Hello there, readers! My apologies for being on such a long hiatus. My computer died and I lost a good deal of my stuff, and the writers among you will know that writing something all over again when you were happy with it is about the most disheartening thing you can do.

Note: This chapter is half intro to Lothering, half setup for Aegnor's meeting with an old friend. The Blight will retake center stage in a chapter or two, depending on the length.

"Wake up, gentleman! More travelers to attend to!" I didn't bother hiding my groan as half a dozen highwaymen responded. Their equipment was a step below what I'd seen at Ostagar, but a cheaply made maul hurts just as much. Their leader, the one who spoke, put on a jaunty smile as if he were nothing more than a jolly tax collector. The thought of such a creature makes me want to vomit.

"Highwaymen." Alistair said, rather unnecessarily. "Preying on those fleeing the Blight, no doubt."

Whereas Alistair had remained quiet, Morrigan did not bother to hide her words. "They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson."

The jaunty smile shifted slightly. Admirably, he only stared at Morrigan's chest for a moment. Dedicated to professionalism, this one. "Now, is that any way to greet toll collectors? A simple ten silvers and you're free to pass."

I weighed my options. On one hand, letting bandits have their way galled me. On the other, two of them had crossbows in hand, and only Alistair used shield, let alone wore armor. We could easily lose people to what would be the most inconsequential of skirmishes.

With a sigh, I pulled ten silvers from my purse, careful to keep it from jingling, and handed them over. "There."

Morrigan's expression was livid, while Alistair's and Ellie's were confused. Garahel, at least, didn't seem to mind. I walked briskly between them, adopting a look of resigned worry, as if I knew they could take everything if they wanted, and I just had to pray that paying them would be enough. Most of them had smug looks, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see them leering at Morrigan and Ellie.

That ended pretty quickly when I grabbed a pair of crossbow bolts and shoved them into the necks of their owners.

As the crossbowmen were in the back, and most eyes were on the women of our group, they didn't think to go for their weapons until I'd drawn my sword and lopped off one of their heads. Garahel was the quickest to understand the plan and had another in his jaws, with Morrigan close behind him, casting hexes with glee. Alistair, not having the room to draw his sword, grappled with one until he got the upper hand and laid him out with a solid punch. He drew his sword, now having the room, and hesitated. I ended his hesitation by flicking my blade across the bandit's throat.

Only the leader remained standing, holding a mace in quivering hands. Internally, I winced at his poor choice of weapon. He swung, and was far too slow to prevent me from smashing the flat of my blade onto his unprotected fingers. The mace dropped, and I stepped forward, my left hand closing around his throat.

It had lasted barely a quarter minute.

He struggled, hands clamped onto mine and trying to dislodge me with no result. He was taller and broader than I by a good deal, but my grip was iron. I shook him once, jarring him, and shot him a glare. "Enough of that. Believe me when I say that I'm a better option than the Mabari."

He glanced at Garahel, who was happily wagging his tail next to the bandit whose throat he'd ripped out. Wisely, he decided to not risk pissing him off. "Ah, right you are sir. So… care to let me go?" He switched from his "lovable highwayman" voice to his "harmless chap you don't want to kill in cold blood" voice. From the sound of him, it wasn't the first time he'd used it.

"Not quite yet." I said. "I've got a couple of questions, and seeing as you're the bandit who's been robbing those fleeing the darkspawn, it seems like you'd hear a fair amount." I hadn't actually planned on this, but given that we had no clue as to the state of affairs for the past week, it seemed like a half decent idea.

He gulped. "Well, now that you mention it, I might have heard a thing or two… so what'd you wanna know?" He said, nervously eyeing the corpses of his fellows.

"Anyone of note come up the Imperial Highway? Remnants of the King's Army, messengers, things of that description."

He nodded so fast that his chin smacked into my wrist, coming closer to freeing him than his hand had. "Yes sir! Teyrn Loghain's army came through a few days back, and some ragged Ash Warriors the day after. We got out of their way right quick!"

