A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; our hero took a crash-course in magic from Morrigan and the Zevran the Antivan Crow was recruited.

I am so sorry about that Princess Bride reference.

That night was much less awkward than I'd expected. Zevran wasn't exactly trusted by the others – a situation I knew too well – but he never let it bother him. Mostly I was just relieved that there was a different person for the party to focus their distrust on. I was feeling a little nauseous. More to the point, my armour's claws were still stained with Zevran's blood. Looking at it just made me feel worse. I felt... I don't know, like a psychotic brute for clawing him like that. Like an animal.

Morrigan tapped me on the back of the head, stunning me out of my reverie. It was time for more magic training apparently.

"Can't I just have one night off?" I grumbled. Morrigan glared at me.

"Have you forgotten what sleeps within you?" she snapped. "Unless you master your powers, the demon will swallow you whole!"

"Thanks for reminding me!" I shot back angrily. I sighed, but I followed Morrigan away from the camp site again. I really was angry at Morrigan now – but truthfully I was just scared. I worried that the demon might be getting stronger. We came to another suitable area for practice.

"Show me what you have learned so far," Morrigan ordered. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. I tried to visualize the flow of magic within me. In a relatively short amount of time, electricity began to flicker in my palm. I tried to let the magic build, like Morrigan had taught me. But again, the power seemed to grow suddenly and exponentially. It easily broke free from my hands, the charge dissipating uselessly all over the place. The failed spell ended with an embarrassing fizzle. Morrigan rubbed her eyes.

"Wrong again," she said, exasperated. "You are still too timid. You cannot be afraid to use your power."

"But what if it happens again?" I blurted out. Morrigan looked confused.

"What happened at the tower..." I went on quietly. "I hurt Elisa. I hurt all of you. I..."

My left hand clutched at my armoured right arm. "I never want that to happen again."

"Shall I wait until you have finished contemplating your navel?" Morrigan asked matter-of-factly.

"I... what!" I stuttered.

"Do not mind me," the witch went on, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Should you stumble across the secrets of the universe in your pointless self-pitying session, I would not want to put a damper on the event with common sense."

"Fear of the past is fear of your own shadow, Ven," she said, staring into my eyes. "And if you should live in the past – well, no wonder the future shall repeat it. We will continue."

I nodded. I almost instantly regretted it, however, when Morrigan produced two of Elisa's training swords.

"Wha-?"

"A new method," Morrigan cut me off, handing me one of the swords. "If you are to contribute to the party with your magic, you must learn to concentrate on two things at once."

"But I-"

"Cast lightning at those trees while I attack," she went on undeterred. "We will continue until you cast a successful spell."

Then she attacked me. She certainly seemed committed to the 'learn fast or die' mentality. I was just glad she didn't have any sword experience – I parried her attacks quite easily. Of course, the instant I tried to charge up a bolt of lightning I completely forgot about defence. Morrigan's training sword slapped me hard on the shoulder and the charge fizzled out.

"Concentrate, Ven," Morrigan ordered as I parried another strike. "You must be quick."

I tried again, locking my sword with hers to buy some time – but I panicked. The charge built up too quickly and spilled out of my hand uselessly. Morrigan took the opportunity to break the lock and prod me hard in the sternum.

"Try again," she ordered. And that was when I got angry. I charged up a spell, but abandoned it the second I saw Morrigan swing. My own training sword came up, and Morrigan staggered backwards from the force. My sword locked against hers, I reached across with my free hand and slapped the shoulder plate of my armour. The familiar, heady sense of power flowed through me. I buzzed with energy. I flung out my left hand, and a bolt of lightning shot from it and into a tree with barely a second's pause. I looked back at Morrigan, smirking triumphantly.

That was when her sword burst into flames. Morrigan cried out in pain, dropping the flaming weapon. The instant it hit the ground the flames went out, the wooden sword none the worse for wear. I felt the power fade, and with the familiar feeling of exhaustion came a sickening rush of regret. My own sword dropped to the ground.

