If Things Were Perfect

by Angeleia Kenobi

Just a simple story, something that I thought would be fun to write while I worked on Reason for Fear 2. Hope you like it, please be kind!

10. Paragon of Her Kind

Faren Brosca grit his teeth and brought the quill back up to his cheek. Serada held the highly polished shield up for him to use as a mirror, while he tried to balance the casteless brand below his left eye with "Grey Warden" in dwarven runes beneath his right. "Are you sure that you want to do this? I can..."

He paused and glared at her. "Don't distract me." She rolled her eyes and shifted the shield to better catch the light from the fire. Casteless could be such problems sometimes. Oh well, if his pride didn't allow him to let her help, then nothing would. They sat there for another hour, with Faren continuing to give himself the tattoo and Serada fighting to catch the firelight as it burned down to coals. It was close to midnight before he was done, his skin was red and inflamed around it, but it was done. He wouldn't be mistaken for that Casteless that had beaten the Proving now. Now he was a Grey Warden, his cheek said so! They were banking on no one from his previous life still being alive.. or even out of prison. Faren had told her about his sister, and how he wanted to find her – hopefully – be sure that she was still okay. That she had been lucky enough to have a male child for the noble she was after. She had listened to him talk, her own mind racing with memories of her family. Would her father even allow her entrance to Orzammar? Would Bhelen maintain his honor and not kill her?

Predawn light was coming over the mountains when an odd sound made the two dwarves nearly jump out of their skins. They certainly jumped out of their bedrolls, easily enough. "By the Stone. What was that!" He hissed at her, but she just shrugged into her weapons and dropped low, ready for anything. Faren's grip twisted on the handle of his axe, waiting as the bushes rustled again as whatever it was came closer. Both dwarves glanced at each other, then jumped again when whatever it was stumbled into camp. It had four legs, an enlarged snout, was covered in a coarse fur with a mane down its neck and a clump for its tail. Whatever the weird looking thing was, was wild eyed and stamping at the ground with thick hooves. "What the sod!" Serada stepped backwards from the thing, wary of making any sudden movements. The strange creature then kicked out its rear legs and raced off into the dark, leaving the dwarves staring after it in shock. She was the first to recover her senses, dropping her shield – given her after the Battle of Redcliffe – onto the dirt and stabbing her sword beside it. He was still breathing heavily, his axe leaning more relaxed at his side, "What was that?"

Serada raised her eyebrows as she shook her head, "If I had to guess, I think that was a mule."

"A mule?"

"Yes. Apparently it's a type of horse... I think."

"Where the Stone did it come from?"

She pointed back through the thicker brush, "That way. I say we go through there in the morning and see what's going on."

"What about Orzammar?"

It can wait...

The next morning found the pair of them stumbling through the underbrush with many a curse escaping them as they followed the mules obvious albeit hazardous trail from the night before. After stubbing his toe against an expose root for the umpteenth time Faren plopped onto the ground with a loud "Sod it." and grumbled to himself.

Serada turned back to look at him, "What is it now?"

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because mules mean humans, humans mean food and perhaps a map to show us how to get to Orzammar."

He humphed and leaned forward on his knees, "Why don't we just burrow into the Earth, like they all seem to expect us to do?"

She sneered, and rolled her eyes, "And you wonder why the Casteless remain as they are. With attitudes like that I'm surprised you lot learned to handle a weapon!"

That got him moving! Faren let out a shout and scrambled to his feet, charging right at her. The force of his hit knocked her backwards into a clearing where an older human male was seated next to a rather pathetic campfire, seeming to be guarding a small tent and a cart of goods. The human let out a shout and got to his feet, startling the two brawlers enough to look up at him.

"Oh, you're dwarves. Good... good."

Serada pushed Faren off from her and gave the human a weird look, "What did you expect us to be?"

The human shrugged, "You''ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous, not many people traveling this part of Ferelden. Not since Lothering was demolished by the darkspawn. Of course, that's only part of my problem isn't it. Mule got spooked by a wisp and ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?"

Faren snorted, "We heard about Lothering. Just what are you doing out here?"

The human sighed, "Waiting for my helper to find the damned mule. And wouldn't you know it, it's freezing!" When the dwarves didn't react, he laughed, "Oh! I suppose you meant why am I out here! As in this part of the country."

