Author's Note: Well here's chapter 4. I have a question for you guys. Do you feel that her progression from icy to non is moving naturally or does it feel forced to you? I know the way I write this story is choppy in terms of timeline. Sometimes weeks pass between passages and sometimes not. Let me know.


Chapter 4: Journeys

Together they journeyed and as usual the Warden Commander felt more at home on the road than anywhere else. It had been her life for a while now. She remembered foggily her time in the Alienage, how it was living there, who she had known, the feeling of not being able to carry a weapon without risking death, or being talked down to by any humans who were there. It was odd. Nowadays, she felt strange if she didn't have her usual arsenal of weaponry on her, even stranger if those she surrounded herself with were not also armed. She wondered for a second if Shianni was alright back there, along with Soris and his mousy bride. More than anything, she thought of her father. This was not the life he would have chosen for her, the man had made that perfectly clear more than once. Her mother however...Namea had no doubt how Adaia would feel about the situation were she alive.

When they stopped, Namea sat against a tree in their camp and looked at the stars, hoping that someone from that old life was looking at them also.

"Go!" She heard Sigrun hiss at Anders, obviously thinking that the elf woman was out of earshot. Often people forgot that elves had keener senses naturally than humans or dwarves, and an assassin elf was double that from training alone. "It's fine, just go. I'm here for moral support!" The spunky little dwarf assured him.

The mage seemed hesitant, but he was better at keeping his voice down, so the commander could not make out exactly what he said, until finally he hissed. "Alright! Sheesh! There's no need to kick me in the shin like that...that hurt..."

"Well then stop being a runt-nug about it and go!" The legionnaire growled. "Or I'll do it for real next time...and it won't be your shin."

His grumbles carried to her even as he approached, footsteps sounding against the grass. Namea noted to herself that she needed to teach the mage how to walk more silently, lest their enemies hear him a mile away. "Eh...commander?" He asked.

"I have a name Anders, and you've more than earned the right to call me by it." She noted, patting the ground beside her with noticeably less hesitance than she'd once shown.

"Eh...thank you...Namea." The way he said her name made her look away with tinged cheeks and he cleared his throat. "The thing is...well I've seen you writing a new journal of our quests, but it seems to be just that...so I wanted to give you this..." He held out a package, carefully wrapped in paper.

Curiously, she took it from him and neatly unwrapped it, blinking in surprised confusion at the painstakingly crafted leather book. It was of much higher quality than her old journal, or the simple one she kept now for quests. Curiously, she looked up at him. "What's this?"

"Well...I noticed that you gave Valenna the one you found, although from what I saw you were debating on keeping it for yourself...This book is for you. It's for you to write whatever you wish in it, not just about our quests. Like your first journal, with your thoughts and feelings."

She looked at the book again. "Volume 2..." the tiny woman whispered. "Where did you even get this? It's beautiful..." Truly it was. The cover was black leather, fine and soft with deep blue-green embroidered into it in patterns of tribal flames around the corners, in the center, emblazoned in a slightly lighter shade of green was the silhouette of a dagger. She turned the book over in her hands and saw an N embroidered on the spine. The paper inside was strong, but delicate and thin. The volume held more pages than most its size. Perhaps the strangest thing however was the quill that had been laid across the top. Ornately carved and reflective, it was formed to look like a dagger itself with the tip forming the quill point out of beautiful teal sea glass. "I've never seen anything like this..."

He smiled. "It's the kind of book that mages write their spells in, and we use those quills sometimes too, although they're usually plainer. I saw that small magic shop in the last town we passed and picked this up there." The man explained. "Oh, and I also got you this." He held out a lovely glass bottle as well. Inside was ink of a pure dark green that was almost black and seemed to change colour from different angles. "It's called opal ink. It comes in lots of colours these days, but I hear-tell that your favourite is green."

She was speechless. "Anders..." The name came out slightly hoarse sounding, so she tried again and stood, setting the gifts gently aside. "I...thank you." Without thinking she flung her arms around his waist, letting her cheek rest lightly against the steady pounding of his heart. Tightly she held him to her, as though he would leave and never return at any moment.

For a few seconds he simply stood there, shocked, until he looked over and saw Sigrun making the motions, encouraging him to return the embrace. Realizing himself he did, letting his arms enfold the tiny elven woman. Though she'd always given off an air of frailty, he knew from prior experiences that she was not. Her form was solid and strong against him and through his robes and her armour he could still feel her warmth. Savouring the moment he held her tightly to him, closing his eyes and smiling slightly to Sigrun's endless silent amusement.