I cocked my head. "So where did those wagons come from?" I asked, jerking my head towards the stockpile they'd gathered.

"Just some farmers and whatnot fleeing north! We was planning on waiting for a couple more days, then heading north ourselves!"

I grunted. "Anyone else? Anyone news worth mentioning?"

He paled at my tone and tried to back away. "They said that the Wardens had killed good King Cailin!"

I heard Alistair's hiss of indrawn breath and Ellie's quiet gasp. Well… that's not good. "Who's 'they'?"

"The Teyrn's soldiers! We heard some of them talking 'bout it when they passed us by. Other than that, just farmers screaming 'bout darkspawn and Ash Warriors grumbling 'bout their dead hounds an' the like!" He saw the thoughtful look in my eyes. "If I've been of help, er, can I go? Whatever direction you's going in, I'm running the other way!"

I eyed him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I don't doubt it." Right as his face had brightened and he looked down expectantly at my hand around his throat, I grabbed his head both hands and twisted. A dull crack made Ellie and Alistair wince, though Morrigan and I stayed stoic. For me, the sound was at least little different to that of a rabbit whose neck I'd wrung.

Ellie shuddered. "You… we… just killed six people. Oh Maker…"

Morrigan nodded with satisfaction. "I would like to be informed of such plans in the future, Warden, but I cannot argue with the result."

I grunted, my thoughts more in line with Ellie's than Morrigan's. Creators, is this what you felt when you killed those humans, Papae? I felt… empty. "Grab what coin you can find, and any supplies we might find useful." I said, gesturing towards the corpses and the pile of stolen goods. Grimacing, I followed my own order, looting the leader.

Alistair whirled on me. "What? But it's stolen! You know, not ours, people might miss it?"

I sighed, pocketing the money I found without relish. "I know, but we'd be poor Grey Wardens if we starved to death from lack of coin, and we don't exactly have the time to adopt a trade. We'll leave most of the material goods behind and see if the owners are still in Lothering." I smiled gently, meeting his disapproving gaze. "If you don't want to search the bodies, search the goods with Ellie." Morrigan was already on her second thug, showing no qualms. Garahel pushed up against Ellie, whining, knowing her discomfort.

Alistair complied reluctantly, and soon we had a number of useful things, among them soap, a small hatchet, a few days of provisions, some waterskins, and gut to replace what I'd used for stitches. I could have, and probably should have, taken one of their suits of armor to wear to avoid paying for one, but I was rather repulsed by the idea, not the least because they stank even without the bloodstains. We did take their weapons, however, as they were portable and would sell easily. I claimed a somewhat rusty dagger to use if needed, though I would need a new one rather quickly nonetheless. I didn't trust it to survive more than a couple of fights without breaking off inside someone.

Aegnor stopped as Varric gestured. "What is it?"

Varric steepled his fingers, looking pensive. "The similarities between you and Hawke are getting eerie."

Aegnor frowned. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a curse."

Varric thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Neither. It just is. Neither of you like killing people. You both attack darkspawn gladly, but Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Qunari? He tried to brush it off and make jokes about it, but it wasn't hard to see. Even after he got used to living with a mask around other people, I knew."

Aegnor nodded gravely. "We deal with it in different ways, neither healthy. I don't know him that well, but I suppose I'm glad he has you for a friend after what happened to his family."

Varric's face fell. "Yeah. Wish I could do more for him. Best I could do was throw the Seeker off his trail."

"Facing down the Right Hand of the Divine, unarmed, and lying to her face for a friend? Do not discount that."

Varric sighed heavily. "I know. I know. Even so, I'm all he's got left, and here I am helping the people who wanted to either kill him or put him at the head of this crusade as a figurehead. I can't remember which."

Aegnor grimaced. "I can understand that. From what I gather, they had similar notions with regards to myself." He rubbed his jaw for a moment, despite him lacking a beard. "At least they have their Herald of Andraste. From what I've seen and heard of him, he's a better candidate than Hawke or I." He chuckles ruefully. "Probably more level headed as well."