Serada snorted, 'The thought had crossed my mind. Are all humans so touched?'

"Allow me to introduce myself, Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service. I don't normally take this route, but with the war I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains. Sadly, I've had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don't suppose you'd consider helping a fellow out?"

Serada felt her gut tighten, "Help a fellow out... how?"

He smiled, "Of all the other things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact that I bought in Jader. It's a control rod, I'm told, for a golem! No point in me keeping it, as I'' never get to use it. But maybe you could?"

Faren let out a barking laugh, "What's the catch?"

The human seemed surprised, "The catch? Oh, yes, I suppose it is a catch isn't it? The catch is that the golem didn't come with the rod. It's supposed to be in the village Honnleath, just south of here, 'waiting to be activated'. Even if I could get down there, which I can't obviously, I understand the place has been overrun by darkspawn."

Faren puffed up his chest swelling with pride, "Just so happens I'm a Grey Warden. Darkspawn aren't an issue for me."

Serada shook her head, "How do we know this will even work?"

"The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact, he didn't want to come to Ferelden however, because of our troubles. He said he got it from the man who owned this golem, but to be honest I have no idea if it will work. Hence the low, low price? What do ya say?"

"What would you like for it?"

Felix shrugged, "Nothing? I paid too much to just throw it away and I can't keep it around in case someone mistakes it for a gemstone or something. I'd rather it go where it may be of use."

The two dwarves gave the other a quick glance before Serada nodded, "Yes, we could use it."

Felix smiled, "I'll even throw in a map of how to get to the village. When you find the golem just hold up the rod and say 'dulef gar' and it'll come to life. I just hope it works."

The great doors to Orzammar were closed, and that only meant one thing. One terrible, unthinkable thing. Her father was dead – the man she'd so desperately wanted to talk with, explain everything to – was dead and the validity of his heir was in question. Serada had to shake herself free from her gloomy thoughts as Faren and his lumbering golem moved past her, Shale it said its name was; which had given the dwarves quite the laugh. The usual surface merchants, the ones vital to Orzammar's continued existence, were setting up their stalls on the mountains slope outside the doors, selling their wares on a first come first served basis. Fresh fruits and vegetables were going fast, followed closely by meats then cloth goods, along with armor and weapons. Both dwarves could see the worry on the merchants' faces, they were almost done from the sound of things – the grumbles and growls from the small groups moving around the edge of the clearing and Orzammar would be helpless. Without supplies from the outside world, the families would begin to horde their own, trade would cease all together and soon chaos would erupt in the streets. The army would fall apart, leaving only the dwindling Legion of the Dead to stand against the 'spawn, who would undoubtedly overrun her within a month. And with Orzammar gone, there would be nothing to stand between the helpless (or was it hopeless) surfacers and destruction. Serada's mind was still processing, pondering what their next move would be, when Faren just marched up to the guards at the door, Shale following close behind, and planted his feet. Damn but the man had stones!

"Veata! This land is held in trust to the dwarven kings! I cannot grant you entry at this time."

The loud mouthed human the guard was arguing with must have been the dumbest in all Thedas because he just sputtered back, "King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly. I am his appointed messenger."

The guard huffed, "I don't care if you're the kings wiper! Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled."

Faren snarled, "I was born in Orzammar, let me pass." the lead guard thinned his eyes at the casteless brand on Faren's cheek, but he literally hissed when he saw Serada walking towards them.

"You're the EXILE! This began with you! Sorrow finished what your kin slaying started! Your father is dead."

The touched human scoffed, "Kin slayer? You're not getting in."

Serada swallowed the lump in her throat, "How did Endrin die?" The human rolled his eyes while the guard answered, "Losing two children; one to murder and one to exile. Who can blame him for seeking refuge amongst the Ancestors."

Faren could see the pain in Serada's eyes and figured it was time they got passed this, "I'm a Grey Warden, this treaty obliges Orzammar to help us in the case of a Blight."

The human was furious, "What?! The Grey Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They are the sworn enemies of King Loghain!"

The lead guards eyebrows raised at that last, but otherwise his face remained unchanged. After examining the scroll for a few second more, he handed it back to Faren, "That is the Royal Seal. Grey Warden, you and those in your party may pass."

