Though this story came about to fill a hole in my own heart at the end of Dragon Age: Origins; I could never have produced something ready for human/elven/dwarven consumption without the help of connie . flint . 125! If you haven't yet read her Dragon Age-Trilogy, you are seriously missing out!

This first chapter may seem very tame, but stick around - things will definitely be getting steamy in the future.

All recognizable content belongs to Bioware/EA Games, though they all have my heart, only Lyna truly belongs to me; but I'm willing to share.

~Prologue~

The archdemon was slain and Lyna couldn't wait to get away. However there was still much to do: Ceremonies that she was expected to attend, a new title; 'Hero of Ferelden' was lain upon her, as if she didn't have enough on her shoulders, people wanting to thank her, to worship the elf that saved all of Ferelden from the Blight. Delay after delay, pomp and ceremony; of which she cared little about. It all bristled at her. Had she not sacrificed enough? Her clan, Tamlen, Duncan and now Alistair. She had already waited so long, he had too much of a head start. She needed to find him, to right what she had wronged, to explain why. He deserved at least that.

Would she do it again? Absolutely! If it meant saving his life. If it meant knowing that the man she loved, with all of her being, would not have to die. She would do it in a heartbeat. Her unhappiness was more than an adequate price to pay for his continued life. This world would be such a desolate place without his light hearted wit, tender, honey-brown eyes, and his sweet, hesitant smile to brighten it and give it life.

He had left so hurt and angry. The things she had to say, the things she had to do to drive him away; they were unforgivable. Yet she had to try. She needed to explain. Maybe he would understand; she doubted it. She didn't deserve it. But she owed it to Alistair to at least tell him the truth behind her behavior.

What exactly was the truth? That she, the brave and mighty 'Hero of Ferelden', was so petrified of losing him, that she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness so that he would live on. She knew, should he fight, that he would sacrifice himself for the greater good. He would do it without thought or hesitation, because that's just how he was. Selfless. He would never let her take that final blow. Maybe he would have understood her plan to sacrifice Loghain, but he would never have agreed to it. Why make more of a hero of the man that had taken so much from them for so long? He never would have fought beside the man. In truth, it wasn't easy for her either.

She shuddered to remember his leering gaze. Always feeling like he was weighing and measuring her every decision. Never really trusting, but resigned to his fate to once again follow where he was used to leading. She felt unclean in his presence, like his personal "taint" was far worse than the darkspawn blood flowing through both of their bodies. Yet it was the only way. Having to deal with this vile man, was a small price to pay to save the life of the man that she loved.

Loghain was gone now, having played the part that she so skillfully orchestrated; making him sacrifice himself by delivering the killing blow against that blighted dragon. The archdemon's soul, not being able to coexist in the same body as a Grey Wardens; had destroyed them both. With the archdemon dead, the blight had ended, as had the man that had chased them all over Thedas and made the last year with Alistair, nothing short of desperate.

Now it was time for her to try to pick up the pieces; to find Alistair and apologize for the grief that she'd caused him. To explain and perhaps salvage some of the respect, if not love, that he once held for her. To start over; if he was willing.

~The End… And A New Beginning~

The celebration event was grueling. Having to force a smile as one Teyrn after another came by to thank her, compliment her and one even had the audacity to ask for Lyna's hand in marriage. He offered her a 'better' life: a place at court, to wear pretty dresses and talk about worriless things. To an elf, these things were all unheard of. A mistress maybe, but never a title, land or wealth of her own. He offered to take care of her. HA! As if the now titled 'Hero of Ferelden' needed coddling and pampering. It would have been funny, if it hadn't been so desperate and pathetic. An obvious attempt to increase his own standing in the court. A political maneuver, nothing more.

How impractical and absurd such frivolous things were. She wasn't a player of 'the great game' and had no interest in anything so superficial and tedious. She declined politely with explanations of 'duty' and a reminder that she would be leaving to travel at first light. He refused her offer to join her on the road so that they could learn more about each other; as she knew he would. The prospect of sleeping out of doors would have been unthinkable to this clean and proper young Teyrn. The only sword he ever held was ceremonial, at best. It might be functional enough for slicing cheeses. Very… soft… cheeses. But it would probably shatter should it come in contact with anything harder or, creators forbid, needed in actual battle. The whole concept of her being with him was comical.

