world.

Things worth preserving

He had survived the taint, lived to kill the Archdemon and even lead the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine, but now he was gone. Ashalle had watched him grow, train, suffer and eventually leave the clan and though he was never fond of his origins or even his parents Ashalle had always been proud of him. She remembered his bright smile and how he would annoy Paivel by telling the children a false history of the elves, or tease Merill by talking about 'dirty things' the humans did. Despite the fact that other clans called him 'flat ear', Ashalle believed he was a true elf. He'd saved Zathrian's clan, even convinced the keeper to give up his age old hatred of the humans, saved the Denerim elves when they were captured by Tevinter slaves and even secured a land for the Dalish to have as their own. Ostagar prospered into a new home for the Dalish, under Lanaya's leadership.

Ashalle was proud to have know Theron Mahariel, the hero of Ferelden. But he had disappeared and Ashalle couldn't find the closure even when Arianne told her of his fate. It was a fate Ashalle never predicted for the young man. She knew he bore no hatred of the humans, but to embrace one, to have kissed her like a long lost love and follow her into the Eluvian, the very thing that killed Tamlen and tore him from the clan, he must have truly loved the daughter of Asha'bellanar.

"I hope you have found peace," she whispered as she looked into the fire.

"ASHALLE! ASHALLE!"

The elder elf turned to the woods, frowning as a group of elvan children ran towards her.

"What are you doing out there alone, you know the woods are too dangerous to be used as a playground," Ashalle scolded the children.

"But Ashalle there's a Shem boy in the woods," one of the children said.

"A shemlen child?"

"Yes, it was just sitting against the tree staring at us playing dirty or truth," one of the boys said.

"Dirty or truth? Who told you about that game?" Ashalle asked.

"Merrill before the sabrae clan left, she said it was something an old friend of hers used to do, she said it was fun but Tira's chest isn't like the other girls," another boy explained.

"We're still growing, so in the future I'll have a big chest like Keeper Lanaya's wont I?" the girl asked.

Ashalle slapped her forehead and shook her head. Mahariel was such a pervert in his youth; completely different from the Warden leader she met during King Alistair's coronation. As part of his teasing Merrill he made a game based on the human game truth or dare, though he had proposed the game to Merrill and Tamlen when they were fourteen.

"You were fondling one another's…is it any wonder the child was staring?" Ashalle asked.

"Now that I think about it that probably was why he was staring!"

"Go and get Lanaya, I will find the child," Ashalle gave the children reassuring pats on the backs, pats that also pushed them to run for another adult.

As the children ran through the camp, Ashalle cautiously walked into the woods. It was not the child she feared but the wild creatures of the Brecilian forest. Occasionally a wolf or bear would wander towards the camp, though there were always hunters present to drive them away. She moved through the bushes, widening her eyes when she reached the children's playground. A trio of hunters were standing over a dark haired child. They were all dressed in green armour of dalish make and were poking the ragged child with their bows.

"A Shem kid out here, these people should take better care of their young, oi Shem, do you speak at all?" the leader of the band asked the child.

The child remained quiet, looking up at the hunters.

"Maybe we should show the Shem's they need to keep a better eye on their children, and teach them better manners," one of the hunters said as he raised his foot.

"STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" Ashalle yelled.

"Ashalle? Why are you here?" one of the hunters asked.

"And what are you doing to this poor boy?" Ashalle demanded, pushing the hunters aside to examine the boy.

She looked down at the child and he looked straight back at her. Ashalle gasped and knelt in front of the child. She touched his cheeks, examining every feature. The boy was human but looked like Mahariel when he was six or seven years old. He had yellow eyes though and an empty expression that reminded Ashalle more of the sorrow Mahariel seemed to have after the battle with the Archdemon.

"He hasn't spoken for hours, maybe this ones already wasted his mind," one of the hunters said, causing his brethren to laugh.

"That is quite enough of that," Ashalle growled. "Where did you come from child?" she asked.

"From…mother," the child whispered.

"Your mother?"

"She said…needed new home…is this my new home?" the boy absently rubbed the grass he sat on.

"Is he simple?" one of the hunters asked.

"Ma Mamae Nuvenin, Nehn, Isala Nehn, Isala Lath. Ma Mamae Dirth An Dar Dareth, Halamshiral, Falon Him Harel, Elgar Him Nan, Harel Him Falon!"

The hunters looked at the boy in shock, any kind of taunt they could think of was gone. He had spoken elvish, rather simple, but still quite clear enough for Ashalle to understand the near cryptic tone and its implications.

