The Saltpool
by ErtheChilde

'Fear makes companions of all of us. Fear is with all of us, and always will be. Just like that other sensation that lives with it: Hope.'

Summary:

A trip to explore some ancient ruins becomes a fight for survival when the Doctor and Rose land in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. Separated from the TARDIS, they find refuge in the isolated port town of Gwaren. There they meet Darrian Tabris, a survivor of the offensive at Ostagar, and Lilian, a proud and headstrong resident of Gwaren, both of whom are chafing under the lawlessness of the town since it was abandoned by its ruler. As the monsterous horde of darkspaw continues to approach, the Doctor and Rose find themselves trying to save an entire town from a threat that can only be stopped by an order of warriors that has been all-but eradicated.

Beta Reader(s):

None at the moment, so any mistakes are my own and will be fixed later.

Disclaimer:

This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright the BBC and Bioware. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books and graphic novels, are the sole creation of ErtheChilde and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You may end up fed to darkspawn in response.

Warning:

Spoilers: If it existed in any form of Doctor Who canon, whether television, novelization, or graphic novel, it's probably going to be mentioned here. For this particular fic, certain events from Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age II will be mentioned, particularly following the destruction of Lothering and prior to the flight of the Hawke family.

Canadian Writing British: As a Canadian, I am not all-knowing when it comes to British idioms, sayings or sang. I write what sounds right to my ears and when in doubt, I look things up on the Internet. So I might not always get it right. If I'm way off about something please drop me a line and I'll correct it.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place directly after the DW novel The Clockwise Man and before Chapter Seven of my story The Shortest Life. Also, this story is part of my Battle Maiden series at an unspecified point in time, but knowledge of the Dragon Age universe is not necessary to read this fic. Although the first part of this chapter is a non-Who character, the Doctor and Rose show up in the second part of this chapter.

AN: There is some graphic violence at the end of this chapter.

ONE

'Are you sure we left Earth?' Rose Tyler asked, holding open the TARDIS door and peering into the world beyond it. 'Cos this place doesn't look any different from the middle of Hyde Park to me.'

'Yes, I'm sure we left Earth,' the Doctor scowled, coming up behind her and sticking his head out the door. He inhaled deeply, then checked his watch, and nodded. 'Yep. Completely different atmospheric make-up out there. Still breathable to you, of course, but different tang to it. Not Earth.'

Rose took another look around the forest they had landed in, and this time she wondered how should have mistaken it for Hyde Park. Although she had spent summers wandering through shaded and green areas that sometimes felt like another world, the feeling was really nothing compared to sense of otherness that permeated the air here. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she couldn't quite put it into words.

Mist lay low along the mossy ground and trees towered above them, growing thickly together and hunched downward like old men bending to share their stories. Strange creaking noises echoed through the sound of water falling in the distance, the noise a bit like slowly moving wood.

'Alright then,' she said, hoping her voice didn't betray her uneasiness at this place. She pasted a teasing grin on her face. 'But if we run into any signs for the Underground a ways on, you owe me that trip to London in the Sixties.' She jabbed a finger at him. 'I know you say the TARDIS doesn't like that time period, but I think it's just you who's avoiding it.'

'I'll have you know I got the coordinates exactly right this time,' the Doctor sniffed. 'The southern lands of Ancient Thedas. The Brecilian Forest, though we've arrived before it's called that. Way before arbitrary borders and naming things that don't need names and other human nonsense. It's all just forest now.'

'Oh. So humans are gonna come here too, then?'

'Don't sound so disappointed,' the Doctor declared.

'I'm not! Just…surprised is all. So many of the places we go, you'd think we'd run into fewer humans,' Rose explained. 'Huge universe and everything.'

'Well, you lot are notoriously good at breeding. A bit like rats.'

'Thanks.'

'I like rats,' the Doctor protested. 'In moderation. And not while carrying the bubonic plague – you know, by the 30th century, the only species that don't go extinct on your planet are rats and humans? You outlive cockroaches – and they've been around at least 400 million years longer than you.'

'Rats and cockroaches,' Rose sighed. 'Again, thanks.' She looked around the thickly forested area. 'So what's so great about this planet, then?'