Finally, the last guest said their farewells and Lyna was free to retire to her room. It wasn't sleep that she sought however, it was the last minute preparations for her journey that were calling to her. First and foremost, she needed out of her formal Grey Warden uniform. It was too constricting, not practical and definitely too 'fancy' for her liking. She was ready to put that life behind her for now, with more pressing matters to attend to.

At the awards ceremony, Queen Anora had asked Lyna what it was that she wanted as a reward for her service. She could have chosen to stay there and serve the crown; Lyna scoffed to herself at the prospect. Working with Anora's father had been bad enough, and though she believed Anora to be a competent leader, she had no desire to work closely with her. She could have chosen to return to her clan, but she had changed so much over the past year, Lyna didn't think she would fit in anymore. She wasn't sure she even wanted to try. There was also the options of rebuilding the Grey Wardens or taking some time to herself to continue her own adventures for awhile. Both of these were acceptable, but one needed to happen before the other. In the end, she opted to travel on her own with the possibility of returning to the Grey Wardens later. She was tied to the Wardens after all, the taint in her blood ensured she would always return to them, or at the very least, return to the Deep Roads to answer her calling because of them.

As she made her way towards her quarters, Lyna grasped the small, leather pouch that always hung around her neck and whispered a small prayer to the Creators, "Please watch over him and keep him safe. He's had a rough, lonely journey in life and doesn't deserve the torment I've caused him." She released her pouch with her prayer and thought of the three treasures she kept tucked within. The largest item was her Warden's Oath; a reminder of her own promise and sacrifice to the Grey Wardens which contained some of the blood of the darkspawn that she had consumed on the day of her joining.

She smiled as she remembered the look of relief on Alistair's face when she had woken after the ritual. He had been leaning over her with his brow furrowed and held her hand firmly in his. His look turned to one of relief, then embarrassment as he realized that she was looking at him and he had been clasping her hand so tightly. He had stumbled over his hasty apology while tearing his hand from hers, a flush rising to his cheeks. He had smiled sheepishly at her and she smiled back. Lyna remembered his warmth lingering on her skin, a whisper of the memory of his touch, and the dawning knowledge that it would never be enough. She was also comforted in the realization that she wouldn't have to endure this new and unfamiliar life alone.

Her pouch also contained what was left of the dried rose that Alistair had given her after their trip through Lothering. He had seemed so nervous and unsure at the time, but also determined for her to see how special she was to him. He had described his wonder about the rose that he had found, "How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?" And in all his sweet sincerity, had compared her to that rose, "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing, when I look at you… I thought maybe I could say something, tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amongst all this... darkness." Lyna always wondered what she had ever done to deserve someone so thoughtful and caring as her Alistair. The rose had long since lost its velvety softness and scent, but its sentiment was as strong as ever.

Finally, in her pouch she kept a memento from her mabari, Pup. He had found her after the battle at Ostagar and was always at her side, her devoted little shadow. Pup was her comfort when she had sent Alistair away, her ever present companion, that is; until the battle with the Archdemon. Pup had fallen in battle, taking a piece of her heart with him. Though he was given a warrior's sendoff, Lyna couldn't bear to part with all of him, she had recovered one of his teeth from the archdemon's flank after the battle. She cleaned it up and added it to the items in the pouch she kept close to her heart. Those three objects were with her at all times. There to keep her grounded, to remind her of who she was and the parts of her that she must never forget or take for granted: Duty, Love & Devotion. She had performed her duty and would always be devoted to her cause, but right now, her heart… her love, was far away and that needed to be remedied.

Once in her room, Lyna stripped down to her cotton shift. Now free from the confines and the weight that uniform held; both physical and mental, she began to pack the necessities that she would be taking with her. She gathered her bow for hunting, her bedroll, wool cloak, sharpening stone, flint and steel and a few potions. She also added some personal essentials, all wrapped into her oiled canvas "pack" which could be opened up to use as a tent should she need extra protection from inclement weather. This was Ferelden after all, and though her travels were likely to take her elsewhere trying to track down her ex-lover, she planned on trying to find any traces of him locally first; and the weather here could be a bit… unpredictable.