Now the human was apoplectic, "WHAT! She's a kin slayer! You said it yourself! In the name of King Loghain I demand that you execute this stain on the honor of Ferelden!"

It was Faren's axe blade that stopped his sputtering, the edge only a hairs breath from his Adams apple. "Run to your false king. Tell him that the Wardens know who the real betrayer is. The dwarves will not hear a word from his faithless lips."

Serada would have sworn to the Ancestors that the human actually shat himself at that moment and of course, like any proper coward, shouted back at them as he scurried away, "King Loghain will hear of this! He will see you quartered!"

The guard snorted appreciatively and stepped aside. "You are welcome to enter Orzammar, Grey Warden. Although I do not know what help you will find."

The doors had shut behind them when Serada grabbed Faren's arm and whispered, "Perhaps it would be best if you continued on without me."

Faren rolled his eyes, "NO. Something I learned growing up casteless, the titles doesn't rule you, you rule it. I may be casteless by birth, but I am a Grey Warden."

She wasn't quite certain she believed him, but her only other option was outside in the unforgiving cold. "Alright, you take the lead, Grey Warden."

"Welcome to your new house, little brother! My Rica tells me that you've worked your way up from Dust Town to be a Grey Warden!"

Faren raised an eyebrow, "Rica's with you?" He made a face, "Not bad, sis. Not bad at all."

Bhelen 'humphed' and kept talking, "I hear you're looking for soldiers to retake the surface from a Blight. We have a common goal. The armies may not like me for this, but a Blight will decimate the surface and then the darkspawn would be back at our gates. Orzammar cannot stand on its own. WE will need absolute unity to fight against the fulcrum of true evil." He motioned for Faren to sit and he did, suppressing a chuckle as he did so. The would be King of Orzammar was offering HIM a seat! HA!

"So you'll honor your agreement to the Wardens?" He slid the aging scroll forward towards Bhelen who read it carefully.

The Prince set it down slowly, "Absolutely. I swear on the mail of my ancestors. However, there is one hiccup. Orzammar's politics have always been a bit convoluted. It would take ages for me to explain the true depths of the depravities that some will go to for a better place amongst the nobles. But the long and the short of it is, Orzammar must be united under my rule. While the debate rages in the Assembly, I don't have the power to send the troops you'll need." Faren opened his mouth, but Bhelen was quick to interrupt, "You've seen it for yourself, the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. I could never hold the throne if I allowed such chaos. I won't do that to my son."

Faren's' ears twitched, "Then what do you need me to do?"

Bhelen smiled, "By simply being here, you've struck a blow against Harrowmont already, and I thank you for that. But there's another faction at play here. You're sister also told me that you have a history with the Carta.. and Jarvia, who now runs it."

Faren snorted, "A history? That's putting it lightly. To be honest, that's a name I never wanted to hear again."

Bhelen nodded appreciatively, "She took over Beraht's Carta after you left, and expanded his operations. From what Rica says, I doubt Jarvia remembers you fondly either."

Faren threw back his head and laughed heartily. "No. No, I'm certain she doesn't... What if I took them out for you? No sense in getting those shiny boots dirty."

Bhelen shrugged, letting the jab roll off his back, "I'd never ask for such a thing, but if you do eliminate Jarvia and her thugs, you would have my gratitude."

He then motioned to a servant behind them, "But, before you go. I thought you might wish to speak with your sister. And meet your nephew."

Given that the last time he stood at these doors. He'd been wearing another man's armor and using another mans name, Faren felt perfectly justified in participating in the Proving. And in his feelings of anxiety. The announcer had given him a sneer when he'd seen the casteless brand, but once he'd learned that he was a proper Grey Warden, he'd simply told Faren to keep his faceguard down and "beat them senseless". He also wouldn't be announced under his own name. Simply as the Grey Warden, about to prove his worth as a fighter and an honorable dwarf of Orzammar.