'Loads,' the Doctor proclaimed knowingly. 'Nice scenery, no xenophobic aliens bent on enslaving foreign species, fascinating collection of ancient temples – though right now they're not really ancient, they're new, which is why I brought you here.'

'Temples to what?'

'This early? No idea!' the Doctor declared gleefully. 'Thought we'd find out together. Records about this time period are a bit vague, but there's probably something to do with ancient gods or magic or whatnot.'

'What, really?' Rose's eyes widened.

'What the indigenous people believe to be magic and what humans called it when they arrived here,' the Doctor answered, dismissive.

'But is it really?'

'Is it really what?'

'Really magic.'

'Come now, Rose Tyler, haven't you ever heard of Clarke's Law?'

'Nope.'

'Basically, magic is just science you don't understand yet,' the Doctor told her. 'And when I say you, I mean your species. I understand everything.'

'Liar!'

'Am not!'

'Alright, then, so what's magic?'

'Depends on where you end up,' the Doctor shrugged. 'Sometimes it's the result of alien technological enhancement, or strong psychic abilities, or mutations – sometimes the humans who land in a place aren't as human as they pretend, if you catch my meaning, and their abilities manifest recessively. In every case I've encountered, though, it tends to just boil down to the clever manipulation of energy molecules and a little bit of mucking with probabilities.'

Rose frowned. 'But you said that's bad.'

'It is when it affects things on a temporal level, but by itself it's a completely different animal. Small scale, really, rarely affect anything in the big picture,' he said, as they exited the TARDIS and he began to lock up. 'Although…' he stared up at the sky, his gaze going distant the way it sometimes did when he was looking at something she wasn't able to see. 'I think there's something meant to happen here. Soon.'

'What?'

'Dunno. Couldn't tell you without checking the timelines,' he said, and then frowned to himself as though he had said that without meaning to.

There was a hint of pain in the look, the same one she saw whenever he thought of his people or the War, and so she tried to distract him.

'This place is a bit creepy,' she informed him, looking around for some indication of which way they should go. There were several paths away from the clearing where they had landed, and they all looked equally ominous. 'It also feels…wrong. Like there's some kind of sound underneath the forest sounds, yeah? Sort of like –'

'The silent echoes of thousands of deaths.'

Something cold crackled up Rose's spine and she turned to gape at the Doctor in shock and surprise. She felt an uneasy fear – not at his expression, which had suddenly turned grim and fathomless – but because his words were exactly the ones she had been grasping for but unable to find.

'Y-yeah.'

'This isn't good. If it's thick enough that even you can pick up on it…' he murmured, still not seeing her. 'I'm sorry, Rose…I thought I'd arrived before all this. Before this place became the graveyard of hundreds of wars. I wanted to bring you here while it was still just a beautiful forest. But we're after. And the Veil here has been torn for so long…'

'Veil?' Rose interrupted, panic beginning to break through her forced-calm. The Doctor looked ill and…scared. She'd never seen him look like this before. 'Doctor, what are you – ?'

'We need to leave here,' the Doctor told her, grabbing hold of her hand and practically dragging her toward the TARDIS. 'If I got the landing so wrong, we might have accidentally landed during –'

His words cut off, at the same time that he abruptly stopped walking – so abruptly that Rose bumped into him. His hand reached out to steady her – or perhaps to keep her back – and when she glanced over his shoulder, she saw exactly why.

Out of the foliage beside the TARDIS, a horrific creature was lumbering forward. Rose's brain struggled to come up with words for it, but every description failed to apply. It might have once been a bear, but now…

Although her experience with bears was limited to creatures she had seen in zoos, she knew instinctively that this one was bigger than any type of Earth bear ever got to be. Enormous, bony spikes protruded from its fur – possibly from beneath it, if the bleeding, open-wounds were any indication – and it moved like something in constant pain. It was also clearly sick, judging from the vacant, puss-filled eyes and horrendous smell that wafted their way with every shift of its humongous form.

'Doctor…' she whispered, a question and a search for reassurance as her eyes flitted to the TARDIS. There was no way they could get inside of it with the creature there, and as unwieldy as its movements were, she had a suspicion that it was faster than it looked.

The Doctor's hand, still keeping her at bay, slowly found hers and he held it tightly – not the usual reassuring squeeze, but something vice-like and urgent, almost the way she remembered her mother holding her hand when she nearly ran into traffic when she was little.