With all of her belongings neatly packed, organized and ready to go, Lyna finally allowed herself to lay down and get some rest. It was a fitful night spent tossing and turning. There were no more dreams of the archdemon, but the nightmares came none the less. By the time the pre-dawn grey finally arrived, she was more than grateful to get up and start her day.

Lyna rose and slipped into her soft leather, brown pants, traveling boots and nondescript, protective armor; well worn from her travels, it was like putting on a second skin. They were clean, comfortable and as much a part of her as the many blades that she kept finely honed and on her her person at all times. Some of those blades were visible but many others were hidden from site. She kept her favorite two silverite daggers on her back, a blade sheathed at each thigh and there was also a utility knife displayed at her waist. What most people wouldn't see were the daggers she kept inside each boot, another inside each bracer which could be easily thrust into her hands in a blink of an eye, one tucked into its hidden sheath between her shoulder blades and numerous throwing blades tucked into the inside of her belt. Lyna didn't like being unprepared.

Once fully armed, she gave herself a quick once over in the mirror. She looked tired. She felt tired too, so that was no surprise. Her once bright, sea-green eyes, now had a dullness to them. Though she could force a smile to her lips, it refused to touch her eyes. A part of her was missing. With a sigh, she tied her velvety brown hair back into its usual tail using a leather strip. She fixed the straggling hairs that stubbornly refused to stay back, into a delicate frame around her bronze face.

She donned her grey-green, wool cloak, making sure she had easy access to her blades, then hoisted her pack onto her shoulders and with a final glance around the room, bid this life farewell.

As she walked quietly through the hall in her soft leather boots, a familiar figure silently fell into step beside her. She didn't have to look to know the feel of the presence at her side. Slightly taller than herself, blond hair, blades to match her own, his vallaslin differing from hers in shape and color but marking him as she was, of Dalish origin. Though their stories were very different, their backgrounds worlds apart, she had come to trust the assassin at her side. They were of like minds with similar skill sets and driving desires, so It came as no surprise to Lyna to find him at her side now. Even though she hadn't discussed her plans with any of her companions, Zevran was usually able to anticipate what she was going to do before she had even decided to do it. That didn't mean she had to like it.

"Good morning Zev," Lyna said shortly as she continued on her present course.

He nodded once in acknowledgement with that insufferable smirk on his face and continued to walk with her in companionable silence. Once they reached the kitchen they both grabbed sacks and began filling them with bread, fruit, cheese and salted meat. Lyna finally stopped and looked at him. "What are you doing Zevran?" A hardness in her voice she couldn't hide.

Adding another apple to his sack, he said lightly in his sultry Antivan accent. "I would think that it was obvious. No? Did you take a blow to the head that made you unfamiliar with the act of acquiring provisions for a journey?" He paused and looked her up and down.

"No, no. Your beautiful head looks fine. You also seem well aware of the process as you appear to be doing exactly the same thing, perhaps I am mistaken, No?"

He grinned at her then, "Or… have you finally come to your senses and are planning on sweeping me off my feet for a romantic interlude somewhere?" He winked at her in teasing, but his attempt at levity was lost on Lyna this morning.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, "I can't let you do that Zev. You do know where I'm going don't you? I can't ask you to come with me while I chase after Alistair. It's not fair to you. It's not fair to him." She sighed deeply. "But I have to find him. I need to try to explain, to attempt to make things right. He didn't deserve how I treated him, to be pushed away like that, but it was the only way…" Lyna trailed off as she realized that she was on the verge of tears.

Zevran gently took both of her hands in his and placed a delicate kiss on each of her palms. His face and his voice serious for once, "This is why I am coming with you. I am at your command or at your 'service' should the desire strike." He said the last with a wink and she rolled her eyes at their old game.

Serious once more he continued, "But more than anything, I am your friend Lyna. I don't have many of those. I would not let you face the darkspawn alone, nor will I allow you to face your broken heart without me there to guard your back. You think I didn't see how deftly you moved all of your game pieces into place? The bards in Orlais couldn't have played a better game than you did. I was very proud of you by the way. And you know what? It worked! We won! We saved the day and live to love and fight again. So let us stop wasting the light. We have an awkwardly naive, witty, doesn't deserve you, delicious, Warden to track down."