Varric tried to hide his smirk by taking a long drink of water. He was only partially successful. "Hawke's level headed as far as Kirkwaller's go, but pretty much. Ian's better than I expected at keeping Cassandra happy."

"Heh. Fairly certain Hawke's the only level headed Kirkwaller."

"Hey!"

Aegnor gave him a frank look. "You have a crossbow whom you've named after your estranged, married lover that you won't let out of your sight, you chose to live in a city where the veil was thin enough that a cantrip would tear it even after you became obscenely wealthy despite no familial ties keeping you there, and you appear to have a paper mache boat made out of letters from the Merchant's Guild, one of the most feared bodies in Thedas when it comes to ones finances."

Varric opened his mouth, closed it, before settling for grumbling. "….."

Aegnor put a hand to his ear. "What was that?"

Varric snorted. "Alright, fine! You may have a point."

Aegnor grinned. "And on that happy note, I think it's time to end for the day."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Aegnor stood up and moved to the window, tilting his head to get a better look at the sun. "After Lothering is where everything happens, and we've already been going for about six hours." Indeed, the sun was nearing the horizon. He thought a moment more, before he shrugged. "And besides, I need to get my thoughts in order. Remembering events a decade past, however vivid, takes time."

Varric frowned, annoyed. "You sure we can't go a bit further?" He wheedled. "At least past Lothering. It'll get it out of the way for more exciting bits"

Aegnor shook his head, smirking. "I know you're tricks, Master Tethras, and they won't work on me. And before you ask again, try unclenching your hand." He watched a moment longer as Varric attempted, and failed, to uncurl his fingers from the quill he'd held for so long, collecting his sword and bag as he did so.

"You're a bastard, you know that Wildfire?" Chuckling, he made his way out the door and into the snowy little town that housed the Inquisition.

Haven was home to another gathering of the devout. Whether they were insane to a lesser or greater degree had yet to be seen, particularly with Mages and Templars living in such close proximity. "They haven't started torturing innocent scholars yet, so that's something." He murmured under his breath. Everywhere he walked, from the store to the Chantry, held a memory for him, often of the same façade covered in blood that was not his.

He frowned. Creators, I need to reminisce about something else.

He sold a number of things he'd picked up to the quartermaster. He didn't need the money, but it was a habit that he doubted would ever subside. Killing people and selling their valuables had proven far too instrumental to his success for him to start acting like he was above it. It was just a matter of finding the right people, as these days most bandits knew him on sight. It had taken a decade, but it had finally made it down the criminal grapevine that attacking him was an utterly foolish endeavor.

Surprisingly, the Requisitions Officer was a devout supporter of Loghain, something that made his original reason for visiting somewhat difficult to get across. His role in removing Loghain from the regency did not endear himself to her, forcing him to withstand a protracted, one-sided shouting match before he could ask her if there were any requisitions that needed filling. She shot him a venom filled glare before grudgingly allowing him to write down the more important ones and told him, on no uncertain terms, that he was the reason things had gone to shit. She wasn't entirely wrong, though he assumed she was referring to Loghain more than anything else.

Predictably, the former Templars among the Inquisition's ranks were just as fond of him as the Requisition's Officer. He could feel the resentment coming off of them in waves, fuelled by their hatred of what he'd done to their former comrades and their belief that someone like him was an unholy abomination on principle and should be put down. Most simply did their best to ignore him, which suited him just fine. More than one, however, looked tempted to smite him, to see if they could do the world a favor by ridding it of him. Those he fixed with an icy stare, daring them to try.

None did.

Ironically, it was mage that gave voice to their discontent. "Hello again, Warden. I'm pleased to see you're being given a welcome fitting for your station." She drawled, satisfaction dripping from her voice in a way that set his teeth on edge. "I trust it's to your liking."

