Author's Note: Super special thanks go, once again, to Gene Dark for being a fabulous beta for me! And, as always, thank you to my helpful reviewers: Josie Lange, mousestalker, Vocarin, lilachsh, Judy, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Shakespira, Harmakhis, jackkel dragon, Alliel 23, and Wehaswallhacks

"Another one, Warden?" Loghain asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and bemused.

Kallian playfully pursed her lips. "Yes, Loghain, I want to ask another one. You promised to give in to my endless string of inane questions so long as I stayed away from personal topics."

"And that you were bound to answering them as well," he reminded, pointing a finger at the elf. "That keeps the questions reasonable and harmless." Loghain gave her a stern look, although his eyes revealed a hint of amusement. It was only a guess on her part, but Kallian suspected he was garnering some level of enjoyment out of these question-and-answer watch sessions, too. If he wasn't, she reasoned, then he'd certainly been going out of his way to accomodate her curiosities these past few weeks.

"So," she proceeded, "what's your favorite food?"

"Now, that's an easy one," he said. "Blueberry muffins."

"Really?" Kallian laughed softly. "Not sure I would've pegged you has a muffin man."

"Ah, Warden," he mused, "that's because you never had one of my mother's blueberry muffins."

"That good, eh?"

"You have no idea," he answered, giving her quite the serious look considering it was a conversation concerning confectionary desserts. "As I have mentioned before, much of my younger life was spent on my family's farm. Just on the outskirts of our fields was a patch of blueberry bushes. Every summer, I'd go down there and pick baskets full for her and she'd never disappoint." He sighed happily, reminiscing. "I still enjoy them on occasion, but nobody can make them quite like she did."

"How was she at pies?"

Loghain shot her a puzzled expression. "Very good. She was quite the baker."

"Then I would've loved to have tried one of her blueberry pies," commented the Warden. "That's my weakness. Put a pie in front of me and I turn into putty in your hands."

"Hmph," he snorted. "Would've been helpful to know that before the Landsmeet."

The elf chuckled. "I can just see the Denerim papers now: 'Anora Confirmed Sole Ruler of Ferelden, All Opposition Overpowered By Virtue of Pumpkin Pie'." As stoic as Loghain usually could be, that comment set him off to quietly cackling. Just as he recovered, Kallian asked, "Do you, uh, remember a rather odd series of pie-related stories in the Denerim Weekly a few years back?"

Loghain narrowed his eyes and sifted through his memories for a moment. Then, he glanced over at the Warden and said, "I vaguely recall something about a 'Pie Pilferer'. Nobles' servants and commoner housewives alike were enraged by several pie thefts from off their very windowsills. It was a bizarre enough series of stories that I'm not sure anyone could forget reading about it." He shot her a suspicious look. "Are you saying...?"

Kallian ducked her head sheepishly. "I was the infamous Pie Pilferer of Denerim, yes," she admitted, face flushed. "My cousin, Soris, was the lookout while my other cousin, Shianni, helped me pull off the actual heists. That was about a year or so before I gave up my life of pathetically petty crime and became a law-abiding street entertainer."

The former teyrn sat back and gazed at the elf for a moment. Then, he shook his head lightly in amusement and said, "It really is a small world, isn't it?"

"Amazingly so sometimes," agreed Kallian. "But don't ever tell Sergeant Kylon about my little confession. It would ruin our wonderful love-hate relationship. Now, next question..."

"Maker help me."

"What's your favorite sound?"

"Sound?" Loghain repeated. "Now that's an unusual question." He cocked his head in thought. After several moments, he answered, "The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. It's a solitary, soothing one."

The elf nodded her appreciation of his answer. "I know I'll sound like a sap," she warned, "but I am most fond of laughter. I believe it's the most genuine and joyful expression anyone can make; there's no pretense or trickery to it, for the most part. I suppose that's why I like to act goofy and help set pranks in motion... sometimes, there's no greater accomplishment than getting even the most stubborn mule in the world to laugh."

Loghain arched an eyebrow at her.

"Yes," she said, smiling, "that includes you, rookie." After a pause, she added, "And to me, there's nothing more pure or rewarding than the laughter of children." Wistfully, she gazed into the campfire.

The warrior regarded her for a long moment. Then, treading carefully, he asked, "Did you have children you left behind, Warden?"

"Not my own, no," she answered, "although I was almost married once." At his quizzical expression, Kallian tensed. "That's a story for another time." She paused, then continued, "But I was a sort of guardian for a group of youngsters in my Alienage. I know, I know, some role model I was, stealing pies and all." She grinned, then laughed. "But you know that old saying, 'It takes a village to raise a child'? It's a bit like that in the Alienage. Most of our learning and discipline comes from our parents, but the community as a whole watches out for everyone's youngsters when they're out playing. Me," she said, pointing her thumb towards her chest, "I've always been a big kid, so I was usually the fun, more playful babysitter. Children seem more easily amused by juggling, sword swallowing, and sleight-of-hand tricks than adults are." The elf glanced away again, collecting her thoughts. Looking back at Loghain, she finished, "I made a killing off that in the Denerim market. Parents were free to shop without their children constantly tugging on their sleeves or complaining of boredom or running off out of sight and getting lost. I used to draw quite a crowd, actually. Good, honest money, it was. Much better than stealing pies." She winked.