Lyna couldn't help but smile at Zevran's thinly veiled compliment. She sighed inwardly, making her decision then hugged him tightly with one arm. "Thanks Zev. I would be glad to have your company, but please, keep your services to yourself!" She said the last with a wink of her own, then pulled back from the embrace to reveal that she had one of her knives pointed at his manhood for emphasis. He gulped audibly and raised one eyebrow, but didn't lose that cocky grin. She tapped his thigh once with the flat of her blade for emphasis before sheathing her weapon back into its hiding spot.

He chuckled at her and said, "I should never have shown you that trick mia amata. Shall we proceed then? We are burning daylight and your Alistair awaits."

They finished their preparations like they had a thousand times before, an unspoken dance of familiarity: silent, comfortable, automatic. They then slipped out through the servants entrance to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

Once Lyna and Zevran were beyond the gates of Denerim, they made good time. They kept a steady pace, rising before dawn and only stopping once the sun was long down to make camp for the night. Usually eating their cold provisions on the road, they would occasionally spot an unsuspecting beast that would become fresh meat over a midday fire. It was a familiar routine that they both fell easily back into.

Mornings were always the same; whomever had the final watch would douse the fire's remaining embers and rouse the other. Together they would pack up in silence, then spend the remaining time between the sky's first light until the full circle of the sun crested over the horizon, in practical combat training. This they would vary to keep fresh on all of their abilities. One day they would practice sparring with daggers, another, when they could find them, a long sword in their main hand with a dagger in their offhand. Still another morning would have them fighting with no weapons at all or working purely on defensive maneuvers. These training sessions were exactly what Lyna needed to shake the last of the nightmares from her head. Every night she was so exhausted from her day of travel and exertion that she would fall unconscious almost as soon as she lay on her bedroll. But it was never a restful sleep, she would toss and turn all night, her dreams growing progressively worse.

During the blight, Lyna had gotten used to her nightmares and became adept at tuning them out so that she could find that much needed rest. Even with the Archdemon singing its siren's' song to her, she was still able to manage a few hours of sleep each night. These dreams however, were very different. This was her own conscience getting back at her. Her penance, if you will. Every time she would close her eyes, she would see the sadness and hurt in Alistair's eyes as she chose Anora and Loghain over him. She could feel his surprise, his anguish and finally his anger at her, then wake with a choked sob, clutching at the leather pouch around her neck. She knew in her heart that she deserved this pain. Everything she felt was a direct consequence of her own actions. Knowing these things, didn't make them any easier for her to endure.

The training sessions were her way of fighting off the demons in her dreams and Zevran was only too happy to oblige. True to his word, he had her back and she was increasingly thankful for his friendship. He kept her so busy that she was occasionally able to forget her heart strings pulling, at least for awhile. He could read what she needed before she even knew what that was. Sometimes he would talk about everything and nothing in particular. Mindless banter to tune out her own guilt and sadness. A constant babble to lighten her mood when it would turn dark. He also offered her companionable silence when she needed that too and the mornings offered her opportunities to hone her skills. Though his lighthearted banter occasionally carried lurid undertones, he stayed true to his word and kept his hands to himself. Had she not known him better, she would have even called him a gentleman, but this was Zev. Though he failed at his attempt to kill her, he was a master assassin, raised in an Antivan whore house. His mind, anything but pure. Yet for the moment, he was there for Lyna and for that she was grateful.

Together they followed rumors and what they knew about Alistair to track him down. At first they'd heard a few whispers from people who could attest to seeing someone matching Alistair's description just outside of Denerim. But soon, that faint breadcrumb of a trail stopped. They spent months traveling from South Reach to what was left of Lothering; Redcliff to the ruins of Honnleath; up to Orzammar and back around the north end of Lake Calenhad to the shores near Kinloch Hold. Most locations were dead ends. No one had seen him. He had simply vanished off the face of Thedas. Surely someone would have recognized him. Perhaps he had picked up more of her sneakier habits than she had originally thought. Lyna pondered perhaps needing to redirect her tactics.

The duo decided to stay at the Spoiled Princess by the docks at Lake Calenhad to give them a break from sleeping on the ground. Lyna wanted a hot bath and a hot meal and they needed to really think about where they were going to go next. It was time to move on, to travel outside of Ferelden. They decided to stay for a couple of days to give them time to mull over their options.

