Arlaine was surprised that the march to Ostagar went fairly swiftly once they got out of the northlands … considering the large number of recruits they found along the way. They decided to take the direct route through the Bannorn to Lothering. The roads were narrow and dirt but peaceful and the farm holders were generally receptive to the group of volunteers heading south to defend Ferelden.

The Highever force was large and becoming more formidable every day. Roddy Gilmore was General material and, after this was all said and done, Arlaine was going to make a point to her father to make him a General for the terynir. If rebuilt properly, Vigil's Keep could be the star of Ferelden's training areas. And, he would be near his love. Her musings to get Roddy and Nathaniel together were interrupted when she heard Varric's pony ride up next to her.

"The messenger caught up to us yesterday. Did you send a reply back yet?" He had one of his trademark grins on his face.

He just wasn't going to let the letter from Alistair go. "Reply to what?" she asked, trying to put on her most innocent look.

"Look, Princess, if you don't want to talk about it, just say so."

She looked directly at him and slowly replied, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Evil woman," he mumbled.

She loved that she'd been able to make him say that. She laughed. "There's nothing there to talk about, Varric. Yes, the letter was from Alistair. It was amusing and interesting, but nothing that required a response." She smirked. "Besides, we'll be in Ostagar in a week or so. I can talk to him in person there."

"Ah ha! So there is something you could respond to!" He laughed as well. "Don't worry, Princess, I still have at least a month to go before I finish the romance of the warden prince and his lady from the north."

Arlaine groaned and hung her head. "Maker's Breath."

Any other banter was cut short by the shout of "Darkspawn!" Thanks to the First Warden's personal training, Roddy's military instruction and Arlaine's incessant reminders about safety, things went smoothly. The horses were quickly handed off to the squires and handlers to move to safety away from the area of battle. Squads formed and followed Roddy's direction of target. Everyone reached for their modified helmets and were soon ready to meet the large group of darkspawn that burst from the ground next to the road.

The darkspawn were outnumbered, but they had the benefit of surprise. Arlaine saw her men that were closest to the darkspawn's exit go down. In the end, the Fereldens prevailed, but it wasn't an easy victory, even with oversight by the First Warden himself. The darkspawn had magic … to devastating effect. The Highever forces had Fiona — a nontrivial asset, to be sure — but she had to carefully meter out her devastating effects as to not kill more Fereldens than darkspawn while taking care not to tire herself to exhaustion.

A half-hour into the battle, Arlaine was exhausted. She, Fiona, Varric and Dairren found themselves up against an emissary, three archers and two hurlocks with shield and sword. From a quick glance around it was one of the final groups to defeat. Fiona worked on the archers, grouped up on top of a grassy knoll to shoot down at them. Dairren was fighting the emissary with his shield interrupting as much magic as he could. Varric circled around until he could get a good aim at the darkspawn mage. Arlaine was having a pretty hard time with both of the hurlocks. They were taller than she was and kept trying to flank her. She prayed someone else would come free soon to help her. All she could do was defend against their attacks. Soon, she would make a mistake due to fatigue and it would be the last mistake she ever made.

Behind the two hurlocks, Arlaine saw another darkspawn crawl out of the hole. He looked around and saw her. She knew that would be it. She was barely able to hold off two. The third would be her undoing. "Need some help here! New darkspawn from the tunnel!" The others were farther away from the darkspawn reinforcement than the darkspawn was from Arlaine. But, from her periphery she could see Roddy and Cal running toward her. Varric was trying to get a clear shot at one of the hurlocks without skewering Arlaine in the process. She steeled herself and prepared for a third attacker.

But, she got aid from the strangest place. "Be not killing!" The new darkspawn yelled as he ran up and beheaded one of the hurlocks attacking Arlaine. The surprise was almost enough to give the remaining hurlock an opening to do the same to Arlaine. Almost. Instead, now that she no longer had to defend against two attackers and the talking darkspawn was off balance from his powerful swing to decapitate the other hurlock, she swung her own two-handed sword wide and swift. She feared she would be doomed if the talking one decided to attack her, but she put all her remaining strength into that swing. It was what made her choose the gigantic sword. The weight of the sword along with the momentum of the swing cut off the hurlock's weapon arm and traveled halfway through his chest before it stopped. If she hadn't been so utterly exhausted, she might have been able to cut him in half.