'Mother sent me here, to be safe, friend becomes terror, spirit becomes vengeance, terror becomes friend,' Ashalle roughly translated the words and had no idea what the cryptic warnings of spirits and terrors meant, not did she have any interest in the love the boy's mother apparently needed.

She knew what she had to do and she knew what answer she had to give when the child asked:

"Am I alone?"

Ashalle knelt in front of the child and pulled him into a hug.

"You are never alone amongst your people Da'len!"

Ashalle took the boy's hand and led him to an uncertain future. She was unaware of his importance, but if she knew she wouldn't care. Even if it meant ridicule or exile from the clans, even if they called her flat ear and no longer and elf Ashalle's mind was set. She would teach this child, and protect him. True he was a half breed, more human than elf and true ensuring he could live the life his parents couldn't would further dilute the elf bloodline, Ashalle believed without a shred of doubt that this boy was worth protecting, worth preserving. Not because he was an elvhan child, but because he was his child.

Duty that cannot be foresworn

He was sick of it all, the claim that the Grey Wardens were better or necessary. The young man ran through the dirt, rain batting against his armour and matting his hair. The spear he dragged against the ground left a trail on the dirt greater than the prints of his heavy boots. His right hand, covered by a blue glove and the heavy plates of metal that formed his armour held tightly the spear that was his weapon of choice. The blade resembled the fang of a dragon. A helmet covered his head, but left his face, the outraged and determination that had filled it exposed. The helmet covered his ears but had smalls vents so that he could hear his pursuers, it also had grey horsehair attached to the back of it, much like the feathers worn on Orlesian helmets.

"HALT! THERE'S NO WHERE LEFT TO RUN!"

The young man slid across the mud, , stopping mere inches from the edge of a cliff. He turned glaring at his pursuers as they revealed themselves one by one. They were all dressed in identical armour, though some had notably differences to match their fighting styles. Those whom wielded swords wore heavy plate armour that had loosely inspired his own, whilst others wore blue and white leather armour to match the quickness of their knives or arrows. At the front was a middle-aged man; a thick moustache decorated a face that demanded discipline and dedication. A shield and axe were strapped to his back and the men flanking him drew their great swords.

"There is nowhere left to run, the prime minister of Tantervale demands justice and we Grey Wardens deal with our own," the man spoke with a thick Orlesian accent.

"Lets just kill him and be done with it Stroud, better he die now than become a ghoul wandering the deep roads," one of the other men said.

The young man narrowed his eyes at the armed men around him. They were supposed to be his kin by oath, the Grey Wardens of the free marches.

"We will be merciful considering your service," Stroud said.

"Service…is that what my life was called, what my existence was…I feel like a mage, given no choice in what life I live because I'm presented with only two options, servitude or death. That was the only life I ever had, it's the only life for a person born with the taint…you're either abandoned to whatever fate awaits you in the deep roads, or raised until your old enough to speak to choose something when you have no idea what else is out there. I see and hear things, of what the Wardens can do, what they did do at one time," the young man explained.

His accent was neither Orlesian or Marcher, it was a bland accent less voice that for a moment could have been mistaken for Fereldan.

"The Hero of Fereldan is gone, if he is ever seen again he will be treated as a deserter, what you would have been if you walked away yet you broke the most sacred vow of the Wardens, you involved yourself in a political dispute…we must always remain neutral, that is the way of our order," Stroud explained.

"We take the law into our own hands, we murder and manipulate when it suits our goal, we say its to protect the world but look at the world we're protecting…children imprisoned out of fear, empires like Tevinter allowed to keep slavery and even the rulers of other countries turning their backs to slavery in their own land either cause they get a pretty penny out of it or it's the poor, the elves, or just mages."

"Why? Why don't we get involved when it can save innocent lives, why not bring down tyrants and slavers? Why not bring down the injustices of a world that has to change? Why sacrifice others who don't want to be involved, like the alienage elves that the prime minister was allowing you to recruit? I saw them, they weren't fighters they were desperate people looking for a living, they would have choked when it came time for their joinings and as we all know there's 'no turning back' at a joining."

"I've seen men murdered when they tried to run away. 'I have family, let me stay with them', 'there is no turning back', 'I'm afraid of dying' 'there is no turning back'. I believe that sacrifices must be made, but the sacrifice has to be our lives, no body else's. I am willing to die for what I believe in, but I will only kill those who have involved themselves and deserve to die."

