Author's Note: I love when I get inspired by a comment, so thanks again! Hope you all enjoy :)


~Conversations in the Dark~

Peering over the edge into the deep pit, Drea could make out three writhing, blubbery masses in the dim light. The stench of the broodmothers rose up and threatened to overwhelm her as she tried to decide how to kill them. Even from this distance, she could hear the horrible gnashing of their teeth as they muttered unintelligible things. Standing up straight, she took a step back to survey the area. Turning to her companions for suggestions, she realized Zevran stood among them and although he did not belong, it was not a surprise. He was holding her hand. She was barely able to contain herself as tears formed in her eyes. "Please," she begged him. Her voice wavered even as she desperately tried to keep it steady, "Don't ever let them take me. I'm asking you because I know you'll see it for the act of mercy it is. Even if you have to kill me, please don't let them take me."

Gently, he patted her hand as he glanced over his shoulder at the others. They were at camp and their companions were tending to their chores, pretending not to listen. Facing her again, the steel in his eye was resolute, "My dear Warden, I swear to you that so long as I still draw breath, one way or the other, I will not let them take you." Her rush of gratitude broke her and she had to walk away to avoid crying in front of the others.

Drea woke with a gasp as she fought with her drenched sheets, struggling to sit up. As her heart pounded hard in her chest, her eyes darted around the room trying to place where she was. Grasping at the bed with her hands, she noticed the moonlight streaming in through her partly opened shutters and illuminating an attentive mabari. "I'm here…I'm here…" she mumbled to herself, trying to shake off the oppressive dream. Rounding the bed, Arkon stood beside her, whining with concern as he watched her but she didn't seem to notice. In clumsy motions, she tried to brush the hair from her face, but it was firmly plastered to her forehead. Attempting to regain control over herself, she forcefully pushed the thoughts of broodmothers from her mind. It was over - the three they discovered in the chasm in were dead and they were already back at the Vigil.

But as the thoughts of the broodmothers faded, it was replaced by the memories of the ghostly dwarves they encountered. The chasm was just an opening to the dwarven fortress, Kal'Hirol that had been one of the first thaigs claimed by darkspawn. The Veil was obviously thin there as the spirits of hundreds of dwarves were forced to continually repeat their final days preparing for the devastating fall of their home. She had found herself fascinated, intently watching the spirits of the Fade, and yet it made her skin crawl. She was a soldier, not a mage, and that was not her place to have to deal with such things. Scanning over the room again, her gaze settled on the moonlight, only this time the pale blue glow took on an eerie quality. Goosebumps rose on her damp skin and a shiver ran through her body.

"Bloody Andraste!" she cursed under her breath as she kicked herself free of the sheets. Quickly she tied her hair back and threw a robe on over her thin gown. Arkon whined and started skittering after her as she walked to the door. Instinctively she acknowledged the dog by gesturing for him to lie back down. "Get some sleep," she murmured to him. Loudly he huffed and continued to follow. A weary smile emerged as she patted his head, grateful for his company.

The guards kept the hall and pantry torches lit through the night, so it was an effortless walk as the pair made their way down the hall to the kitchen. As she poured herself a glass of water, Arkon settled on the floor next to her, yawning and lowering his head onto his crossed paws. She had just sat down with her water when Oghren came barging into the room. Spotting her drink of choice, he grunted, "Given up on the drink huh?"

Glancing at him she shrugged, "I'm just out of practice, and I need to be able to leave at dawn." Oghren hoisted himself onto a stool across from her and produced his flask from a pocket in his robe. He raised it to her before taking a drink. Drea settled forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Nightmares?"

"Aye," he replied. With a small grin he added, "But not those sissy taint dreams of yours. This was about Branka. Even from beyond the grave that woman can still make my blood run cold." He sighed and had another drink. Drea remained silent, wondering just how often Branka haunted his dreams. Her name had been mentioned more times than Drea would have expected…but she knew very well the way the past seemed to crop up after it had been laid to rest. Not enjoying silences, Oghren changed the topic, "But you know who makes my blood run hot? That Sigrun! She's quite a lively Bronto!"

Drea couldn't argue. Sigrun, her newest recruit, was ready to storm the Kal'Hirol by herself to avenge her fellow members of the Legion of the Dead who had been killed by the newly swarming darkspawn. They joined forces to secure the chasm and the young dwarf proved herself in battle. Although Drea knew better than to get attached to her recruits too early, she was pleased that Sigrun survived the Joining. Running her finger over the rim of her water glass, Drea casually asked, "What about Felsi?"

