Thanks again to my awesome Beta: xseikax

I worked hard yesterday and was able to crank out another chapter

Enjoy

9:31 Dragon, Drakonis 23rd

Morrigan! Theron lifted the guard to his feet, before pinning him to the wall. "Now, you tell me how to get out of here while avoiding the guards at the gate. Now!" Each word was clipped, and harsh.

The assassin was surprised by this change in attitude. Gone was the calm and collected elf he had seen before. In his place was a man burning with rage and furry. "We still have a deal right? I tell you what you want to know, and you let me go?"

Theron's only response was to smash the man's face into the stone wall, breaking his nose. "Jorder! Hijo de puta! Alright! Go to the rear wall; this wall connects to the rest of south, and eventually you should reach the palace ."

Throwing the injured assassin to the floor, Theron bolted from the room. It no longer mattered to him if he was seen by any of the guards, Morrigan could be in danger. He needed to get back to the palace now!

Making his way to the rear of the estate, searching desperately for a way to gain access to the walls. He eventually came to a small guard tower nestled in the corner. He quickly whipped open the door, surprising several guards who were currently involved in a very intense game of Diamondback, and sprinted up the stairs. He could hear the protest of several of the guards but for the time being he ignored them. He would worry about all the laws he may or may not have broken once Morrigan was safe.

Reaching the top of the wall he barreled in the direction he thought was south. Light of day was waning, he would have to hurry; most likely the assassins would choose to strike at night. Several on duty guards tried to stop him, one or two even shot arrows at him. Most missed but one struck him in the right shoulder. The force almost threw him against the wall. He tried to ignore the pain and carry on, but it was impossible to fully suppress the feeling.

After half an hour of running, he was exhausted, he couldn't go on much longer. The pain was too much to bear, and when he reached the next guard post he had to stop.

"Who are you and what are you doing on the wall, elf?" The way the man said elf, with such bitterness and resentment, would have caused Theron to punch him. But he wasn't in the mood to deal with this shemlen merda.

"Guardsman, who is you're superior?" The guard was rather surprised that an elf was ordering him around.

"I'm in charge here, what's it to you, elf?"

"I don't have time for your attitude, send a rider to the palace now. Antivan Crows may have infiltrated the palace staff; tell them the information comes from Arl Theron Mahariel."

The guards mouth dropped open as he realized who this was. The Hero of Fereldan, and he had an arrow in his shoulder. "My Lord, you're injured..." The guard was cut off by a quick slap to the face.

Theron winced as just moving his left hand had jarred the injury to his shoulder. "Focus guardsman, send out the rider, the king could be in moral danger!" Theron was growing frantic now; this shemlen was a complete idiot.

"Yess-s-s Ser, right away." The man was stuttering now out of sheer nervousness. As the guardsmen called for a rider, Theron called over another guard.

"Guardsman, do you know how to remove an arrow?" The guard nodded his head frantically, and began on his task. Once the fletching was removed, the guards man removed the spaulder from the armor, allowing the arrow to pass through his body without meeting any other obstacle. He poured some whiskey over the entry wound to try and sanitize it. Drawing his sword the guardsman spoke up "My Lord this is going to hurt...quite a lot actually." Theron placed the leather spaulder into his mouth and bit down. The guard counted off then swung the sword pommel into the base of the arrow.

The pain was overwhelming; Theron screamed into the leather spaulder. He had arrows removed before, but it was never pleasant. The arrow first had to exit the body, sometimes with the aid of another person beating it through, then it was cut up and removed. Finally, someone had to cauterize the wound. In short, the entire process would be excruciatingly painful.

Theron braced himself for the long process. The arrow finally broke through his skin after only three most strikes with the sword. The process of cutting the arrow with a dagger, however, took a very long time. None of the guardsmen bothered to carry any sort of medical saw, for obvious reasons, and the cuts needed to be clean to avoid any slivers of wood from getting caught inside the body. After an agonizing twenty minutes the arrow head came off, allowing the guard to pull the remaining arrow out of his body. Another guard came over to him with a red hot dagger and pressed the flat end against each wound, cauterizing it.