As they sat over their warm stew and fresh bread on the second night at the inn, the pair noticed four mercenaries come through the door, grumbling and bantering with each other. The group shook off the rain from the most recent storm, looked around the room, then approached the barkeep and ordered a round of drinks. They were crass and loud and had the look of men who had been on the road for quite awhile.

Lyna and Zevran shared a look, then sat there quietly, nursing their meal and listening for any news the newcomers might have brought with them. Some of their most promising leads, in the past, had come about this way. Tonight proved to be no disappointment.

To some, it might have seemed an odd group to be keeping company together. There were two humans: one fairly seasoned with short black hair & dark chocolatey skin, the other man looked too pretty for having seen many battles. The ease in which he maneuvered with his weapons strapped to his body though, contradicted the smooth, untarnished skin of his face. This gave Lyna pause that perhaps this handsome young man was more than he seemed. His complexion was not as dark as his human companion. It was more akin to coffee with cream and just as smooth with his silky brown hair trimmed neat and tidy upon his head to complement it. He was from Tevinter, if Lyna were to wager a guess and she was usually pretty good about such things.

The two humans were accompanied by a stout dwarf that kept his hood up, so there wasn't much Lyna could glean about him yet. His only discerning feature was a large dark mustache upon his lip. The crew seemed to be led by a very large Qunari with a black patch covering his left eye and a large battle axe strapped to his back. He seemed boisterous and loud as he directed his crew to a nearby table, his hands moving fluently in conjunction to the words leaving his mouth. The horns on his head stood out and proud too and only added to the intimidating demeanor that his scar marked face portrayed.

To Lyna, this mixed group was not so unusual. In fact, it reminded her of her own recent travels with dear friends. They were at once, both happier yet more frantic times. She reflected on the Qunari she had traveled with and smiled at the memory of how stoic and serious Sten had seemed in comparison to this more animated example of Qunari muscle.

The mercenaries were gruff and pushy, almost playful with one another. They seemed to be grousing about everything: the condition of the road, the intermittent rain, someone had a rash that hadn't cleared up, with a fair amount of 'I told you so's' to go with it. They grew more disgruntled as they recanted their most recent job in Kirkwall, mumbling something about a local Lord that had refused to give them their full pay. Lyna rolled her eyes. None of this blather was giving her any clues towards her Alistair.

As she continued to listen in, she heard the group continue to pick on each other. They seemed to delight in poking fun at one another's shortcomings as if it made their whole plight that much easier to deal with. She heard them laugh about a serving girl that the pretty Tevinter had tried to pick up on. It seemed he regularly failed miserably at his attempts at romance. There was a fair amount of teasing on how he needed to better choose who he decided to hit on and when to take no for an answer.

Lyna was about to give up on the group as their conversation grew quieter and more relaxed. Before she turned from them completely, she picked up on the words; 'drunk' and 'warden' which once again piqued her interest. They were still discussing the barmaid, Norah and the pretty Tevinter. It sounded like the serving girl, had been vehemently refusing the mercenary's advances when he grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away.

Listening closer, Lyna learned that upon even louder protests and a brief scuffle, an unlikely hero had come to the girl's rescue. The mercenary in question, looked miserable at his companions jabs and taunts, half laughing and yet trying to hide his embarrassment in his mug of ale.

"You let someone too drunk to stand up straight wipe the floor with you!" The dwarf suddenly bellowed. There was a round of laughter from the other two and the poor man just took another drink from his tankard for all the world looking like he wanted to crawl away, but knew it would be worse if he didn't take his medicine now.

The Qunari teased him further, "Aye lad, you probably should have let the girl alone after he stepped in. But no, you had to go and push him further, telling him to mind his own business. No ass is worth that kind of trouble."

"I swear Chief, I thought he was just trying impress the girl with how he was talking about how to treat a lady! With as far gone in drink as he was, I didn't honestly think he could even lift his sword."

"You should pay closer attention." Their Qunari leader intoned. "A fully armored man, drunk or not, should be taken seriously. His words may have been slurred, but there was no hesitation in his grip on that blade of his. It was as much a part of him as your hand is to you. Your refusal to back down, when he offered to teach you a lesson, only succeeded in getting us all involved."