'Be very quiet,' he told her, his voice a dangerous sort of calm that told her he was genuinely worried about whatever this creature was. 'When I say "run", run faster you ever have in your life. If it gets close to you, don't let it bite, scratch or even bleed on you.'

Rose didn't get the chance to point out that if it got that close to her, she wouldn't have to worry about it.

The Doctor's grip painfully and he shouted, 'RUN!', before turning and hauling her off in the opposite direction from the TARDIS.

Behind them, the creature bellowed terribly and came after them.

· ΘΣ ·

'Hey! You there! Knife-Ear!'

Darrian Tabris gritted his teeth, his grip on the mop in his hands tightening painfully at the drunken shout echoing across the dank insides of the tavern. The slur couldn't be meant for anyone else – he was the only elf there – but that didn't necessarily mean he had to answer it.

'I'm talking to you! Get your arse over here!'

Evidently not as lucky as I'd like, he thought bitterly and schooled his face into an expression of open curiosity.

Straightening up, he shuffled over to the table in the darkest corner of the bar, where a trio of regulars were throwing dice and emptying their drinks. It was the usual assortment of loggers and fishermen, whiling away their free time and spending all the coin they had earned before they returned to their livelihood.

'How may I help you, sers?' he asked, congratulating himself on politeness that only sounded slightly forced.

'Settle a bet for us, rabbit,' the nearest man, a squat merchant with a face like a potato and the colouring of a beat chortled. 'Did your mother rut with a Chasind savage to give you that skin-colour? Or have you just never taken a bath in your life?'

The merchant's cronies roared with laughter, and Tabris took a steadying breath through his nose. He had heard much worse in his life – indeed, growing up in the Alienage in Denerim had shown him just how much insult he could bear and how to hold his tongue up to that point – but it would be a lie to say he wasn't tired of it.

His looks had been a sore spot most of his life. He had an uncommon visage, especially for an elf and a Fereldan. While most of his kind were pale-skinned and slim, he had inherited his mother's dark colouring and strong bones. Although the merchant had been crude about it, his mother's ancestors had hailed from Rivaini and they were all much darker there. It was something he had been teased about all through his childhood and he had forever envied his younger sister Kallian for taking after their father's looks. However then, as now, he refused to rise to the bait.

There was too much likelihood in a possible prison sentence that might come from demanding satisfaction from his tormentors. He could easily trounce all three of them, but in recent weeks the regent had issued a decree that prohibited elves from carrying weapons in Gwaren, whether they were native to the town's Alienage or not.

Coupled with the look he was getting from Ludwig over at the bar, the safest bet was to not jeopardize the job that was ensuring he wouldn't starve to death in the coming winter.

And so, despite the retort ready on his tongue concerning the merchant's mother getting creative with a big, he forced himself to speak graciously through clenched teeth.

'Can I get you a refill?' he asked, by-passing the question entirely. It seemed the safest bet.

'Oh, come now, elf, don't be so prim and proper,' the second man, a burly logger, chortled. 'Or is that just your way? Would certainly explain a lot, if the rumours are true.'

'What rumours?' asked the third man.

'I heard our friend here was at Ostagar.'

'No! The rabbit?' the first man snorted derisively, eyes flicking over Tabris again. 'Let me guess – you're a deserter. Saw the darkspawn and turned tail, yeah?'

'Aw, don't be that way Flynn – can't fault the bastard for having the brains,' the second one pointed out. 'Maybe if the King and the Grey Wardens had had a few more brains among them, they'd've lived.'

'Can't speak for the King, but everyone knows the Wardens were working with the Orlesians to get the King out of the way. Didn't count on the Teryn making it out though, did they?'

Tabris swiftly turned and left them to their discussion now that they seemed to have forgotten about him, drawn instead into a drunken political debate. The assertions about the late King Cailan and the Grey Wardens irked him almost as much as the comments about his parentage and looks.

He had been at Ostagar, it was true. And he had seen with his own eyes exactly what had happened that night.

The memory of it all still haunted his dreams.

It was why working in a bar had seemed the best place for him, after everything. Even if he had to pay through the nose for it, he had access to enough of the good ale that he could knock himself out on the nights he really needed the rest.