When the process was over, Theron removed the spaulder from his mouth, ignoring the teeth marks now embedded in the leather, breathing heavily. The pain was still there, a burning throb, but at least the arrow was gone, and with a little help from Morrigan or Wynne, his shoulder should be fine by the end of the week.

With some help from the guardsmen, Theron was able to stand and make his way to the streets below, where a wagon was waiting for him. He climbed into the back and the driver started off. Several times during the hour long trip, Theron slipped into the realm of unconsciousness, abruptly waking to scan his surroundings for a nonexistent attack. These Crows were already making him jumpy.

"Here we are Ser..." The driver didn't get to finish, Theron was already in a full sprint towards the palace; the guards let him pass without issue, his status as Hero did help at times. He rushed through the thrown room, passing by a confused Alistair.

"Theron, there you are what was that message abou...?" He ignored Alistair's questions, instead running strait for the room he shared with Morrigan. With every step he took, his terror increased, more and more images of what the assassins could do to his mate ran through his thoughts. By the time he reached the heavy oaken door he was in a near panicked state.

Relief flooded through his as he opened the door to find the witch sitting by the fire reading from Flemeth's old grimoire. The witch stood, closing her book, and crocked an eyebrow at his disheveled appearance.

The elf was deathly pale, a result from his blood loss, his armor and hair were coated in dried blood, and his right arm hung lazily at his side. "Oh thank the Creators you are safe." He wrapped his arms around the witch. A small crowd, composed of Alistair and a few royal guards gathered around the door.

"Yes, yes, I am alright, you can let me go now." Morrigan was rather bothered by the crowd outside the door watching them. It was then when she saw his shoulder. "Now, tell me what you did to your shoulder. 'Twould seem like an arrow wound. What trouble have you caused now?"

Seeing that his mate was safe, the adrenalin that had been running through his entire body shut down, and began to wear off. He didn't get the chance to respond, as he promptly collapsed onto Morrigan, unconscious. The witch was able to hold him up, rather awkwardly and began barking orders. "Oaf, get in here. The rest of you leave." With Alistair's help, Morrigan was able to get the elf into the bed.

Zevran walked into the room a few moments later, the smell of Antivan wines fresh on his breath. "I had heard our Warden friend has had a busy day today; did you wear him out this badly my dear? Maybe he could use some help next time." He received only a glare from Morrigan and a grimace from Alistair. His care free attitude was dropped, replaced with one born of years of being an assassin. "I have been interrogating each of the guards like you wished of me, but not all of them are here, and the Crows most likely wouldn't take a position as a guard unless the needed. Everyone suspected the guards, and sometimes the chef's first. No one thinks of the gardener, the maids, and other assorted servants."

Alistair nodded, and began discussing the possibilities of the identities of the guards. Morrigan sat on the bed and waited a few minutes, hoping the fools would leave the room so she could care for her lover properly. Unfortunately they persisted, even sitting down and getting comfortable by the looks of it. "Will you idiots please have your conversation elsewhere?"

Alistair grumbled a bit, but rose and left the room, with Zevran in tow. The oaken door shut soundly, and Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief. She stood once again, and began undressing her unconscious lover. The sight of the elf in his small clothes was usually a welcomed sight for the witch. Every contour of his body was exposed, ever muscle, every scar. This was all marred by the sight if his latest wound, still wrapped in bandages. She slowly undid the makeshift bandages, and examined the wound. Fools; he should have come to me. She retrieved her staff from it's place in the corner and began to work simple healing magics.

The wound began to stitch itself together, decreasing the size of the raw wound by half. That was all her magic could accomplish at this time. She knew very little about healing magic, and the effort needed to cast the spells taxed her greatly. She looked down at her rounded stomach, reminded of another reason why she couldn't strain herself too much. She knew Theron would be devastated if their first child was harmed because she strained herself for him.

