We had not spoken for days when we reached Haven. I held up the vanguard with the assassin, Zevran, and Leilana. I watched the Warden lead us forth into the cold mountains, the prince's hands reaching often for her.

I could no longer wander the world with this woman who plagued me so.

After we reached the village, I stopped her, questioning her in front of the entire party.

"This is an interesting technique," I said angrily, "Let's just move further north until it becomes south and take the Archdemon from behind."

"They will never see it coming, to be fair," she smirked, "What's wrong, Sten?"

"We are to fight darkspawn, and yet we are here searching for the charred remains of a dead woman to heal some fool in Redcliffe that will only manipulate our foolish companion over there. Why are we doing this? Why are you running away?"

Her expression changed, growing angrier and intense, "Sten. You swore to me you would help me. Wherever you lead, isn't that what you said? Is there a reason you are questioning me now?"

"This is a foolish endeavor," I replied, seeing our companions all turning to watch our fight, "You know we have more important things to do right now."

"Yes, Sten," she sneered, "I know. Only you know about duty, I had forgotten."

I closed my eyes briefly and sighed. When I opened them again, she had turned to face our companions.

"Do any of you want to lead?" She asked, raising her arms in challenge, "Anyone else think they know what's best for all of us? No? Good. Let us continue exploring the village then. Move out."

She turned to glare at me and marched on before I could say anything.

Morrigan clapped me on the back as she passed, "Nice going, Qunari."

I grumbled and moved further up the mountain.

We fought our way through so much that day. The blood, the bodies, all scarified in the name of a dead prophet. I had once thought those of the Chantry merely misguided, but that day, I saw the destruction that could be done in this Andraste's name. I saw a dead child near an altar. When the others were not looking, I closed his eyes and whispered a prayer for the dead as I folded his arms over his chest. This would not be allowed when the Qun arrived in this land, I promised myself, and that gave me strength to move through the cold mountainside.

When we reached the temple, a spirit lay in wait for us, to challenge ourselves to be proven worthy. To each of us he turned, reaching into our hearts to pull out our greatest regrets and face ourselves. When he reached me, he saw the family I had slain, the ones who had tried to help me, sacrificed to my rage.

I was ashamed.

We went further in, facing traps and challenges. As we grew closer to the end, spirits came close to us, ready to attack. In our horror, I saw it was a ghostly form of each of our companions. The ghostly form of myself went straight for the Warden, a false form of Asala stretching forth to slay her.

I ran in front of her, meeting the undead blade with my own, and shielding her with my body. I met each blow. The spirit fought as I did, thought as I did.

But it could not feel as I did.

I yelled as I slashed off the spirit's head, its decapitated form falling in front on me as it faded into the dark.

I reached for her hand, but she ignored it as she stood.

Our party made it through the spectacle until we reached a wall of flame. The Warden understood and ordered us to strip free of our gear and armour. We needed to have nothing as we walked through, she said, this was the final test.

I tried to look away as she stripped out of her armour, not even leaving on her small clothes as she prepared for the fire. Yet she seemed even fiercer now, her strength exhibited in her small form as she prepared to walk through. I could see her hesitate as she neared the flame, looking back at our companions.

As I took off the last of my clothing, I felt a slight flush come over my skin as she turned to look at me, her eyes lingering as they subtly scanned up my body.

I met her eyes. The fire was thick enough that they would not see if we made it before they too had to cross. But all were afraid to go first. She held out her hand and I grasped it in her own.

"Wherever you lead," I said quietly.

"I know," she murmured back as she brought me forth through the fire.

The fire did not harm us as we passed, feeling hot against our skin as she led me through the flames. I turned to see her, her naked form surrounded by the flames, a look of determination and strength on her face.

We emerged the other side, our companions following. As the last passed the threshold, the fire faded and only the spirit remained.

"You have proven yourselves worthy," the spirit applauded, and gestured to the urn upon a great pedestal before us.

Those who followed the Chantry stood before the Urn in turn, bowing and praying before the remains of the prophet. The rest of us dressed again, now shuddering in the cold.

"Congratulations," I muttered to the Warden, "You've found a waste basket."

She giggled slightly, covering her mouth so the others did not hear her. I watched her as she went up last, taking some of the ashes into a small leather pouch.

We left the temple, slaying the dragon that the cult had honoured so. The Warden took the final blow, piercing the blade into the creature's heart. She tumbled as the creature fell and Alistair was there to catch her.

We made camp that night deep in the mountains. I could not sleep, I was too cold, so I volunteered to sit by the fire and keep watch for any survivors of the cult. Late in the evening as all went to bed, the Warden came to my side and handed me a blanket.

"Go to bed," she said softly, "You'll warm up once you settle in. If you stay out here, you're just going to grow colder. I'm sure Dog will keep you company."

I looked up at her as I took the blanket.

"Thank you, Kadan," I replied, "You treat me kinder than I deserve."

"And you are more patient with me than I deserve," she answered.

We had waited outside the village of Redcliffe while the Warden and Alistair went in with the ashes. The dwarf was irritating me with his profane song while he polished his weapons, so I moved to the other side of the camp, sitting instead beside Leilana who was oiling her leather armour.

"Hello, Sten," she said kindly, wiping some of the oil from her hands, "Nice to be out of the mountains, isn't it? I imagine that wasn't pleasant for you."

"No," I admitted, "I have never been fond of the cold."

We heard arguing from the path leading to the castle. We both stood, grabbing our weapons as we walked forth. The others did not seem to notice as we left.

We made it not far down the road before we saw it was merely the Warden and Alistair shouting at each other in the path. I turned to leave them to their fight, but Leilana paused, wanting to listen in.

"This is none of our concern," I said, "Come now, archer."

"But…but…" she protested as I led her away.

"None of our concern."

"Fine."

We made it back to camp, the hound bounding at my feet, asking for food. I obliged by giving him a dog biscuit, which I had been sad to discover was not a cookie. He happily chomped away on it and I shook my head as I went back to my seat.

In a few moments, the Warden returned, red faced and fuming, a wrapped package bigger than her in her hands.

"Here," she said, dropping it off at my feet, "I'll be back later."

She stormed off and the others came around me as I picked up the package. It was a sword, I knew, and as I took off the wrappings protecting me, I held my breath. It was Asala. There, in my hands again.

"Now that is a beautiful blade," Oghren commented, "I would love to try that one out in the battlefield."

"This is my soul," I retorted, "I will not let another hand touch her but mine. She is returned to me…one lost blade in a war…it is amazing."

I looked up at the path the Warden had taken, and wished I had thanked her.