Thank you everyone who is reading and reviewing so far. I have had a little trouble with these next chapters; the fact of the matter is that Aveline isn't acting like herself, and it makes conversations awkward and difficult to write (as most things happen to be when someone is denying their nature). I'm trying to write semi-new dialogue as well, not simply rely on the in-game dialogue, and I fear I'm not as talented as the writers from Bioware. Still, I'm doing my best. I'm also playing around with time flow a little bit, putting extra pauses where there weren't before. But, please, enjoy!


"You're a curious woman, milady." Daveth began, as they sat around the fire, waiting for Alistair to return with Duncan, who was concluding his business in another part of the war camp. They still had yet to pass on the dark vials of darkspawn blood and the treaties. She twitched a little, irritated, by the ever-present, tongue-in-cheek nickname he used. It was certainly past a simple honorific, with the way he said it.

"Am I, now?" Avi asked, running the whetstone along the edge of her blade. It was a chasind blade, pulled from the hollow of a downed tree in amongst a camp overrun with stealthed genlocks. For a barbarian's weapon, it was surprisingly well-made and lightly enchanted, and she did admire the designs on it. "How have I piqued your curiosity, then, Daveth?"

"Well, milady, I can't say I expected you to be the one to take command when we came upon those witches. Since you froze against the darkspawn, I was beginning to wonder if you weren't made of the same jelly as our Ser Jory." His grin was meant to lessen the sting of the words, even as they irritated. Ser Jory started to sputter something, interrupted by the sharp strike of her whetstone, loud and obviously ill-placed.

"Perhaps I felt someone needed to do something. It is not as if the lot of you did much more than babble in fear of becoming toads or what have you." Avi snipped back. "Excluding Ser Jory, who at least helpfully reminded you to keep your tongue in check, lest it incense them further."

Ser Jory seemed to beam at the praise, and Avi regretted giving it almost immediately, but they had all been harassing the knight a little too much for her tastes. She was no bully.

"I suppose I did lose a little of my head around that woman, Morrigan. Magic gives me the fidgets, 'specially if there's no handy templar around to keep it in line." Daveth laughed. "Though the way you were looking at her, you would think we'd just found your long-lost lover." His tone was sly, but he seemed obviously interested. Avi hated herself, but she knew she blushed.

"Alistair is templar-trained." She said as a response. She would not rise to the bait. In truth, she had found Morrigan to be hauntingly beautiful, and had finally fallen back on her noble training, politeness, logic and careful consideration, as a defense mechanism. There was something about Morrigan that made her forget her anger, and be simply…enraptured. It frightened her enough to forget her anger, for a time.

"Fat lot of good that does us, when he's just as fidgety!" Daveth was in remarkably high cheer, laughing and joking. Avi felt like, perhaps, she could have really liked him, if she'd known him a few weeks sooner. Though, a few weeks sooner and he'd have been just as likely to cut her purse as talk her up. There was no accounting for timing.

"If you are all ready, then?" Duncan's smooth voice came from behind them, and Avi cursed as her whetstone skittered awkwardly over her blade, slipping and slicing open her palm as she was startled. She could at least be comforted by the fact that Jory and Daveth had jumped as well. Less comforting was the face of Alistair's, grim and serious. That was not the junior warden she had come to know; he treated many grave matters as time for a light joke. This was apparently not one.

Or maybe he had heard Daveth and taken offense. One could never tell.

They all handed over their darkspawn blood and the treaties, following Alistair to the temple. She listened to Jory's complaints, Daveth's proclamation of his resolve against the darkspawn, all of it in silence. She felt an outsider; seeing Duncan again had flared up all the resentment she'd harbored previously, and she felt as if these others simply operated around her, without her. They would go about their business exactly as they would have if she'd been someone else, or no one else. She didn't belong.

Later, when she woke up after watching them die, and the unbearable fire of the taint in her veins, and that horrible, terrible vision of the corrupted old god, she had to believe the Maker had a horrible sense of humor.


Alistair wanted to say something to the new warden, something encouraging and bolstering. Avi had been even quieter since the Joining and since being informed that the pair of them wouldn't be in the main battle. He'd managed to get a little smile from her, the first ever, with his joke about dancing the Remigold down the darkspawn front lines, but she had sunken into brooding silence again once they were left alone. She'd even struggled into her new chainmail in silence, though he felt relieved she hadn't asked for his help.

So, it surprised him when she approached him, mere minutes from before they were set to head to the tower, and asked, "You are…a sword and shield warrior, primarily, yes?" Her mabari (named Rollo, she had said) flanked her. It gave him a precursory sniff, then seemed to decide he wasn't worth too much investigation.

Looking down at the shield and sword he was currently carrying, strapped to his arm and in his fist, then back up at her, he raised an eyebrow. "No, I just enjoy dressing up from time to time, waving these around and playing soldier." He said it as a joke, but her frown made him think he'd made a mistake.

"I…yes. I suppose it was a stupid question." She bit her lip, and he sighed inwardly. That was definitely not the effect he'd been going for. "In either case, I thought…well, we are comrades now, right? Er, brother and sister wardens?" The way she said it, the way this conversation was going, was incredibly awkward. It didn't seem to suit her.

"That is true, yes. Why?" Alistair asked, unsure where she was going with this. She pulled a sword and shield from her back, one he had seen her wearing throughout the trip to the wilds but never use. The shield had double laurels upon it, and was battered and pitted. The sword was well-maintained in comparison, and seemed almost new.