Serada was in the stands, hiding at the back of the crowds, watching as the announcer stood and let the crowd cheer for the Grey Warden who had won yet another round. She found it surprising that this very crowd, so full of high and mighty warrior and noble caste, would be so enthusiastic about someone they wouldn't have even given a glance to Faren a few months ago would be putting bets on whether or not he'd win. She couldn't help but think that she should have saved those few coins she'd spent on that gemstone. Just a stupid thing, but she'd seen the golem eyeing it and figured it couldn't hurt. Shaking her head, she tried to focus as Faren was thoroughly trouncing some distant cousin of hers. Despite all their time together, it still took her a moment whenever she thought of a casteless wielding a sword. She had to remind herself that Duncan had made his choice for a reason, and it was clear that Faren had skill. All he really needed was a little refining and he would rival some of the warrior caste she knew... or had known. The thought made her draw a heavy sigh. The best knight she'd known was now an exile; probably living a life in Denerim and she had no way of letting him know that she was alive. Thanks to Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar, the Senior Warden Alistair had warned them that all communication would likely be monitored, and it would be better to not let on to ANYONE that they were alive. A sentiment that had been echoed by Alistair's lady friend, the infamous Lady Elissa. She had spoken of a vile man named Howe who had betrayed her father and was now Loghain's right hand. Serada smirked to herself as she recalled Elissa. The young woman, couldn't have been much older than herself, yet she carried herself and spoke in such a way that was wise beyond her years. It was painfully obvious that this girl had been groomed from birth to be nobility, especially when she was around Alistair. "I wonder where they are now?"

Elissa was freezing. The snow was easily three to four feet deep on either side of the trail and another foot was falling on their heads. She grit her teeth and shivered, shaking of another inch that had gathered on her shoulders. Thankfully Duran also shook himself at the same time, or rather sadly, because Kallain saw the shake and it seemed impossible to tell who had shaken first. Heaving a sigh, Alistair, who had been walking behind them picked up speed and matched step with her. "Are you alright?"

Elissa blew out her breath, the cloud fogging both their vision for a few seconds, "Yes, Alistair. I'm fine. It's just blasted cold."

He sniffed, "I did try to warn you. It would be..."

Her blood boiled and she stopped walking, making Alistair stop by reflex. "Alistair, don't you DARE take that tone with me. Ever. Again. Do you mean to tell me that you KNEW we would have to go to the mountains?"

He sputtered, "Well, no... not until after Brother Genitivi's house..."

"Did you know that Haven would be this far into the wilderness?"

"...No..."

She crossed her arms, and glared at him, "And who was with you at Genitivi's house? Hm?"

He looked away from her at their three traveling companions, "Sten, Kallain, Duran... and you."

She huffed again, "And don't you think that I would have stayed behind if I thought it too much?" He nodded, "Then why are you so concerned for me? We've encountered numerous bandits, soldiers, even a few stray darkspawn! What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not a simpering Orlesian!" Kallain turned her back on the conversation, tugging on Duran's collar and making gesturing that Sten do the same, and they all waited for Alistair's response.

"Not be a Cousland."

Elissa was stunned, "What?"

He brushed the snow from his face and exhaled, "I am a Grey Warden. The Senior Warden in Ferelden now, and as a Warden I cannot have titles or swear fealty to any king or ruler. YOU are the Lady Cousland, and until your brother is found – alive or dead – Teyrna of Highever. You are expected to take a husband who can bend knee to the King, whomever me may be after this, provide a home and security for you..." he turned a brilliant scarlet at his next thought, "and whatever children that he can give you." He swallowed, trying to calm himself, "I can give you none of that. I would have much preferred it that you forgot about me. That you even met me! It would be better for you to have stayed in Redcliffe, maybe to have even married Teagan."

Elissa blinked. And blinked again. "That's what's been bothering you? That I might come to care for you?" She inhaled sharply, truly angry now, "Seriously? I wouldn't thought that my injury, which has long since mended by the way, might be at the forefront of your mind. Or maybe my leaving Oren behind in a stronghold only recently cleared of demons and the undead. Or even that fact that one of my closest friends – Kallain's on husband – is even now being tortured for information by Howe's own hands. I needn't tell you that Nelaros KNOWS that I and Oren are alive. Or that even the strongest man has a breaking point? Sooner or later, there will be men on our trail, thirsting for MY blood. And you're worried that I might come to care for you?"

Alistair felt and looked a little sheepish when she spelled it out like that. It did sound a little ridiculous. "Then why didn't you stay at Redcliffe? If you're life is In such danger, why didn't you stay at the fortress?"

She huffed again, straightened her cloak, and stomped a few paces ahead before turning back to him, "Because I care for you, that's why." She then marched past Kallain and Sten, Duran trotting happily behind her, leaving a surprised Alistair behind.