Maku found the entire spectacle very confusing, obviously, and bounded into it, barking and whimpering at them both until Namea pulled herself away and leaned down to pet him. Anders stood where he was, blinking and watching her interactions with the mabari. "You're welcome." He finally managed. "It is from Sigrun as well."

The commander nodded and walked over to the dwarven woman, tendering her a hug as well and smiling, which made the dwarf's eyes bug slightly. "Thank you Sigrun."

"You're welcome. You've done a lot for us. You should smile more, it looks good on you." As a member of the legion, she had seen hardened people before, even some much more so than this woman. It didn't mean she liked it however, and the brief glimpse of humanity in the commander was refreshing.

"I...shall try to remember that." Namea answered. Perhaps they were right and it was time to let the ice melt away. She did not know. Either way, they had a job to do before she could even consider her own issues. Excitedly she ran back to the journal and carefully removed a single sheet. The quill felt almost warm in her hand as she dipped it into the strange swirling ink and began to write.

Shianni,

Greetings from your favourite absent cousin. I know I have been remiss in writing you, and I apologize. Things have been rough...but I feel like something is happening and the clouds are lifting. When last I saw you we reminisced and I told you all about my adventures around Ferelden, gathering treaties to combat the blight, and standing up to Loghain. That was just after the coronation of King Alistair, I believe. Wow, I am a horrible friend for not writing you in all this time. Allow me to make that up to you now. Expect this letter to be long my friend because I have even more to tell you, and things have only gotten stranger around us. When you get this, I may very well be dead, but I hope not...

She wrote of everything that had transpired since Alistair's coronation, and did it honestly. Shianni was after all one of the people she knew who still saw her the same since she'd become a Grey Warden.

After Alistair's coronation I couldn't stand to be in Ferelden. I told you then that he and I ended things mutually because he was taking the throne, but in all honesty I was heartbroken. Maybe I still am. I dream of him at night sometimes even now. I couldn't stand to be in Denerim even a second longer, so I took off with Zevran, Maku, and Leliana. Whilst in the free marches we met a mage named Fiona who swept Leli off of her dainty orlesian feet. She left us then to stay with her newfound lover, but she writes me still, though like with you I almost never answer. Zev and I went to Antiva and he showed me his home. That city is more fraught with intrigue than anywhere I've ever seen! It was so much fun though! We left Antiva and journeyed some more places, taking random jobs as merchant guards or guides and pretending we were ordinary Mercs. No one could tell I was a warden after all, not with the blight ended. I even touched up my tattoo so that I'd look Dalish and Zev and I had a grand time making up an entire past for ourselves. He knew I was hardening up even then I think, and kept me from it with all he could. We had just stopped over in the frostback mountains with the merchants we were guarding when I was summoned back to Denerim by Arl Eamon.

When we returned there I was told to report to Vigil's keep, and that I had been promoted to Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. I know, crazy right? Zev came with me to Soldier's Peak and on our way we dropped Maku off in Orlais with Leli because we had no idea whether or not we'd be able to bring him with us on our rushed ship passage. When we reached the peak Zev met one of our first new Wardens, given the rite by the Orlesian who'd been holding the commander post until I arrived. She's a dwarf, kind of reminds me of you actually red hair and all. I think Zev was intrigued because he stayed with her after that and I returned to the keep with my soldier-escort Mhairi.

She told of the events the night she arrived in Vigil's keep, and everything that had transpired since. By the time she was finished, the note was pages long and she sighed. Poor Shianni for having to read it. Finally, she added a few final thoughts.

Tell my father I'm well. I know this is not the life he wished for me...but...I think I can be happy like this. All he ever wanted was for me to be happy. I know he is not the letter reading type or I would write him directly.

Please tell Soris I forgive him for the rude welcome last time I was in the Alienage. I miss him and I'll see him soon. I hope his bride does not look like so much of a mouse anymore, perhaps he should be feeding her to fatten up those skinny hips eh?

Love to you all from the middle of nowhere!

Namea

With the letter finished she folded it up and settled it into her pack with every intention of mailing it at the town they were due to pass tomorrow. She set the journal into her pack with utmost care, smiling fondly at the book and looking once more at the sky. A single red star shot across, overpowering all of the white specks that were normal stars and she closed her eyes. "I hope you're all well my friends..." She murmured, crossing her fingers for the people who could not be there with her.

ooo

The dream was always the same, every single night that she had it. A tiny black-haired elven woman stood before a sea of fire and threw herself into it with her mouth opened to cry out. There was never any sound in the nightmare, but every time the ending was the same. A human man in brown and gold robes stared down at the body of the woman, burned and bloodied. He seemed lost, broken, angry and reckless. Held back by a pair of dwarves he looked as though he wanted to tear the world apart and suddenly he stole the dagger from her dead hand and slid it across his chest. His form blurred and shifted as the blood magic held him and demons appeared. The dwarf woman, in a display of quick thinking, knocked him over the head with the pommel of a sword and he crumpled to the ground, presumably unconscious. The demons however, did not disappear and the male dwarf drew a great sword, his bright red moustache seeming to bristle itself.

