The sky set her auburn hair on fire as she stood staring over the lands, her gentle figure darkened out by the morning suns glow – her travel clothes hanging loosely on her maturing body. One foot in front of the other, she reminded herself as she took one step out onto the road.

"Ronaele!" She turned as she heard her name, the aged man jogging as best as he could down the path towards her, the large Castle Redcliffe towering behind him.

"Ronaele!" He called again closer now, the grey in his beard obvious, the weakness in his body, the strain in his eyes.

The man slowed to a halt in front of her, his breath heavy and rapid as he tried to regain himself.

"Where… Where are you going!?" He managed to get out between breaths.

"You couldn't just let me sneak off could you?" She sarcastically stated, a smirk tilted her mouth – a smirk she shared with her father according to those who knew him.

"Ron- you're kidding right? Let you sneak off?" A pinched vein expressed itself on his foreign.

"Eamon…"

"No Ronaele! You have responsibilities, to your study, your trainers, to swordsmanship, and above all - to your people!"

"…But I-

"No buts! How could you even think about sneaking off! I mean think about it! This life it isn't about adventure, not anymore there hasn't been war since the one with Orlais, there aren't any more Dark Spawn! And maker forbid what would your parents think? They never once sunk away from responsibilities!"

The girls gaze dropped, her sarcastic grin fell.

"They're gone aren't they… my parents"

"Ronaele I…"

"No, no more lies, I'm nearly 16 now I can take it" her face showing as much bravery it could.

For the longest time Eamon paused.

"Honestly… I don't know"

"Liar!" She yelled

"They left I know they did! I felt it! They left for Orzammar… They left to fight the dark spawn. They left for a noble end. They left to die…" Her voice barely a whisper on the last word.

Eamons face remained stoic.

"But they're not dead."

"Ronaele come-on love, the chances-

"THEY ARE NOT DEAD!"

The hand he had reaching out for her faltered.

"I can still feel them Eamon, they're alive."

He looked at her confused, it was true she had been able to pinpoint her parent's location since she was young, Grand Enchanter Irving had believed it was due to her sharing the same blood of her parents and therefore the blood of the Dark Spawn, and with there being no more Dark Spawn he believed it may be possible for her to sense other Grey Warden. Children of the Grey were not common and therefore oddities about them were not disregarded.

"So what will you do?"

"I will find them." The girls' voice was unshakable; she was committed to this task.

"Then I must stop you" sadness filled the old man's eyes.

A laugh was the first thing that came from her mouth, "Come on old man, I'm faster, younger and more agile than you are, you try stop me and you're going to get ya'self hurt".

"Perhaps… But I promised your parents I would protect you, so either way I am going to try".

The girls cockiness was her downfall as she scoffed the old man rushed to capture her, his arms clamping around her to stop her from running , she squirmed and squealed but his grip remained steady.

"You're… staying… here!"

Then her fierce determination returned - she had to leave. Eamon was family for her, as was Tegan, Isolde, and even Connor on the odd occasion where he could visit from the circle, which had decreased to never now with the circles issues from the battle in Kirkwall. But her parents needed her, and she wasn't going to leave them. She twisted as best as she could to position her back to him, then loosening her arm, his grip was failing, more and more then…

His clasp around her was broken. As she stood unmoving feeling the old man collapse behind her, clutching his chest where the elbow had impacted it. She felt a heavy breath escape him as he fell unconscious.

She didn't turn, she had made this choice, and now she had to live with it, despite how badly her heart ached right now.

She picked up the sack by her feet and flung it over her shoulder, one foot in front of the other she reminded herself as she set out on the road.

Night was drawing near and the road was becoming dark – and dangerous. Abhor was still about a day away and Ronaeles feet were swollen and blistered, she went off the road to find a suitable place to camp, working her way through the trees till she found a clearing . The sun was hastily falling behind the distant mountains. Quickly throwing her pack down she drew out her flint rocks, whilst looking around for some burnable materials. The ground was dry and she quickly found some dead leaves and a few twigs to start it off, it didn't take long for the flint to ignite. Her mom's knack for survival had been seen in Ronaele from a young age. Once the fire had lit the girl extended her search for some longer burning material. The girl returned to the camp just as the last of the light left the sky, the wood from her arms tumbling down by the fire. Her body collapsed, she reached down to remove her boots, assessing the severity of her blisters and applying some elfroot balm. The fire crackled away as she curled up beside it, sluggishly chucking on a log and positioning her rucksack for a pillow. A wolf cried out in the distance, then another – she shivered hoping the fire would keep them away. She then thought of Eamon, she envisioned him lying face down in the dirt, alone and injured. "I'm sorry" she breathed as her body gave way to the exhaustion and her eyes flickered shut.

