Go hump your horse. - Fiona

Putting all his strength into the swing of his greatsword, the elf felt little resistance as it sliced its way through his opponent. He had been fighting like this for months, trying to prove his worth. If he was going to free his mother and sister, he needed to be the best. Danarius would take no less.

This was the final stage of the proving the magister had planned, and as his last opponent approached, the elf took a deep breath to regain his strength, exhaling slowly as he repositioned his grip on his sword. He angled his blade to block his opponent's first attack, pushing the other elf back roughly. The attacker let out a desperate cry, charging forward and ducking behind his shield at the last moment.

The silverite shield shoved the broad side of his greatsword into his chest, and he struggled to free it, slicing into his own flesh as he did. His challenger stepped back and swung his longsword in a wide arc. A quick leap back saved him from another wound, and he hit back with staggering force. He struck out with the pommel of his sword, stunning his opponent. One last swing of his blade, and the other elf's head was cleaved from his shoulders.

Applause from a single person sounded from behind him, and he whirled on his heel to see the magister approaching, lowering his hands to his side. "Very impressive, boy. You will be very useful, indeed."

"And my mother and sister? They will be freed?"

"Yes, of course. That was the agreement, if you survived. I have already sent Hadriana to inform them of the good news." The magister smiled, more pleased with himself than anything. "Now, we've much to do to prepare for the ritual I told you about. Come along…"

Movement beside her roused Gwyneth from a restless sleep: filled with nightmares she could no longer remember, but still left her tired and irritable every morning. She felt the bed rise significantly as Dexter leapt to the ground. He only left her side these past two years for one reason, and that was if Fenris was there to take his place.

"Another nightmare?" she asked groggily, causing her words to slur a little.

"No," he replied, climbing into bed with her. "Another memory, though I'm not entirely sure what it meant."

She turned on her side and draped her arm across his chest, nuzzling into him instinctively. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly. I'm still trying to understand it myself." His hand stroked her upper arm gently. "Some other time, perhaps."

Nodding, she kissed his chest before closing her eyes once more, fending off the thoughts that were threatening to keep her awake. Before they were able to get a foothold in her conscious, she drifted back to sleep, her mind blessedly blank.

"How are you doing?" Arais asked.

"I'm fine," Alistair replied, looking over to her and giving her a brief smile, before a grave expression returned to his features. "So… here we are: Weisshaupt Fortress."

"It's different than I thought it would be. Then again, the only other time I had seen it was because of that bloody sloth demon at the Circle of Magi." She paused, and he saw her flinch at the memory. "We should probably see the First Warden. He'd know for certain if your mother is here."

Alistair looked down at the stone floor of the courtyard, doubt beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach. "I think I'll wait out here. I'm still not entirely prepared for what he might have to say about my mother's fate, and I'd rather here it from you."

"If that's what you really want." She started toward the archway that led to a towering set of double doors, carved from the same stone as the rest of the imposing Grey Warden base. Turning back momentarily, she added, "I'll be as brief as possible. Though Maker only knows how many guards will need to see proof of my identity before I actually get to the First Warden."

He chuckled nervously as he watched her disappear through the colossal doors, her small body barely matching a quarter of the height. Alistair could sense the few Wardens that were lingering in the courtyard eyeing him, and he forced himself to keep his eyes straight ahead. A marble bench was positioned just to the left of where he was standing, so he sat and waited, his eyes eventually wandering despite his best efforts. Weisshaupt's courtyard was larger than any he had ever seen, areas of it cordoned off by physical or magical barriers as Wardens of all classes trained in their particular talents.

His attention was drawn to one of the magical barriers as it collapsed, the elven woman who seemed to have been casting it approaching one of the younger mages with a stern expression. The man had clearly singed himself somehow: though, knowing the Warden's standards for recruitment, Alistair couldn't imagine how it could have happened.

"Mikhail," she started, her hands hovering over the burns as they began to glow blue with healing energy, "if you want to learn how to perform elemental magic in combat, you must first learn to be able to control it. Your entropy spells caused far less physical damage to you when they backfired during your training at the Circle because they're focused mainly on the mind of your enemy, not the body. Unless you wish to be burned to a crisp, you must concentrate. Now, try again."

Mikhail summoned a small ball of fire into the palm of his hand as the elder mage surrounded them with a protective field. The woman didn't seem too worried about being harmed herself, and Alistair could only assume it was because of her abilities as a healer—or, more likely, she was stark raving mad.

For over a quarter of an hour, the young mage held the same ball of fire in his hand, his eyes narrowing and brow furrowing with concentration as it grew in size until it was roughly the same size as his head. After a few moments, the flames began to glow white hot, and sweat trickled down the boy's forehead as he seemed to grow more nervous.

"Relax, Mikhail. Concentrate on the heat. Try to lower it until it's a faint orange." After a deep breath, the flames began to change color, and gradually they became the color he had been ordered to turn them. "Very good. Now put out the fireball without casting it. And this time, try not to burn yourself."

Alistair stifled a laugh as the young mage began to concentrate once more, oblivious to his mentor's teasing. The ball of fire decreased rapidly in size, and in only a matter of minutes, they were entirely extinguished. A smile of pure self-satisfaction spread across Mikhail's face as the woman lowered the shield, her expression decidedly less placated.

"You've made excellent progress today, dear, but you have a long way to go before it will be safe for you to perform these spells in battle. If you choose to practice, trying working with ice instead of fire. The last thing we need is to have to rebuild the training hall because one of my students burned it down."

A soft laugh escaped Alistair, and he covered his mouth so as not to be heard. Any mirth he'd had left to control was eradicated when the young mage bid farewell to his mentor by name: Fiona.

Sorry it's taking me so long to update. Between a whole mess of shit I'm finding it difficult to just sit down and write. But I'm not abandoning the story so just bear with me. Also, normally I'd have read through to weed out they typos, but I'm really sick and I just don't have the mental capacity to do it right now. I'll probably try to sleep right now, then edit it in the morning. But I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. Thanks for putting up with it if you did.

Thanks to twixtnightandmorn for helping me out with Fiona.