The sea of fire rose up against them and towered as a huge mabari leapt past his companions and dove into it. This was when the only sound in the dream began, a cold low laughter that did not sound quite sane.

Fiona woke, panting, and looked around. Not that nightmare again. "I thought the nightmares of evil were supposed to happen during a blight..." She growled to herself, running a hand through short, sweat soaked silver locks. "No wonder I have white hair at my age..."

"You told me you had white hair from the moment you were born..." The thickly accented orlesian voice next to her purred as a hand slid over her shoulder and Leliana's cheek rested against hers from behind her. "Did you lie to me?" The bard joked.

Her lover chuckled. "No. Of course not." She answered. The tall woman had still not told her lover about the dreams, there was nothing to tell. The elven woman looked familiar, but her face was never shown, and though Fiona had a suspicion of who it was, there was no reason to worry the other woman over a dream. Even so...how many elven women had Mabari hounds and tended to end up in trouble? "Have you heard from Namea recently?" She asked casually.

Leliana wasn't fooled, and she sat up quickly in their bed, looking over at her with dark blue eyes that were luckily hidden in the darkness. Fiona could never say no to those eyes. "Last I heard of her was months ago, when she wrote to tell me that she was made Warden Commander but Alistair wrote me very recently to let me know he'd delivered Maku safely to her. From his short letter I gathered that she was alright but their meeting did not go as he hoped. What are you probing for Fi?"

The dark-skinned woman sighed and sat up herself, a full five inches taller than her red-haired companion until she rested her head on the shorter woman's shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar feel of her. "I've been...having a dream. There's no doubt that the woman in the dream somewhat resembles Namea...though I didn't know her long...but her hair is longer, her armour is different..."

"Tell me about this dream. Perhaps it was sent by the maker to warn you. It wouldn't be the first time that the maker has taken an interest in Namea enough to send a vision..." The former chantry sister ordered.

"Well..." Fiona sighed. "In the dream she is with two men and a woman. One of the men is a mage; I think...the other is a Dwarf with red hair and a big sword. The woman is also a dwarf. There's a mabari with them too, and the elven woman is jumping into a sea of fire. She dies...and then the mage looks like he's doing blood magic and demons appear..."

"The mage summoned demons?" This troubled her. Namea did not particularly mind blood magic, so long as it was the mage's own blood they were using and not someone else's, but summoning demons was another thing. Leliana knew how the elf felt about demons.

"No, but the girl dwarf thinks he is, I think...and she knocks him out. The demons stay though, and for the most part demons that are summoned disappear after the mage who summoned them is dead, if they're properly controlled." Her silver hair fell over one violet eye and she blew it out of her face impatiently. "Then the mabari jumps into the sea of flames and I wake up..."

"It is not just a warden dream?"

"No. I haven't had any of those since right after I took my joining, and those always include darkspawn."

"Hmm...perhaps I shall write to the others I can get a hold of, and see if anyone else has had strange dreams..." Leliana insisted.

"Perhaps..." Fiona sighed. It was happening again. Once, long ago, she had dreamed that her friend Jowan sliced his hand open and attacked her. Back then she'd laughed at herself, and then a few weeks later after she went through the harrowing, it happened. That was back at the Ferelden tower of Magi, long before she'd ever moved to Orlais and become a Grey Warden. "I think we should go to Ferelden Leli...I...feel like I need to speak with enchanter Irving."

Rather than arguing, her sweet minstrel just nodded and laid a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Of course...but for now...while we're awake..." Her hands wandered and Fiona couldn't help but smile. Leliana's journey after the blight had taken her here to Orlais; to the woman she now lived with and loved. Every cloud had a silver lining.

ooo

Wynne's eyes were closed, and her hand lightly pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "You did...what to Enchanter Irving's door young man?" She questioned, looking down sternly at the apprentice before her. In truth, she was trying not to smile. It seemed like the kind of prank she herself would have pulled as a youngling, so very long ago.

