As the horizon began to flood with colors signaling the impending dawn, Lhiannon rested a pot on the fire to begin cooking the morning meal. Usually it consisted of porridge and whatever fruits they bought from the market or found while scouting the area for the campsite. This morning brought several pieces of fruit she had from their stay in Denerim. She finished adding the porridge to the simmering water and walked toward the tents to awaken the others. Most everyone had begun stirring and were easily roused. Oghren, however, was still snoring lustily in his tent. By the Maker, he could sleep through the entire Blight, Lhiannon thought. Of course, the dwarven ale he had consumed the night before did not help matters much. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of the vile brew. Lhiannon poked Oghren with her staff.

"Oghren! For the love of the Maker, would you get up?" Oghren snorted and mumbled something sleepily, something about the ancestors no doubt. His favorite curses included references to the ancestors; or tits and arses. Lhiannon turned her head and whistled softly for Tiberius, who happily bounded to her side. She held open the flap of the tent and motioned for the warhound to go inside. Tiberius rushed in, barking at Oghren and batting him with his large paws.

"By the tits of my ancestors! Get your sodding dog off me!" he roared, flailing his arms and scurrying off his bedroll. Thankfully, he had fallen asleep in his clothes; Lhiannon was grateful for that. A naked dwarf would have been a nasty surprise to behold.

Lhiannon laughed. "If you had woken up the first time, I wouldn't have had to send Tiberius in here. Let that be a lesson to you."

"You sound like a sodding, nagging wife," he mumbled to her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

She whistled at Tiberius, who bounded out of the tent and ran off toward Loghain; he had just exited his tent and was watching the exchange warily. Tiberius seemed to be the only one willing to make friends with the newest Grey Warden at the moment.

"You'll miss breakfast if you don't get moving." She closed the flap of the tent before he could reply.

Soon after the meal, they were on the move again toward Lothering. The group was spread out a bit, never out of sight from one another in case trouble arose. Loghain generally stayed toward the middle of the pack. As they traveled over the next couple of days, he found himself contemplating his fellow Grey Warden. She has to be half my age at best, he thought. She was of average height, with straight brown hair she tied at the nape of her neck with a rawhide cord. Her eyes were dark brown, the black center barely perceptible from the color around it. He knew that she was a mage, but clearly there was more to her than that. She did not wear the traditional robes of a mage, but wore simple chain armor. That she bested him with both magic and a dagger at the Landsmeet disturbed him to some extent.

Loghain had remembered her vaguely at Ostagar; she was the new recruit that Duncan had brought in to camp, fresh from her Harrowing at the Circle of Magi. He had not spent much time dwelling on that, as he was busy with Cailan and his delusions of grandeur. He sighed, as he always did now when thinking of Cailan. What would Maric and Rowan say? He was sure that somewhere in the beyond, they hated him for what he did. He probably deserved it. Maker knows he would have to answer for it someday.

Loghain observed that everyone in this little band would, one by one, approach Lhiannon during the day for several minutes of quiet conversation. Maybe they found her easy to talk to. She seemed thoughtful enough, knowing when to speak up and when to hold her tongue. She appeared to have the sort of personality that drew people to her; even Morrigan got along with her, so that was saying something.

They had traveled for a short while further when the group decided to stop for a few moments to rest the horses and stretch their legs. Loghain looked up to see where Lhiannon was ahead of him, walking ahead of her horse and leading it to a nearby stream. This time she was alone, thank the Maker; it always seemed like someone wanted her attention all the time. How ironic that he felt it was his turn now. With a gentle nudge to his horse, he quickly caught up to her and dismounted beside her, leading his own horse to the water. She turned to look at him with a curious expression.

"Loghain," she said cautiously.

"I've been thinking," he began, keeping his eyes on the water. "You doubtless consider me a monster; even more so since I survived that Joining ritual. You kept striking at me yet I refused to die decently."

She tossed him a perplexed glance and shook her head. "I don't think you are a monster, Loghain."

He turned and looked down at her; she thought he looked slightly amused at her answer. "You lie poorly, you know." He paused for a moment, turning back toward the water ahead of them. "It is kind of you to say however."

They reached the stream, allowing their horses to drink deeply. They stood there for a minute in silence, each apparently with more to say but either unsure how to say it or waiting for the other to continue. Lhiannon was absentmindedly stroking the neck of her horse. After a time, it was Loghain who broke the silence as he secured the reins of his horse to a nearby tree limb.