Loghain stared at her thoughtfully. "You never felt belittled or demeaned by that, being reduced to just children's entertainment?"

The Warden didn't need to contemplate her answer for long. "Not at all," she said. "Well, maybe to some degree. But to me, what I did was far less demeaning than being some cringing, mewling servant in a nobleman's estate... or worse."

The conversation came to an abrupt stop when the two Grey Wardens heard rustling tent flaps. Loghain quickly turned from Kallian and busied himself with studying the campfire. Kallian looked past him and waved as Zevran and Leliana emerged from their respective abodes. The two rogues smiled and waved back, then leaned in towards each other and whispered. Leliana nodded her head and walked off in the direction of the small stream that flowed near their camp.

Zevran approached Kallian, leaned in, and said quietly, "We're going to go wash up a bit before watch. Be back in a few winks."

"Okay, take your time," the Warden answered, raising an eyebrow. She squinted in thought for a moment while watching her fellow elf's retreating form. Leliana and Zevran were the watch that would bring in the dawn, so going ahead and washing up now made sense. But it still struck her as a bit odd, nonetheless. What had all the whispering been about? Maybe they have a fling going, she thought, shrugging. Eh, good for them, if so. None of my business.

The campfire crackled pleasantly in the silence that followed. Nearby floated the chirp of crickets and, from a distance, the howling of wolves drifted in. While the relative silence carried on, Kallian was surprised to hear Loghain break it.

"Your hearing is naturally sharper than mine," he prefaced. "Are they out of earshot?"

Kallian tilted her head for a moment. "I can't hear either of them eavesdropping, if that's what you're wondering."

Loghain nodded, still gazing steadily into the small fire. After a moment of internal deliberation, he hesitantly asked, "In that case, what was your favorite childhood game?"

The Warden stared at him in wonder for a moment, shocked that her seemingly reluctant conversationalist was now contributing an inane question of his own to her little game. Then, her face lit up into a giant grin and she laughed softly, "See? I told you this would be fun!"

The warrior shot her a vaguely irritated glance.

Kallian tried to stifle her snickering. "Okay, okay, no teasing," she relented. It took her almost no time to think of her answer. "Playing pretend," she said. "I loved nothing more than pretending I was a hero. I was always the knight saving Shianni from the clutches of the evil Soris-Dragon or the brave, lone Night Elf who risked crossing enemy lines to rescue the captured Prince Soris-Maric." She grinned goofily at the recollection.

Loghain chuckled. "Was that good practice for trying to become a real hero now?"

The elf's neck and ears burned bright red and she ducked her head between her shoulders again. "Like I said," she reiterated, "I'm just a big kid at heart."

"Well, it certainly explains why you like to rush into battle so fool-hardily," he remarked. "But somehow I get the feeling darkspawn play for keeps."

"I know," answered Kallian defensively, "but that's why I have you here to watch my back." She winked at Loghain's scowl. "And you haven't answered the question yet yourself."

He glanced in the direction Zevran and Leliana had disappeared. "Are they coming back yet?" he asked cautiously.

The elf listened carefully for a moment. "I still don't hear anything," she answered, playfully giving his shoulder a shove, "so quit your stalling, you."

Loghain pursed his lips and glanced down at his boots. Finally, he answered, "Hide and seek."

The Warden cocked her head in amusement. "That's a rather roguish game for someone who became a warrior."

"Be that as it may, I liked it well enough." He kicked at the dirt for a moment. "There were plenty of good hiding places on the farm. The wheat fields and corn rows, especially."

"Who did you play with?" interrupted Kallian. "Brothers and sisters?"

He shook his head. "I was the only child. Mostly I played with my father, when he wasn't tending the fields. Sometimes I was able to play with the young boy from a neighboring farmstead." Loghain furrowed his brow, trying to remember something. "Rylus, that was his name. Rylus Steward." After a pause, he added, "It was only a few years before the Orlesians drove them off with their high taxes. We didn't last much longer than them."

Seeing Loghain's face start to darken, Kallian quickly tried to shift his thoughts. "So," she asked, "were you a better hider or a better seeker?"

"I was very good at both, actually." Loghain looked over at her and locked serious eyes. "It served me well later in my youth. There was a lot of both hiding and seeking to be done when we were forced to constantly travel after..." He stared back down at his boots again. "Well, after we were no longer able to stay on the old homestead."

Since his mind seemed to keep going back to the same train of thought as if trapped on a loop, Kallian wondered if she could prompt a bit more information out of him instead of trying to derail it by more innocent queries. "The Orlesians sure dealt you a rotten hand, didn't they?"

Loghain's eyes shot back up at her full of fire and the elf realized immediately that she'd made a misstep. "You have absolutely no idea, Warden," he seethed, "no idea as to the depths of their depravity."

Kallian couldn't stop herself from bristling. "Oh, I've seen the depths of human depravity, Loghain," she growled. "I walked in on Cousin Shianni being raped by a pompous, contemptible nobleman." She spat, "Ironic description, considering most noblemen are not noble in the loosest sense of the word."