The talking darkspawn was the last of the monsters left standing. He dropped his weapon and waved his hands from his sides, a humorous parody of surrender. He looked at her. "Be not killing."

Arlaine didn't answer until she pulled her sword out of the hurlock's chest. She no longer had the energy to hold it up. She used it more as a cane to keep her from falling over. "You speak? A darkspawn that talks?"

"Architect sends The Messenger. Be not killing."

First Warden Calbard ran up and leveled his sword at The Messenger's throat. "Stop speaking." Without looking at Arlaine, Cal demanded, "Cousland, this is warden business. I need to talk to this yapping darkspawn alone."

Arlaine had a quandary. The darkspawn had saved her life, but it was a darkspawn, nonetheless. "Fine." She nodded toward a field of ripe corn as she plopped on the edge of a stone fence. "Go over there."

Cal glanced at her, at first in frustration and then realization of her exhausted state, so he went toward the field without an argument.

Varric held up a waterskin and Arlaine gratefully drank from it. "Talking darkspawn, huh?" He grinned up at Arlaine. "If they can talk now, it'll make my stories much more interesting."

Arlaine took stock of her injuries and found nothing worth mentioning, other than her total exhaustion. She really needed to do better at keeping up her stamina and vowed to do more walking and less riding in the days ahead. She watched as Cal listened to The Messenger for a few minutes and then ran the talking monster through. "Guess the First Warden didn't like what he had to say."


Cailan was becoming restive. It was one of his faults, directly inherited from his father … or so he was told. The long trip to Ostagar was wearing on his energy, his good mood and his patience. Now, they were stuck in Lothering an extra night. He agreed with the reason to allow the men to rest before the last push to Ostagar, but putting up with Bann Ceorlic … the man was an intolerable boot-licker. Unfortunately, protocol demanded that he stay at Ceorlic's estate instead of with the army.

Loghain had tasked Cailan with keeping Ceorlic away from the army, but Cailan did manage to slip out in the evening to walk among the men. He was usually able to put up with Ferelden's less intelligent nobles, but for some reason, Bann Ceorlic was beginning to push Cailan to the limit. He smiled as he realized the reason he usually put up with Ceorlic. Anora was typically there to share whispered comments about the man. That woman could make the most outrageous snarks about someone while making everyone around think she was placidly accepting of them. Maker, he missed her.

The king was also very anxious about Anora's pregnancy. This child was healthy and strong, or so the old mage healer told them. Cailan didn't think twice about denying the army that mage, Wynne. She was such a kind old woman as well as skilled. Too old to be mucking about with darkspawn. And, Anora liked her. It had been decades since the palace had a royal mage and Cailan intended to see to it that Wynne stayed there.

His uncle, Teagan, was supposed to wait for them in Lothering, but he was called away due to a bizarre emergency in Redcliffe. When Cailan heard all the details of what had gone down in Redcliffe, he was flabbergasted. Oh, Cailan was still angry with Eamon about Alistair, but he couldn't imagine having to watch a Templar take his wife's head … well, maybe he could imagine it a little since it was Isolde's head. That no one had realized Isolde was a mage was mind-boggling and more than a little frightening. Cailan smiled to himself as he remembered calling Isolde a witch on more than one occasion.

"Your Majesty." Suddenly, Cailan found himself outside Loghain's tent when he heard the guard greet him. "The teryn isn't here at the moment. Shall I find him for you?"

Not wanting to look like a fool who was just wandering around the camp, Cailan stood proudly. "Yes, please. I'll await him inside." The guard opened the tent flap for the king and Cailan went in … wondering what he could come up with as a reason to summon Loghain. He shouldn't need one, really, but Loghain wouldn't hesitate to make fun of him if he didn't have a good one. Sometimes he had no idea what his father had seen in Loghain's friendship. Other times, like when Loghain heard he was going to be a grandfather, Cailan could understand that under that gruff, no nonsense exterior, beat the heart of an honest man with honest motivations. Something rare in the world, even rarer to a king. Oh my, Cailan thought to himself, that was a rather profound realization!