And it was cold.

They were sitting in Tapsters, waiting on drinks when the ruckus started. "City's only living Paragon and she's been lost in the Deep Roads for two years! Two years and no ones raised a bleeding army to go and look for her." It was the red headed dwarf in the corner, drunk beyond reason and still standing amazingly. Faren gave Serada a look and then wandered off towards the man, still blubbering about Branka. The drunk snarled as he drew close, "Ugh! I know who you are! The casteless whelp who ran off to become a Warden!" He staggered to his feet and jabbed a stubby dwarven finger into Faren's chest, "Someone saw you talking to Vartag Gavorn and now its all over that you've been doing dirty deeds for Bhelen. And here I figured you'd be the one, you know, to help me find Branka. But I guess you're just like all the rest."

Faren pushed aside the drunks finger and snarled, "'All the rest' of whom?"

The drunk nearly choked on his new mouthful of whiskey, then hissed, "Power hungry deep lords. The only real concern they have is whose ass gets the throne." His face got real dark and grumpy, Faren knew that a normal person would have walked off by now leaving the poor bastard to his drink, but Faren was anything but normal. "Why do you care, huh? You looking to uncover all her secrets? Is that what Bhelen wants? I know he's been poking around, trying to find things out about her, what she was looking or. Won't tell me spit though. He wants it for himself, right? A little blessing from the ancients technology, and he's assured the throne. Is that it?"

"What technology? What're you blathering on about?"

"You are looking for it! Of course, that's all anyone cares about. Well, sod off and sod your mother too! I need a bleeding drink." The man sat back down and stared into his drink mumbling about 'nothing but smoke from ol' Oghren.'

Faren snorted and walked off, pausing to speak to Serada on his way out, "I'm leaving. Damned drunk, all bluster and no bite."

She nodded, "I'll pay, you go on." Faren waggled his fingers at Shale and the two stormed out of the tavern, leaving many of the patrons staring after them.

Faren was just entering Dust Town, the familiar stench making him wish breathing unnecessary like his stone companion when a voice filtered through the groans and wails around him, "Well! Chew me up and swallow me whole! I never thought I'd see you back here! What happened, Duster? Miss getting spit on?"

He turned, and there, leaning against a fallen pillar was... "LESKE!" The two moved in for a bear slapping hug (you know the kind, that one that two 'macho' men give each other? Wanting to show affection without seeming like a ….. well, you know). Faren pulled back, "It's great to see you!"

Leske snorted, "Don't you sound all proper and fancy like! Is that to match the new steel?" Leske proceeded to walk around Faren, admiring the new plate armor he wore. "So what are you doing here? Not crawling back to die in the Deep Roads yet, right?"

Faren shook his head, "So what happened to the Carta after I left?"

Leske's smile dimmed, "Jarvia didn't waste a day. Apparently killing all possible competitors was her way of mourning. She made some kind of deal with Beraht's family topside, claimed to be his wife! Kept the whole Lyrium trade flowing." He shoved his chin towards the entry to the common grounds, "But Endrin's death really opened new ground. All of a sudden guardsmen were all busy and the Diamond Quarter? Jarvia moved right in!"

Faren raised an eyebrow, "You're not in the Carta still, are you?"

Leske snorted again, "Stone! NO! You think Jarvia would give me a hug and a kiss for taking down her lover?" He looked back around them, an old habit that seemed to be dying hard, "So, seriously duster. Why are you here?"

Faren took a slow breath, "Can you just tell me where Jarvia is?"

For whatever reason that made Leske really jumpy, "Look, she'd kill me if she knew I know this, but after Bhelen took Rica up city, the Carta laid claim to your old home. They put a back entrance in; it just goes to some storage tunnels but there's probably a way into Beraht's old estate from there." He sighed, "I'd better get out of here before anyone sees us together, but... tell me how it turns out." Then he left, walking away at that 'I didn't say nothing, didn't do nothing' pace that all casteless had when trying to get away from an authority figure. By the Ancestor, Faren was glad he didn't have to move like that anymore.