"I...turned it into cheese Senior." The frightened boy answered with proper humility, fidgeting beneath the cool blue gaze of one of the tower's most famous senior mages. She had after all helped to end the blight, everyone knew that.

Light reflected on the blue and silver robes she always wore and she smiled and leaned close to him. "Well then...let us go fix that and I'll teach you how to do it without getting caught next time." She chuckled.

Childish eyes looked up at her. "Not...get caught?" He asked. "You mean I'm not in trouble?" Hope resounded in that voice.

"Oh you are...a LOT of trouble as far as anyone else knows...but between you and I, the look on Irving's face when he saw his newly swiss door would be a sight worth seeing. I may do it myself sometime, just for that...so let's just let everyone think that I'm a horrible mean old hag who punished you severely, yes?"

With that little issue taken care of, the old woman made her way with the spry step of someone half her age to her own quarters. It was odd that she'd spent so long back in the tower. Wynne was not one to remain there when adventure could be had elsewhere but Irving had insisted with mysterious and frustrating hints that he had seen something coming.

The ability to see small glimpses of the future was not a common one, even amoung mages, and Irving did not have the ability in any potent amount but he did have some. Enough in fact to have small visions here and there and when he had one, Wynne tended to heed it. Normally when the senior enchanter had such visions he told her, as his oldest and closest friend, but this time he did not. That gave her the suspicion that it had to do with something she would not like. Considering that only things mattering to her on a personal level would make him do this, she had only to believe that it was about one of the people she'd come to think of as her own children. Those comrades she'd travelled with for so long, fighting the blight. In her mind, she went over the letter she'd sent out recently, few of which were returned.

According to Leliana's letter all was well and she was currently in Orlais. Alistair had been excited to hear from her and invited her to dinner in the castle sometime, which she accepted. During the dinner he seemed fine, but he was the king. Bad things happened to kings quite often as his brother's fate showed. Zevran's short missive had said only that he was "keeping busy" and in "Good company." It was only when Alistair informed her that he was with a Gray Warden that she relaxed. That young man could get into trouble better than anyone she knew...well almost anyone. There was no way to contact Morrigan, not that Wynne would be particularly bothered by it. In almost every way that young lady's ideals were opposite from her own and the dark ritual that had spared Alistair's life was one thing that worried the old mage greatly. Sten was safe amoung his brothers and apparently his actions during the blight had brought him enough honour amoung the Qunari to choose a bride. That left only two people who had not written her back. Namea and Oghren. From what Alistair had said, they were together currently and though he assured Wynne they were okay, she wanted to hear from them to be certain. Last she'd seen the elven woman and the drunken dwarf they'd been in Amaranthine in strange company, even for them. An apostate mage that Wynne knew very well to be incredibly clever, talented, and mischievous. Those three traits seldom mixed well, but if anyone could keep Anders under control it was Namea. There had also been a young dwarf woman who seemed sweet, though her eyes held the haunted look that only wardens got that young. That last person she'd seen with them was Nathaniel Howe, the son of one of Ferelden's great traitors. Surely he would want to kill the woman who'd destroyed his family and killed his father. However he showed no signs of ill-will towards Namea when they'd been there speaking with Wynne, but it was possible either way that he had plans well hidden.

Now that the collegiate meetings were over, her mind was free to wander, and worry as it would. Unable to leave the tower, she simply waited, watching what was left of the templars pack their things and leave in trickles now that they were no longer needed to "Babysit" the mages. A few, like Greagior, had stayed on, changing their duties from protecting the world from mages to protecting mages from the world. Templars like that were rare however, most having been schooled to fear and dislike mages. Those had left first and now only the barest amount was left in the templar quarters. Perhaps it was a good thing, since those quarters were now needed to house students. After the blight, as the mages were declared free, more students poured in than ever as people flocked to learn how to control their natural gifts or have their children learn. No longer was it a source of fear and shame to be born with magic, Alistair had assured that it was beginning to be a source of pride and excitement. A gift, rather than a curse. Her journey had led her right back where it began, and though she was old and the power of the spirit that sustained her was growing weaker every day, Wynne knew it was far from over for her.

ooo

A believer, that was what they called fools who followed the chantry. The faithful, the pious, the saved. Morrigan scoffed at such terms. Better to call them what they were, sheep, fools, future victims. Not her victims of course, the witch of the wilds was beyond such petty concerns as others. It was never her intention to hurt people, unless it could give her something she wanted. Now, as she sat in the shadows of a large willow, her golden eyes travelled down to the perfect child sleeping in her arms. The girl was whole and complete, ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, and one soul of an old god. Morrigan sensed it even now just as she had from the moment of the baby's conception. The limits of her newborn body did not allow her daughter the ability to speak, but would that she could there was no doubt that she would have something wise to say. Such an old spirit peered from those golden-brown eyes, a perfect mix of her mother and the man who'd fathered her. There was no need to consider Alistair the babe's father, he was merely a tool, a means to create this perfect creature.