He forced down his irritation and put on a bright smile, knowing it would annoy her more. "Vivienne." He said, noting the slight twitch in her brow at him ignoring her title. To most humans, it was imperceptible, but elvish eyes were something else entirely. Two can play at this game. "I imagine you enjoyed it as much as I am."

"Oh, I continue to enjoy it, dear."

He smiled sweetly. "I wasn't referring to my treatment, Vivienne. I was referring to yours."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" She said, her voice somewhat cooler than before.

He nodded, the smile never shifting. "Indeed. A mage, risen to a position of power among the nobles. Quite the accomplishment, and you didn't even have to end the Blight to do it."

She laughed. "I won other battles, dear. I daresay the Imperial Court is more dangerous than the Ferelden Landsmeet."

He shook his head. "It's a bigger den of vipers, I will concede, but they lack teeth. If they had any, they would have driven you out long ago."

She frowned for the first time. "Don't be ridiculous."

It was his turn to laugh. "Ridiculous? The Templars of Val Royeaux, the most devout, numerous, and well-equipped in Thedas, saw your rise to power as a threat. Even as you championed their cause as the world began to reject them, they saw you as little more than an expendable tool, one that must fall along with the other mages."

"I hardly-"

He pressed on. "The nobles saw your presence as an insult to their lineage, which stretches back thousands of years, certainly longer than some Mage from Ostwick. And your fellow mages… well, those that aren't a member of your little club resented you. Creators, they still resent you. All that power you accumulated because the Orlesian Court hadn't the balls to put you in your place, and what did you do for them?" His smile became predatory. "You did nothing."

He held his expression for a second, then shrugged. "Given all of that, I can imagine that you were as welcome as I am among even former Templars."

Her face fixed itself into a mask of cold indifference. "Dear, you may wish to stop inventing stories before you lose all credibility. What credibility you have left, at least."

"Have I touched a nerve? My apologies, if that's the case."

She sniffed. "If you wish to say something, I suggest you say it."

He bit back a laugh. "You first."

She huffed. "Very well. You're an ill-bred, ill-mannered vagabond with an insignificant title that is allowed among the Inquisition for reasons that appear to be nonexistent. You're only action so far is dealing with an insignificant number of bandits in the Hinterlands, something we could have easily accomplished, and our chances of garnering the aid of the Templar Order with the Breach are close to none so long as you are affiliated with us."

He took a moment to consider, a thoughtful look on his face. "You left out the fact that, because of me, the Templar Order is unlikely to have the numbers to aid us." He hummed distractedly, his fingers drumming on the hilt of the dagger on his hip, before refocusing his attention. "As for you, you insulted my friend, a woman who accomplished more than you ever have or will, because didn't align with your views regarding the Circles. A viewpoint, I might add, containing so much hypocrisy on your part that I'm surprised it doesn't tear you in half, but that's neither here nor there."

"And you say the Imperial Court lacks teeth? That wouldn't have flustered an apprentice, my dear Warden."

He snorted. "Those weren't the teeth I was referring to." In the blink of an eye, he crossed the distance between them, seeming all the faster for the lack of urgency in the motion. He met her eyes, now wide with surprise, and caught her wrist as she moved to ready her staff. His face was decidedly pleasant, no longer displaying any of the false courtesy he had before. "Insults to my person, I can handle. But insult Ellie again, in or out of earshot, and you will regret it." He stepped away just as quickly and strode off, brushing past her. "And be careful with whom you decide to indulge your pride. You never know which ones will decide to cut through the bullshit to save themselves the headache."

Once out of range, he leaned against a building and let his head thud against the wall. Nice going, Aegnor. You're here to make friends, remember? He sighed, more irritated than he should have been. I need to clear my head. It wasn't hard to guess who'd be the most willing to accommodate what he had in mind.

Thwack!

Cassandra focused on the training dummy in front of her, trying to work out the frustration accumulated over the past few weeks. The recent arrival had pushed her close to the breaking point.

Thwack!