"Morrigan, I'm so sorry! I-" I began, moving towards her.

"Stay back!" she snapped. I staggered to a halt. "I told you not to use that plate, did I not?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I could control it-"

"You cannot and you should not," the witch shot back. "All this time, have you not once considered why you have this ability? Even a child would begin to suspect something, and yet you remain oblivious!"

I went quiet. Morrigan turned away from me, inspecting her burnt hands. I could hear her hissing in pain. I glanced at her hands, and felt the regret anew at the sight of the burnt and blackened skin.

"Will you be alright?" I asked tentatively.

"I will make a poultice," she replied. "I know one strong enough for burns like these."

"What, with burnt hands?" I asked.

"You will find I am capable of taking care of myself," Morrigan replied pointedly. "This pain is nothing. I have endured worse."

She turned to leave. In a sudden flash of bravery I raced over to her.

"Wha-"

"Let me help," I asked.

"You cannot cast a simple lightning bolt, let alone mend wounds," Morrigan replied, bemused. "And your energy is spent. What do you think you can accomplish?"

My hand went to her arm. She didn't flinch when the cold, sharp metal touched her skin. I locked eyes with her.

"Please," I asked softly. "Please let me try."

There was a long period of silence as Morrigan's pale yellow eyes appraised me. Her reply was wordless. She offered me her hands, the palms facing up. I crouched down to get a closer look, gently cradling her hands in mine. The burns were pretty bad, and I could tell by how tense Morrigan was that she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on. I closed my eyes tight.

I tried to focus. I tried to visualize what Morrigan had tried to teach me, tried to call the flow of energy inside me. But no matter what I did, all I could think of was the pain in her eyes. The fire flashed behind my eyes, I heard the cry of pain again.

I'm sorry. I never want to hurt anyone again.

I grabbed hold of that feeling. I felt it compress and grow stronger. It filled me up inside – softer and warmer than my other power. My desire to heal Morrigan flowed out of me, and that feeling became a reality. I felt the power buzz around Morrigan's hands, and heard her sharp intake of breath.

I opened my eyes again, and stood up. Suddenly my knees buckled, and I toppled over in complete exhaustion. I stopped just short of hitting the ground. Morrigan clutched my armoured hand in her own. Her smooth, uninjured hand. She hauled me upright and steadied me.

"That was... impressive," she said in a measured tone.

"I don't feel impressive," I mumbled back. Morrigan sighed and draped my arm over her shoulders. The two of us staggered back towards the camp.

"What you did was foolish and reckless," the witch said. "You could have killed yourself. What truly astounds me is that you were willing to risk your life over such a trivial wound."

"I just..." I panted. "I wanted to help you. I hated knowing I'd hurt you like that."

Morrigan didn't reply. She showed me to my tent in silence, and I managed to crawl inside unaided. I flopped onto my bedroll and fell asleep almost instantly, dead tired.

Funny thing was... I thought I heard someone say 'Thank you'.

I fall through the air, without knowing if I fall up or down. There is a dizzying sense of speed, as I wonder when I will stop falling. At last I hit something – water. I plummet through the vast ocean, bubbles streaming from me. I slowly land on a stained-glass platform, a place that stirs recognition deep within me. I look around, trying to find out why I have come here.

You are in danger.

I turn, senses dulled, trying to find the source of the voice. It reverberates all around me. My gaze lands on a huge door, something I didn't see before. It pulses from within with a sort of energy, but is held closed by locks and chains. I furrow my brow – weren't there more chains the last time I came here?

The demon grows stronger.

I turn at the sound of the voice. At this I notice a change, a difference in the mural beneath my feet. An image of me still floats in space, eyes closed in dreamless sleep. But now I hold a sword in my left hand – the Green Blade. The image holds it in a reverse grip, the blade parallel to his forearm. The right arm is covered with the same armour bound to me. The dark presence on the opposite side of the mural as spread, covering a third of the mural with its inky blackness. Tendrils reach across the platform towards the image of me, and a few have wound around the bound armour.