"Much has happened between us in the recent past. I think it's safe to say that both of us have tried to do what we could to eliminate the threat of the other. Nevertheless, we must find a way to settle things between us before we move forward." He paused, giving his words a moment to sink in. "So, what's it to be then?"

Lhiannon shrugged, tangling the reins of her horse next to his. "What's done is done. We're going to have to work together, Loghain. It's just that simple."

Loghain turned to face her again, an eyebrow raised in questioning or amusement; Lhiannon was not sure which. "Is that a punishment for me or for you?" She chuckled lightly and surprisingly Loghain did as well. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed her arm, startling Lhiannon. She took in a sharp breath, gasping. Sten took notice from nearby, reaching behind him for his great sword, but Lhiannon turned her head toward him, holding up a hand to signal that all was well. She turned back to Loghain and saw him looking at her closely, studying her with those disconcerting blue eyes of his.

"So, just like that we're to be allies then?" he asked sharply, snapping his fingers for emphasis. "After all that has happened between us? I don't know what sort of concession you want from me, Warden. I suppose my word that we are allies will not satisfy you."

Lhiannon straightened her back and stood tall in front of him, her posture indignant. She refused to be intimidated. "We became allies the moment you survived the Joining. Even so, I need to know that I can trust you, Loghain. You are correct; much has happened between us before now. Nonetheless, we are both Grey Wardens with the same goal: end the Blight."

He waved his hand dismissively at her. "Words," he snorted derisively, "nothing I can say will prove that we are allies. My actions will either prove it themselves, or they won't." His eyes narrowed at her and he continued. "You did not spare my life at the Landsmeet by accident. I don't believe that the least bit. You have some sort of plan in mind." It was not a question.

She met his steely gaze with one of her own. Don't let him intimidate you, she thought to herself, you know he's good at it. "I am giving you a chance Loghain; I expect you to take it," she replied sharply, pointing her finger at him for emphasis.

Unexpectedly, Loghain grinned at her. "Fortunate for me then that I am a man accustomed to taking chances."

He released her arm, remaining at her side for a few minutes seemingly deep in thought as Lhiannon brushed her horse. It nickered softly. Lhiannon was certain that their conversation was not finished just yet, so she patiently waited for him to collect his thoughts. It gave her time to reflect on what just transpired. When Loghain spoke again, his voice sounded somewhat subdued and melancholy.

"This situation we find ourselves in—all of it—can truthfully be called my fault. I had done what I thought was best, but I am by no means perfect. Whether or not you can do any better to save Ferelden from this calamity remains to be seen. If it means anything to you, I hope that you can do better than I have." He stopped again, looking straight ahead. Lhiannon stopped brushing her horse and turned to face him. His expression looked hard and he grimaced. Suddenly, he reached out and grasped her shoulder firmly and placed the fist of his free hand over his heart. He looked her dead in the eye and spoke to her with conviction.

"I don't know how much my word means to you, given our history. But if you can make this calamity end, then I shall follow you. This I swear to you."

Lhiannon blinked, surprised at his sudden oath. Soldiers and nobles, even former ones, usually did not give oaths lightly. She was impressed. Perhaps there was a shred of honor left in the man after all. "Then I am glad to have you, Loghain." She held out her hand.

He snorted, then shook it firmly. "We shall see how long that lasts."

They gathered up the reins to their horses and walked side by side in silence back toward the road. Lhiannon thought back to her conversation with Anora at Howe's estate, how she claimed she was in danger. She seemed so honest about it. She looked at Loghain with a lopsided grin.

"May I ask you something?"

"As you wish," Loghain replied.

"Anora insisted she was in danger; she was so sincere about it. Would you have really threatened her?"

The corner of Loghain's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, "Anora has always had a flair for the dramatic. Were she not Queen, she would have been an excellent bard."

"But why would she fabricate such a story then? I bought it, you know."

Loghain chuckled, amused; it sounded genuine. "Anora is a politician through and through. She knows how to move people in any way she likes, like pieces on a game board. I've been a victim of it myself, many times."

"But why me then?"

Loghain chuckled again. "Was there anyone else in all of Ferelden that could have stood up to the Landsmeet?"

Lhiannon scoffed, "Probably not."


They were standing on the elevated roadway looking down at what was left of Lothering. There was very little. The stink of corruption, decay, and smoke in the air was so strong they could taste it. Most of the buildings were in complete ruins either by the fires that had raged through the town or by the destruction that could only have been done by ogres. Pieces of buildings were strewn about as if the ogres took them apart with their bare hands to get to the occupants inside.