Serada was just walking into the Deep Roads, a great archway barricaded by sheets of stone and piles of dirt. She could hear the sound of scraping metal and thudding feet, and turned to see the drunk from before chasing after her. "There you are!" He was panting heavily, and leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, "I'd thought I'd spoken to a Grey Warden before, but I just chalked it up to the drink." Serada glanced at Faren, but kept her mouth shut, "I know you're down here to look for Branka, and I need to ask a favor."

Serada sighed, "What's the favor?"

The drunk stood up straight, "Name's Oghren, and if you've ever heard of me before it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys that look at me wrong. And that's mostly true... But the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only paragon! And if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her." Serada just raised and eyebrow and waited. She knew Oghren, or at least of him. Bad drinking partner, one of the best to have on your side in a fight. "You should know Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void, the secret to building Golems, which was lost centuries ago. The Smith Caradin built it, and with it Orzammar had a hundred years of peace. It was protected by the Golems forged on the Anvil."

Serada nodded, "I know this part. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig."

Oghren smiled, "Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caradin Cross, and no one's seen that thaig for five hundred years."

She nodded, "Harrowmont gave me a map, I can get us to Caradin's cross."

"If we're going, let's get moving! Branka's not gonna sodding find herself!"

Behlen sat on the throne, his fingers twitching with anxiety. When the Grey Warden and his sister had walked into the Assembly Chamber, he had been certain that she would have talked the Warden out of choosing him. But she'd surprised him, and had let the Paragon made crown sit on his head. And that head was still on his shoulders! Taking a slow breath, he clenched his fist and slammed it on the arm of the throne. His throne... He heaved a sigh and shook his head, trying to clear it of all those memories.

Trian had been planning on killing Serada. Trian had suggested her appointment to Commander of the armies when he'd seen that the whole of the city loved her. Even their own father had played favorites, always choosing Sera or Behlen over Trian any day. Trian had a gruff way of doing things, had always expected perfection and never had any compassion for failure. Nothing wrong with being gruff, but when those nobles you're supposed to have on your side start whispering that maybe your sibling is better suited for the job? That's why he'd suggested her, their only sister, to be commander. So that she would be one step closer to being out of his way. Trian had hoped that she would die on that raid of the Aeducan thaig. Had hired thugs to be waiting for her, to kill her and her party. But Trian had always been the smart one, of course he'd had a backup plan. If those who he'd hired couldn't kill her, then he would do it himself.

Or so said Pyral Harrowmont.

It had been Harrowmont who had told Behlen about Trian's plans for Serada's fate. Harrowmont who had arranged for Behlen to try and save his sister, and prevent a murder. Harrowmont coin that had paid for hirelings to help his sister. Those same hirelings who had then turned on Behlen when he'd hoped for their support to save her. And then Harrowmont himself who, (while trying to save face) to prove that the Aeducan line had gone sour and needed to be replaced, had called for her exile. Behlen had had no choice. He knew Serada had no designs on the throne, she would have gladly handed it over to him, without a second thought so he'd gone for the support of the Assembly and was told that he needed to be strong, and show it, to earn their backing. What could say that better than demanding your sisters blood?

Or so said Pyral Harrowmont.

Then his girl, Rica – sweet, precious Rica – had given him a son. She had wanted to name him after the King, Endrin, but Behlen had another choice. A better choice he thought. Eradin Aeducan, son of Behlen Aeducan is what he was called before his father. Before the Assembly and all of Orzammar. Before Pyral Harrowmont. His father had rejoiced in the birth of his grandchild, had even listened to Bhelen's plans to throw out tradition and make Rica his wife so that even their daughters could live in the castle. Be known as Noble caste. They were working on a plan to introduce the changes slowly, to prevent a knife in their own backs, And then his father had fallen ill. Sick over the loss of two children and the perversions of the third.

Or so said Pyral Harrowmont.

Behlen was seething by now, pacing up and down the dias in front of the few gathered nobles who had remained loyal to the Aeducan name. Harrowmont had tried to thwart him at every turn, the only thing being that Harrowmont hadn't grown up with Train for an elder brother. He threw Behlen out of his father's rooms just before his last breath, then emerged saying that Endrin had called for him to be the heir, not his perverse son. Then he'd called for the Proving, didn't stop the warriors from fighting in his name. But Behlen had made his own movements. He knew Harrowmont wouldn't dare dirty his own or the boots of any of his household with the grime from Dust Town, and so when Rica's brother – a Grey Warden no less! - had come to him, pledging his help, Behlen had known where he could go. Clean out the Carta. Get rid of that threat to Rica's safety and begin to clear up the city in one swoop!

