AN: Alright, here's the next chapter. A bit fillerish, but you get some action at the end. Hope you guys enjoy it. ~Sin


Chapter 29 Into the Dragon's Maw

"Zevran," Conrí called as the group walked up the gangplank. "A word, if you don't mind."

The 'former' Crow turned to the tall warrior, motioning for Blair to go back to Isabela's quarters without him. When the pair were the only ones remaining on deck, Zevran spoke, "You called?"

"You could have kept the letter secret," Conrí started bluntly. Zevran internally cringed. Warriors… he mentally sighed. "Yet rather than using it as incentive or blackmail, you gave it up. Why?"

"I do owe you and the Wardens a blood debt," Zevran shrugged. "If this information gets me closer to paying it off, all the better."

"And the real reason?"

Zevran sighed vocally this time. "Despite my rather… disreputable entrance to this merry band, you have shown me no discourtesy or any measure of hostility. In short, you have been good to me. And you had no cause to be. A small measure of thanks, I suppose."

Conrí contemplated Zevran's words for a long moment before nodding. "I see. Well, I do owe you thanks for giving us the scroll. From now on Zevran Arainai, you have my trust," Conrí extended his hand.

Zevran's eyebrows shot up. Trust was not something the young man in front of him gave lightly. After a moment, Zevran stuck out his own hand and shook Conrí's. "I will endeavor to prove worthy of it, my friend."

Conrí smiled, but it had a predatory gleam to it. "Ah, I have forgotten something in the excitement of the last several days," he said. "It is relatively minor but, formalities, I'm sure you understand." Conrí tightened his grip on Zevran's hand and yanked the elf closer. "Break Blair's heart or hurt any of those travelling with me… And I will dip you head first into a vat of molten gold and leave you as a statue outside the Arl of Denerim's palace. Am I understood?"

Zevran's eyes widened a fraction. "Perfectly, Commander."

"Good," Conrí released Zevran. "Once you've had sufficient time to rest, I need you to go to Genitivi's home in the market District. Keep a low profile and be sure to meet with Erin and Alistair. Apparently he has someone to meet there as well." With that, Conrí strode toward the stairs leading below decks.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Zevran couldn't help but quip, "That was a rather good threat. Did you spend much time on it?"

"Nope," Conrí chuckled. "Inspiration of the moment."

"It was impressive. Do you mind if I use it?"

"Not at all."


Mid-afternoon the next day, Alistair and Erin returned to the ship with Zevran in tow.

"Well that was... not what I expected. To put it lightly," said Alistair, disappointment and regret at having wasted his time on such folly clear in his voice. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry it turned out like this," Erin mumbled.

"Yes... I'm sorry, too," said Alistair. "I... I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot." "It was clearly weighing heavily on his mind that he had been nurturing an idealistic fantasy of a happy, welcoming family waiting for him for so long, only to have that dream destroyed by the very person it was centered upon

His disappointment must have shown on his face, because Erin put a hand on his shoulder. "You are not an idiot, Alistair," she said. "You have been told how much of an inconvenience and burden you were, and treated as such all your life. It's not idiotic to want acceptance, or a family to belong to. The trouble is that there are so many people in this world who, like that bitch, see you as something to be used for their benefit; they don't care about you, they're just out for themselves. You try too hard to be who you are told to be, you neglect your own desires and allow others to make choices for you, important ones, ones that affect you. You should start to look out for yourself, and not let anyone take advantage of you anymore. If you don't look out for yourself, who will?"

Maybe I was wrong; perhaps I already have something similar to what I was looking for...

"I take it your trip is finished?" said Conrí, emerging from the hold.

"Alistair found out he had a half-sister living in Denerim, so I agreed to help him seek her out. We found her, for all the good it did; fucking ingrate that she was," Erin seethed. "I was just saying he needs to look out and stand up for himself a bit more, lest others try to manipulate him like that bitch."

Conrí nodded sagely in agreement, his expression sympathetic but firm. "Sad to say, my friend, but I have to agree; in this life, almost everybody's out for themselves. I learned that lesson too late in the form of Howe. I don't doubt it's a sore spot but at least you've learned it before you were too attached to this woman; you could have been really hurt. All I can say is take this lesson and learn from it," Conrí frowned. "Who was this woman anyway?"

"The daughter of a maid from Redcliffe Maric had an affair with, apparently," Erin snorted.

Conrí's eyes hardened. "You were told your mother was a maid?"

"Eamon told me when he gave me my mother's amulet originally," Alistair pulled the small metal pendent from his armor.