He ducked behind the bar.

'Are you antagonizing the customers again?' Ludwig demanded, although he kept his smiling face turned on their patrons. 'If I get a complaint from them about you, that's a copper off your wage.'

'Add it to my tab,' Darrien grumbled as he headed to the keg in the back to fill it with more ale that the three drunks definitely didn't need. In a lower tone, so that Ludwig couldn't hear him, he added, 'Though if you take much more, I'll be paying you to work…'

Not for the first time since arriving in town did he curse his need to be there.

The port settlement of Gwaren was a remote place in the south easternmost corner of Fereldan, past the ominous and dangerous Brecelian Forest where it was said even the trees had a taste for murder and rumours of apostates abounded. A hardy town, full of loggers and fishermen, Gwaren was accessible to the rest of the country only by ship or the narrow, dangerous pass through the forest. The remoteness ensured that the town had no need of walls or other defences – the unforgiving rocky cliffs and harsh seas provided that well enough.

It also ensured that Tabris constantly felt chilled by the damp cold in the air.

The town itself was spread along that craggy shore, a veritable maze of cobbled streets and plaster-covered brick. Once upon a time he had heard that the town square used to be filled with merchants selling their wares, brightly coloured bolts of cloth and barrels of foreign delicacies, but now it was rare to see anything like that. Every house or place of business bore remnants of fire damage from battles long past, and Tabris swore that everywhere he went smelled faintly of fish.

The Mabari's Maw was one of the seedier taverns that operated just within the environs of the town, and sadly it was the only place that had been willing to hire a stranger – and an elf, at that – right off the street.

Ludwig, the tavern's owner and barman, was barrel-chested and unlike most humans, almost as short as Tabris. He had thinning black hair, beady eyes and teeth like a horse, which he always displayed in what he thought was a charming smile but came off as a perverse leer. He was a miser who had been stiffing Tabris's wages and treating him like a slop bucket since he arrived there, but a job was a job.

And yet, working here, I'm still better off than most, Tabris reflected glumly. He had a room at the tavern, which meant he didn't have to stay in Gwaren's cramped Alienage, or camp outside the city where the living conditions had gotten worse as more refuges flocked to the town.

Gwaren, which had once been a great and successful port town, had fast become burdened by waves of refugees fleeing the oncoming darkspawn horde. With the Blight spreading so quickly through Ferelden, there were few places to completely escape its devastation. People lucky enough to live on the more northerly freeholds could take their pick of ports to hire passage to other, safer parts of Thedas. Down in the south, however, closer to the oncoming darkspawn horde, Gwaren was the only hope.

Considering there was no way to reach the town except through the perilous path straight through the Brecilian Forest, one would think there wouldn't be that many refugees able to make it there. However, after the massacre at Ostagar, more and more people had decided to take their chance with the nomadic Dalish if it meant escaping Ferelden faster.

For weeks now, refugees had started to gather outside the town because the regent wasn't allowing people inside. Disease and crime ran rampant in the temporary settlement beyond the town line, and its seedier elements were bleeding into Gwaren proper despite the regent's restrictive efforts. That didn't even touch on the fact that the number of darkspawn roaming the forest and area beyond the keep was increasing.

On top of all that, the local militia had begun to take liberties with the law.

Speaking of, Tabris thought, pausing when he heard a noise outside. He could make out a voice crying out in pain, and raucous laughter echoing in the narrow alley that the tavern was built on.

He took a step toward the front door, intending to investigate, but paused when Ludwig sneered, 'Where d'you think you're going?'

'I'm going to go see what's –'

'You're not paid to care about what's going on out there – you've got floors to clean and ale to serve.'

'Yeah, but –'

'D'you know how many people are out there, begging door to door for a job?' Ludwig interrupted. 'You could be out on your arse like that.' He snapped his finger in Tabris's face. 'You've got nowhere to go but this place – and the cutthroats in town might not want to bother with a penniless knife-ear, but the darkspawn'll take you all the same.'

Tabris swallowed down an angry retort and nodded.

The pungent little human was right.

If he wanted to make enough money to book passage back to Denerim, he had to put up with a few things he might not normally.

His shoulders relaxed in defeat, and Ludwig smirked in recognition of this.