The tent flap opened. "So, Ceorlic already made you run for the hills, Cailan?" Loghain went to his table where a whiskey decanter and two glasses were already set out. He'd been drinking with someone else.

Cailan lowered his voice and stepped closer to his father-in-law. "Maker's Breath, Loghain, I swear I'll go mad before we leave in the morning. We're already arriving at Ostagar two months later than Duncan wanted."

"About that …" Loghain seemed to catch Cailan's look of threatened violence if he delayed. Loghain chuckled. "There's been a development in Ostagar that we need to arrange some supplies for." He held up his hand. "We will be leaving tomorrow, but not likely until after lunch." He raised an eyebrow when they both heard Ceorlic's voice outside the tent, demanding entrance. "I thought you were supposed to keep him away from here."

Cailan's face reddened in anger, and he just didn't get angry very often. He threw open the tent flap. "I left word that I was to be in the camp for several hours this evening and did not need you in attendance, Ceorlic."

"Well! Protocol demands that I be in the king's attendance whenever he is on my lands!" Ceorlic stood there with his arms crossed.

"I absolve you from that responsibility. Please, I have important matters to discuss with Loghain that must remain in confidence." To try to appease the man, Cailan added, "It seems we will not be leaving until after midday tomorrow, Bann Ceorlic. I would like to have a lunch meeting with you and the leaders of your militia, as well as the captain of your guard and anyone else involved to report on the defense preparations for Lothering at that time. I am most interested to know that one of Ferelden's most important crossroads is well-protected. Please see to it." And, then he closed the tent flap in Ceorlic's face. After waiting a few moments and hearing someone walk away, Cailan said through the flap to the guard, "Is he gone?"

He could hear a small chuckle. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Cailan sat at the camp table and put his head in his hands. "I miss Anora so much. I keep getting reminded how bad I am at dealing with … people." He heard Loghain pour out a whiskey for him in a different glass.

"Wise of you to recognize your shortcomings, Your Majesty."

Looking up in surprise, Cailan could see his father-in-law's smirk. Loghain cracked a joke!

"On the other hand, it is likely something you should strive to overcome since you are a king of people after all." He slid the glass toward Cailan. "Let's see how Ostagar shapes up. Perhaps once you've overseen all the preparations, you will be able to slip back to Denerim for a while."

"And miss killing the Archdemon?! I brought father's old sword with me. The one that he found in the Deep Roads enchanted for killing darkspawn." He took a sip of the whiskey. "I know it will be difficult to maneuver the battlefield to be the one to make the killing blow, but I intend to try, Loghain."

"Then you are a bloody fool!" Cailan struck a nerve and Loghain lost any sense of humor he may have let slip out. Loghain walked over to glare down at his daughter's husband."Stop living in a fantasy world, Cailan! We will be facing not just the Archdemon but a horde of darkspawn who will all be looking for you." Loghain emphasized his words by jabbing Cailan's chest. "They seek out the leaders … Your Majesty. Were you not listening when I told you what they did to Rendon Howe? If they did that to an arl, just imagine what they'll do to a pretty king prancing around in golden armor waving a fancy sword enchanted to kill them faster!"

Cailan stood and stared down his father-in-law. "I am the leader of the army, Loghain! I've told you before that I won't lead from behind!" Their discussions of late had been ending in arguments. This was one of the calmer ones.

Surprisingly, Cailan watched the anger in Loghain's face morph into inscrutable blankness. "All I ask is that you speak with Duncan when we arrive at Ostagar. Tell him what you just told me."

"I shall be in deep discussions with the Grey Wardens I suspect, Loghain." Cailan spun and headed for the exit. "I will be in the vanguard so quit trying to stop me!" He was furious. How could the Hero of the River Dane deny Cailan … the king … his own right of heroism!


Anora awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding and she was sweating, even though the fireplace in the royal bedroom had gone to coals. At first, she feared there was something wrong with the baby and frantically pulled the cord to bring a servant to the room. However, before the servant arrived, Anora recalled her dream … her nightmare.

The servant didn't even knock, but ran into the room. "Your Majesty!?" The entire palace staff was on tinder hooks with the impending birth of the royal heir. "I've sent someone to get the mage, Your Majesty!" Carrah, Anora's personal servant looked like she'd run directly from her bed. Her normally tamed mane of unruly blonde hair was splayed around her face. It made her look like a lion. And, that thought made Anora smile. Carrah put her hands on her hips. "Is this a test, Your Majesty?"