Despite the satisfying impact of blunted steel on wood, the straw having given way all too quickly, all she felt was more infuriated. Damn that Warden! She pictured his smirking face.

Thwack!

To the void with him! She ground her teeth. Why were they accepting his help? Leliana had vouched for him, but the two had barely spoken since he'd arrived, preferring to spend his time holed up with Varric and wasting her time.

Thwack!

She snorted, again failing to clear her head. We needed the Champion, not someone too blinded by their hatred and vanity that they slaughter the righteous and demand their old war stories be written down before they lift a finger!

Thwack!

He was arrogant.

Thwack!

Unstable.

Thwack.

Unreliable.

Thwack!

And he was all they had.

Thwack!

With a cry, she smashed the training sword down on the wooden post, snapping it off a third of the way up from the ground. She stood, breathing hard more from anger than exertion, before grunting in annoyance and striding over to the next training dummy.

A sudden tap on her shoulder brought her whirling around, sword held high. The revealed culprit did not make her want to stop with her strike. "Creators, easy! I just wanted to ask if you wanted to spar." The Warden had left behind his cocky grin, which was the only thing that gave her pause.

Reluctantly, she lowered the sword. "What manner of sparring?"

His shoulders slumped slightly with relief. "Blunted weapons, full armor, best of five bouts."

"How many hits?"

"Five."

She was tempted to refuse, but her curiousity regarding his fighting ability and eagerness to beat him about the head and shoulders won out. "I will spar with you on one condition."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

She hefted her training sword over her should and moved over to where her shield lay. "It will be the best of ten bouts."

Varric lounged comfortably in the tavern. It was somewhat irritating to have Wildfire stop when he did, but for the sake of his fans he was grateful. He had garnered a decent following at Haven, and many only came to drink because of his stories.

Grinning, he took a swig of indifferent ale he hadn't paid for and launched into a yarn. Just like back home. "So no shit, there I was, surrounded by crazy Carta dwarves, trying to keep them from putting a blade in my gut when Hawke shouts 'I have a plan!' and runs off. Unfortunately for my gut, the plan wasn't running away and letting crazy dwarves lie."

"Good thing it wasn't! He would've left you behind too!" Sera cackled from across the tavern, now in between attempts to seduce the barmaid. An Inquisition soldier ran in and started speaking with a table of his fellows in the far corner, using animated gestures and appearing excited.

Ignoring him, Varric spread his hands and shrugged. "Okay, fair point. In any case, Blondie was barely keeping Aveline and I on our feet when suddenly, we hear a bunch of clicks and Hawke yells 'get down!'. We…" He trailed off as he saw the table of soldiers scramble to get out of their chairs and bolt for the door, almost literally falling over themselves. Several of the patrons ventured out with them, curious to see what the commotion was about.

I hope Wildfire hasn't broken something. He set down his tankard with an audible clunk and sauntered towards the door, much to the disappointment of his remaining listeners. "I'll finish later, alright? I just need to take a step outside and see what's happening."

He pulled on his leather coat against the chill and started to run after the crowd as soon as he was sure no one was looking at him. One of the downsides of having short legs was having to run twice as hard to keep up, which made one look rather undignified.

He arrived, out of breath, to find a crowd gathered around one of the sparring rings. "Andraste's Ass!" He swore under his breath. Cassandra was easily visible above the crowd, and he could see a hint of flame red hair peeking out past the heads of onlookers. I think this'll be worth seeing. He ventured back into Haven in search of a higher vantage point. With any luck, he'd find one before they started.

Cassandra took the time to observe her opponent before the first bout started. Cullen, after trying for more than ten minutes to get his recruits back to their training, had finally relented and was personally judging the match, on the condition that he would personally beat any recruit that tried to skive off of drills into the dirt.

At first glance, it was hard to see any advantage. He was smaller than her by a good bit, and even his lanky build wouldn't close the difference in their respective reach, disadvantaging him both in a close range pushing match and a longer range exchange of blows. His shield wasn't strapped to his arm, reducing his comparative leverage even further. Even his weapon seemed to work against him, as he was apparently going to try wielding a weighted, two handed training sword with just one hand.