The former teyrn met the Warden's burning eyes. She looked like a wounded animal which, funnily enough, was about how he felt at the moment, too. Rather suddenly, Loghain sensed an unexpected connection with the Warden, a kinship of the same shared misery. So, she also had been forced to witness a family member tortured in such a horrific manner? Fate and its twisted sense of humor, indeed, he thought bitterly as her troubled eyes trapped his own for several heartbeats.

The elf watched him closely and carefully. While Loghain's overall demeanor remained its resolute, stern self, his eyes momentarily betrayed him. Where they were usually icy and intimidating, they now appeared meeker. They were softened, almost pained, as if they belonged to a young, hurt boy rather than a gruff, seasoned warrior. "Maker's breath," she whispered as a realization dawned on her, "you've seen a loved one suffer the same fate, haven't you?"

Her ability to read him shook Loghain to his core. Had he really been that transparent? He stared at the ground between his feet, determined not to answer but unsure of what to say next, if anything. Kallian was naturally curious and wanted to know more about that particular strand of memory and to potentially share her own, even though such a thing would break their current rules about question-and-answer. She tentatively reached a hand out towards him, but he pulled away from the attempted touch. She sighed heavily, knowing well enough by now from his expression and body language that the topic was closed to further discussion. It was just as well, for shortly afterwards she heard familiar footsteps returning to camp. Zevran and Leliana greeted the two Grey Wardens, then took a seat by the campfire. Loghain stood up quickly. Kallian followed his lead.

"Goodnight, Warden," he said, voice thick.

She gave him a melancholy smile. "Goodnight, Loghain."

He nodded before disappearing into his patchwork quilt of a tent. The old mage had done the best she could, but his little night terror had not left her much to work with. Some bits had been shredded so badly that a few of his new-found companions were asked to donate scraps of their own clothing to help mend it. It looked rather haggard and downtrodden and liable to collapse at any given moment, but it was shelter and he was grateful for it, nonetheless. He was also grateful for not having to try and repair it himself. He could have, but it had been a while since he'd last had to mend something on the road. Why the Warden had insisted upon asking Wynne was beyond him. It was obvious as day that the healer despised him, what from the shoddy healing job at the Landsmeet to the death scowls and murder-knife glares ever since the start of their journey. But the Warden had insisted upon asking her, against Loghain's better instincts. Something about her thinking Wynne doing something nice for him might help smooth the air between them. That had failed miserably, but then again, this was the Warden's squad to handle, not his.

As Loghain changed out of his watch clothes and slipped inside the bedroll, his mind lingered on the Warden. Not intentionally, mind you, but it did seem that most things revolved around her and her doings these days. Some of the travellers they passed on the road recognized her almost as quickly as they recognized him - although, since his public shaming in Denerim, they seemed quicker to spare kind words to her. It appeared that the Warden had done a lot of good in Ferelden already, Blight notwithstanding, and some were already beginning to address her as "Ferelden's Elven Savior" and the "Hero of Ferelden". Not that Loghain was jealous of the accolades. Quite the contrary, actually. He had not exactly chosen to be one of Ferelden's heroes back when a muddy prince stumbled headlong into him when they'd both only just entered manhood. But fate had chosen that path for him and he filled that role of hero as well as he could, although it was a heavy burden on his shoulders and still, even now, followed him around like a stormcloud, tarnished though his name was in the aftermath of the Landsmeet.

He didn't mean to think on her for much longer, but the Warden was a bit of a conundrum for him. She appeared to have basically two sides to her, but they were so opposite that it was fairly strange they should reside in one person. On one hand, she could be instantly serious and formidable. That much was beat into him fairly quickly during their duel and had only been reinforced the more he fought by her side during their roadside skirmishes. It was obvious she'd spent much time fighting specifically alongside a sword-and-shield warrior. From their very first battle, she immediately - almost instinctively - fell into a perfect flanking cover position near his sword arm. While his shield kept his left side and front safe, the elf was right there at his elbow keeping his other side and back in the clear. Together, they were quite a formidable team. It had only improved as they grew used to each other's natural battle rhythms and movement patterns.

On the other hand, she was almost inexhaustibly friendly and charitable. It was obvious such traits served her well - they had allowed her to collect and, more importantly, keep cohesive an incredibly varied array of personalities, not the least of which now included his self-admittedly dour and difficult self. She also had quite the silver tongue on her, which probably played a factor in the allied armies she'd recruited. It had certainly helped her - who would have been hopelessly looked down upon as an Alienage elf - sway a room full of self-entitled, self-important human nobles against the very one who had been Maric the Savior's right-hand man. Odds were she could probably convince even a magpie to shut up and hear her side of a story and, undoubtedly, said magpie would hop away just as smitten with her as the rest of the country seemed to be. And, as he'd just learned earlier, she managed to retain such a glowing personality in spite of having witnessed terrible events and being saddled with a nearly impossible burden.