"If you would like, you may use these if…if you will care for them. I profess I have little talent for that manner of fighting." She presented them to him, almost reverently. He tried to hide his confusion.

"I, well, er, thank you." He took them from her, wondering what in Thedas would make her think her warped shield could possibly be better than the perfectly serviceable one he held now. But in taking it up he felt the enchantments on it, and on the sword as well. They would serve him well for a long time, but…where would she get something like this? Besides her being a noble, something Jory had seemed enraptured by, he hadn't ever really talked to her about her past.

"Just…take care of them. They…" Avi seemed about to say more, but bit her lip again. If things weren't so serious, and if the smaller woman wasn't somewhat frightening in her intensity, Alistair would almost call it a cute expression. "Well, yes. Just, er…use them well." She had curled her fist around Rollo's collar, and he was leaning heavily against her. Alistair wondered how she maintained her footing with such a huge creature pushing against her, but he hadn't seen her lose her balance yet, he recalled.

"Of course." He propped his old weapons up against a handy rack, expertly securing the shield to his arm before taking up the blade. "I'll give it the best of blood baths. I'll even take the time to clean it up after." He gave her a cock-eyed grin, hoping she would return it. She tried to, and perhaps the corners of her mouth did go up slightly, but Maker's breath, he hoped this woman discovered a sense of humor before too long. He wanted to be able to get along with her, especially as they were of similar age and both relatively new to the wardens.

"Let's get going, then." She said, finally, gesturing towards the entrance. Alistair nodded even as Rollo barked enthusiastically. He liked that the dog was coming with them; he'd always wanted a mabari, or even just a simple mongrel, as a child. This one was big enough to qualify as a dwarf, and just as packed with muscle.

"Right behind you." He gave her a wink. He would try one more attempt at humor, before he gave up. "Or, well, in front, as the case may be. Since I have the shield and all."

She smiled then, a real (small) one, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So, maybe they wouldn't get along famously, or be the best of friends, or develop a secret handshake, but at least she wasn't severe all the time. Now, if they could get through a fight without her losing all of her blood in the process, things might go a little smoother. Andraste's flaming sword, but the woman needed to guard her innards a little better when she went on a rampage.


Avi was struggling not to lose her lunch as they progressed through the tower, the mage with them not doing as well in that regard. How could the darkspawn have been here so long? And they had to have been inside the tower for a good amount of time, to have been able to erect such masses of body on the debris, strip them of flesh and any recognizable features. It was disturbing. The massive tunnel they found didn't help, either. It was all so…so…

It didn't matter. They were nearing the top now, bloodied and battered as they were. She had burns on her face from the mage's careless fireballs; without the attentions of a healer she would likely be permanently scarred. Rollo had a limp in his back leg, and even Alistair's blocks were getting clumsier. She could see it, even as she felt the awkwardness in her own swings. Her anger was failing her as well; pretending every darkspawn was Howe was exhausting and impractical. And, Maker's mercy, she had cracked her skull again. Without an injury kit, the wound just sat there, sticky and un-bandaged and likely getting filled with who knew what manner of debris.

"Almost there." Alistair said. His jokes from the first floors had dwindled to none as they climbed. She would have preferred the distraction of them, to be honest, but he was probably as tired as her, and out of new and interesting material to taunt the darkspawn with. She couldn't complain; she had none to offer. So they climbed the last flight of stairs, cursing for the thousandth time that the Chantry hadn't simply allowed a mage to shoot a fireball into the air.

And there they found the ogre.

It was horrible, and twisted, and it was eating a guard, blood spewing and drooling out of the bloody chunks of meat. Avi swallowed compulsively to keep the bile from leaving her stomach. The mage dry-heaved.

And then it was coming for them, and there was no time to be ill anymore. It was all she could do to simply stay on her feet as it charged and roared, backhanding them in a careless arc. She refused to be knocked down. She kept her footing, she hacked away at the beast. It was a clumsy thing, and she would take advantage of that.

She could keep from being bowled over, but not knocked back. It charged her, and she skidded, slipping on blood and gore, clambering backwards to maintain her upright stance. She hadn't fallen, but she was in no position to strike back. This is when the beast took its chance, scooping her up in its immense hand, rearing a fist back to strike clumsily at her all while it squeezed her. Chainmail suddenly felt too flimsy.

And then she fell, clattering and clinking to the ground, Rollo attached to the arm that was moving to strike her, Alistair on the other side with his shield, her shield, slamming repeatedly into the beast's ribcage. And then he was leaping, impossibly, up to stab the thing several times, a wide slashing arc across the throat bringing it down finally.

The fight had taken possibly thirty seconds, maybe a little more. Avi ached as if she had been fighting for days. Breathing was difficult. Her head hurt incredibly, and she was certain she had probably broken or badly twisted an ankle in the fall.

"Stay with her." Alistair told the trembling, useless mage. Rollo took it upon himself to sit beside her, instead, growling at the man. "Right. I'll light the beacon."

She felt the fire of the torch pass over her, briefly, and the sudden heat as it flared up the special shaft to create the signal. And then Alistair sat beside her, heavily, groaning. "You know, I think I broke my arm slamming against that blasted thing. That shield is impressive; probably saved both our hides. Thanks for—glurk." He fell heavily next to her, arrows sticking out of his chest like little pennants.

Avi heard Rollo cry out before crashing down, similarly decorated. The mage was simply beheaded before he could get halfway through a spell, and then the heavy boot of a hurlock was on her chest, pressing down, cutting off her air. She summoned up enough strength to smack a hand against its ankle, before the stars in her vision swam into a pain-filled blackness.