His body shook with anticipation as he saw the Halla graze in the moonlight, his glossy black fur prickled and the excitement ran down his spine. His breathing was withheld, his body frozen, his heart beat slow as he waited for the moment to strike, his keen ice blue eyes honed in on his soon to be kill.

The Halla's head raised, his heartbeat quickened, had she seen him he wondered, though he had no time to doubt, trying his best to maintain his heart he calmed his body. A breeze blew in from the opposite direction bringing with it a peculiar smell, a smell that nearly put him off the idea of eating, the Halla also lifted its head in disgust, but he didn't have time to think he wouldn't have another opportunity like this. A growl grew in his chest, he rushed out from his hiding place, claws erupted, teeth bared – he lunged at his prey. The Halla turned its head just in time to see the Wolf's fangs only centimetres away from its jugular. He felt ecstasy as his teeth sunk into the neck, and his claws wrapped around its body. The impact left them rolling over one another ending up at least 3 metres from where he had made impact and when they finally stopped the Halla was no longer breathing, the smell of its blood flooded his nostrils and the wet heat of it ran down his throat as he engaged in his supper. Once the Wolfs tummy had had its full it let out a proud howl, his high pitched voice called out to the stars.

Unexpectedly it was challenged. A grin split his blood stained lips as the large black Wolf set out to locate and defeat his challenger, all but forgetting the carcass and the intriguing smell.

Ronaeles back and legs cried out with pain as she stiffly made her way down the road, she cursed herself for sleeping in a Castle bed all her life, her mother and father had spent months out it the wilds with nothing but ground and stew, yet her she was, pained and lagging.

She had eaten the remainder of the dried meat and bread she had managed to steal from the larder though her stomach still grumbled as the morning sun burned on. The elfroot had healed over the blisters on her feet though she felt the wounds reopening. She was weak.

It was early evening by time she made it to the small town of Abhor the tall wooden fence and gates greeted her as she passed through them, the 2 guards barely taken note as they continued their conversation about a Chantry sister called Alice, apparently she had a great rack. Ronaeles wondered why the guards were so enthusiastic about a rack, there were many racks on the walls around the castle and none of the guards there took any note. Esolde had once told her that small town folk had simple minds, she wondered if this is what she meant.

It was quite easy to navigate around the town, its few houses were positioned either side of a road that led from one gate to another, with the Tavern and Chantry being placed at the epicentre of the town. The town itself was only new; it had been built after the last blight. Very few had returned to Lothering after it was lost, they believed it to be haunted, saying the taint had been absorbed by the earth and that those who went there would be cursed. Thus Abhor was built, it was by all means a boring town where people seemed to just pass through, and that's exactly what Ronaeles planned to do – once she had had a decent meal and had slept in a proper bed.

The Tavern was bustling with life as it seemed to be the only hot spot in town, laughter and cheer erupted out of it even before Ronaeles entered. The room was spacious and warm with a large fire in the back corner and many tables filled with pink cheeked men and women wearing revealing cloth. Ronaeles tried to keep her eyes low and her hood on, avoiding any gazes as she made her way to the bar. Not many had seen her in person – however she had made the occasional public appearance with her uncles and her parents before. She looked different now, older, though she still couldn't risk being recognized and dragged back to Castle Red.

She pulled up a stool at the bar pulling her sack onto her knee. She shadily opened her coin pouch pulling out the required funding, she wasn't stupid by any term, she had 'borrowed' money from Eamon for her journey, all of which she planned to return when she got home. Ronaeles had a very good head on her when it came to merchandising and bartering, all the economic study she took she had aced, and from it she knew the worth of most things and the exact amount she would require for a purchase. The chubby barkeep made his way over to her from the group of men he was exchanging conversations with.

"Evening miss what can I get-ya?" He asked, his breath stunk like pork and beer, her nose twitched in disgust.

"I'd like a room, and some food".

"Missy the rooms here are quite expensive, I don't know where you come from but around here-

"15 silvers should cover it". She said the silvers falling from her hand and rolling onto the bar.

"Yes, Yes! Of course" The man blushed quickly collecting the money.

"Marg!" He called hailing a bubbly looking lady from over the other side of the room.