"Ah, Commander," Oghren sighed, his discomfort at the topic clear, "I tried to settle down, but it's not who I am. We couldn't make it work." He kept his answer vague and Drea could see his vigor quickly fade away. Quietly, he took drinks from his flask and practically bore holes in the table with his eyes. It was plain to see there was more to his story, but the conversation was dead.

Putting him out of his misery, Drea chided, "I see. So now you're here to wantonly chase after my poor recruits?"

He quickly brightened as he rumbled with deep laughter, "Ha! She's free to wipe her feet on the Oghren welcome mat of love anytime!" Drea rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help smiling to herself.

Finishing her water, Drea decided she would try getting more sleep, and Oghren didn't argue. With or without alcohol, the morning always came too soon and he was anxious to try and squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep. On her way back to her room, Drea heard murmurs coming from the study and noticed the door was widely propped open to get light from the hall. Approaching the room, she knew the first voice was Anders. "I swear her voice could tame the darkspawn themselves. And that honey hair to match…" he finished with a dreamy sigh.

Before the other person had a chance to reply, Drea stepped into the open doorway, "Do you really think this conversation is more important than getting sleep? We are heading out at dawn tomorrow - and that comes early."

Both men turned towards the door and she could see Anders was talking to a less-than-thrilled looking Nathaniel. "I had a dream," Nathaniel clarified. He glanced at Anders before adding, "I came to the study looking for a book to take my mind off it but…I think all this girlish chatter will get me back to sleep fine."

"Girlish chatter? Ouch," Anders exclaimed, giving Nathaniel a mock hurt look. "Appreciating astounding beauty is hardly girlish."

"Sounded girlish to me," Drea said evenly before adding, "You shouldn't get too attached to her Anders. She's apparently only here until she can get to Denerim, and we're investigating that road tomorrow."

With a disarming smile, Anders replied, "Then I'll have to give her other reasons to stay."

Not amused, Drea finally asked in a flat tone, "You realize she's likely a bard don't you? A spy?"

"No, she was very clear; she's a minstrel…she…why would you say that?" Anders asked in disjointed blurts. The light mood in the room died quickly with her accusations.

"You mean other than her sudden appearance and suspiciously convenient story? How about the fact that she was very clear that she's a minstrel? In a country where most people don't know there's a difference, I find that an odd thing to specify," Drea replied calmly.

"That's not fair," Anders answered defensively, "She knew the difference…can you blame her for wanting to be clear on what she is? And we were the ones who suddenly appeared - she had been there for almost a year."

With an impatient click of her tongue, Drea asked, "And do you just believe anything a pretty face randomly tells you? Because when I spoke to the owner, he said she had been there for significantly less than a year." Suddenly Anders looked like a kicked puppy as he fell silent. Feeling a twinge of pity, Drea added, "She might have just been desperate and exaggerated to gain your sympathy. I'm not saying she is definitely a spy. But you have to realize, we are in the heart of Howe territory. There is at least a handful of Rendon supporters who are very upset at everything they've lost because of me and who knows what they'll do. You have to watch yourself Anders." Drea noticed that Nathaniel didn't flinch at the mention of his family name.

Obviously disturbed by her suggestion, Anders pushed, "If you really thought she was a spy, why would you bring her here?"

Darkly, Drea laughed as she spread her hands, "What's she going to uncover? My life is public knowledge and all anyone has to do is take a stroll through the arling to see I'm barely holding that together. And while she's wasting her time digging for fabled dirt, I at least get to enjoy some music. It's one of my favourite luxuries, I have to admit."

"I see," Anders replied quietly. "Well…if you'll both excuse me, I think I'll go to bed now." Her indifference to having an enemy around was as unsettling as the thought that Ashlyn could be that enemy. Without making eye contact, Anders walked past Drea and left the study. She wanted to offer words of comfort, but there was nothing to say. Conspiracies against her could mean a threat against all of her recruits and naivety could be their undoing.

"Going to bed is a good idea," she agreed, directing her comment to Nathaniel once Anders was gone.

Nathaniel nodded and started moving towards the door, "Yes. But…" Nathaniel hesitated and stopped. Drea raised a questioning eyebrow and he finished, "Do the nightmares ever stop, or is that why you're up?

"They don't truly stop, but they get easier to control. I had bad dreams tonight, but they weren't of the taint," she replied but paused, reconsidering. Doubtfully she added, "Well, maybe." Nathaniel watched her closely but didn't interrupt. An unconscious shiver ran through her and she tightly crossed her arms before finally admitting, "Broodmothers get to me. It's horrifying knowing they were once innocent women - someone's daughter or wife…I can't imagine a worse fate. I actually had one of my former companions swear to kill me if it came to that…"

"I could swear that oath for you," he offered without a hint of a smile. He was serious.