The queen fell back onto her pillows. "I apologize, Carrah. I had a horrible…"

"What is the problem, Your Majesty?" Wynne breezed into the room. Maker, the woman must sleep in her clothing. She looked like she always did. Gray hair pulled back into a short ponytail. Circle robes all in order. Patient, knowing … and somewhat smug … look on her face.

"I apologize to you both. I had a nightmare and awoke in a panic. For the first few moments, I thought something might be wrong with the baby, but I'm fine, really." Anora shivered and pulled up her covers.

Carrah walked over to the fireplace and put several smaller pieces of wood on the coals. "It's only an hour or so before dawn and it is cold in here. I'll have to make sure to check on your fire until the king … well … as long as you're alone … Maker, there's no good way to say that, is there?"

Wynne came and sat on the edge of the bed, putting her hand over Anora's trembling hand. "Your Majesty, sometimes it helps to talk about a nightmare in the light. If you want to …"

Much to her horror, Anora eyes filled with tears. She took a moment to regain control and realized the old mage was probably right, but did she know Wynne well enough yet to show weakness? To answer her own question, Anora realized that everyone she trusted that much was out of the city. And, that realization almost brought on the tears again. "Carrah, please bring some hot tea for me and the Senior Enchanter."

The servant stood and brushed off her hands while surveying her work with the fireplace. "That should start to warm up the room in short order." Then, she curtseyed to Anora. "Right away, Your Majesty."

Carrah quietly closed the door behind her. Anora had been pleased so far with the engagement of Carrah as her handmaiden. The girl was from Gwaren. She had recently lost her entire family in a dock fire there, but proudly tried to help others rebuild and restart even though her deep grief was plain on her face. The young human girl impressed both Anora and her father, and ultimately Cailan came to rely on her to care for Anora as well.

Anora had first taken on an Orlesian handmaiden. Erlina, Anora now admits, was a show of pride against her father. To show him that Empress Celene, somewhat of a hero and role-model to Anora at the time, was different from Florian. To prove that today's Orlais was different. Celene was a strong ruler who used diplomacy over force. Her insistence on education and knowledge is what blinded Anora to the fact that Orlesian diplomacy was just another front for The Game. For now, Celene used her unorthodox demands as a diversion to confuse her enemies at court.

When a messenger had been found dead along the coast, his messages were taken to Gwaren's seneschal, Hannigan Runger. He read them all. One he walked directly to Loghain. It broke Anora's heart to find out that Erlina had written a scathing letter to her cousin, someone named Briala, outlining everything Anora did with her day, everything Loghain did with his soldiers … as well as Erlina's failed attempts to seduce her then fiancé, Cailan. They later found out that this Briala was handmaiden and confidant to Celene. Erlina was a spy.

It hardened Anora's heart to agree with the execution of Erlina, but she needed a hard heart to be Queen of Ferelden. Even though now, she knew she had to balance that with a softer side to be a good mother.

Anora gave Wynne a hard look. "What I am about to share with you stays between us. You do not tell anyone, not even the king. Do you understand?"

That surprised the elder mage. "Of course, Your Majesty! I would never betray your confidence."

Somewhat assured that the mage was telling the truth, Anora took back her hand and sat straighter in her bed. "I had a dream of Cailan's death." Her eyes unfocused as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "He was foolishly fighting at the vanguard. I could see that Duncan and the wardens were trying their best to keep him from harm, but they could not stop an ogre that strode onto the battlefield, his one stride longer than the many running steps of everyone else. The ogre was on Cailan before anyone could stop it. It picked him up and …" Anora choked out a sob. "It crushed him in its gigantic hand and threw him aside as a child would throw aside an unwanted rag doll. Mercifully, he was instantly d…" Anora buried her face in her hands. "I can't even say it."

"What a horrible thing to dream," Wynne whispered. She patiently waited until Anora could take a deep breath and raised her head. "The rulers of a country is always in danger. No doubt you've been told this from the time you could first understand words. Moreso now for the king since he is leading Ferelden's armies to battle the worst scourge Thedas has seen in centuries." She smiled and patted Anora's covered leg lightly. "I will never try to gloss over reality, Your Majesty. It is something you must face."