She complied moving towards them, "show this one to a room will ya?" he urged

"Allright –allright" she gestured making eye contact with the girl and heading towards the stairs.

Ronaele followed.

The room was basic but the tub in the bathroom looked extremely inviting.

Marg rushed herself out of the room; eager to get back to the men she had been o-so obviously flirting with.

Ronaele locked the door behind her and threw her bag onto the bed, the bath water was already in and she placed some heated rocks into it to warm it. She watched as the steam rose when the rocks touched the water. Impatient she striped, flinging her clothes left right and centre she slid her body into the water. It burned at first, and then stung – her face scrunched with pain as her blisters touched the water, once she got used to it though it felt heavenly. She looked down at her body, blisters on her feet and hands, and various scratches and bruises on her arms and legs, for a princess she didn't half look a sight. She let down her braided hair and dunked it under the water, bits of plant and dirt lifted of it and into the water; she ran some rose water through it to condition it. Washing her body she noticed she swollen her breasts were becoming; her body was maturing though her mind was far off becoming an adult. The noble girls she hung out with were constantly talking about boys and kissing and that kind of thing but Ronaele by all standards was a tomboy. Boys had hardly become a thing for her yet, she much preferred her swordsmanship and archery. It was not that she was unattractive; many had commented that she was turning out to be a fine woman, possibly even more fair than her mother Queen Elissa, but she just wasn't interested.

The water cooled quicker than what she had liked and her stomach soon started grumbling, she emerged from the water wrapping her body in a towel and leaving her long wet hair hanging over her breasts.

There was a sudden knock on the door.

"Miss I have your food here, d'ya wana eat in ya room or at the bar?" Marg's voice called

"I'll eat in my room" she called back. She looked around at the empty room, still hearing the cheerful voices from downstairs. She felt suddenly very alone.

"Actually make it at the bar!" She called again.

"Allright, t'will be down there wait'n for ya"

Ronaele strapped her chest and put on some tights and a loose top, leaving her hair down she made her way to the bar. It was even fuller now than it was before. She saw the barkeep gesture to her where a seat and her meal sat at the bar; both seats beside her were occupied by men consuming meals of their own. She sat looking at the food, it wasn't as good as she hoped, stew and potatoes – she smiled thinking she was living half the life her parents had as she had got the camping bit right last night and the stew bit right tonight. The sound of a dagger emerging from its sheath caused her to spin around. An exotic tanned woman with dark hair and very little clothing stood at a table surrounded by men. "And you don't want to know where I keep the last one..." she commented gesturing towards the dagger. One of the men who was obviously extremely drunk dumbly stated " I kind'a wana know"

"Do you now my dear" the woman said drawing closer to the man.

"Only two types of people ever find out" Her fingers drawing across his chest, the man chuckled, his pleasure obvious.

"Those who are very lucky…" she said popping one of the buttons of his pants with the dagger she held in her other hand, her mouth only centimetres away from his.

"And those… who are very unfortunate" She said with a laugh as she cut the other button causing his pants to drop to the floor revealing a very obvious bulge, which caused Ronaele to blush. The man rushed to collect his pants causing him in his haste to bang his head on the table top on his way back up knocking him out cold with his pants around his ankles. All the remaining men at the table laughed and the woman turned her grin into the whiskey glass in her hand. Ronaele couldn't help but stare at the woman she was so confident and beautiful, plus she looked like she was from across the Amaranthine ocean – Ronaele bet she had at least a hundred stories of sword fights and monsters and –

Her thoughts were interrupted as the women's eyes blinked and were then locked onto Ronaele's.

Ronaele instantly went red with blushing and hurriedly turned her head back to her food, which had 2 less potatoes than what she had remembered. The men on either side of her both refused to meet her gaze, as she sighed with defeat.

Ronaele looked down to her empty plate, her endless pit of a stomach let out an anguished grumble and she sighed.

"Oi bozo. Shift". The temptresses voice called from beside her, she turned to her side to see the man on her right get up and hastily leave.

Ronaele pulled her hood forward over her face and stared back down to her plate.

"Barkeep two whiskeys!" she called

Ronaele could feel her gaze burning into her but refused to look up

The whiskey glasses slid onto the table by the pirate woman

One slid into her frame of view and tapped her hand, Ronaele shook with fright.

"Let me guess, the little birdy flew away from the coup?"