Conrí approached. "Let me see that." Alistair hesitated a moment then handed the amulet to Conrí. The tall redhead examined the pendent. "She was born and raised in Redcliffe, you said?"

"Yes?" Alistair cocked an eyebrow.

"Then this was not hers," Conrí grunted. "Or, more likely, Eamon told you of the wrong woman. Goldanna was not your sister."

"What?!" Alistair sputtered. "How would you know?!"

"Because Duncan knew your mother," Conrí told him. "Old friends, he said. He told me just in case a situation like this came up and he wasn't around. Your mother was no maid in Redcliffe. Likely, a woman died in childbirth and was used as a convenient out to explain your heritage."

"Why?" Alistair demanded. "Why would everyone lie about who my mother was?"

"Because she was a Grey Warden," Conrí snapped. Alistair deflated, his jaw hanging open. "One of the Wardens who Maric accompanied into the Deep Roads, which led him to repeal Arland's expulsion of the order. This amulet is given only to exceptional enchanters of the Wardens in Orlais."

"… My mother was a mage?" Alistair asked, gob smacked.

"Even more, an Orlesian mage," Conrí handed the amulet back to Alistair. "Eamon has been lying to you since they day you could walk." He turned to Zevran. "Speaking of…"

"I found Brother Genitivi's home. The good brother was not there, but his assistant was… or at least… the man calling himself Genitivi's assistant," Zevran announced. "He seemed uncomfortable. When I dug deeper… he attacked, crying about Andraste choosing him and other such gibberish. He was an imposter, as I discovered the body of Genitivi's true assistant in a back room. I found some of Genitivi's research. He came to believe the Urn was housed in Haven, a small town in the Frostbacks."

"Haven?" Conrí asked, taking the tome Zevran offered. "Never heard of it."

"Nor have I," Zevran admitted. "He did leave a map, so we may find it with little difficulty."

"Good work," Conrí praised, flipping through the book. "We'll stay here until the heat from the Market dies down."


Conrí removed the last of his armor, depositing it on the small stand he'd conned from Bodahn after they'd slipped out of the city late in the evening. He'd gotten into the habit of just tossing his armor wherever when the day was over and was trying to break it. The stand, he thought, should help. With his armor and weapons in their proper place, he pulled on his worn nightshirt and headed back outside, hoping dinner was done.

His hopes were dashed, however, when he saw Erin and Wynne still slaving over the pot of stew. Conrí sighed. It could be a while longer before dinner was ready. His eyes found Leliana near her tent, the bard sharpening her daggers with a rather faraway look in her crystal blue eyes. He walked over and sat down next to her. "That's a good way to lose a finger, you know," he said teasingly. She blinked rapidly for a moment before turning to him, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

"Oh, hello…" she said quietly, putting aside her dagger and whetstone. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"You look a little distracted," Conrí told her, humor leaving his voice.

"It's… it's nothing, I'm fine," Leliana tried to assure him. "I'm just thinking."

"You're less talkative than usual," Conrí pointed out.

"I can't get what happened out of my head," Leliana mumbled. "I'd been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her. She didn't trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and now that she can't… she wants me dead. It… it hurts to realize that I never really knew her."

"Maybe you did and didn't want to admit it."

"I knew she was ruthless, but I didn't know how far she could go. She was self-serving, cruel… she used people, then discarded them, but that's how she survived in the life she led. W-what if she's right? What if we're the same? I… I should have just stayed in the Chantry."

Conrí took her hand gently. "She would have attacked you there eventually."

"Maybe, but that's not the point," she said with a sigh as she stood up and began pacing. "I was a different person there. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt safe. I didn't have to watch my back all the time. That's what made Marjolaine the person she is, don't you see? It ruined her; it will ruin me too. It's already happened. When we killed her I… I enjoyed it. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction."

"No more than it will me when Howe lies dead at my feet," Conrí growled as he stood as well. "She did you a great injustice."

"But that is no reason to rejoice over her death," Leliana argued softly. Last thing she needed was the others thinking she was on the verge of a breakdown. "That is what she would do. I don't want that. What we're doing… what we've done; hunting men down, killing them… part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I… I feel myself slipping."

"Leliana, you and I are very different on most things of substance. And many things of little substance," he smirked, remembering his conversation with her about shoes. "But one thing we have in common is the thrill of the hunt. It's not the killing you enjoy. It's the hunt, pushing yourself to your limits and breaking them. Why do you think I enjoy sparring so much?"