Then there were the bodies. They were everywhere. Those that were not burned to shriveled husks appeared to have been pulled apart limb from limb. Others looked like the darkspawn had partially devoured them. Lhiannon's stomach was slowly rolling inside her and she fought to keep her recent meal in its place.

Loghain was astounded by the devastation wrought here. He had seen more than enough of what the darkspawn corruption had done to the Deep Roads—black tendrils reaching out in all directions and covering everything in its path. The stench seeped into the pores of one's skin and clothing and lingered there long after one was away from the corruption. Thankfully, what small breeze puffed by them was enough to lessen the stink. He could see the telltale signs of corruption on some of the remaining walls and the bridge covering the river. Most of the corruption had burned away in the fires, but some still remained. He did not know if it would spread now that the horde had moved on. They had been here recently, however, and he thought it best if they moved on as well.

"Lhiannon," he said cautiously, "we should not linger here long. The darkspawn have been here recently and could easily return." She nodded slowly, still taking in the destruction of Lothering. "I agree. I don't sense them, but that means little."

They followed the road out of Lothering and set up camp near where the ancient road to Ostagar joined it. They had decided to keep two people at a time on watch with the recent darkspawn activity in the area. Wood was gathered for a fire and Loghain and Sten went into the nearby forest to hunt for food. Lhiannon had just returned from a nearby steam with several full water skins when Morrigan appeared. She took a couple of the skins and helped Lhiannon carry them back to the camp.

"I have been studying the grimoire of Flemeth's that you brought from Kinloch Hold."

Lhiannon nodded at her, setting the water skins down by the fire and motioning Morrigan to sit on one of the nearby logs. "Yes, I've noticed you reading it quite a bit when we make camp. Have you learned much from it?"

Morrigan looked at her, an anxious expression on her face. Lhiannon had never seen Morrigan look quite like this before. Whatever she had discovered in the grimoire, it was not pleasant.

"No, not what I had hoped. I had hoped that it would teach me more of Flemeth's magic. 'Tis instead a book detailing how Flemeth has lived such a long life." She shuddered, involuntarily wrapping her arms around herself and turning toward the fire, rocking back and forth. Lhiannon leaned toward her and put her hand on Morrigan's arm. Morrigan jumped like a scared rabbit and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Morrigan," Lhiannon began softly, trying to soothe the mage's obviously frayed nerves. "What was it you learned? How does she do it?"

"She…she…raises a daughter, and when her body is ready to die, she possess her daughter's body and claims it for her own. The daughter's essence…dies…and Flemeth is essentially reborn." She shuddered. "I am to be next!"

"Oh Morrigan…"

Morrigan turned to fully face Lhiannon, snatching her hands in hers and pleading with her, eyes wide with terror. "Lhiannon, you must help me! You have to help me."

"What is it you want me to do?"

Morrigan seemed to calm somewhat. "I will not let her take me. I need you to go to her hut…I cannot go with you…you have to kill her and find her real grimoire…"

Lhiannon sat up with a start and stared at Morrigan with wide eyes. "Kill Flemeth? Kill your mother? Wait, why can't you go?"

"Because if I am there, she could immediately possess me, especially if she knows that I know what she's planning." She shook her head rapidly. "No, I cannot go with you. You have to kill her and find her real grimoire. Anything else you find in her hut is yours; I care not about anything else. I can use the real grimoire to protect myself from her in the future…in case she does survive. She's…not human…so anything is possible."

Lhiannon thought about it for a moment. The Korcari Wilds were not too terribly far away and if Flemeth was going to be a threat to Morrigan, she was a threat to them all. They needed fewer enemies for the upcoming battle with the archdemon, not more. Aside from her nasty attitude, Morrigan was an extremely competent mage; they would be significantly weakened if Flemeth destroyed her. She looked at Morrigan and curtly nodded.

"All right Morrigan. I'll see what can be done."

"Thank you my friend," she sighed gratefully. "The sooner 'tis done, the sooner my mind can be at ease." With that, Morrigan turned and went to her own small campsite, grinning in both relief and triumph.

Lhiannon watched her go with a bewildered look. She had never seen Morrigan look this…desperate…before. What Morrigan must be going through was beyond her imagining. It had certainly seemed like Morrigan hated the only woman she knew as her mother, but Lhiannon believed that somewhere inside the acerbic mage, Morrigan did love Flemeth like any little girl would love their mother. The realization that Flemeth was using her as an incubator had to shake Morrigan to her core.