"Such an impossible man. Only one day in Denerim and he's already wounded." She sighed as she wrapped clean bandages around the wound. He was beginning to regain some of his color; a brief smile graced her lips at the sight.

Morrigan gazed out the window, rather surprised how late it was. Maybe those spells took longer than she thought. Removing her clothes she climbed into the bed with Theron. The baby was weighing on her heavily tonight;the fatigue from the spells announced itself the minute her head hit the pillow, and within seconds she was drawn into a deep slumber.

.IV.

Theron jumped up off the drenched floor, the freezing water jolted both his body and mind. He scanned the room for a threat but only found Morrigan, holding a bucket. After a time his addled brain was able to put two and two together. "Was that necessary?"

"You are beginning to smell of gore; you need to wash yourself before returning to bed."

Theron was unable to focus on her words. Morrigan stood in the door frame in nothing but her small cloths, a sight the elf would never grow tired of.

Morrigan turned around for a moment, much to Theron's disappointment. Though I do get a great view of her a... Morrigan whirled around, and splashed another bucket of water into his face.

He sputtered, spitting out water as Morrigan spoke up, "Ah there, now that I have your attention I shall repeat myself. Wash up; you reek." After she slammed the door to their room did he realize where he was. In the middle of the palace's hall, in his small clothes. Why did I look for her again? He grumbled to himself. He began sneaking through the halls, hoping to make it to the washroom without being noticed.

Slinking through the halls in the middle of Drakonis was rather uncomfortable. It was freezing in the castle, especially in the state Morrigan left him in. Between his wound and his soaked state, he was sure by the end of the week he would have some sort of aliment.

He nearly had a heart attack as one door slowly creaked open and Zevran's head poked out. Ducking around the corner Theron listened intently for the sound of the door closing. "Alright the coast is clear you two should get going." He recognized Zevran's distinct accent. Footsteps could be heard coming towards him. He pressed into one of the small alcoves in the stone walls hoping that whoever was coming couldn't see him.

A small elven maid, her blush almost as red as her hair, and man dressed in a royal guard uniform walked quickly down the hall. Hearing the door to what was obviously Zevran's room close, he dashed around the corner, only to crash headfirst into Zevran himself.

Theron shook his head, and looked up. Not surprisingly, Zevran was also in his small cloths, but what surprised him was that there were what appeared to be rope burns on the assassin's wrists. "What were you... never mind..." He shook his head again, not wanting any mental images to start forming.

"Are you sure, it is quiet a exciting tale." Zevran smiled broadly, obviously unashamed to talk about his exploits.

"Yes, very sure, but why are you leaving your room in just that?" Theron gestured to the elf's attire.

"Now who said that was my room?" Glancing at Theron's similar attire Zevran smirked. "And I could be asking you the same question now couldn't I."

"Morrigan said I reeked, and told me to wash up." He offered a hand to Zevran to help the elf up, which he graciously excepted.

"A good soak would feel rather nice right about now, always should take one after a good tumble."

Something occurred to the elf after a moment. "Zevran, I'm going to regret asking, but whose room is that." He pointed to the door as they passed it.

"Oh that's Alistair's room, Taylor always wanted to lay with a king, and this is the closest we could get."

"That Elven girl?"

"Nope." Zevran's grin grew as Theron shuddered.

"Why do I ask you these things?"

AN: Well this is by far the fastest I have ever gotten a chapter out. I felt I owed it to people to actually get another update out quickly, after well about a month without an update.

For anyone wondering what is going on with the whole Crows in the palace plot, please wait for next chapter, all your questions will be answered then, hopefully.

Now for the traslations

Elvish

shemlen:quick child (human)

merda: shit (Gaelic not elvish but it works)

Antivan- (Spanish)

Jorder- Fuck

Hijo de Puta – roughly, son of a bitch

That's all for now please review, I love hearing from people

Prince of Madness 54