"I admit that I took great pleasure in the intrigue back in Orlais. It was dangerous and chaotic… and exciting, but it destroyed my life. I thought the Chantry showed me another path. I thought I was done with this life… am I wrong?"

"Even in the Chantry, you knew you didn't belong there," Conrí told her.

"There is this thought that floats through my mind constantly… that I lie when I say the Chantry gave me peace when in truth it… it bored me." Conrí smiled at her admission. "Here, with you… knowing the freedom of the road and the uncertainty of tomorrow… I feel alive again."

"Then stop running scared from it," Conrí said firmly.

"I would like to be alone, for now. I have many things to consider. Thank you for listening to me."

"Anytime, Leliana."

By now dinner was finished and Wynne was spooning stew into bowls for everyone. After dinner, everyone turned in, except Conrí and Leliana who had drawn first watch.

Once everyone was safely in their beds, Leliana spoke up. "The stars are out."

Conrí followed her gaze, looking to the sky for the first time in months for a reason beyond checking the weather. "For once, a clear night," he sighed.

"It comforts me to know that the stars will remain untouched by the Blight; that whatever happens down here, they will shine eternally, their light undimmed. There is a story about that cluster over there," Leliana pointed to a bunch of stars to the east. "Do you know it? Alindra and her soldier?"

Conrí shook his head. "Can't say I have heard it."

"A long time ago," Leliana began her tale, "There lived a fair maiden called Alindra. She had many suitors, but spurned them all, for she did not love them. One day, Alindra was sitting by her window in her father's castle, singing and dreaming, when her lovely voice caught the attention of a young soldier. Entranced by her song, the soldier drew near to Alindra's window. As their eyes met, he fell in love with her, and she with him. When Alindra told her father about the man he had chosen, he was furious, for Alindra was high-born, but her love nothing more than a common soldier. To keep them apart he had Alindra imprisoned in the highest tower of his castle and sent her soldier to the wars. Alas, not a month had passed before news of the soldier's death reached Alindra. Alone in her tower, Alindra wept for her love and beseeched the gods to deliver her from this cruel world. So earnest was her plea that the gods themselves were moved. They gathered Alindra into their arms and lifted her high into the heavens, where she became a star. The gods also raised up the soul of Alindra's soldier love and there he dwells, across the horizon from her," Leliana pointed to a constellation far to the west of Alindra's. "The band of stars between them is a river Alindra's tears, cried for her lost love. They say that when Alindra has cried enough, she will be able to cross the river to be reunited with her soldier."

Conrí's eyes had barely left Leliana's face since her story began but he said, "I'll never look at the stars the same way again."

"This story is one of my favorites," Leliana told the Warden. "A tale of a love so great and so enduring that it defies death, and moves the gods to action. Sometimes I ask myself, does such a love exist? Can it exist?"

"It is rare to find a love as strong," Conrí rumbled. "But if we lose faith in such things, what have we to live for?"

"I… never expected you to say that," Leliana admitted. "It is… a pleasant surprise."

Conrí raised an eyebrow. "Why is it a surprise?"

"I have to say there is a certain severity to you. Finding a person behind that all is nice. Maybe you should let your softer side show more often. Sometimes following your heart, not your head, leads you to remarkable places." The pair said nothing for a while before the bard broke the silence again. "I enjoy the nights at camp. The night always seems more peaceful to me. Safer."

Conrí chuckle. "I know what you mean."

"I feel the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day. Silly isn't it? The Darkspawn never sleep, and they lurk in the shadows."

"It isn't silly to look for moments to lay down your burdens."

"I enjoy these nights when we stand guard together, talking to pass the time in those small hours… well, I talk and you listen, mostly. Sometimes I succumb and fall asleep, and wake to find you still watchful and I know you're watching out for me."

"You never have to feel afraid with me around," Conrí assured her with a smile.

"W-what I'm trying to say is… is that I trust you. I'm comfortable around you. I know you'll be there when I need you," Leliana's tone got more and more nervous as she continued. "You are our leader, and my friend and… sometimes I think that m-maybe we could be more than that…" Leliana shook her head and her voice took a self-depreciating edge. "Maker… look at me, stumbling over my words like some ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am…"

Conrí chuckled. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed!" Leliana protested, though her flush belied her fib. "I'm just… flushed because… of the… heat."

Conrí leaned in slightly and said quietly, "For a while, I've wanted us to be more than just friends, Leli."

"Really?" she squeaked. "N-no one told me. You… you felt the same way and didn't do me the courtesy of informing? Y-you made me say all those things! Why couldn't you have said them first? Oh, you… oh how very awkward…"

"That's me," Conrí chuckled again, his grey-blue eyes shining with mischief. "I'm a terrible person."