There was a fair amount of grumbling amongst the group regarding the fight. Lyna heard murmurs of how the drunk had rambled on and slurred his way through the whole exchange. They were amazed at how he never seemed to stop talking.

That bit sounded rather familiar and Lyna, glancing quickly at Zevran, began to smile.

She continued to listen in on how he had complained about the disrespectful youth of today. That back when he was in the chantry, such disrespect would get you public lashes and a fortnight of mucking the stables. They even mentioned how he was bragging about being a Grey Warden and should conscript the lot of them to pay even further penance for their transgressions.

"Well, that certainly sounds like Alistair." Lyna whispered to Zevran with a chuckle and a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been present since before the Landsmeet.

She listened further as they talked about the fight that ensued and even though this fighter could barely keep his feet under him, he had been formidable. The mercenaries had found themselves humiliated and outmatched. There was a mix of awe and fury as they spoke of the Warden's skills and finally resignation to the fact that four capable fighters had been bested by him. They were even more amazed that none of them had lost their lives in the battle. They had only been knocked unconscious, which spoke even greater of this fighter's skill in battle.

The conversation started to die down again as they were all nursing their collective, wounded pride. Lyna and Zevran had heard enough of the general details, but she still had specific questions that she wanted answered before they decided to chase this new potential lead. She knew that it was only through asking them directly, that she would get the answers she sought.

Looking at Zevran, Lyna said with a mischievous grin, "Here goes nothing." She popped a few buttons at the top of her tunic, exposing the curve of of her well defined breasts. Zevran arched an eyebrow in appreciation and took another drink of his ale, his eyes never leaving the swell of those breasts. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled and winked before grabbing her drink and stood up from the table.

Lyna sauntered over to the mercenaries table; putting perhaps a little more sway to her petite hips than she normally would. She sidled onto the bench next to the Qunari who seemed to be leading this group of miscreants and gestured silently to the serving girl to bring them all another round. She smiled when the drinks arrived and turned to break the silence that had befallen the table at her approach.

The leader beat her to it. He looked her up and down appreciatively before leaning toward her with a chuckle, "Well sweet little thing, what can we do for you this evening?"

Lyna's 'acting' could only take her so far. She took another drink from her tankard and began with honesty. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I have been searching for an old friend of mine. He sounds very much like this 'Warden' I heard you speaking of. I would wish to learn more, to make sure that it's really him, if you'd be willing to part with more information."

There was silence as they sized her up, deciding for themselves whether she was worth the effort and if she really was as meek and fragile as her elven physique made her appear to be. This wisp of an elf with her ripe attributes so prominently on display, sat relaxed and comfortable in the company of these four rather intimidating looking mercenaries. She appeared to be well armed, with two rather large daggers strapped to her back, one smaller knife at her belt and another visible at each thigh. Yet her hands were well away from these blades and resting almost casually on her own mug of ale.

She let them look her over as she sipped her drink and waited for their reply.

"And...what would you be willing to pay for this…information?" The large leader attempted to reach up to touch her shoulder but never made contact as Lyna had a blade drawn and measured at his throat without pulling the stein from her lips. He froze, his one eye wide glancing at the visible blades she carried and noting that they were all still in place.

Lyna allowed herself a small smirk hidden within her mug, knowing that this seasoned Qunari was trying to ascertain where this blade had come from and if he was smart, was also wondering how many more she had hidden on her person.

She schooled her face and calmly set her cup down before leveling her sweetest smile at the Qunari's companions before cocking her head to one side and landing her gaze on the leader himself. With her blade still to his throat, she said, "You could try your hand. If you aren't afraid to lose it. I may take such an insult as an attack, one that you would not survive."

They chuckled at the elf's brashness.

She continued as if they hadn't interrupted, "If the man you spoke of, is who I think it is, he was my brother in arms, my fellow Grey Warden. A warrior of unquestionable skill, there is no doubt. And yet; at his finest, he was no match for my blades. You have already felt defeat at his hands while inebriated, where as I… am quite sober. One of you might be lucky enough to land a single blow against me." She now looked the tall Qunari in his eye, "But not before you lay dead at my feet and none of you would survive to finish these drinks that I have bought for you as I am not as forgiving as my friend. Ask yourself, is that a risk you are willing to take again? It is your choice; your life. I am in no danger here." To drive her point home, Lyna lifted her cup for another pull of ale while she let them mull over her words, her blade never wavering from its target.