Not that being both deadly in battle and skilled in conversation was an altogether unheard of trait. Rowan had been that way. Yet, if Loghain were to describe Rowan with one word, it would be 'fierce.' She had been fierce in battle, but also fierce outside of it - commanding even in the most tame of social functions. When Rowan entered a room, everyone was instantly aware of it. It was part of what had once made her an excellent, natural queen before her untimely passing.

His late wife Celia had been the total opposite. Not that it was a bad departure from his first love, but she had simply been worlds different. Daughter of a humble cabinet maker, whenever Celia entered a room, it was quiet and almost unnoticeable. She floated in on the breeze like a stray flower petal. She had been sweet and soft-spoken, more concerned with caring for her garden of gentle-hued flowers than hearing anything of politics or the troubles of the world at large. Coming home to her had been like taking a nice, country-side vacation from the hustle-and-bustle of Denerim.

The Warden was an odd combination of the two women, a thought that was both unsettling and unwelcome to Loghain. She was both fierce, yet tame. Commanding, but also disarming. While there had not been any rooms to walk into since they'd left Denerim, the elf had an air about her that instantly added a certain glow and charm to the present company. If nothing else, she was an intriguing commander. It was not often that she was forced to actually issue orders; instead, the others seemed to either already know what was expected of them or were able to pick up on her subtle cues and accepted them as readily as any stern command. She had a manner of inspiring directly, sometimes with nothing greater than simply an over-long gaze, and that was a feat that even the most grizzled, cynical general could find reluctantly impressive.

But enough of the Warden; it was time for sleep. However, no sooner had he closed his eyes and drifted off than a most annoying and certainly early-rising sunbeam peeked in one of the hastily-sewn seams and danced across his eyelids.

Once Kallian was back in her own tent and stripped down to her sleeping clothes, she found it rather difficult to actually fall asleep. She laid on her back, hands tucked behind her head, and gazed absently up at her painted ceiling. A scene depicting the star-filled sky gazed down at her, softly lit by a lantern-contained glowball she'd acquired from the Dalish. The elf had not been lying when she'd told Loghain, back during Zevran's prank, that she didn't have many useful talents. She didn't, as far as she could tell. She couldn't use a bow to save her life. She was also incapable of mixing healing potions and even more dangerous trying to make poisons. Her mother had tried hard and, eventually, given up attempting to teach her to actually cook or sew worth a hoot. In fact, about the only talent Kallian felt she possessed - other than the dagger-fighting Adaia had taught her - was her entertainer and artistic skills. She could juggle, she could swallow blades, she could perform small magic tricks using sleight-of-hand. But better than all of that, she could draw and paint. Fat lot of good that did against darkspawn, but it at least served to soothe her mind after a day's worth of travelling and fighting.

And so, inspired by the painted skyball she'd found, she had finger-painted the inside of her tent to look like the night sky on a clear and cloudless evening. Serene. Peaceful. Calming. The outside of her tent was an entirely different matter; it was a hodge-podge of seemingly random colors and designs. Loghain had already torn her down mercilessly over it, but there it was, all the same, and it wasn't going to change.

Speaking of change... she thought, mind wandering. The elf gazed up at the artificial stars and wondered at how quickly her perspective of Loghain had begun to change. Just a few mere weeks ago, they had been fighting each other tooth and nail at the Landsmeet. And now look at us, she mused, something you could almost call friends or kindred spirits. In fact, in her mind, she already considered Loghain a friend of sorts. The feeling was pretty bizarre, given the fact that she never thought she would get past what he'd done to the Alienage. And it still rubbed her that he didn't regret it, meaning that, given the choice to do over again, he'd still make the same call. But his apology for the outcome of his hard decision had gone a long way in softening her regard for the old general, as well as the most recent revelation into his sordid past.

She'd no idea how he felt about her, but the elf certainly looked more kindly upon him now than she first had. The Warden smiled to herself, feeling reminded of how her friendship with Sten had first started. Carefully guarded, but eventually evolving into one of mutual respect and care. Kallian had rescued him from a cage in Lothering, and that thought naturally reminded her of Leliana, whom she'd also first met in Lothering. She and Leliana had hit it off almost instantly, both being able to relate to entertaining the public by day and being sneaky rogues by night. The two girls had taken a shine to each about as quickly as...

Kallian's reminiscing trailed off for a moment. That path led to memories that were now painful. She and Leliana had hit it off just as quickly as she and Alistair had, despite the Warden's own troubled encounters with humans up to that point. From their very first meeting at Ostagar, the humorous and quirky almost-templar had quickly taken a cherished spot in the elf's heart. Kallian rolled over onto her side and stared at the small bag that held the figurines Alistair had once adored. A part of her wanted to try and not think of him ever again, as impossible a goal as that may be. Another part of her felt almost guilty for starting to like Loghain, as if such a feeling were yet another betrayal against her old friend.