You are not strong enough to face her alone.

I try to respond, but my mouth refuses to obey me. I move as if I am underwater, my limbs sluggish. I back away from the door and the darkness, instinctual fear breaking through the fog of apathy.

Do not be afraid.

I look down and see another change. A small portrait of a woman sits in the mural next to my own image. I find myself unable to recall her name, but her face brings calm to me. I feel myself rise again, about to wake up. Again the memories of the dream fade, but before I wake I hear one last message.

One day you will open the door.

The next day I woke up tired and sore. One of the many downsides to my new armour was that it was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep with. Sometimes I would wake up with scratches all over me from the claws. On the upside, at least I could move without help. I crawled out of my tent and yawned widely, stretching.

Then I turned and noticed the huge slash in my tent. The fabric hung in tattered strands, four long gouges along the side. I blinked, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. I looked at my bound armour. Did... did I do that? I don't remember it. I can't have done it in my sleep. What the...?

Stupid as it may have been, I tried to push it out of my mind. The last thing I needed was is to be common knowledge that I sleep-clawed or something. It was still early, so I just made sure to pack up my tent before anybody else woke up. I was sure Elisa was around, but she was probably off hunting or running. Plus I couldn't stop thinking about what Morrigan had said. Did using the plate have some sort of huge downside I was missing?

I was glad when we finally moved off towards Denerim again. The long daytime treks were becoming less of a bother the more of them I did. I guess I was just getting fitter – then again, I had plenty of reason to. I took the opportunity to go talk to Elisa.

"I probably seem like an idiot for not noticing," I asked her, "But what happened to Malcolm."

"You really need to pay attention more," Elisa replied, slightly amused. "Back at Redcliffe he decided it was probably a waste to have all three Grey Wardens left in Ferelden travelling together. He took the dwarf treaty and went off to Orzammar. I offered to lend him a companion or two, but he said he worked better alone."

"So what are we doing in Denerim?" I asked.

"Well first of all, I'm an bloody sick of walking," Elisa huffed, blowing a strand of dirty blond hair out of her eyes. "I have blisters the size of a genlock. So we're going to see if we can get some horses."

"But one of us is about seven feet tall," I pointed out, "and another is a dog."

"I'm sure we can find something to fit Sten," Elisa waved me away, "and Barkspawn loves walking. Don't you, boy?"

"Arf!" Barkspawn replied enthusiastically.

"Second," the Warden counted off her fingers, "We're going to prioritize. We've got the dwarves and the elves to recruit, both on opposite sides of Ferelden, and we've got to find the Sacred Ashes of Andraste – Maker knows how – for Arl Eamon if we're going to have a hope of overthrowing Loghain."

"Doesn't that Brother Genitivi live in Denerim?" I recalled. "We could ask him."

"So you do listen," Elisa said with a wry smile. "We can also find someone with an ear to the ground, someone that can tell us what Loghain and Howe are up to. Finally, Alistair's sister lives there. I wanted to take him to see her."

"Somehow I don't think it'll be the joyous reunion he's hoping for," I remarked.

"Neither do I," the Warden agreed, "but it's not the place of jaded, world-weary cynics like us to rain on Alistair's parade until we're absolutely sure."

"I don't think it matters either way," I said. "He just enjoys being with you."

"Oh really?"

"For example; he's been staring at you this whole time."

Elisa looked back. Alistair grinned sheepishly and looked away, his cheeks red. Elisa suppressed a chuckle and looked back. Even as I saw the happy smile on her face I felt sadness. I couldn't stop imagining what would happen come Landsmeet. I pushed those thoughts from my mind – I have to stop that from happening. I have to.