The thought of Alistair brought back memories from shorter ago than Morrigan cared to think. He was king now, placed on the throne by a woman he did not deserve. Of all the people in the world, there weren't many that this witch truly respected, and even fewer that she cared for on any level. Namea Tabris was on both lists, so much so that the baby had been named in her honour. Mea'na, or Mea for short suddenly woke, opening her eyes with none of the usual infant wonder, but instead a deep understanding of everything around her. Whether she had an old soul or not, the child was still beautiful and sweet; Morrigan loved her.

"Ah, we are awake I see little one." The mother purred, hugging the babe to her and resting her cheek against the soft fuzz of golden brown hair atop her head, another trait given by the current king's blood in her veins. "This is good. They are moving, we should be as well."

Her magic cloaked her from any who would see or sense her, but more importantly it allowed her to track the group before her without going close enough to be discovered. They were perhaps half a mile away from her at all times, unable to sense her when she could sense them perfectly. Standing she took the gnarled wooden staff leaning against the tree and once more slid it into the loop created for it on the back of her seemingly impractical robe. Carefully she slipped little Mea into a sort of sling she'd created, sliding it over her own head so that the babe rested comfortable and safe near her chest, able to hear and feel her heartbeat. There was no risk of the child crying to give them away. From the moment of her birth Mea had never once cried. The witch, now prepared, began the hunt, stalking as only one who had been raised in the Kokari wilds could. Not even a chasind man could match her in stealth and tracking; perhaps she even equalled a Dalish in her ability to be unseen amongst the trees and not leave a trail.

Her still-slender form wove through the skinniest of game trails and the long staff on her back did not get in her way as much as one would think. "Ah, they are going into a village today then. Shall we loop around and set up camp on the other side, or try to watch them amongst the people hmm?" She asked her child, though the infant could not speak to answer. "I suppose it has been a while..." Calming herself she removed the baby from the sling and set her in the grass, letting her clothing follow before standing naked and carefully concealing Mea in the hollow of the tree. Her magic shielded the child from notice and harm. Morrigan would not be gone long. With great concentration she focused on her power and let it gather around her. Her form blurred and she felt the tingling in every particle of her body that signalled change. In a few moments a sleek black cat, normal in every possible way, stood where the witch had and she opened her golden eyes to the world and trotted into the village.

It took some searching, but finally she found them. Namea stood with her back to Morrigan –the-cat, speaking with a courier. "Yes, the Alienage in Denerim. If you give it to the leader Valendrian it should reach the right place...thank you." She bowed and the courier, obviously in shock over the amount of gold she'd placed into his hand for the far delivery just nodded dumbly. It appeared that the elven woman was currently alone, as none of her companions were visible. Normally they did not stop for more than a few moments when they passed a village, only long enough to stock up on supplies really. It appeared this time however, that their leader was allowing them a brief respite. Looking more relaxed than Morrigan had seen her since she'd begun following them, Namea browsed the wares at various stalls in the weekend market. The weapons stall held her attention longest, as was typical but it was doubtful that anything in this little town could match the quality of the custom forged swords on her back. Those swords had slain an archdemon after all. It was still strange to see Namea with the one braid that went nearly halfway down her back. If not for Oghren the witch would not have recognized the elven woman the day she first saw them. With a fondness she seldom felt, Morrigan looked back on that day, a scant couple of weeks ago.

It was hot out as Morrigan stalked the wilds, grumbling to herself and Mea both. The dreams she'd been having demanded that she find her old friend but it was difficult finding a woman who never stayed in one place. Vigil's keep, the last known location of the current Warden Commander was laying in less rubble than one would expect after holding out a week against hoardes of darkspawn. From conversations she heard there and in amaranthine it was plain that the Warden had already left a few days ago, headed to an unknown location to meet with an unknown enemy. It was all very frustrating. Finally the old seneschal had said something sensible and unknowingly given the directly they'd headed away to the crow listening to him, a crow that in truth was the shape-shifted form of Morrigan. With that to go on, it wasn't difficult to catch up to them, though Namea was good at hiding a trail. She was good, but the woman was no Dalish or chasind. An elf bred in the city could not hope to fool an experienced tracker, or magic, though anyone else would never catch them. When the witch –disguised as a crow once more- had flown into the camp and landed atop one of the tents, it was only the unmistakeable form of Oghren that had made her realize this was the party she sought. With him were a strange mage and a dwarven girl. She had stayed to watch, and her efforts had been rewarded as a familiar mangy animal bounded back into camp, followed by Namea. From far away, with her new armour and longer hair it was hard to recognize the elf but Morrigan reasoned that there weren't many elven women who travelled in such strange company.

