A/N: This prequel to Twice Bitten, also in progress, fills in the pieces of the Warden's involvement with the Blight that Zevran wasn't present to observe. (Also, he wouldn't shut up in my head after I started thinking about the glimpses Zev has gotten so far.)

With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.
It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.

-Transfigurations 1:5

Chapter One – Business and Pleasure

Over everything else the conversation he'd just been involved in had given him to think about, Aedan Cousland considered how pleased he was that word hadn't reached his father about what he'd really been doing with his morning. The man would just not approve, he was sure of it. He had started the day with his weapons work, sparring with some of the men taking their daily practice, but he had devoted the remainder of the morning to honing other skills he kept as a hobby. He'd certainly never put them to use for any serious purpose.

If he felt some small thrill at being where he shouldn't be, when he shouldn't be, well… Everyone, noble's son or no, should be entitled to some small rebellion, shouldn't they? If Aedan's took the form of tickling the secrets out of locks around the castle or the city proper and standing in the empty spaces that spoke volumes about the lives of his family's people, wasn't it best he did it when they weren't there to see him? It wasn't as if he took anything, and he certainly didn't disturb the balance of those in whose lives he trespassed. He wasn't out to rifle their things and learn their mysteries, and he liked to think he respected their privacy even as he let himself into places he wasn't meant to see.

And the praise he received after displaying the direct benefits of his excursions was amusing. His father often lectured on the importance of knowing the people, that the family could not serve them as they expected to be served in return if they didn't take the time to understand what was important to how they lived. Aedan just had a rather more direct way of going about the learning process, and if he got a laugh or two out of hearing about his so-called natural intuition, so much the better.

He couldn't even say he disagreed with the notion. He'd been around court and the rest of the nobility long enough to know that his family was more highly regarded by the citizens who owed them allegiance than any other in Ferelden. And the way he'd spent his youth had taken him a step beyond what his father thought was strictly appropriate for a son of the Cousland line, though in this area the Teyrn approved with pride.

Aedan knew he would never sit in command of the Teyrnir, but he had been prepared from a very young age to act as counsel for Fergus when the time came for him to take his father's place. So Aedan had spent much of his time outside of lessons during his teenage years out among the men, working with them, acting their equal, and as a result had more than the basic knowledge of many aspects of the region that would have been needed to rule it. He didn't need to act the noble to advise his brother, he was certain of that much.

Though he agreed, on the whole, with the duty of his family, he had been less pleased at some of the aspects of it that had arisen during the discussion he'd been called to with his father. He thought, as he wound his way through the castle grounds, that even if he understood his instructions to mind the Teyrnir while his father and brother rode off to battle, and even if he felt no small amount of pride in himself at being trusted to do so, he still would rather have been riding off with them. He hadn't spent all that time in the salle with the soldiers for nothing, after all.

He had been outright displeased with Arl Howe, however, and the mentions of his daughter. His father seemed to genuinely like the man, though Aedan could never quite see the reason behind it. He couldn't put his finger on why, but it bothered him that it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that he'd begin courting Delilah as soon as she grew old enough to be eligible. She was certainly attractive enough, he knew, even if he hadn't any idea what would have her so fascinated with him. His father had counseled him that when the time came he'd be ready to settle down and devote himself to her, but he had some other nagging worry he wasn't able to define. The dalliances he'd had with women from the city hadn't necessarily left him looking forward to being ready to settle down, he supposed.

And then there was the Warden. He wasn't sure what dazzled him more; the fact that a Warden was actually here, or that he'd made such a bold advance as to suggest that Aedan himself would be a worthy candidate for that august order. He couldn't imagine why the man would have said so, and was dead certain any consideration would evaporate if Duncan found out about his sneakier habits. But over it all, he wondered what it was Grey Wardens actually did when there wasn't a Blight to think about.

Now there was a scary thought. If there truly was a Blight brewing, they'd certainly need all the help they could get. Aedan chastised himself for the whisper of relief that snaked into his thoughts, that he'd be here, safe in the castle, while others went on to confront the horror. His father would tell him he was doing his duty to remain, but it felt a bit treacherous to his upbringing and to the values so central to his family that he would acknowledge that relief at all. Though he would never voice it out loud, he also held some small measure of worry over Gilmore, who he'd counted among his friends for a number of years and had heard today was also being considered for conscription into the Wardens.

He made a mental note to talk with Duncan in the days to come. He'd been caught up in the fantasy of the Order from Aldous's tales when he was a boy, and his curiosity had sparked again in more practical ways. Did Grey Wardens get involved with worthy efforts, outside of Blights? He could think of any number of ways such a military order could be of benefit in the world, particularly in the more rural and less settled areas where it was hard to focus any sort of governing attention. But he'd never heard of them doing so. He'd have to pick Duncan's brain and find out why.

As he came to a turning in the path, he found himself almost knocked off his feet as he collided with someone in heavy armor, steadying himself on the man's shoulders before realizing who it was.

"Gilmore! We ought to have a sign there for the blind corner."

"Ha! Lost in thought as you were, perhaps we need a sign for the blind Teyrn's son."

And that would be why he considered Gilmore a friend. He was one of few people outside the family who would talk to him as if he was a person worthy of conversation, his words always honest and never infused with that tiresome awareness of His Lordship. "I saw enough to know you look like a man on a mission. Fire in the library, or what?"

Gilmore laughed and thought that problem might actually be more preferable to the one he'd been sent to address. "I'm actually out to find you. Seems your hound is living up to his name again, this time in Nan's larder. Lady Eleanor bid me find you, as Nan's shrieking is apparently disturbing her chat with her guests."

Aedan's cheeks tented as he blew out a gust of air. He loved that dog, he really did, but he wished for something more to keep the hound from getting bored. "All right, then. Maybe we can cage a sweet or something off her after we act the heroes and save the kitchens, eh?"

Pleased to have company he enjoyed for a time, Aedan put aside his musing and set off toward Nan's domain.