'There's a good lad,' he said, clapping him on the back. 'Now get back to work – and make sure to tell those louts over there that the rates are going up tomorrow. An extra silver for everything.'

Disgust roiled in Tabris's stomach.

'What? Why? If you do that, at least half the people in the city won't be able to afford to eat here,' Tabris protested.

'Got to make a living somehow,' Ludwig shrugged.

'You're already making a living! There's no reason for you to raise the cost of anything, except for outright greed!'

'Hey, boy, you don't run this place, I do – and I don't need any advice about making money from some guttersnipe from Denerim, hear?'

'But people will starve!'

'Not my lookout. They're in their situation because of their own choices. If they wanted to eat, they wouldn't've left their lands to mooch off us Maker-fearing folk.'

Tabris stared at him, trying to justify the man's words in his mind.

It wasn't even an unexpected attitude, coming from Ludwig; not really. He'd heard and witnessed much worse from the man. But perhaps he had finally reached his breaking point, because at that point Tabris realized that he couldn't handle another day spent in this dunghill.

'I'm finished with you,' he said, and turned to leave the bar.

'Hey! You can't just leave!'

'Watch me!'

'You walk out that door, boy, you might well not come back here. And I won't be paying you this week's wage, either.'

'Wasn't expecting you to,' Tabris retorted, stepping outside the tavern and slamming the heavy door behind him.

Despite now being without a job and without lodging – he bet Ludwig would have his room rented out to the next slob that walked through the doors, and at full price – he felt as though a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Right, need to find a new way back to Denerim, he decided. There was another cry from around the corner and he frowned. But first, let's see what's going on over there…

· ΘΣ ·

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The word repeated itself ad infinitum within the Doctor's mind as he dragged Rose through the treacherous forest pathways, dodging through vines and leaping over logs in an effort to escape the creature that hunted them. Even several yards ahead of it, he could still smell the rancid, rotting meat stench of its breath tinged with the sickly, sour odour if disease.

Amid all the frantic planning he was doing as they ran, trying to think of plausible ways to get back to the TARDIS without getting up close and personal with the beast pursuing them, he was also kicking himself.

Once again he'd trusted the oft inaccurate computer readings and thought he'd landed Rose somewhere scenic – instead, he'd landed her in a haunted forest right in the path of what looked to be a bereskarn.

He only hoped that it was an anomaly, and not an indication that he had landed her on Thedas in the midst of a Blight.

Doesn't even matter which one, they're all known to be bloody unpleasant, he decided.

Definitely not the kind of adventure he would ever knowingly bring her on, especially considering the danger presented by the infectious epidemic that embodied such a period. The tainted bear hunting them was the least of their problems, and yet if either of them contracted it, it wouldn't matter how much the TARDIS background radiation could boost their immune systems.

There was no cure to this particular infection that he had ever heard of.

Beside him, Rose staggered, and he barely managed to keep her upright and still moving.

'Don't think…I can keep this up…much longer,' she panted.

'You're fine – you can do it!' he told her, despite knowing that even humans who were trained for long distance sprints could only carry on at their optimal speed for so long. Rose was in shape thanks to their very active life, but she was nowhere near an Olympic athlete – and unlike him, she would lag soon.

The Doctor clenched his jaw.

Rose falling behind was not an option.

Eyes flitting around for anything that could help them out of this situation, his brain whirred, weighing and discarding dozens of creative solutions based on any number of criteria, including mathematical probability of success. The bear itself was a slow one – probably hindered by the sheer amount of trees and other obstacles in its way, and possibly by how much the disease had progressed. If it had just been infected, he and Rose would have been dead before they turned to run. His eyes took in the gaps in the trees as they sped by, scanned ahead to the ones in the distance that they would soon pass.

'Need you to trust me,' he ordered. 'No matter what happens – no matter what your instinct tells you to do, you keep running – one foot in front of the other, okay?'

'Yeah!' she wheezed, becoming more breathless the farther they went.

The tainted bear was gaining.

Based on the estimated weight of a fully-grown bear, taking into account blood-loss and emaciation, progression of the taint, turning radius versus its momentum –

'Now!' he bit out, his thoughts grinding to a halt as he abruptly tightened his grip on Rose's hand and swung her around as he suddenly veered left. His reflexes were naturally conditioned to make sudden changes in direction without sacrificing balance or traction, but hers weren't. He could feel her tugging at his wrist, trying to use him as balance and to keep her footing as he pulled her into a different pathway.