Then Harrowmont had sent Serada into the Deep Roads after Paragon Branka and Behlen had thought that all hope was lost. Surely Serada would blame him for her circumstances in life; blame him for the hell that had been forced upon her with being exiled to the Deep Roads. But something must have happened down there, out of sight from the prying eyes of the nobility, because she and the Grey Warden had returned with a golden, Paragon Caridin-made crown and then had said that HE would be Orzammar's king!

The great doors leading into the throne room opened and in she walked, alone, weaponless, in a basic tunic and leather pants. It was a statement, one that he got loud and clear. "Alright brother, I've made you king now. What are you going to do with power?" She stalked forward, or at least it felt that way to Behlen, and settled herself into one of the chairs in front of him, lifting her feet and resting them on the great table beside her. They stayed that way, younger brother crowned and elder sister sitting waiting... watching. Then Behlen spoke, "How did you know? Why side with me?"

She blew out her breath and pursed her lips. "It was something Harrowmont said to me when I met with him. Something that just didn't sit right with me." She smirked, "After all, I'm an Aeducan too, brother. Father didn't raise fools."

Behlen forced a chuckle, "No... no he didn't. But what did he say?"

The corners of her mouth twitched and she put her feet on the floor. "Why don't you tell me how you learned it was him behind it all, and then I'll tell you?"

It had been a long day. A looooonnnnng day, and Daylen was tired. Exhausted, worn out, kaput, done. After all, it wasn't easy walking into the Fade, especially someone else's interpretation of it. To be honest, he'd expected a young boys world to be all toy swords and rocking horses, not the twisted minefield it had been. Then again, he had to admit that if a demon was in control of his thoughts then things might be a little topsy turvy too. Daylen leaned back in one of the few great chairs in his room, one of the smaller ones in the castle, the fire feeling wonderful on his chilled feet. Winter was coming fast on the lowlands. He was beginning to wonder how they could fight a war against the darkspawn and Loghain in the snow. The door to his room opened and Neria poked her head around the edge of it. "Daylen?"

He turned in his chair and smiled, "Neria! Come in!"

The young elf entered and half closed the door behind her. "I've just come from Lady Couslands room. Do you know anything about what's been going on with that boy?"

Daylen pursed his lips and sank back into his chair, "No. Not entirely anyway. Bann Teagan said something about the Cousland's being slaughtered. Maybe it has something to do with that."

Neria shrugged and leaned on the back of his chair, "I also wanted to thank you. For saving the Circle. I know it wasn't an easy choice."

He 'humphed' and rolled his eyes, "I wasn't about to side with Greagior if that's what you're suggesting."

She chuckled, "No. I wasn't going to expect that either. But I know you, Daylen. You hated the Circle with a passion that you couldn't have calmed in the few months you've been gone. What changed?" She paused, "Was it me?"

Daylen blew out his breath and shut the book in his lap, he'd just gotten to that spell too! "Neria..." he sighed and closed his eyes, "You're asking for information that I'm not entirely comfortable with sharing."

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, "Not comfortable with sharing? Daylen Amell, don't insult me like that." She moved to the small footstool in front of him and nudged his feet just enough to sit down. "The walls here don't happen to have the ears or eyes that the Circle did. What happened?"

Daylen was busy rubbing the front of the book on his lap, trying to ignore her. It wasn't until a few moments past that she sighed and put her head in her hands. "Daylen, it won't kill you to show a little emotion you know."

He snarled and let the book drop to the floor on the other side of the chair. "It's not that, Neria."

"Good. We've always been able to talk. I don't want to change that."

He nodded, "But you might not have a choice, Ria. I'm a Grey Warden now. Everything's changed."

"What."

He rolled his head, stretching out his neck. He realllllly didn't want to talk about this right now. Oh well. "Well, for starters there's that Templar."

"Cullen? What about him? He's stayed at the Tower, to help clean it up. Why is he bothering you?"