Feeling completely restless now, the Warden sat up on her bedroll. Within arm's reach was her beloved sketchbook, which she grabbed and began thumbing through. Some of the exaggerated companion caricatures made her giggle softly. The better ones, in her opinion, were what she'd coined the "comparison pieces", which were basically exaggerated portraits of each companion next to an animal of which they reminded her: Zevran's slinky, smiling mug next to an equally slinky, smiling tomcat; a broody Morrigan glaring beside a stalking wolf; Leliana singing alongside a tweeting songbird. Kallian smiled warmly down at her friends as she turned the pages. Then, she found the drawings she'd been looking for and stared at them for a long time. From the left page, dual faces smiled goofily up at her - Alistair with his cheeky grin and a puppy with a wide-mouthed, tongue-hanging-out expression of pure joy. The right page featured a caricature of her and Alistair standing side by side and utterly beaming, each with an arm wrapped around the other, underneath a caption that read: "Best Friends For Life".

Kallian sighed and ran a thumb softly across Alistair's shiny splintmail. "I wonder where you are now?" she spoke softly and quietly to the drawing. She bit her lower lip, but kept her tears in check. "I'll always love you, my brother. I hope that you will eventually move beyond the hurt. Maybe you will find a nice girl and settle down for what shortened life you have left. Maybe you will travel to the Anderfels and move up in the Grey Warden ranks. I hope you do one of those. And perhaps we will see each other again at our Callings to the Deep Roads." She sighed, then thought silently, I hope that you do not dwell on all of this and become a hopeless, depressed drunk. Like I might feel inclined to do if I wasn't charged with saving the world.

Taking a deep breath, the Warden flipped forward many pages ahead, trying to focus her mind on less painful things. Coincidentally, she landed on the rather unflattering sketch she'd made of Loghain the night Zevran pulled her into his most recent prank. The caricature was greatly exaggerated, featuring very baggy eyes that spat venom from above a hooked nose and scowling lips, all above a spiky caption that said: "Not Exactly Prince Charming". In the corner, she'd drawn an accompanying image of a vulture's beaky, menacing stare. Kallian snorted down a laugh thinking about what mood she must have been in when she'd conjured up that pair of images. Then, she skipped forward to a blank page, took up her charcoal pencil, and began working on a nicer sketch, one that was more realistic, featuring Loghain's sculpted profile gazing into the campfire as he had just done so with her on watch earlier. Perhaps, she pondered, I will add a falcon's noble head for a better comparison.

She'd only been working on the new sketch for a half-hour when a sudden inspiration struck her. The idea was so clear and distinct in her mind that she had to abandon her current project and work on this one right away. So, she flipped a few blank pages forward, just to ensure it was well hidden in case any prying eyes happened upon her journal, and began to draw out the image that had come to her.

As the group continued their long journey south, Leliana was nervous. Not about a darkspawn ambush or any other potential physical danger, but about the outcome of her pending confrontation with the Warden. She dreaded it. The last thing she wanted was to possibly upset her friend. But she was concerned for her and had recently learned that Zevran shared that same concern. The two of them had discussed the situation and their shared worries during last night's watch, and they'd come to the determination that they would confront the Warden with it today.

Readying herself, Leliana glanced back at Zevran. The assassin caught her eyes and gave her a firm nod. After a few deep breaths, the red-head put on her casual face and sped up to walk alongside the Warden, who was flanked, as usual these days, by their newest companion.

"Really, Loghain," Kallian chided, "I appreciate the offer, but I fear I'm a lost cause."

"Nonsense," he insisted. "Longbows are harder to learn. Why anyone tried to start you out on that is ridiculous. I can get you a good, decent shortbow and you'll be bringing home the venison in no time."

"Well, that would be better than trying to scrounge up enough rabbits to feed everyone," she admitted with a smirk. "But what makes you so confidant you can succeed where others have failed so miserably?"

"I wouldn't just give up on you and relegate you to skinning duty, for one," grumbled Loghain. He arched an eyebrow at her. "And I was also quite the marksman back in my prime."

"You mean to say you're not in your prime now?"

"Well, I'm..." he floundered, remembering how much he struggled to bring down the darkspawn as quickly as the others. "I'm certainly no spring chicken."

Kallian gazed at him long and hard, looking him up and down. Loghain would never admit it, but her sudden, intense scrutiny left him feeling rather flustered. Then, it struck him just how ironic that was, given that it was usually his own stare that caused such reactions in others. Finally, the Warden broke the uncomfortable silence. "I think you're too hard on yourself, rookie."

As Zevran pulled up alongside Loghain, Leliana loudly cleared her throat. Kallian jumped and turned to look at her. "Sorry, Lel. Didn't see you there."

"Loghain?" asked Zevran.

"Hmph?" he grunted, giving the assassin a sidelong glance.

"I think Oghren wanted to talk to you about something."

"The dwarf?" He narrowed his eyes and scowled. "What about?"

The elf shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me."

Loghain shot him an annoyed expression, then sighed and dropped back in the ranks. When she was sure the warrior was out of earshot, Leliana moved closer to the Warden. "We need to talk."

Kallian looked concerned in response to the bard's rather serious tone of voice. "Oh?" she asked. "What's on your mind?"

"You..." she said, preparing herself to go over it just as she and Zevran had practiced. "You seem to be spending a lot of time with Loghain."

"And?" asked Kallian, raising an eyebrow. "I have much to teach him about being a Grey Warden. I need to spend time with him so he can be better prepared."

"That's understandable," Leliana continued, "but you've stopped the watch rotations. And I couldn't help but notice you picked Loghain as permanent watch partner."