She came within centimetres of knocking into a tree, but to her credit, kept running without pause.

The Doctor heard the bereskarn crashing and skidding off to the side in the distance, and let out a short bark of triumphant laughter. They'd bought a few precious minutes for themselves. If they could just double back to the TARDIS now –

The path he had led them into abruptly stopped, leading into a flat rock face.

The Doctor cursed, but didn't allow that to stop them. The bear would recover itself soon, and if they couldn't outrun it, they could at least make it more difficult for it to follow them.

'Come on!' he ordered, leading her up the rough, hilly terrain that bordered the path on either side. They would have to do this the hard way.

The tainted bear was snarling again behind them, once again having picked up their scent, and he pushed Rose ahead of him. If worse came to worse, he could at least distract it, lead it away from her, come back after and –

He was getting ahead of himself.

For agonizing almost a third of an hour, they continued to run aimlessly through the woods, narrowly avoiding roots tripping them and knocking into trees. Occasionally it seemed like the bear had given up, only for it to suddenly regain its interest and pursue them anew.

He and Rose ducked under fallen logs and tree stumps, any attempt to slow down their persistent stalker. It didn't seem to matter, however, because it continued to blunder after them, crushing hollow logs beneath its paws and roaring in pained rage at them.

'It's not going to stop!' the Rose gasped, once they had covered at least two miles. Her entire body was shaking now, desperate for oxygen she didn't have time to take in, and the Doctor's own respiratory bypass was threatening to kick in.

He knew she was right.

The beast would likely chase them until it lost all its blood and died of exhaustion – but not before Rose's energy gave out. If they could just get enough distance between them that he could get them up a tree, or –

Something caught his attention beyond the nearest copse of trees.

He could see the edge of the forest, and beyond that – hope sprang within him – the fortifications of medieval style manor. Trappings of civilization that might just mean salvation for Rose…and himself.

'That way!' he ordered her. 'Just a little farther, Rose!'

'Yeah!'

Despite the reassurance, he didn't like the note of exhaustion in her voice.

He heard sound of claws whistling through the air behind him as the beast tried to get at them, and could feel the displacement in the molecules that it was much closer than he had expected.

They burst past the forest line, skidding along tall grasses that were no longer hiding thick roots and remained free of trees and low shrubs. The stone manor he had seen was at the highest point of the settlement, overlooking the town not unlike an overbearing bat. Beyond it, he could make out an expanse of grey horizon and sea, where several ships were coming to and from the port.

There were no walls of any sort around the manor or the town, but he could make out a small collection of tents and temporary lean-to structures that suggested people were actually living outside the keep.

Which meant that even if the Doctor and Rose managed to make it to safety there, the creature might simply decide to choose an easier meal.

Rose seemed to realize this as well, because she exclaimed, 'Doctor! We can't – we can't lead it there – the people – !'

But there were no other options. Cliffs and rocks surrounded the town on all sides, and the harbour was beyond the walls. There was no way to avoid bringing the creature to what looked like a tent-city, without turning tail and trying to get back into the forest without it getting to them.

They could try another quick direction change, but he didn't see it working another time.

Integral seconds were ticking by, and again he couldn't think of any plan short of telling Rose to run and offering himself up to the creature as bait.

There was a flurry of sound and movement ahead, and his hearts rose at the sight over several figures amassing in front of the makeshift settlement, many carrying axes, longbows and crossbows.

He wasn't a fan of weapons being pointed at him in normal circumstances, but decided to make an exception just this once.

A volley of arrows and bolts suddenly erupted into the air, and the Doctor moved instinctually.

'Get down!' he yelled, shoving Rose down to the ground and rolling them out of the path of death from both the countless projectiles and the beast pursuing them.

The sound of steel and wood penetrating flesh filled the air briefly, only to be drowned out by the bereskarn's enraged and agonized roars. A sharp, burning pain suddenly flared from the vicinity of his right thigh, but he ignored it in favour of getting himself and Rose out of the danger zone.

Another volley of arrows and bolts, this time accompanied by several of the axe-wielding individuals he had seen. Most of them were human, but there were a fair few shorter ones – dwarves, if his xenobiology was correct.