"He's always liked you. From when you were first brought to the Tower, always." She made a face and he continued, "You said I've never liked the Tower or the Circle's teachings. Every last one of those mages was forced into that Tower, forced to hide away from the face of the world until we're needed. Like we were the scum of the Earth." He paused, looking at her face. "No, you know I'm right! Even Elves are treated with more respect than a mage!" He stood up then, pacing in front of the fire. She could tell his anger was getting hot and decided to change the subject.

"Then what about the boy? Oren?"

Daylen stopped moving. "What about him?"

"Oren, the young Cousland boy? What do you think can be done for him?"

He shrugged, "How should I know? Go talk to Wynne if you're going to worry about someone. I've got better things to do."

Hurt that her old friend would cast her out so easily, without so much as an explanation, Neria left him alone. Alone with his precious book that clearly meant more to him.

Daylen growled and forced himself to his feet, stalking over to the window in his chamber and leaning on the casement. He hated that he yelled at her, but damn if she didn't know all this already! She had to know that consorting with a Templar was dangerous... especially that templar. He shook his head and started pacing across the room. Whatever, she had made her choice, he couldn't hold it against her and he wouldn't let it stop him from moving on. It had taken months, but he could finally see his infatuation with her for what it was. An infatuation, nothing more. All those months of close proximity to her had made him believe that he could see past her naivete. It had taken someone else, someone more...real than the young she-elf to truly make him see, make him feel. He looked back towards the book. He read back through to the pages where he became engrossed in before the interruption. He had been reading this spell for the past hour. It was similar to the binding spells he learned before his Harrowing. If performed correctly, one mage with strong enough will could actually give part of their soul to an object, binding it, for whatever deed that needed to be fulfilled. However this particular spell had a bit of a modification. It looked as though he could... well it wasn't a bond but more of a, well there were multiple things that could be done, with another mage! A conscious visit with whomever the mage wished, assuming the other mage was of a similar mind. Daylen was currently wondering if the visit would cause him to actually travel through space or if it would merely be a visiting in the Fade. Finally working himself up into a migraine, he decided to sleep on it. Flopping onto the simply made bed without even trying to remove his shirt, he found himself soon asleep with his last thought being, "Would she even want a visit from me?"

His question was answered quicker than he thought.

He was on a bed, much like the one he was just sleeping on, only this bed was bigger; enough for two people to fit comfortably. Daylen searched for any dangers in his area, quickly scanning his surroundings to see there was an all to familiar mist growing on the walls of the room. Using his 'warden senses' he could see no immediate dangers from darkspawn. He quickly used one of his more favorite spells to dispel any magic in the room. After the tingling sensation of his mana drained away he looked towards the door. He saw no knob. "Great, I'm trapped." He put his hands behind his head and started to try and relax. His magic would keep the preying eyes of demons away for a while anyway. After about three minutes he started to wonder why he was still consciously there...alone. Where were the dancing girls and scantily clad elves that usually followed him?

"Warden," a feminine and yet rather commanding voice barked out from his right.

Daylen would've been alarmed had he not remembered his last thought. It was certain now that she did in fact want a visit from him. He turned his head to his right and held his cocksure grin as he replied to the witch laying on the bed.

"Morrigan."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I think the better question is 'what are YOU doing here?"

"I was here first, therefore you must answer my question."

His grin broadened and he leaned closer, "I think you already know the answer to it, you just won't admit it yet."

She scowled, "Don't flatter yourself, Warden. Stop toying with me, answer the question."

He pulled back, his grin not dimming and stared up at the incorporeal sky, "I was reading this one book..."

She sat up, her dark eyes piercing his with that 'don't you shit with me' look, "You found Flemeth's Grimoire! When I spoke to you I didn't hope... What a most fortuitous event!"

Daylen cocked an eyebrow and looked at her funny, "How? It's still with me..."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know." She glanced away briefly, muttering under her breath, "This should be interesting."

"Again. Still with me. Unless of course, you wanted to … share." His grin turned lecherous and she raised a hand as though to slap him. She paused, looking at him carefully. Perhaps she could turn this to her advantage yet. "What do you say, Morrigan. There's some pretty good stuff in here. Could get...interesting."

"Shut up. I don't share."

He paused. He was being too flippant. She was here because some part of her wanted to be here. He knew that much, and it would be incredibly satisfying to hear her say it. 'This would be interesting.' "You sure you wouldn't care to try?" There was a pause. It was brief but Daylen knew what was really meant behind it,

"No."