Anora's initial reaction was to be insulted by the woman's effrontery! Anora opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. She glanced at the now-blazing fire and then back to Wynne. "By royal decree, Wynne, you are ordered to maintain your honesty with Her Majesty in perpetuity … while we are in private."

Wynne chuckled. "You may wish to rescind that decree someday, Your Majesty."

Anora smiled. "I may." She placed her hand on her middle. "This is all new to me. I have read about childbirth. I have spoken to midwives and mothers. But, none of that has prepared me for this. It is wonderful and frightening at the same time."

"Indeed, it is." Wynne wistfully looked away. Anora wanted to ask her if she'd ever given birth, but Anora's well-developed sense of propriety warned her it was an issue that Wynne wished to avoid.


Following the line between the blue and lush green, Urthemiel flew northeast. The green turned to dull beige. The voice was clear now, "Dumat! Why have you forsaken me? I am Corypheus, your most obedient servant! Find release for me from this prison and I will lead your armies to the ruin of all these barbarians!"

She flew closer and returned the prisoner's thought. "Dumat gone. Dead."

"No! Dumat cannot be dead! We locked him away. We locked them all away." He paused. "I think." He paused again. "I don't remember. So long ago."

"You?! You locked away Dumat?! You locked away me?! You insolent fool!" Even through her anger, Urthemiel felt his kinship with her children. His relation to Architect, the awakener who traded knowledge and service for his life. Architect led her children against the wielders of magic to the northeast. Oh, those magisters were powerful, but Architect was smart. He would not fail her. But, this Corypheus … he would pay for his arrogance!

"If not Dumat, who are you?" A simple question. One not asked to her in centuries.

"I was called …" She paused. A memory of chanting long ago. The voices all saying her name. "I am Urthemiel."

"Then you have been put in jeopardy as well, most fair and graceful! Free me from this torment and I will obey you unto death!" Desperation, not truth. Pretty words. Meaningless.

She flew closer to the prison. It looked like the deep places where her children were growing. It was beauty in the beige. It had beauty in design. His prison.

"I already have aided you. I have drawn many here. I will send them to the city nearby to destroy the undeserving!"

He thinks to control her children! Fool! Urthemiel flew around the traitor's cage. Many bridges held a tower in the center of a deep crater. The traitor was encased in the center of that tower. Sealed by strong uglies' magic. Not strong enough. She saw the halflings gathering. They had done her a favor by locking up the traitor. Foolish though. She knew what he was. She flew down, down, down. Destroyed the bottom seal. That broke all the others. She was a god! No mortal magic could hold against her flames! Then, she ascended, destroying one bridge after another on her way up until the only one remaining was the bridge on the top. Halflings were running to it as she flew over and smashed it with roar and flame. The tower groaned. Stone ground against stone as the balance was lost. The locks broke.

Corypheus rose from his prison. Before he could speak, Urthemiel pronounced her sentence on the traitor. Death! As she grabbed him in her mouth, she heard his bones snap, felt his black heart burst in surprise at her condemnation. His mind was surprised at her drain of his power. Lifeless. Powerless. As he had done to her so long ago.

Secure that she had repaid her debt to the halflings for imprisoning Corypheus, she snapped his body in two and dropped it from great height. Her final act was to fly low and turn his corpse pieces into ash. Ash that fell on the surprised halflings.


AN: Thank you for all reviews, favorites and follows!

Lady Cougar-Trombone, too much gloom and doom makes Mazanti a very sad puppy … and, yes it's Corypheus! :) Thank you for your review!

anesor, I agree about Nathaniel. I struggled a long time with how to proceed with Gorim. I just felt a relationship between them would be difficult to wrangle in the long run. Thank you for your comments! :)

Judy, again, thanks for your continued encouragement! :)

Thaeonblade, welcome and thank you for your comments! As you've gathered, WHWH is an exploration of leadership competence in Ferelden. Perhaps not as thrilling as dealing with paranoid teryns, childish kings and unmotivated warden-commanders, but it's been a fun ride for me so far. ;)