Since then she'd grown used to seeing her friend with this new look, and rather liked it actually. The practical style suited her much more than her former traditional elvish one. Namea strolled through the square, finally settling herself on a fence outside the local tavern, presumably to wait for her companions. She looked alright, to Morrigan, but she always did. 'Blast it...I wish I knew just what these dreams were warning me of...it would be much easier to watch her if I knew when this would happen or what I should be watching for...' the witch thought to herself. If prophetic dreams were that easy to decipher however then the world would be a much different place. All she knew was that danger was coming, and she needed to be there lest it kill the one person in the world that Morrigan called Friend.

ooo

A cool breeze blew across her face as the Warden Commander perched on a fence outside of the village tavern. They were ahead of schedule after all, and Oghren swore he needed to restock his ale. She snorted at the thought. Sigrun had agreed for once, noting that they were running a bit low on some supplies, and how tired they all were. Finally Namea had relented and everyone ran off in their own directions upon reaching the village. She only hoped that they all stuck to the meeting time they'd agreed upon. As she sat there, the tiny woman's mind wandered, memories floating to the surface, both wanted and unwanted. Ironically, rather than any memories of Alistair, as she expected, it was memories of Zevran that popped into her mind now, and she smiled fondly.

The warmth of the fire seeped into her bones as the elven woman sat near it, alone for the moment. It wasn't often that the others weren't about, but it was the case now. Leliana had retired early for the evening and Namea was glad of it. The poor Orlesian bard had not been sleeping well since the onset of spring brought her allergies to the forefront. Sten and Oghren were in the furthest reaches of the clearing they'd chosen for camp, so far in fact that even with her elven senses Namea could neither see nor hear them as the dwarf taught the Qunari the art of being a berserker. She'd watched a few times, wondering if she could pick some things up, but the drunken man had spoken true when he said it was not a specialization she could learn. All of it went straight over her head. Sten however, seemed to have an aptitude for it, and even Alistair seemed fascinated enough to watch some nights, as he was now.

Wynne was also just barely out of earshot, though her silhouette was visible barely as she stood in deep conversation with the Circle emissary on topics that would bore any non-mage to tears. Those two seemed to enjoy each other's company, despite the age difference. For one brief moment Namea toyed with the idea of them having a forbidden romance, then laughed silently. Not likely. If anything Wynne's heart belonged first to Ferelden, second to Magic, and third to Enchanter Irving of the circle.

The witch of the wilds was beside her own fire, as usual separated from the group. Occasionally Namea spent the evenings there, but she knew that if she should interrupt now while Morrigan's face was buried in Flemeth's grimoire she'd likely end up turned into a toad or with singed hair at the very least. The dark woman was very intent on that old book and had been since the death of her mother.

For a moment she debated on going to speak with one of the other emissaries, then decided against it. The man from the dwarves was funny enough, in a gruff way, but he seemed to be asleep. The man sent by Eamon was a stick in the mud if she'd ever met one and the Dalish scout just looked at her with big sad green eyes that said he felt sorry for her. She was one of the lost to him, a city elf, one of those who'd forgotten what it was like to spin the tales of Arlathan. If there was one thing Namea couldn't stand, it was being pitied so blatantly.

That left her and the dog, who snored in his own spot beside her tent, at least until Zevran returned from checking the snares. She heard him coming long before his shadow settled over her, but when it did she turned and looked up to see him grinning triumphantly. "We eat fresh meat tonight!" The assassin declared, holding up a plump rabbit and an even plumper pheasant. The bag on his back bulged, so she assumed the other snares had also yielded game. "I chose the finest of the delicacies for us. No need for them to eat well when they are not even here for dinner, yes?" He joked, settling to sit beside her with a boneless grace she envied. For all that she was a woman, so often he made her feel like he was just so...pretty.

"Mmm...Good. I'm starving." She admitted, stealing the pheasant from his hand and beginning the tedious task of plucking it even as he took out his crow dagger and began skinning the rabbit. "Share?"

"Of course. Who would want just one of these fine animals when they could have some of each?" He laughed. They often did this in camp, splitting up each kill so that everyone got a taste of everything.