Ronaele's startled head turned to face the woman whose eyes were dead locked onto her own. She said nothing, not wanting to give away her identity. The woman continued to meet her gaze as the whiskey glass met her lips, she was surprisingly intimidating – more so than any of the knights Ronaele had spared with, she could tell the woman was combat ready by her hardened body – still sleek and womanly, but muscular too. However the most intimidating part was her eyes, golden; they seemed to read every inch of emotion on Ronaele's body, caution was to be advised.

"Drink" The woman ordered, holding up her remaining whiskey and indicating to the glass in front of Roaele's hand.

"I'm sorry but I don't-

"Drink, or I'll take it as in insult". The woman's gaze was stern and demanding. Roaere didn't want to fight this woman, and what's worse was she had left her blade in her room upstairs so she wasn't armed, and this woman had more concealed daggers on her than an Antivian Crow.

Ronaele caved under the pressure and lifted the glass to her mouth, sniffed it – regretted that. Bottoms up she thought, and in one quick motion she tipped the liquid into her mouth and swallowed.

The taste was foul.

It made her cough.

Then choke.

Then it burned.

"Why… would you drink this?" She managed to get out between splutters' of coughing.

She turned to face the woman who was trying desperate to withhold her laughter but making a poor job of it.

"Why are you laughing!?" Ronaele stated embarrassed.

"Well I didn't think your actually drink it, and if you did perhaps only a sip, but you downed the whole thing! And what are you like 12?" The woman burst into laughter again.

"Actually I'm nearly 16!" Ronaele rebutted.

"Oh well isn't that golden! Am I going to have to be lectured by parents about getting their daughter drunk?" The woman's laughed looking around the bar for Ronaele's supposed parents.

"My parents aren't here!" She burst out with an angry yell.

The bar momentarily quietened, and the woman's laughter ceased.

Then the noise built up again.

Ronaele's face reddened with embarrassment and her eyes averted to the bar.

"Well neither is mine" The woman casually stated, "I guess that means we have something in common. Barkeep - another round!"

Her mother had never encouraged Ronaele's father to drink, Isolde said it's because he was already stupid and alcohol makes you stupider than you already are, and being any more stupid than he already is isn't good. Ronaele had never before tasted alcohol; she took pride in her intelligence and didn't want to be stupid like Isolde had said. But you wouldn't think that now.

"SO! Where is yer boat, Pirate Goddess?" Her brain, body, fingers, hands, feet, everything felt numb.

"Pirate Goddess? That's a first" The woman laughed.

"Well you're so pretty, I duno…"

"Sorry my love you're a bit young for me, and to be honest I prefer a ship with a mast…"

"What? Mast? Oh NO! no no no no no NO! I didn't mean it like that, I like masts too, well at least I think I do, I mean I wouldn't know now would I but still I think… yeah- *hiccup*

The woman just laughed.

Her face closed in on Ronaele's "A virgin hmm" The woman's buttery voice cooed in Ronaeles ear.

Her face went as red as a beetroot, as she hastily scanned the table for the first thing she could skull.

The woman laughed again.

"Don't threat my dear, you're positively adorable I'm sure some man will set you out to sea someday soon!"

The blushing got worse and Ronaele's dizzy head found its way to the table with a thud.

"Look" The woman gestured over to the back corner, Ronaele's groggy eyes tried their best to focus from the lap of her arms.

"That stud over there has been staring at you for ages, young, fit, handsome – he's just what you need!"

"No, no I'm-

"Shy?"

"Yes".

"Hahaha! Don't worry dear I was shy once too!"

"You so weren't" Ronaele stated

"I so wasn't" The pirate woman agreed.

Ronaele still had her eyes caught on the boy, something about him drew her in, or maybe that was just the alcohol.

He hadn't been to this town in a few months, though nothing had changed. The smell led him to the bar, that same scent he had detected the previous night, if he hadn't have been so distracted he would have found the source then. But it didn't get too far. The tavern was the same – the fat barkeep, his slutty wife. The dreg members of the town – each drowning their sorrows about their boring miserable life's with the cheap ale. There was but one interested character in the bar; A woman, rouge, thief, she smelt of desire clasping her daggers tightly at the slightest hint of a fight the action of which aroused her more than the interest of every man in the tavern. But the scent was not coming from her. He looked around the bar from a back seat everyone else looked ordinary and he couldn't pinpoint the smell. So he rested, his body still tired and worn from his battle with the Alpha Wolf. When he awoke again the bar was less full and the harlot woman had acquired a new friend, she was young possibly 4 or 5 years younger than him, and she was very drunk. He watched her as her head sunk into her arms on the table. Then felt the harlots gaze fall upon his, but he didn't care, he felt somehow drawn to the girl. Her gaze met his, her eyes the colour of a flame. Her head rose and the hood she wore fell back, hair that seemed to lock in the suns warmth cascaded onto her shoulders, dense and wavy. Her eyes continued to be locked on his.