These individuals set upon the moaning creature, which continued to swipe angrily at its assailants despite the blood that poured from the growing number of wounds being inflicted on it.

The Doctor ensured that Rose couldn't see any of what was happening. Although he knew that death was the only cure to the poor beast that had come after him, it didn't mean she should witness it.

Other people appeared, more of them wielding long bows, and one of them moved straight into the path of the beresekarn and shot it point blank in the head.

It let out a final, wheezing, snarl and drop heavily to the ground.

One of the dwarves turned to face the Doctor and Rose, eyes hard and axe raised threateningly, as though his enemy wasn't yet vanquished.

· ΘΣ ·

'What do you mean, you're not coming?'

Lilian Fen'Harel narrowed her eyes at her cousins, chiefly conscious of how they were avoiding her gaze.

'It's just getting too dangerous,' Diantha said apologetically.

'Getting?' Lilian repeated. 'It was always dangerous.'

'Yes, but now…they're getting rougher,' Arianna stated, shifting uncomfortably. 'Before, the people were not so desperate. Now, every time we go out, we risk being overwhelmed. I still have bruises from the last time.'

'Besides, now there is no way of knowing if any of the refugees have come in contact with the darkspawn. If they are infected and we contract it...'

'We're not saying we don't still want to help – just, from a distance,' Arianna insisted. 'We can still prepare the extra supplies and gear from here, and have one of the sentries bring it out. It would only cost a few extra coppers.'

'Oh, yes, let's pass on our goods to the shem militia,' Lilian snapped, furious. 'They'll bring it to the refugees, alright – and then sell to whoever will pay the highest price, elven or not. You know what they're like! If they don't decide to keep everything for themselves!'

'Ir abelas, cousin, but it's just becoming too risky,' Diantha sighed. 'We knew when we started this that we wouldn't be able to do it forever. Eventually, we will barely have enough cloth and food for our own people, let alone the poor souls outside the gate.'

'We do not all have your connections,' Arianna added, a slight edge to her tone.

Lilian didn't ask what she meant.

Unlike most of the elves in the Alienage, Lilian had grown up well-off. She and her sister Erlina had been playmates to Teryn Loghain Mac Tir's daughter Anora, and when the latter moved to Denerim to marry King Cailan, Erlina had gone with her as her personal handmaiden. As such, Lilian had the ear of the queen in a way not many elves did, and she had become a respected member of the community because of it.

Because of this, she felt it was her duty to watch over her people when others would not.

Ever since the refugees started flocking to Gwaren, Lilian and her cousins had paid special attention to the elven refugees that arrived. Already considered second-class citizens in Ferelden, elves were even less well-thought-of by their human peers during times of hardship. For all their preaching about Andraste and the Maker, even the Chantry tended to concentrate on human kind first.

As such, it was her job to ensure that no more elves fell through the cracks than they had to. She had enlisted her cousins to help her in this venture, and so far they had been more than willing.

Until today.

'Very well,' she said, hefting the heavy basket in her arms. It was filled with knitted socks and scarves, as well as packages of herbs and dried food that she had managed to collect during the week. An impressive feat, considering the Alienage was usually only allocated the leavings of the rest of the town. 'Give your contributions to me, I will bring them out of the town.'

'Lilian, you can't be earnest!' Diantha protested. 'You can't go out there alone!'

'There's not much choice. There will be frost tonight, and I know several of the families have small children without the right gear,' Lilian replied loftily. 'Unless you'd like to change your minds.'

Diantha looked close to giving in, but Arianna set her jaw and passed over several packages for Lilian to add to her basket.

'Your efforts are admirable, but we must look to our own now,' she told her. 'Maker keep you safe.'

'And you,' she returned stiffly, leaving without looking back. Anger and frustration warred for supremacy within her, as well as a feeling of betrayal. Her cousins were only the latest in a long line of friends and family that had decided they were better of remaining safe at home rather than going out to help the less fortunate refugees outside of the town.

She could understand why, of course, but that didn't make it better.

Proud by nature, Lilian was utterly disgusted with how bad conditions in Gwaren had gotten since the Teryn left. The man he had left in charge was barely competent, and it showed in how the milita had begun to abuse their power in the man's absence.