Lhiannon had stacked some wood for a fire in preparation for Sten and Loghain's eventual return from their hunt. After the wood was stacked to her satisfaction and a number of rocks placed around the fire pit, Lhiannon held her hand toward the pile and murmured a spell to create a ball of flame. The flame danced from her hand to the wood and began to burn merrily.


Sten and Loghain returned a short while later with a number of rabbits as their bounty. They were quickly skinned and put on spits to roast over the flames and before long the enticing smell of roasted rabbit began to fill the campsite. Lhiannon's stomach rumbled appreciatively. While dinner was cooking, she decided to take her armor down to the nearby stream and clean it; it was absolutely filthy. It stank of the darkspawn corruption and that was something she did not want assailing her nostrils any longer than necessary. As she neared the stream, she could hear someone else there—as she approached she could see that it was Loghain. He had removed his heavy plate armor and was scrubbing it clean with a rag. He looked up as he watched her approach and nodded.

"Lhiannon," he greeted her evenly.

"Loghain."

They both cleaned their armor in silence. She thought about what Morrigan asked of her as she scrubbed between the links of her armor. Would Flemeth try to possess Morrigan before they turned back the Blight? Morrigan was a powerful mage and her shape shifting abilities were unique among them. Her loss would be great indeed. Perhaps Loghain could give her some counsel; he wanted to show that he was trustworthy? Here was his opportunity.

"Loghain, you have been to the Korcari Wilds before, yes?"

"Yes," he said evenly.

Lhiannon nodded. "We have business there."

Loghain said nothing as he continued to clean his armor. Lhiannon waited a moment to see if he would say anything. She was about to continue when he finally spoke. "What sort of business?"

"Morrigan's mother lives there. She is an apostate mage and we…"

Loghain stopped cleaning his armor and turned to look at Lhiannon. "Morrigan's mother is an apostate living in the Wilds?" He gave her a guarded, yet calculating look. "Is she very old?"

Lhiannon looked at him with a degree of surprise. "She looks it. The Chasind call her 'The Witch of the Wilds'."

"Maker's breath," Loghain swore as he shook his head in disbelief. "It must be her…"

"You know of Flemeth?"

He scoffed derisively. "Is that what she calls herself? Yes, I have met her once. I can see now where Morrigan gets her charming personality."

Now Lhiannon was curious. When could Loghain have crossed paths with Flemeth? "If you don't mind me asking, how did you encounter her?"

Loghain sat back and set his armor aside, gathering his thoughts for a moment. "Maric and I had just met. I had taken him to the camp that my father was in charge of. The usurper's men had been chasing Maric after they killed Queen Moira. We hadn't known at first that Maric was the prince; I had only found out right before the usurper's men attacked our camp." Loghain's eyes became far away. He paused, seemingly lost in thought.

"Maric and I ran for our lives after the usurper attacked. We ended up in the Wilds and were eventually captured by a band of Dalish elves. They took us to this 'Woman of Many Years'. It wasn't a pleasant meeting. She had taken Maric into her hut and spoke to him for several hours, making him promise never to speak of what they discussed. And he did not, save for one thing. The witch told him a Blight was coming. He took it very seriously. I didn't believe her; that was something any idiot soothsayer could have said." He paused for a moment, giving a small sigh. "I suppose she was right about the Blight after all however."

"Morrigan wants us to kill her."

Loghain looked at her, his brows raised with curiosity. Lhiannon explained what Morrigan had told her earlier. He listened thoughtfully, nodding and rubbing his chin on occasion. When Lhiannon was finished she caught his eye with her own and tilted her head questioningly.

"So, what say you?" she asked.

"Are you certain such a delay is necessary?"

Lhiannon thought about it for a moment before answering. "Morrigan is a competent mage, her acerbic attitude aside. If we lost her, it would be a serious blow to our chances against the Blight."

Loghain paused for a moment, looking at the water in the stream trickling by. "As much as I don't care for the witch, I happen to agree." He turned to look at Lhiannon, a corner of his mouth curved slightly upward in amusement. There was a dangerous glimmer in his eyes that she had never seen before. She found herself smirking along with him.

"I think, perhaps, it is time to pay her a visit," he said, his voice dark and malevolent. "She has much to answer for."


Thanks again to everyone who has taken the time to read/review/bookmark Lhiannon's story! Now we know what little 'friend' Lhiannon is going to visit.

And Tiberius' name? Not from the Roman Emperor Tiberius. I picked it from one James Tiberius Kirk. Yes, I'm a Trekkie as well (just of the shows; I DO NOT dress in costume!). :)