Cassandra knew that most of the smart bets that looked past his legendary status would be against him, and she was tempted to agree. Her gut, however, told her otherwise. He wouldn't fight like this if he was expecting to make a fool out of himself. She narrowed her eyes. What are you playing at, Warden?

Varric whistled down at easily the most visible member of the crowd. "Tiny! Ten royals says Cassandra wins this!"

The massive Qunari scratched his chin, observing the two of them. "That's a rich bet."

Varric smiled. "I'm good for it."

After a moment's hesitation, the Iron Bull nodded. "I'm in. There's no way the guy who took down an Archdemon is losing this one!"

Varric couldn't help but agree. Ten royals, however, was a small price to pay in keeping Cassandra from chewing him out again. I don't even want to know how mad she'd be if I bet against her.

Cassandra hefted her own sensible longsword and shield and, upon hearing Cullen's shout, the Hero of Orlais rushed out to meet the Hero of Ferelden.

She eschewed the usual probing of her opponent's defenses and charged. He may be strong, but even he cannot ignore this! She crashed into his shield, but instead of the resistance she had been expecting, the shield gave way and shoved her to her right. Grunting with frustration, she pivoted and struck, knowing that his shield was in no position to block. Again, she felt no impact. What in the name of Andraste-

She reeled backwards as a massive force, easily the equal of some dragons she had faced, slammed into her shield, splintering the wood. A light staccato ringing permeated the air afterwards, followed by Cullen's declaration. "The first bout goes to the Hero of Ferelden, with five hits to none!"

Cassandra reset her stance for the next bout and faced Aegnor again, gritting her teeth. I will not shame the Seekers by being beaten so easily!

Varric frowned as the first bout ended. That was… something. Instead of meeting the Seeker head on, Aegnor had allowed his shield to pivot and retreated, avoiding a good deal of the momentum. The longer reach of his greatsword was all he needed after that to wind up a decent swing and use the opening to rack up the hits. She probably doesn't know exactly what he just did. Her shield was blocking too much of her vision.

And yet, there was something… off.

It was more apparent in the second bout, which started far slower. Cassandra brought all of her skills to bear and probed his defenses, all the while getting used to the reach of his greatsword and the power of his swings. Strikes like the one that had stunned her now only rocked her slightly as she used her footwork and shieldwork to avoid the worst of it, and her lighter longsword had allowed her to garner two hits in quick succession. Aegnor's moves were technically flawless, but they were a bit stiff and rusty, as if they hadn't seen use recently.

Varric, realizing his discontent, chuckled ruefully. Cassandra was fighting with heart and soul and getting the best of him. Wildfire was just working some kinks loose. Fair enough. It IS the practice yard, after all. He wondered how many others in the crowd knew enough to see what was happening.

Cassandra panted, satisfied despite being out of breath. She'd won the last two bouts handily once she'd gotten used to the unholy reach and power of his greatsword, even wielded one-handed. At the end of the third bout, however, she realized her mistake. Had there been only five bouts, she would've been fine. But the sheer physicality needed to get the best of him meant that she was tiring fast with the bouts as protracted as they were. It was no easy thing to score five hits.

Aegnor, by contrast, didn't even look winded. What IS he? The Warden's strength was legendary, but swinging that monstrous hunk of lead and steel that deftly without tiring defied reason. Not even the Avvar or the Qunari could accomplish such a feat.

She shook her head, breaking herself out of her reverie. Regardless, I will see this through. Taking a deep breath, she eased towards him as the fourth bout started. Sidestepping his first strike, she darted in and scored a hit on his vambrace, though she nearly lost her head to his return swing. A quick duck saved her and she skittered away, frustrated that she couldn't fight him head on.