The Warden felt heat creeping up into her neck and ears and tried to ignore it. "Doing so has helped me get to know him better. You know, kind of like how I got to know all of you better." She gave the bard a pointed look.

"And this can't be done in the evenings while the rest of us are awake?"

Kallian made a frustrated grunt. "Well, no, not exactly. He doesn't open up in front of the others the way he does when it's just the two of us."

Leliana watched her friend carefully. She was getting defensive, just as the bard feared she might. However, from the corner of her eye, she spotted Zevran giving her some backup by tapping the Warden's shoulder.

"Do you trust him?" the Antivan asked, a serious expression also adorning his features.

Kallian looked over at him in surprise. "Erm..." she struggled for a moment, before furrowing her brow, "well, yes, I do, actually. He's given me no cause for concern since recruiting him."

"I was afraid you would say that," Zevran said, shaking his head. "You trust too easily, Kal."

"So says the person whose life I spared on nothing more than chance, a good feeling, and an assassin's oath of honor."

That stung, but Zevran pressed forward in spite of it. "But you have to admit that, unlike Loghain, I had no personal vendetta against you, so I was more believable, yes?"

Kallian gave him a serious look, hackles thoroughly raised by the unpleasant conversation. "That still didn't stop Alistair from wanting me to put an end to you, lest you finish the job while I slept. So far, you haven't done so. And neither has Loghain."

"Look, Kal, we're not trying to upset you or... or question your judgment," Leliana pleaded. "We're your friends. We care about you. We just want to caution you to be on your guard."

"Why now?" asked the Warden. "Why now, all of a sudden? Why not weeks ago back when I first dragged him in?"

"Because," said Zevran, "if he were going to betray you, now would be the time."

"How's that?"

"Kal, you know what Zevran and I both were in our pasts," Leliana stated. "The easiest way to assassinate a target is when you've just lulled them into trusting you."

The Warden remained silent for a moment, getting all of her thoughts and feelings in check. Then, she finally said, "I know you two are just looking out for me and I appreciate that. But I don't think we have anything to worry about." She smirked. "Besides, it's not exactly like I've invited him to my tent or anything."

Before Leliana or Zevran could come back with a witty retort, an ear-splitting shriek rose up from out of the nearby woods. Kallian stopped in her tracks, searching around. The bard appeared confused and asked, "What is it?"

"You didn't hear that?" the Warden asked.

"I did," Zevran answered.

As the two elves gave each other a knowing look, Daveth came bounding up, ears pinned back against his head, growling and staring at the treeline. Another scream racked through their bodies. Needing no more confirmation that something was wrong, Kallian rushed off towards the sounds of yelling, shrieking, and igniting combat. The others quickly followed her lead.

Loghain dropped back in the group until he was beside the dwarf, who was in the middle of a debate with the qunari.

"Because it'll be fun competition, that's why!" explained Oghren.

"It does not matter how many we each kill," replied Sten, "so long as we kill as many of the enemy as possible."

"Bah, you're a sissy!" Oghren complained, waving a dismissive hand at the qunari. "Still bet I can down more of 'em in a single stroke than you."

"Drinking early again, I see," Loghain observed, eyeing the dwarf in disgust.

Oghren didn't even bother hiding the flask at his side. Instead, he held it up in a salute. "You're damn skippy!" Then, he took another swig and belched in satisfaction.

"Disgraceful," Sten rumbled.

Loghain continued, "This can't possibly aid you in battle."

"You'd be surprised," Oghren answered. "Betcha I can fell more darkspawn than you."

Not wishing to go down that particular conversational road, Loghain switched tracks. "The Antivan said you wanted to see me."

The dwarf shot him a confused expression, scratched his beard in thought, then shook his head. "Not that I can think of. Sure you ain't been drinking, too?" He guffawed at his own little joke.

Loghain narrowed his eyes suspiciously and looked back up at the two rogues flanking the Warden. Judging by Kallian's gestures, the conversation was becoming rather heated. He wondered what they were arguing and was about to walk back up to the front when a new voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"What are you playing it?"

It was the old healer's usual venom. He spun around to face her, instantly irritated, and bellowed, "I beg your pardon?"

"She's young, but she's no fool," Wynne affirmed, staring fixedly at the former teryn. "She hasn't forgotten what you've done."

"Madam," Loghain sneered, "I have no idea what you're trying to suggest. Speak plainly. If you wish to accuse me of something, do it."

"Oh, I have so many things to accuse you of, Loghain Mac Tir, that I hardly know where to begin," she huffed. "But I'll save them for another time. For the moment, know that I am watching you. Don't think a few friendly words for the Warden will put everyone off their guard."

Loghain sighed and rolled his eyes. "If watching me amuses you, madam, feel free. Now, if you don't mind, I have things to attend to." With that, the warrior sped back up, intent on returning to the Warden's side. He was almost there when she suddenly stopped, causing the whole train of followers to stop behind her. As he picked his way through the caravan, he saw her suddenly dart off towards the treeline to their left, Leliana and Zevran in tow. Loghain quickly followed.