The pile of feathers beside her continued to grow and they talked of things that perhaps only they would appreciate. For all that their backgrounds were different, Namea and Zevran had much in common. A similarly macabre sense of humour was one thing, along with their common elven heritage. Both of them knew what it was to be looked down upon for what they were. Humans thought they were servants and even the Dalish had treated them as inferior when they'd gone to them for help. "You seem a bit worried lately." The dark-skinned man noted. "Tell me, what is it that has such sobriety resting in those pretty eyes of yours hmm?"

She chuckled. "You see through me you know. It's easy to fool the humans...they're so used to wearing everything on their sleeves that they expect it from others." She sighed, continuing her task even as her mind wandered, and she finally spoke. "It's just well...it feels like it's all starting to end. We have the last treaty and tomorrow we'll be in Redcliffe again. After that Eamon is going to call the landsmeet...then..."

"Does Alistair know yet what he is going to do? Eamon won't be dissuaded from making him king easily. That man is very keen on bloodlines."

"He insists he doesn't want to be king...but Zev he'd be brilliant at it...I have no doubt he'd make an amazing ruler for Ferelden." Her eyes darkened and she pulled particularly hard on one feather.

For a moment her companion said nothing, then he nodded. "I see. For what it is worth, I agree with you. I am not Ferelden myself, but your Alistair; he is a good man who would do what was best for his people. That causes some...problems for you though does it not? In Antiva, no one would look twice at an Elf and a Human together, but here it is not so."

"Aye. Men who sleep with elves are considered dirty and elves who sleep with humans are considered traitors to their own kind...relationships between the two are hard even for normal people...but the king...it would never work." She had finished with the body and now moved to one wing.

Zev nodded. "And you do realize that for all you've done, Eamon will likely leave it up to you to speak for Alistair at the landsmeet, in fact your voice may be the one who chooses Ferelden's next ruler...and if you put Alistair on the throne, it is most certainly a death sentence for your romance."

"Exactly. I almost wish that the landsmeet would not happen...but we need a united Ferelden in order for the troops we need to fight the darkspawn hoarde. When it comes to the last battle even the army I've gathered wouldn't suffice without it being a slaughter. The army needs to hold the darkspawn off long enough for us to reach the archdemon and kill it, but I would prefer if it did so without taking heavy losses." Her mind whirled. "What should I do Zev? I am not a patriot, I never have been...and yet meeting so many people and going so many places has given me an appreciation for Ferelden I never had. It's no longer just the place on the map where my Alienage is located...it's full of people." Faces flashed through her mind and she clenched her fist.

Zevran's callused hand lightly captured that tightened fist and she looked up into his smiling brown eyes. "Duty and Love are not things most people would consider asking me about. I cannot make the decision for you my friend, it must be yours alone."

She sighed. "My duty to Ferelden demands that I put Alistair on the throne. Eamon is old and his claim is shaky at best, no better than Loghain's certainly. Teagan would never want the throne and his claim is even less than his brother's. The thirty years that Alistair has to rule before the taint takes him is still more than either of them would have. There is no way I could keep Loghain on the throne, not after what he's done..."

"And there are currently no other candidates. Maric had no other children? If he slept with one servant, perhaps there were others, no? Was he known to be a promiscuous man?"

She thought. "I'd guess he was almost as bad as you are when it comes to wenching...but seeing as I've never met him I don't know. I have no doubt there may be others out there but we have no time to find them. If they know their blood or wanted to be found, they'd have stepped forward before now with their own claims to the throne. Besides, even if we did find one, what proof could we give that they are Maric's child? Alistair has many things in his favour there..."

"He looks just like the dead king, no? He also has Eamon's word to hold for him, which holds much weight amoung those noble types."

"Yeah..." Her face took on a strained look and the Elf took the bird from her hands and set it aside with his rabbit, pulling her in to him for a close hug. It looked like she needed one. With her head on the deceptively strong assassin's chest she sighed even as the clank of metal signified Alistair's return.

"Should I be worried about this scenario?" The human asked with a suspicious look at Zevran. Since the moment that the elf had joined them he had been wary, always expecting a renewed assassination attempt...or more accurately Zevran thought he was suspecting that his love would be stolen from under him by the suave Antivan.