"Oh, why am I being a baby about this? I must be a sight, spilling my guts."

Conrí leaned in again, but didn't stop until his lips had brushed against Leliana's. She greeted him in earnest, kissing him eagerly. It had been more than two years since she had felt the lips of another on hers and Conrí had skill, not bumbling through the gesture as most men she'd been with had. When he moved to deepen the kiss, rather than rebuff him, Leliana straddled Conrí's lap, tangling her hands in his hair. She enjoyed the slightly rough texture of his lengthening hair. It may have been long enough to braid once again, but those were thoughts for another time.

After a while, Leliana pulled back, her face flushed a lovely pink as she panted from lack of air. "Well…" she cleared her throat. "That settles it then."

The pair stayed like that, talking well into the night. They only stopped when they heard someone clearing their throat not far away. They looked up to see Erin and Serena standing outside their tents, both with smug smirks and hands on their hips. "Well, well," Erin snickered. "Not making a very good impression on your subordinates, Commander."

"And with the Chantry girl, no less," Serena added. "So shameless."

Leliana flushed a deep rose and hid her face in Conrí's shoulder. Conrí himself didn't color in the slightest. He just raised an eyebrow. "And you're one to talk, dear sister. Did I not walk in on you with your hand in Tira's skirt?" Erin blushed faintly while Serena chuckled. "And don't even get me started on your sexual tension, Aeducan." Serena scowled. "Be sure to wake Garik and Sten for last watch. We head for Soldier's Peak early and then it's on to Haven."

"Why Soldier's Peak?" Erin asked.

"We need information on the Joining," Conrí said, letting Leliana slip off his lap. "The sooner we can induct Xolana, the safer she'll be."


"So, this thing, you and he have going…" Alistair muttered early the next afternoon. He looked towards the front of the group where Conrí was pouring over the map to Haven, working out how to reach the small settlement from Soldier's Peak. Xolana was next to him, making observations on weather as summer was quickly fading to fall. "Doesn't that violate your vows?"

"What?" Leliana squawked. "What kind of question is that to just blurt out? What do we 'have going'?"

"Yes, I'm that blind," Alistair snarked. "I so totally did not see you ogling each other before."

"He was not ogling me," Leliana protested before her expression became intrigued. "Was he? Was he really ogling me?"

"Now that you say it, I'm not sure," Alistair mock contemplated. "Maybe he wasn't ogling you. I don't know..." he grinned devilishly. "I could always ask him..."

Leliana's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You can't do that! Could you? You couldn't do that..."

Alistair snorted. "I could. But I won't. Next thing you'll have me pulling his hair and passing him love letters."

"I... just mind your own business. How inappropriate!" Leliana blushed and moved towards the front of the group, trying to ignore Alistair's snickering.

"Are you sure Avernus knows about the Joining?" Xolana asked Conrí as Leliana joined them.

"He was the senior mage of the Wardens," Conrí nodded. "If anyone besides Sophia knew, it would be him. After all, he'd need to help prepare the potion."

"What goes into this potion anyway?"

Conrí sighed. "Only thing I know of for certain is that it requires lyrium and usually several mages if the Order was lacking. Which it was at Ostagar and the Templar's didn't help by limiting the number of mages to a grand total of ten. The other main ingredient is darkspawn blood, as you know."

"Right," Xolana swallowed, paling a bit as she mulled over the thought of drinking that tainted swill. "So… will I Join if Avernus knows what to do?"

"That's up to you," Conrí grunted. "While ideally we'd have as many Wardens on hand as possible, it would be a bad idea to do it before you're ready."

Xolana forced a laugh. "Not that different from sex then."

Conrí rolled his eyes. "If you want to equate the two…"

Xolana nodded. "Come on, we better hurry if we want to get there before nightfall."

As the day wore on, Xolana fell back towards the middle of the group. Wynne approached her during a quiet moment. "I noticed you seem to be rather... free with your affections."

"I've been cooped up without much opportunity to express myself for a long time," Xolana shrugged unapologetically. "A woman has needs."

"A fair point I suppose," Wynne allowed grudgingly. "But it seems you make it your mission to make as many people blush as you can. You and Zevran both."

"Can you blame me?" Xolana giggled. "Oh it's such a fun pastime... you just know you've got them thinking, and yet they try so hard to deny their wants, their desires, their urges... Why, I wonder? Why do you do that? Why refuse yourself the carnal pleasures? If you desire a man or a woman or otherwise, why not try?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself, my dear," Zevran chuckled.