Drea snorted lightly, "Sure, why not bring joy to someone with my final moments on Thedas?"

Nathaniel smiled at her joke, but it faded. "Commander, I think I owe you an apology. Or several…" As he spoke, he wandered back to the desk in the study where he had first been when she arrived. The glow from the lantern dimly lit his features, giving him a slightly menacing look as he leaned against the desk. With a deep sigh, he continued, "My sister had many things to tell me about Father, none of it was easy to hear. I missed so much while I was gone." Absently, he tapped his fingers along the desk before suddenly folding his arms against his chest. After a brief pause, he added, "Delilah is actually grateful to you, if you can believe that. She said you were the only one to bring our father to justice and stop him from doing more damage to Ferelden and our name. Although, after what she told me, I'm not sure what more he could have done to the Howe name."

Drea stepped in from the doorway and Arkon sat at attention beside her. Shrugging her shoulders, she replied, "For what it's worth, we should just call it even. I owe you an apology too - I said I could see past your name. But I think it's pretty obvious that having a Howe in my charge isn't something I can deal with graciously."

Without hesitation, Nathaniel offered, "Then don't think of me as a Howe - call me Nate, like my sister does. Maker knows I don't even want to think of myself as a Howe..."

After studying him for a moment, she could see he meant it. "Nate," she started slowly, using his preferred name, "You should be trying to restore your name, not deny it."

"I know. And I will. But for now…for now just call me Nate," he repeated. Drea noticed his shoulders begin to droop and he looked away. "I just have to distance myself from this right now - it's too much to think on. I worshiped that man…and it turns out I didn't even know him."

Silently she cursed to herself. She had understood the wisdom in her brother's words months ago in Denerim, but never expected to have to repeat them. Especially not regarding the loathsome Rendon Howe. Briefly, she looked up at the ceiling, searching for the strength not to retch at the thought of even remotely defending him. "I can't believe I'm about to say this but…you did know your father." Slowly, Nathaniel turned back his attention to Drea, and even in the dim light, she could see him frown in confusion. Forcing herself to continue, she added, "People of importance have a tremendous amount of pressure on them. Eventually, it corrupts their hearts and minds. Ideas and motivations get twisted and they end up doing things no one would have expected…things they themselves never would have expected."

Taking a moment, Nathaniel considered her words. Finally, he shook his head and argued, "There have been great leaders who have never done terrible things."

"True," she agreed, "But you can be sure their vices grew in other ways that were easier to hide or ignore. You simply can't live such a life without being affected somehow." As she spoke, she dropped her hand to rest on Arkon's head, searching for a bit of comfort. With the same words she was using to explain men that sickened her, she was grimly hinting at her own fate. Refusing to voice that connection, she finished, "Whatever these people have done, it doesn't take away what they once were. We all live on in the memories of those who loved us, so I think it's especially important for the loved ones of fallen leaders and heroes to remember who they once were."

Part of her was disgusted at the words of encouragement coming from her mouth. It was impossible for her to imagine Rendon being anything other than a snake and didn't deserve to be remembered as a good man…even by one person. But the other part of her started to pity his relatives that had nothing to do with his actions. He managed to destroy a family that was loyal to Ferelden for thirteen generations. Even after his death he still managed to sink lower in her eyes.

The small trace of hurt that crept into Nathaniel's eyes told Drea she had struck a deep cord. He wasn't sure which was more awful to believe – his father was secretly always a bad man, or was once good and lost himself. Even as those thoughts plagued his mind, he still picked up on the fact she was damning herself with her own argument, "But you're a hero, a person of importance, can you really believe that?"

Drea straightened up and pulled her robe tighter, suddenly feeling the chill in the air. "I'm a fighter. We'll see what happens once there's nothing left to fight," she replied briskly, cryptically ending the conversation. "But you have a lot of work ahead of you. I believe being a Grey Warden right now puts you in the best position among your relatives to restore the Howe name. And if you can change my opinion of your name, you can change the opinion of Ferelden."

Finally, Nathaniel rose to his feet and grabbed the lantern he had brought into the study as he prepared to leave. Knowing neither of them could handle the topic any longer, he lightly asked, "So…you're saying I've changed your opinion?"

Relieved at ending the conversation, she replied with a faint smirk, "I'm saying you have a lot of work ahead of you."