As much as that idea amused him, and Namea was more than worthy of such attention, the male elf had no desire to put her through something like that. For the hundredth time he wondered what it would have been like had they met before she and Alistair were already obviously smitten. It was true, they hadn't been together yet, he could have swooped in easily enough, but something in her eyes stopped him and he was glad for it. This was not a woman who deserved the kind of purely physical love that he could give and while she was amazing in her way, Namea was no Rinna. Zev was perfectly comfortable with the close friendship they'd developed instead. "You have no need to worry Alistair. The lady here was just swooning into my arms after telling me of your amazing nighttime prowess. It would seem that any attempt I could make at stealing her away would fail compared to your manly charms."

Namea giggled aloud. "Silly templar, if I were with Zev I'd feel terrible about myself...he's just so...pretty!"

"And I'm not?" Alistair mock pouted, taking her hand and pulling her up to hug her close, unmindful of the massive armour her wore. He often wondered if that metal bruised her when they hugged, but she assured him it did not, though her own armour was only leather.

"Oh no you're not." She agreed. "You are ruggedly handsome and utterly childish, and I love you for it..."

Namea stopped the memory there, lest it travel into less pleasant territory. Though their conversation had been about Alistair, that memory did not give her pain. In fact it just made her miss Zev and his insight to the world. The two of them thought a like, but sometimes his foreign mind was able to see things in a way she could not, and for as long as she'd known him it has proved invaluable to her. Strangely however, the memory of his strong arms around her the few times she'd embraced him made her shiver. It was no secret that Zev was attractive, and no secret that he had found her as such when they'd first met. It had barely been weeks before he bluntly told her that she was his ideal woman, but he wouldn't pursue it because of Alistair.

After that conversation however, Namea had still noticed his eyes on her occasionally when he thought she could not tell. Eventually the looks had subsided however and she assumed his infatuation has melted into the friendship they shared.

Thinking of Zevran for some odd reason once more looped her mind into an image of Anders as he had looked that night at the keep with no shirt. In her mind the glow of the flames flickered across his toned flesh and she blushed just thinking about it- and all the things she could do with that flesh. "Gah...this is getting me nowhere!" She growled, holding her head in her hands.

"What exactly is getting you nowhere?" His swarthy voice asked her from where the mage stood with Sigrun before her.

The little dwarf giggled and Namea twitched. How had she not heard them approaching! "I...uh...I'm hungry." She muttered.

With little to no more ado they once more hit the road and Namea sighed, looking behind her without seeming to from where she walked with Maku at her side. Tomorrow they would be there, in the lair of the mother and she was a bit apprehensive. Everything she'd heard claimed that this broodmother was like no other. Not to mention there was no doubt that the group would be facing seemingly wave after wave of those disgusting "Children". Whatever manner of Darkspawn those were, they grossed the commander out.

As though sensing her nerves, Maku looked up at her and wagged his stubby tail. The mabari was easily large enough for her to ride, if she ever wanted to and sweet enough that he'd let her. Whatever she'd done to deserve such a loyal companion in him, she was grateful. "Let's...camp here." She finally said, turning to them. Sigrun and Anders both looked at her in confusion and she leaned down and pet Maku. "It's close...we'll be there before noon tomorrow and I for one am intending to rest before we face that bitch."

It wasn't often that the commander said something with such obvious vehemence, or used profanity. These things were all that Sigrun needed to realize that something was bothering the elven woman. When her tent was set up she made her way over to where Namea sat, gazing at the sunset as though it were her last. "It's odd...seeing the sky so often. I never realized such colours existed in nature." She revealed quietly, looking at the other woman's pale face.

"It looks like the sun is bleeding..." Came the whispered reply. It was true too. The sun seemed to lie in a pool of its own blood, red spreading out into the purple grey of the rest of the sky. The crimson continued to spread as the orange light of the sun faded, as though it were dying slowly.

The tone in her voice made Sigrun blink as she noticed the truth in the comparison. It was not a pleasant realization. "Are you...alright commander?"

Teal eyes turned on the Dwarf and finally it seemed she shook herself of whatever odd mood she was in, and simply nodded, looking much more normal as the flickering crimson of the bleeding son reflected on her face. "Yes. It is simply the anticipation of what I am sure will be a very hard day tomorrow." The elf admitted. "Please, rest up and enjoy yourself tonight Sigrun. I am going to explore the area a bit" With that, she stood and strode into the darkness of the forest around them with her Mabari at her side. Anders joined the dwarf as she watched the commander leave and scratched his head.

"Where's she going off to?" he asked the legionnaire scout.

"I don't know. She said exploring...but she was acting a bit odd...maybe it was just nerves though. Either way, the dog is with her so she'll be fine."

"I guess...if she's not back in an hour I'm following." He decided, lighting the fire before the sun disappeared completely into night.