As Kallian crashed through the woods, following the desperate cries within, her body became filled with the familiar, edgy nervousness that only nearby darkspawn could produce. The only silver lining to that was it gave her the ability to better pinpoint just where in the forest the attack was commencing, instead of trying to rely on her ears alone. After several tense moments, she and the others stumbled upon a well-worn, dirt path that cut through the thick brush. The elf turned south on the road and continued her sprint.

Before long, they reached a small clearing and were met with a grisly scene. All around them lay the remnants of what appeared to have recently been either a trading or refugee caravan. Wagons sat overturned. Produce and linens spilled out, some half-trampled in the panic of the ambush. Oxen harnessed to the carts were ripped wide open. Bodies of men and a few young boys lay freshly dead. In the middle of the wreckage, a company of darkspawn stood triumphant, led by a large alpha hurlock pulling its twisted blade from the final victim. However, Kallian quickly observed that this was no normal group of darkspawn - for within the circle of soldiers stood a small group of frightened women and young girls.

"Oh, Maker," she breathed. "It's a raiding party."

The elf stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what the best means of rescue might be. Then, unable to come up with anything better, she unsheathed her daggers and charged the group. She heard the battle cries of her party falling in behind her. And then everything turned into chaos. Blades cried and rang all around as they met in battle. Gurgles of dying darkspawn impaled upon longswords and axes or pierced by arrows and primal magic. Metallic thuds of black swords hitting Loghain's shield. Grunts and shouts of her team members calling out warnings.

What instantly captured the Warden's attention were the terrified screams of the women. Where they had been relatively normal screams, they were now suddenly being cut off. The elf looked around for a moment, trying to locate the hostages, fearing that the darkspawn were killing them in the melee. When she finally saw them, it was much worse: their cries were being cut off as the darkspawn not engaged in the battle dragged them back underground with them.

"The women, get to the women!" Kallian shouted.

As if they understood her intentions, the darkspawn began disappearing with their victims much more quickly. She spotted Sten run up, grab a genlock by the neck, and heave it several feet away. The young girl it had been holding made a mad dash for the freedom and safety of the treeline. Just as she reached the bushes, a black arrow sank in between her shoulderblades. Kallian bared her teeth and looked over at the direction from which the arrow had come. A genlock stood with bow in hand, notching another arrow and ready to loose it into any other fleeing survivors.

With a roar of rage, the Warden ran towards the archer. Hearing her approach, the darkspawn turned in her direction. As she closed the distance, it drew a bead on the elf. Kallian's eyes widened as she realized she probably wouldn't reach the genlock in time before it shot her. Just as she was about to tuck and roll to try and avoid the arrow, her view was suddenly obstructed by Loghain's backside. He fell in between the two and led the charge shield-first, serving as a blocker for Kallian. He bowled the archer over, and the Warden cleaned up behind him with a swift dagger stroke to the neck.

"Excellent timing, rookie," she quipped as she fell into her usual flanking position.

"I try."

The two Grey Wardens fought side by side, trying to work their way towards the remaining few women. From the corner of her eye, Kallian saw something that momentarily lifted her heart with hope: Zevran hurriedly escorted one of the women to the safety of the surrounding brush, while Oghren cleared a path for them and Daveth guarded the rear. However, a nearby scream brought her back into focus. She turned and quickly gutted a darkspawn, then spotted the last captive being dragged underground by the alpha hurlock.

Loghain left Kallian's side and rushed forward. Tossing his sword and shield aside, he dove and just caught hold of the woman's hand before she completely disappeared. Rising to his knees, he got a good grip on the captive's hand with both of his and began to steadily pull. The hand rose up, followed by her arm, then a peek of shoulder. Loghain carefully regained his footing and continued to pull up. As more of the woman became visible, her rise back to the surface suddenly stopped. Then, she started disappearing back down again, leaving muffled screams in her wake. A macabre tug-of-war session followed with Loghain struggling with all his might to pull the woman back up to safety.

After a few moments of straining, there appeared to be a stalemate with only the woman's hand and arm visible aboveground. As Loghain renewed his efforts, the resistance at the opposite end suddenly gave way and the warrior fell crashing backwards. He slowly sat up and saw the Warden running up towards him, a few of the others trailing behind her. When she looked down at his right hand, her face turned horrified. Not sure if he really wanted to look, Loghain dragged his eyes down and felt equally horrified. There, still grasped tightly, was the hand and arm of the woman he'd been trying to save. It was all that was left of her, severed cleanly just below the shoulder by the hurlock that would not be denied its quarry. Loghain dropped it in disgust, then miserably hung his head between his knees.

"You tried," Kallian said softly, patting him on the shoulder. He gave no response and continued staring glumly at the ground. The elf sighed and looked around at the swath of death and destruction, feeling heavy-hearted. "How many were we able to save?" she asked, looking around at her other companions hopefully. She was answered by a round of gloomy expressions. "Anyone? Anyone at all?" she asked, suddenly crestfallen. Surely the entire endeavor had not been a total failure, had it?

Zevran stepped forward meekly. "Oghren and I helped one to the forest. I told her to run to the main road and pointed the way for her." He shrugged. "After that, I don't know. We went back into the battle."