With the rain still batting down, the young man gripped his spear in both arms and readied himself for a fight. Stroud however remained still, looking at the young man, seeing in his place a boy, defiant to his elders and what he was taught to accept. There are certain kinds of people, those whom accept and those whom defy. People who accept are those who look at the circle towers, the slaver lords and the corruption of their society and say either 'it is the makers will' or 'this is life'. But there are those whom defy this, whom are taught to accept it but refuse. They say 'I want to change this' and sometimes a rare few will follow on their word. This boy, born from Grey Warden parents, given to the order and tainted since birth was that kind of person.

"Then there was the lord of Tantervale himself, you know he regularly beat and raped Elvan girls, then there was the whispers of a deal he had with a magister in Tevinter, selling arms and armour and even providing him with information to increase the success of an invasion. Tevinter is planning a war and we're doing nothing about it, nothing to prevent the catastrophic blood shed that would result from a war with the Imperium," the man continued, even as the Grey Wardens approached him.

"Before I pass judgement, tell me and I will choose for myself whether you are lying or not. This invasion you speak of, is it really going to happen? Or are you simply speaking lies to justify the fact that you may have already begun to hear the song of the old gods?" Stroud asked.

"Something is going to happen in Kirkwall, something that might change everything we know, but the blood shed that will result from that change is something that has to be stopped. Change must come when people are ready for it, not the way…not the way that my dreams say they are going to come," the young man explained.

"I have been a Grey Warden since we found you that day, twenty two years, twenty two years of watching you grow into this man, the man who cost the Wardens more recruits by simply telling them the truth, the man who did what not even a city guard or prime minister would do and murdered a city's king in the name of the people he had mistreated. You have always wanted to live by the example Mahariel set, so I will allow you to do what he did, to choose…accept the judgement of the First Warden in Weisshaupt or…kills us all and go to Kirkwall!"

The Grey Wardens looked at Stroud in shock as he drew his axe and shield. He nodded to his men and the Grey Warden deserter. The young man shifted his feet across the dirt, raising his spear as the Wardens gradually focused their attention on him. Stroud was the first to strike, swinging his axe at the young man. But the spear wielder slammed his staff into the ground, using it to launch his foot into Stroud's face. As soon as they both landed on the floor, one on his back and another on his feet, the fight began. The deserter swung his spear, crashing the blade into the helmet of one of the warriors. He then used the tip of his spear to divert the course of a sword, instead making it clash with a rogue's daggers. Spinning the spear between his fingers and rolling it across his back, the deserter kept the cautious wardens back the display. He rolled the spear around his back and caught it in his left hand before thrusting it through the neck of another warden. As soon as the other wardens struck he pulled the spear out, using the staff of the spear to block two swords. Then he kicked behind him, pelting an attacker's jewels with his boot. He swung the spear, slashing one of the swordsmen, and then jumped to the side to avoid the crash of a great sword. Stroud stood up and nodded to the two survivors. They ran at the deserter; swing their blades towards him.

But with precise timing the deserter diverted the path of the great sword onto Stroud's shield, then pushed both men on top of one another before slashing the rogue across the chest. Stroud tried to push the warrior off of him, but gasped as a sharp stinging sensation numbed his shoulder. He looked at the speak between the warrior's belly, the same spear that had pierced his shoulder. Stroud left out a soft chuckle as the deserter pulled the blade out of his shoulder, leaving the second victim to fall on top of him.

"Impressive, you were trained well, we should have sent you to Fereldan, perhaps there you could have understood the important of our order and the importance of patience," Stroud said as he pushed the body off of him.

The deserter used the tip of his spear to flip Stroud's weapons over the edge of the cliff. He looked down at Stroud not in anger but reluctance.

"Or perhaps we would have only quickened you leaving the order, I always knew letting you live that day was a greater pain then simply abandoning you in the deep roads," the Orlesian warden set his knees on the dirt and looked up at the deserter. "But still you were a baby, in need of a chance as all deserve, you are no longer a Grey Warden young man, you are a ghoul, perhaps not in appearance but the fact remains all Grey Wardens throughout Thedas will see you as a victim of the corruption to be killed as a mercy," he reached for the knife on his belt and held it in a performed threatening manner.

"How many, how many people have to die before people say enough of all this shit?" the young man asked.