She watched as they looked around the table at each other. When she saw them relax back into their own spaces, she knew she had their full attention and the potential for battle was over. Lyna sheathed her blade so swiftly that they still had no idea where she kept it. To them, it was suddenly gone and that was how she prefered it. She smiled again sweetly and raised her cup in salute to their delayed, but wise decision.

The Qunari reached up and wiped a small spot of blood from his neck, licked it off his finger then laughed heartily. "Hahaha, I like you girl. You've got spirit! I am The Iron Bull and these miscreants work for me." Lyna dipped her chin once in greeting.

"So… you're one of those Wardens too huh? I didn't think there were many of those left here in Ferelden, not after that battle at Ostagar and then the damned blight." He huffed with disdain.

Lyna's smile turned briefly grim, but she tilted her head in confirmation. "You are correct. There aren't many of us left around these parts at all. Which is why finding this particular Warden is so important to me."

He held up his tankard in salute to lost brothers in arms which she returned in kind and they both drank deeply.

After finishing his ale, he continued, "What is it exactly that you would like to know? And there is still the unanswered matter of payment?"

Lyna glanced at him with eyebrows raised. He chuckled but quickly held up his giant hands, palms out, to show he had no weapons in them and was decidedly not trying to touch her again. This wasn't a proposition, it was now a business arrangement.

She nodded in acknowledgement, "You will be paid for your information, The Iron Bull, in coin if it pleases you. In the meantime, these drinks are on me as added thanks for your time." She signaled to the barkeep to keep the ale flowing and began asking her questions in earnest.

In the end, they were very accommodating. She wanted to know what the man looked like, what he was wearing, armed with and where exactly they had seen him. She learned that they had encountered Alistair, for she was certain now that's who it was, at the Hanged Man tavern in the Lowtown section of Kirkwall. From what the group could gather, he had been there for awhile and seemed to be pretty set in his routine. If she moved quickly and was lucky, he would most likely still be there by the time she arrived. At the very least, there would be a trail again, one that she would be able to follow.

"Thank you gentlemen, you've been very helpful. I do appologize for us getting off on the wrong foot, but I did enjoy our little chat." She nodded once more to The Iron Bull with the passing thought that this tall mountain of muscle had more hidden behind his eye than he let most people see. She discarded the notion knowing that she had other more pressing matters to attend to.

Lyna left a gold sovereign on the table in payment. Before leaving, she waylaid the barmaid to have some bread and stew sent over for The Iron Bull and his men then paid their tab for the evening as well. She wasn't unreasonable after all and was in fact, very grateful to them for guiding her to her next destination.

Zevran fell into step beside her as they headed towards their rooms. "Well, that was… bracing. I dare say, it's nice to see that little spark in your eye again and those beautiful breasts of yours making an appearance doesn't hurt matters either."

Lyna smacked Zevran playfully on the shoulder and refastened the buttons of her shift again. "You are incorrigible Zev! Is that all you ever think about?"

"Well… yes actually. You star in many of my fantasies and after that display tonight, I think one or two of your new friends there might join us in them as well. Care to accompany me in my dreams of riding that Bull while we fondle the pretty one they were teasing?" He grinned at Lyna unabashedly.

When she only glared at him, he cleared his throat and changed the topic, "So, we have a new destination then? When do we leave?"

Without missing a beat she responded, "Before first light, it's already been far too long." She finished the last with a sigh, it was her own personal mantra lately. They met briefly in Lyna's room and discussed their intended route. West Hill was the closest port, it would be quickest to hire passage to Kirkwall from there. They ironed out a few more details, but the rest of them could be discussed and decided on the road. After having finished their planning, the duo bedded down for the night.

Sleep was difficult for Lyna, more so tonight than usual. So excited was she to finally have a solid lead. Not just a hint or a whisper, a true destination in mind to guide their travels. And when she got there, what then? Redemption? Forgiveness? She barely dared to hope, yet she had to try. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see his face. His hurt and betrayal burned forever into her mind. The feel of his tender embrace, his lips on hers; a distant memory. She knew it could never be exactly as it had been, but perhaps there could be a new beginning. What did she have to lose?