She had only just past the gate and the sentries guarding the Alienage when she heard a commotion down one of the alley-ways. It sounded like a child crying out, followed by the very recognizable sound of a hand striking flesh.

Considering there were no residences down that alley that she knew of, a suspicion began to form in her mind as to what was happening.

Gwaren's guard force had begun by mistreating the refugees to the town, but in recent weeks they had started to treat the townsfolk in the same way – especially the elven citizens. They would seize food and other rations as they liked from them, insisting that elves didn't need as much food as humans.

She didn't think twice before heading down the alley, hoping that just the sight of another person might make the difference – or at least cause a distraction.

As she expected, upon turning a corner into one of the back alleys, she saw a group of guardsmen gathered around a young elven boy who couldn't be more than twelve. The lad look terrified and was stammering something like an apology, when one of the guards reached out and cuffed him across the ear.

'Say it properly, knife-ear,' the man growled.

'I h-humbly ap-apologize if I have g-given you offense, s-ser,' the boy managed.

He was cuffed again. 'Stop snivelling!'

Lilian felt her basket drop to the floor, her hand going for the dagger she always carried at her belt. She knew she didn't have much of a chance against three armed soldiers, but she was fast enough that she could cause enough of a distraction for the boy to get away. After that, she'd figure something out and –

'Oh, now, this isn't fair,' a voice piped up, and she saw another person saunter around the opposite corner of the alley. It was another elf, she was relieved to see, although an uncommon looking one at that. He looked like one of the Chasind from the south, but the cadence of his speech was that of the flat-ears from Denerim. 'Three to one? That's hardly sporting. Surely the boy couldn't have offended all three of you so terribly that your pride requires you to gang up on him?'

'It's none of your concern, elf,' the largest guard barked.

'Of course it's my concern,' the elf protested. 'Clearly this boy is ever so dangerous if it requires three of Gwaren's best to subdue him. Shall I help you wrestle him to the ground? I'm sure there are some ropes around here somewhere…'

'Your insolent tongue begs to be cut from your mouth, stranger,' one of the other guards snapped, hand on his sword.

'My tongue is merely seeking a peaceful solution to this whole situation,' the elf protested. 'Come now, good sers, let the boy get back to his errands and why don't you head over to the Mabari's Maw for a drink? Discounted of course, the barkeeper's an old friend of mine…tell him Tabris sent you and said everything was on the house.'

The guards murmured amongst themselves, and their leader levelled a gaze at the elf – Tabris. Lilian held her breath, wondering if the soldiers would decide to take him up on his offer, or simply beat him and continue with their plans for the boy.

An unkind smile appeared on the largest guard's face.

'Very well, elf – if you think the boys indiscretions are so miniscule, maybe you wouldn't object to taking his punishment for him,' the largest guard smirked.

Tabris didn't hesitate before replying. 'I have no objection.'

'I didn't think you would,' the guard leader smirked. ''Nor will you object to the little bastard watching you take his punishment, will you?'

Tabris's face twitched somewhat, but he nodded. 'Of course not.'

From the tenseness of his shoulders, Lilian could tell that he was not as easy-going about the entire situation as his tone would suggest.

'Good. Now, as the brat tracked mud all across my boots, I think it only fair that they be cleaned properly. Your clothes look hardy enough to scrub the dirt off. Get to it.'

'Yes, ser.'

To Lilian's horror, the dark-skinned elf pulled off his shirt and vest and set to work scrubbing the tops of the guard's leather boots. Although his expression remained carefully neutral the entire time, she could feel him radiating anger even from where she watched the entire debacle.

She felt sick and angry at the sight. What the hell was he doing, just going along with this?

'See, boy? There's no accounting for having pride,' the guard told the elven boy. 'But, just to drive that lesson home – Tabris, was it?'

A tense grunt. 'Ser.'

'Bursting into matters that don't concern you is very rude – it hurt my feelings,' the man drawled. 'Kiss my boots in apology.'

Tabris finally stiffened at this directive, and Lilian's heart sank because he would surely refuse this order, whether he was trying to protect the young boy or not.

Lilian's fingers tightened on the dagger. If his refused, and it came to blows, she wanted to be able to intervene.

Even if it cost her in the end.