"People don't like change, sometimes change has to be forced on them, like the thought of a child born tainted, a child that hears the song of the old gods…but chooses to ignore it, to be something greater than any Grey Warden alive today," Stroud said as he dropped his dagger. "I am still sworn to duty, if you spare me I will pursue you to Kirkwall and beyond!"

"Then pursue me, bring an army with you if you have to, the fact is something is coming, I can see it every night I'm asleep and even when I'm awake, a song, a woman wrapped in gold with a heart cold as ice, a woman wrapped in rags with a heart in flames and someone, someone rising from the flames of a whole city," the deserter explained.

"Go boy, go and do what you feel is right and may the maker watch over you!"

The deserter lowered his spear and ran past Stroud.

"Go nomad of the Grey Wardens, go Vires Honestas and fight the cause of the Grey Wardens your own way!"

Enchantment

The overall size of Hawke's mouth seemed to expand as he yawned, stretching his arms after a short night of sleep. The rest of his night had been spent at the hanged man in the company of a certain wannabe (though hopefully no longer a wannabe) pirate queen. He returned to the mansion in the early hours of the morning to find his Mabari Wilson feasting on the gross pile that was Orlesian dog food. Hawke had low opinions of Orlais but one thing they knew was good food, even for a dog. Wilson looked at Hawke and immediately sniffed at his master's crotch. The Mabari turned his nose up and gagged.

"You don't see me checking your plumbing whenever you've gone out," Hawke retorted.

Wilson huffed and stormed back to his bed. Hawke walked into the foyer to see Bodhan attending to the fireplace. Orana was polishing the writing desk and Sandal was gracelessly scratching his arse. The trio stopped what they were doing and looked to Hawke. An eerie silence hung over the mansion as the man of the house walked further into the room.

"So Messere, how was Isabella?" Bodhan asked.

Orana blushed slightly as she tried to suppress a giggle.

"Boom," Sandal said.

The former slave couldn't help herself and promptly retreated to the library. Hawke sighed as he heard the girl laughing hysterically. He was glad she was coming out of her old nervous shell, but not when it cost him a little dignity.

"Okay, what's so funny?" he asked.

"Mr Tethras, he came round here and stayed the night, I believe he said that…" Bodhan blushed and poked his foot against the floor. "He said you had 'torn open the veil that was the pirate queen and unleashed the forces she had long kept buried, keeping everyone in the hanged man up!'"

"Oh great, he's going to turn the whole thing into a love story," Hawke sighed.

"I think I'll start with your duel with the Arishok," Varric grinned from the stair head. "The Arishok pinned Hawke against the wall and said 'after you are gone, I will take the thief, she will submit to the Qun or perish' suddenly, Hawke grabs the Arishok's horns and says 'you will not touch her' before slamming his knee into the Qunari's forehead."

"Varric!"

"Yes Hawke?"

"Start running," Hawke growled, fire blazing in his hand.

Varric gulped slightly as he backed away from the stairs. Hawke was ready to pounce on the dwarf, until Sandal spoke up.

"One day the magic will come back, all of it, everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the sky will open rise," the young dwarf didn't speak with his usual innocence, rather a creeping tone that made Varric shiver.

"Sandal are you okay?" Orana asked from the doorway.

"When he rises, everyone will see!"

"By the ancestors, what's gotten into you my boy?" Bodhan asked, shaking his adopted son's shoulder.

"Enchantment?"

"That's more like it," Bodhan said, stepping away from Bodhan cautiously.

Hawke and Varric looked at the young dwarf as he went back to scratching his arse. Both wondered where in the world that sudden change had come from? Then Hawke remembered something, something that Sandal had said a long time ago, something Bodhan had dismissed at first.

"The old lady is scary!"

"She has a scary laugh!"

Next Dragon Age Vox Populi

Hope everyone enjoyed the one-shot, will publish Dragon Age Vox Populi as soon as I've finished the final draft of the first chapter. I got the elven from the Dragon Age Wiki and came across the Sandal speech in game completely by accident, whether it has any grasp on the future I'm not sure though I'm sure Bioware has a good plan for it. Morrigan's son will play a big role in the story, that much I promise. Also a little explanation on my character Vires, he may seem like that righteous always good character but just because he has good intentions doesn't mean his actions wont have consequences, the best way I would describe Vires's personality is that if he lived in the real world he'd be pro Iraq war (and we all know what happened there).

Also check out my Vox Populi one shot Friend, Rival, Brother, which establishes the first step of the alternate ending to Dragon Age 2, the rest of it will be seen in Dragon Age Vox Populi