The next minute went by with the two of them shifting around the ring, feinting, attacking, parrying, and retreating. Unfortunately, Aegnor's moves were growing sharper and smoother, and the next hit went to him. She countered, and he replied in kind. After that, all bets were off, and Aegnor rushed in after her. The exchange of blows was long and difficult, and the intensity of his swings increased to the point that she could only dodge them, not trusting her trembling arms to hold out. Then, it was blessedly over. Five hits to her, and four hits to Aegnor. She backed away breathing hard, her arms aching. I win. There was little joy in the thought, however.

It was almost a relief when she was knocked unconscious.

Cassandra woke up looking at the sky, which had thankfully changed little. I haven't been out long. The cot beneath her back said that someone had been thoughtful enough to not leave her on the ground. Groaning, she attempted to sit up, only for a massive hand to push her back down. "Easy, Seeker. You took one hell of a hit."

She allowed herself to drop, much to the relief of her swimming head. "What... What happened?"

The Iron Bull shrugged. "Not much to it, really. He caught you clean with the edge of his shield."

She grit her teeth and tried to sit up, this time with a bit more success. "Damn him. He hadn't used any before that!"

The Iron Bull laughed easily. "What's the matter, Seeker? Pissed that you lost?"

"As if you would do any better!" She shot back at him.

He nodded. "You're right. I didn't."

She frowned. "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "He wanted to leave it at that, but I figured hey, why not see how tough he is for myself?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"He beat the shit out of me. I guess he figured I could take it better than most. Could barely walk straight after one round."

With a grunt, she finally managed to bring herself upright, and for the first time noticed that the cot next to her was occupied. "Why is Ser Blackwall in the infirmary?"

The Iron Bull winced. "He volunteered to carry on for you before I could, all honorable and shit. I was a bit pissed, but after fighting him I'm sure as shit happy he left only one round for me."

Aegnor breathed out a sigh of satisfaction as he left the training grounds, enjoying the adrenaline rush before it faded. That felt good. He wasn't pleased with the fact that he'd made mincemeat of the Inquisition's best fighters, but they'd succeeded in giving him a good workout. He hadn't practiced sword and shield fighting since his last shield had been destroyed, and he felt much better now that he'd gotten used to the motions again.

And it serves Blackwall right, at least. He still wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed decent, and was a skilled warrior besides, but he was no more a Grey Warden than Aegnor was a city elf. Knocking him senseless seemed like a fair compromise for the time being. And given what he seems to think the Order is like, I doubt he's ever MET an actual Warden before myself.

When he saw where his legs had taken him, those thoughts retreated to the back of his mind, replaced by fear.

In many ways, this was a large part of why he'd come here. He knew this moment was coming, yet that made it no easier.

He knocked on the door.

When it opened, he almost didn't recognize her. What had happened to the young girl, full of life and song? The austere garb of the Chantry was all she wore, bereft of any brighter touches she once would have had. No tassles, no glint of gold or velvet against the cold, only mail, leather, and cloth, no doubt concealing more daggers than a back-alley gang. Even the vivid red of her hair seemed dimmer, though all of that paled in comparison to the look of shock quickly replaced by cold fury when she saw him.

He knew not how long they stood there staring at each other, with him not daring to speak and her too furious to say a word. Finally, with a flick of her fingers, she stormed back into the cabin she had claimed as hers, grudgingly inviting him in.

He inclined his head and wordlessly made his way over to one of the chairs by the fire. Sitting down took care, as his armor allowed few mistakes, which gave him a brief respite from the animosity radiating from his old friend. It returned all too soon, leaving him to gaze into the fire and ponder what he should say.

His elvish hearing picked up the unique sound of wine being uncorked, and before long a glass of deep red wine was placed on the armrest of the chair next to his. There was none for him. Leliana sat and took a long drink, and when she was done, she spoke the words he had been fearing the most. "Where is Ellie, Warden?"

He slumped, defeated. She can't even use my name.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, hated it, or anything in between, leave a review and I'll make sure to take it into account for the next chapter. Thanks to RhydianStorm and BlunderBore for reviewing!