Disclaimer-- As much as I wish otherwise, I do not own DAO. I do not own any of the characters there-in, including the female Cousland origin character, though I would like to think my interpretation of her is my own. I do not own the environment, events, dialogue, etc. I expect and will receive nothing from this story but the joy of paying homage to excellence. (Imitation, after all, is sincere flattery.)

Nonetheless, I do work hard on my little stories, and I love them. Please don't repost or reprint them without my knowledge. Further, like all fanfic writers, I am fueled by reviews. If you like and want more, please encourage me by telling me so. If you see something you dislike or think needs to be fixed, I will be happy to learn...but please be gentle!

Note-- This stand-alone fic is a fragment of what or may not eventually become a longer, more comprehensive fic. If I waited until that fic was in a condition to post, I would never post at all, and I wanted to post.

I may eventually add a chapter previous to this one as well as one or two chapters following this one.

Thanks to all the people who have added any of my stories as favorites or added me as a favorite author. Thanks to those few reviewers who have let me know they like my work. And a big thanks to those who have taken time to send me encouraging messages! If not for you, I probably wouldn't have gotten motivated enough to write and post this bit, so I hope you like it!

Fic Title Reference: "In poverty and other misfortunes of life, true friends are a sure refuge. The young they keep out of mischief; to the old they are a comfort and aid in their weakness, and those in the prime of life they incite to noble deeds." --Aristotle

Chapter Title Reference:

No matter that patriotism is too often the refuge of scoundrels. Dissent, rebellion, and all-around hell-raising remain the true duty of patriots.
-- Barbara Ehrenreich


Elan eyed the sister a bit warily. She sincerely hoped the woman wasn't about to offer her a blessing. She'd accepted a blessing the morning before her home was laid to waste and her family along with it. She'd accepted a blessing before the entire army of Ferelden was laid to waste, including the king, the Grey Wardens, and Alistair's beloved mentor, Duncan. Accepting a third blessing would no doubt result in in the end of all known civilization and the subsequent destruction of all things remotely pleasant.

The sister, however, was looking over Elan's shoulder with a rather wary expression that made the hair on the back of Elan's neck stand up. Suddenly she had the oddest sensation of being cast back into the delirium of her Joining, as if the archdragon were looming over her, breathing down her neck, as it had loomed over her family in her dream.

But whatever had the sister's attention, it couldn't be darkspawn. The tavern smelled of nothing worse than fear and sweat. Everyone around them was so calm, so quiet... And it didn't seem as though Alistair sensed anything.

Before Elan had even finished registering as much, a heavy hand gripped her upper arm tightly enough to bruise. "Well, what have we here, boys?" a voice bellowed past her ear. "Weren't we just looking for a Grey Warden matching this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen her?"

Elan forced herself to relax. "Now let's just sit down and talk about this before someone does something they regret," she cajoled with her teeth gritted.

Alistair stiffened beside her.

Elan waited, knowing all too well how he felt and why he wanted to object.

She longed to unleash her rage at the injustice of it all—this man's assumptions, the defamation of Grey Wardens who had given their lives for Ferelden just as this man presumably would, the death and destruction of all she'd ever known and loved...all but Woofus...all but Alistair—but she could not punish men for doing what they thought their duty.

Loghain would pay. Howe would pay. The archdemon would pay.

These men wanted the same things—the same justice...if only they could be made to believe it.

Alistair's stance eased by the smallest possible amount and she knew he understood as much. Understood and accepted. He didn't like it, but neither did she...and somehow she knew, she trusted that Alistair knew and accepted that too. Her own tension eased, just a bit...but somehow the difference felt profound.

The sister, however, was speaking even as this unspoken exchange took place. "I doubt he would listen," she said sadly, but with absolute conviction. "He blindly follows his master's you not tell?"

"I am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens' treachery!" the man insisted, rather proving the sister's point.

Elan stifled the urge to groan. Alistair didn't.

"Enough talk. You protect these traitors, sister, and you'll get the same as them." The man drew his sword.

Elan was tired of the grip on her arm, tired of being attacked without provocation, and just plain tired. She was also annoyed.

She jabbed her knee between the man's legs with more than enough force to jar his teeth, and followed it up with a good swift upward thrust of her hand directly into his nose. The man released her arm and staggered back with a curse, blood streaming down his face as he fought the urge to double over in pain.

Morrigan had her staff free even before Elan's foot hit the floor. A burst of magic jolted though the area, leaving the rest of the soldiers looking stunned. Woofus took advantage of their distraction to spring at them, knocking two of them down and digging into their limbs with his paws. Flecks of blood spattered about almost like rain drops.

The sister had backed up, not to run away or cower in fear as Elan had half-expected, but to circle behind the stunned and startled soldiers, jabbing at weak spots in their armor while they floundered about in confusion and Morrigan pelted them with bolts of magic.

By the time the leader had recovered enough to try rushing them again, Alistair and Elan had their weapons ready. Elan stepped neatly to one side as Alistair blocked the man's blow with his shield. Elan reached up and to the side, sliding her dagger neatly into the gap in the man's armor beneath his arm. Blood began to flow from the wound. Eventually it would pool about his fingers and interfere with his grip on his sword...if he lasted that long.

Alistair shoved his shield forward, using the man's sword and injured arm as a a lever to force him off-balance. Elan obligingly stuck a foot behind the man's leg, making him stumble.

"Enough," the man groaned, tumbling to the floor completely as Alistair rapped him with the pommel of his sword. "Maker, have mercy! We surrender!"

"Good," the sister said crisply, tucking the dagger back out of sight so quickly and so surreptiously Elan almost wondered if it even existed. "You hear that? They surrender, and we can all stop fighting now."

Elan wasn't quite ready to let bygones be bygones. "The Wardens didn't betray King Cailan," she informed the man at her feet. "Loghain did."

"I was there," the Commander insisted, in spite of his blood pooling on the floor, "the Wardens led the king to his death! The teyrn did nothing."

"Too bloody right," Elan snarled. "The teyrn did nothing." Her arm ached with the effort it took to hold her blade still...to resist the urge to thrust it through this man's arrogant, ignorant heart.

But killing a soldier in a crowded tavern...well...that was hardly the way to put paid to Loghain's claims about the Grey Wardens in the long run...even if it would stop this man from repeating them.

Elan still had hopes that these men might someday realize that their good intentions and those of the Grey Wardens aligned. That and she was tired of being the one forced to be constantly on guard for the next unexpected threat. It would be a relief to make those who threatened her feel a bit threatened in turn...even if it was a bit fool-hardy.

She hauled the man to his feet in spite of the several inches of height he had over her, and stared him in the eye. "Take a message to Loghain: The Grey Wardens know what really happened." She shoved him toward the door, hard.

The man stumbled away obligingly, muttering assurances under his breath.

"I...wow...We're probably going to regret that later...you know that, right? But...by the Maker, didn't it feel good?" Alistair chuckled, seizing Elan by the waist and twirling her about in celebration. "You are fierce, you know? A little. It's a bit scary, but it's also...well..." Cute. Magnificent. Perfect. He regarded her in sudden bemusement.

The sister was staring at them. Alistair realized he and Elan were still standing close, his hand spanning her waist. He flushed and Elan flushed and they both stumbled backward, Alistair holding his hands wide as if to protest his innocence.

Morrigan made a sound of pure disgust.

Woofus gave a bark that sounded very much like chortling laughter.

The sister smirked.

"Um...thank you sister," Elan said, looking everywhere but at anyone. "I appreciate what you tried to do..."