The Warden pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "So, we have one maybe." She sighed, then kicked the body of a nearby darkspawn corpse. "Son of a bitch!" she growled, kicking it again. And again. And again.

"Where are they taking them?" Loghain asked heavily. A terribly uncomfortable silence followed. Kallian turned back around to face him. He was still sitting on the ground, head hung down. He absently rubbed a hand over his face. "Don't everyone answer all at once," he drawled.

The Warden shook her head, frowning severely. "You don't wanna know."

"Tell me."

"She's right," added Morrigan. "You really don't want to know."

"Tell me!"

Kallian closed her eyes and sighed. "To the Deep Roads."

After several moments of silence, Loghain pushed the issue. "To do what? To feed?"

"No," grumbled Oghren, looking completely sober, "to breed."

Loghain's head shot up at that, a look of total uncomprehension on his weathered face. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's true. We saw one in the Dead Trenches," Leliana confirmed. "It was awful, just awful."

"They're called broodmothers," Kallian continued, eyes still closed. "Darkspawn capture women, drag them underground, then do... horrible, unspeakable things to them. I don't remember the exact process-"

"-I distinctly remember something about spewing into their mouths," Morrigan interrupted. The Warden suddenly opened her eyes and glared at her. "Wasn't that how the little insane dwarf's poem went? 'And into their mouths they spew.'"

Ignoring Morrigan's callous additions, Kallian finished, "But, needless to say, the process drives them mad and corrupts their bodies and minds, turning them into... into monstrosities. And then they produce more darkspawn."

Loghain stared at the Warden, his expression a mixture of disgust and horror. His thoughts suddenly turned back to the female soldiers he'd left behind at Ostagar. Death was the kindest fate they could have hoped for, given this most recent bit of disturbing news. "You were absolutely right," he said shakily. "I didn't want to know."

Suddenly, Daveth interrupted the post-battle lamenting and bounded into view. The Mabari hopped around the Warden, looking quite frantic and barking with urgency. Eyebrows crinkling in concern, Kallian leaned over, placing her hands on her knees. "What is it, boy?"

The Mabari whined plaintively, took a few steps away from her, then looked back over his shoulder at his master and barked again.

"I think he wants you to follow him," Loghain said, although Kallian was able to take the dog's hint well enough on her own.

The elf reached back and re-drew one of her daggers, then followed her hound. She didn't need to turn around to know Loghain was right behind her, following suit, as the others remained where they stood, warily watching their commander and tensed to leap into battle once more at the first sign of trouble. Daveth led the duo to an overturned wagon at the edge of the impromptu battlefield. It was not unlike the other wooden wagons in the caravan, other than it had no canvas topper on the back. Instead, the cart sat flush against the ground save for two places. In the middle was a little "cave entrance" where, when right-side up, passengers would use the opening to step up into the wagon seats. At the front of the wagon, the body of the unfortunate cart driver was pinned halfway under and halfway exposed.

Daveth loped straight to the upside-down "U" in the side of the wagon and began whimpering again. He dug at the ground for a moment as if he might tunnel a way underneath. Kallian called him aside and he obeyed, moving out of her way and watching the events unfold with vigilant eyes. Holding Fang tightly in her right hand, the Warden stooped down to peer inside the opening when Loghain's shield suddenly dropped down in front of her and blocked her view. She turned and looked up at him, appearing perturbed.

"Warden," he suggested, "if anyone is going to risk having their eyes gouged out by the unknown, I'd rather it be me than you." With that said, he kneeled down beside her. They exchanged one more surly stare-down before the elf rolled her eyes and moved aside. Loghain, crouched down behind his shield, carefully peered around the side of it and into the darkness beneath the wagon. When nothing immediately leapt out to claw his face off, he inched closer. Nothing moved nor made a sound. Slowly and very tentatively, he stuck his head through the opening. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

From the side, Kallian watched. As Loghain's head disappeared from view, she nervously bit her lip. While she was secretly flattered that he'd offered himself up as the potential casualty, she'd never forgive herself if some unholy creature bit his head off. It felt like an eternity before Loghain's head re-emerged and he sat back on his haunches. Setting his shield aside, he turned to the Warden with a slightly perplexed expression on his face.

"We may have a little problem here."

Author's Note: Well, enough folks have asked me why I think this story may suck and here's my answer: I don't. I actually really like my story, but then again, I'm biased. But I just wanted to put it out there that any kind of reviews are welcomed and, if it ever starts sucking, be sure to alert me so I can improve! And as before, I feel the need to list a few songs that were definitely kept on "repeat" for their symbolism and appropriateness while conspiring for this chapter. Perhaps they will make good background reading tunes!

Kallian and Loghain's Question-and-Answer Session was brought to you by "Young Folks" by Peter Bjorn and John... and, for a purely instrumental piece, I couldn't stop listening to "Forbidden Friendship" from the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack (and yes, the irony of that particular track title was not lost upon me)

Loghain and Kallian's Post-Watch Ponderings were sponsored by "Mixed Emotions" by The Rolling Stones

The Aftermath of the Failed Rescue Attempt was done to the tune of "Let It Be" by The Beatles