We finally made it to Denerim that night. Elisa decided to push us a little further in exchange for a night in a warm, comfortable inn. Not that I had any idea of the time, my watch having been lost in a negative space wedgie coming to Thedas, but it was late when we finally reached the gates. Unfortunately they were closed, and there were guards outside. We stopped short of the entrance, and Elisa came up to me.

"Alright, put this on," she ordered, tossing a black cloak over my head.

"But why?" I asked as I struggled to remove it from my head.

"I don't want to advertise the fact that you're an apostate," the Warden explained.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Morrigan asked. Elisa didn't even respond. She just stared pointedly at my armour. I finished putting the cloak on and rearranged it, hiding my bound armour.

"Erm, Elisa, this just makes me look more like an evil mage-" I pointed out.

"Quiet you."

We approached the gate. Elisa knocked hard on the gate. A two bored guards leaned over the battlements, but paid more attention upon seeing a group of five heavily-armed travellers, two mages and a dog.

"Who goes there?" one called, hefting a crossbow menacingly.

"Elisa Cousland," the Warden called back.

"And does the long-lost 'lady' have proof?" the other sneered. Elisa paused for a moment, eyes closed, her mouth turned into an infuriating smile.

"Tell Sergeant Kylon that I'm here," she replied. One of the guards disappeared. Elisa stood around, tapping her foot. There was the sound of muffled yelling and stomping feet. A man I recognized as Sergeant Kylon leaned over the battlements. Elisa looked up at him.

"Elisa!" he called. "I thought you were dead!"

"Far from it," the Warden replied. "I'm a Grey Warden now."

There was a pause.

"You'd better come in, then."

We had to wait around tapping out feet some more as Kylon got the gate opened. At last the gates were heaved open, and from the amount of grunting I heard there were about four men at the doors. They were only opened a crack to allow us to squeeze through. Kylon was waiting on the other side. Once we had all squeezed through the four guards shoved the gates closed again. Elisa and Kylon shared a strong handshake.

"It's been too long," Elisa said.

"Unfortunately, there's no time for crime-fighting hijinks," Kylon replied. "Denerim has not been a kind city of late, and you'll find few people as accepting of your Grey Warden status as I."

"Believe me, I know," the Warden sighed. "Any chance you can direct us to the closest inn? I'd get there myself but I've forgotten where everything is in this damn city."

"Of course. But... If you don't mind me asking, who is that?" the sergeant asked, pointing at me. "He looks suspicious."

"Told you," I said. Elisa rolled her eyes.

"I'm Ventus Tabris," I said. Huh, that fake surname came quickly. I guess lying to everybody I meet is getting easier.

"In any case, my companions and I are rather tired," Elisa said.

"As am I," Kylon agreed, "But crime waits for no man, as they say." Oh God, did he mean to make that pun? Kylon gave us directions and we set off through the relatively deserted city streets. There were a couple of shady-looking people watching from alleyways, but our group was too large and well-equipped to be threatened. While we walked I asked Elisa how she knew Kylon, especially since he'd just been a relatively nondescript NPC from the game. Apparently the Warden had visited Denerim a lot growing up, and had one day wandered off on her own and come across Kylon attempting to arrest four thugs by itself. It had gone wrong, so the warrior-in-training had jumped in to help. He'd been impressed and, not knowing she was noble, offered her work. Elisa soon gained a friend with a few connections.

Anyway, we ended up in some nondescript tavern near the marketplace and bought the rooms – two rooms for the women and two for the men. Unfortunately I ended up bunking with Sten.

"Allow me to get this out of the way – I do not like this situation any more than you do," Sten rumbled.

"Hey, maybe this will turn out to be a bonding experience?" I suggested.

"No."

"Ok."

Sten sat cross-legged on the floor facing away from me. I went on with getting my things in order, hanging up what pieces of armour I could actually remove. I fumbled putting my sword away, though, and it landed on the ground with a loud thump.

"Disrupt my meditation again and your head will exit the room through that window," Sten said evenly.

And boy oh boy, did I get a good night's sleep!