"All right I'll do it" the girl plucked up her courage and stumbled up from the table.

"That'a girl!" The Pirate cheered with a laugh, she had to admit without that hood on the girl was very attractive, still blossoming - yes, but there was a lot of potential there.

The pirate spanked Ronaele on the arse for encouragement though more than anything it caused her to lose her balance. She stumbled into the man at the nearest table, who just laughed and helped her regain her footing. Everything felt blurred as she passed it, it was like she was moving super-fast, or super-slow, she couldn't decide and before she knew it she stood in front of the dark handsome man. He looked different up close, still handsome – very handsome, he had longish ruggard black hair just touching past his ears, large eyes – which were an ice blue, and seemed an unnatural colour for Ferelden, which made her wonder if he were foreign. Though his skin was tanned and covered in bruises and cuts, his clothes looked too big for him, like they were not his own, and his face had bold features and a sharp cheek bone, she had never seen a man so handsome before, she thought the noble girls would have a field day with this man.

He watched as she moved, the alcohol was affecting her movement though he still saw training there, she was trained in the sword, he could tell the harlot knew it too, perhaps that's why she took the girl under her wing, she was interesting, obvious stares from men around the room as she moved. When she tripped the man oh so awkwardly laughed fully aware of the harlots dagger aimed at his face should he try anything other than to help her back on her feet. As she drew closer the smell amplified, it was her it must be, despite the smell being foul his body told him not to run.

"Ummm hi" was all she managed, the boys cold stare greeted her. It unnerved her, and when she was nervous she talked, a lot.

"I'm sorry to come over, but I thought I'd say hi, and is that a cut? Looks bad, you should try elfroot balm its good for cuts I just used some on my feet yesterday, not that you look bad – your actually really handsome! Oh and my feet don't look bad either, I have nice feet… not that I'm into feet or anything, haha I'm not that weird. Well honestly I'm not weird at all, perfectly normal! Yeap… You have pretty eyes".

Ronaele face burned with embarrassment, her heart was going a mile per second, did she actually just say all of that, oh maker he's going to think I'm a complete nutcase she thought and he was still just staring at her!

"You stink"

Ronaele eyes darted back to his.

"I'm sorry what?" she asked confused.

"You smell like a corpse".

She just looked at him dumbfounded, then she felt her eyes grow hot his face showed an expression of disgust when she looked at him. She turned on her heel and headed back to the table.

The rest of the night was a blur, she recalled the pirate woman helping her to her room, where she cried about the man who rejected her by saying she stunk – the alcohol making her far more emotional than usual. Then being forced to drink a disgusting looking vial being told it was a morning cure created for the pirate by a crazy apostate mage, after which she fell asleep to the scent of the ocean.

Ronaele woke alone, her head felt surprisingly good despite the amount she drank the night before, though she felt extremely thirsty. She headed over to the jug of water on the bench. Underneath it was a note:

Hello Pigeon,

It was interesting meeting you and I am sure we shall meet again.

Isabella x

P.s. don't know what that guy was on about, I think you smell like roses~

Pigeon? Ronaele pondered. Mind you she never had given her name, probably for the best though.

The girl packed her bag after breakfast and filled up on some basic supplies of food and water then made her way out to the road. The bar was now empty except for a couple who were cleaning and the barkeeps wife who had passed out on a table. She looked to the corner where the young man had sat but it was empty.

Orzammar was still three days walk with no cities in between, only a few farmhouses and Ronaele knew it better than to stop at them alone as you couldn't trust a stranger's house, so she was going camping again.

She headed out the gates, completely unaware of the black Wolfs gaze locked on her from the distance.

Thank you for reading my new story, I have writers block from the previous one at the moment and thought I'd write The Age of Fire to see what kind of response I get, If you like it please let me know and I'll write more :)

Also Ronaele (Pronounced: Row-Nae-elle) is Eleanor backwards, Warden Elissa's Mothers name backwards but it is also an old English name meaning 'torch'. Just a little fun fact for you all.

DarkShadowRain xox