Xolana smirked at Zevran. "Glad we're on the same scroll," she said before glancing back at Wynne and smiling gleefully. "Oooh, what's this? Tell me, who is it you're thinking of?" Xolana nearly squealed, delighting in the blush Wynne was slowly forming. "Go on, some muscly general? A beautiful young broad? A young spritely boy?"

"What?! No! I was..." Wynne sighed. "I was thinking back... on a long time ago."

"Ohhhh? Story time, methinks!" Xolana rubbed her hands together excitedly.

"It was before you were born, more than likely," Wynne admitted. "I had... an affair with a man in the tower."

Xolana gasped. "Now we're talking!" she turned to Zevran. "Why did no good-looking men or women come for me in the tower?"

"Well, there was that young, if neurotic Templar Cullen. I seem to recall him staring rather intently at your backside."

Xolana crinkled her nose. "Yes, him I knew about. But puh-LEAAAAASE... I wish to hear your story!" she added to Wynne.

"He was a templar, if you can believe it," the ageing mage sighed.

"A templar..." Xolana grew thoughtful but nodded, still wanting to hear the story.

"As I said, it was a long time ago. The templar and I had... well I suppose you could call it a relationship, on and off for a number of years."

"So you regularly came to the tower to be with him...?" Xolana asked.

"He was stationed there," Wynne explained. "And this was before I could leave freely. I was still just a regular enchanter at the time. So we saw each other quite frequently."

"So let me get this straight. You, a mage, decided to engage in a relationship with a Templar who was charged with keeping us locked in a tower of doom and to kill us if we tried to run or were suspected of blood magic use?"

"I would not expect another to understand," Wynne shook her head. "It was dangerous, yes, for both of us, but we were careful... mostly."

"...mostly?" Xolana swallowed.

"Yes... I ended up pregnant," Wynne admitted. "And the Knight Commander at the time found out who the father was and sent him away. I believe he is in the Free Marches now."

Xolana's gut sank in dread. "And... the baby..?"

"Born whole and healthy," Wynne assured her. "But he was taken from me as well. Last I heard he was in the White Spire in Orlais. I've contemplated visiting Rhys for some time, but I never found the opportunity."

Xolana relaxed a bit, nightmares of forced abortions going through her head. "Well... perhaps it is safer for the child if you don't."

"Oh, he is full grown now," Wynne explained. "Older than Conrí in fact. Correct me if I am wrong but he is the eldest of you?"

"Technically," Erin grudgingly admitted. "He was born a few minutes before me."

"Oh! I didn't realize you were twins," Wynne chuckled abashedly. "I'm sorry, dear."

"If the situation were different, he'd likely have teased me about it by now."

"Pardon me, Wynne," Leliana interjected gently. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did you say your son was named Rhys?"

"Yes, I did," Wynne nodded as she turned to the bard. "Why do you ask?"

"I met a man when I was visiting the White Spire a few years ago. He looked a lot like you and went by Rhys."

"Could this be your son, Wynne?" Xolana asked.

"I suppose it's possible..." Wynne acknowledged. "But what are the odds?"

"Not many of the mages in the Spire had Fereldan names," Leliana added. "And I only knew of one Rhys, anyway."

"So he became a mage, too?" Xolana asked. "I suppose that was to be expected. Wynne... perhaps, when the war is over, you could go find you son?"

"It is something to think about. And perhaps I have put it off for too long," Wynne turned her attention to the west, no doubt thinking of her child.

Xolana noticed this, becoming truly honest and supportive for a change. "I think that would be wonderful. You deserve to see your son. I'm sure he has turned into a fine man."

"Rather handsome as well," Leliana admitted with a warm smile.

"Ooh, really?" Xolana teased.

"Xolana Amell, NO," Wynne said firmly, making the younger mage burst out in giggles.


"Ah, Wardens, so wonderful to see you again!" the unctuous voice came from the old man sitting behind his work table in a fine, if old and worn chair. Conrí was quickly getting irritated of the old mage waffling on in a manner that was clearly meant to be pleasant and ingratiating, but instead came off as obsequious.

"You may dispense with the hollow pleasantries, Avernus," Conrí cut across the old Warden's prattling with a raised hand. "This is not a social call. We need information."

"What about?" Avernus's face contorted into a confused expression.

"The Joining. What it entails, what is required to perform it and how we can get such," Conrí replied. "Before long, we will be entering Orzammar and I suspect that our time there will likely require a sojourn into the Deep Roads. Xolana here was recruited into the Grey Wardens months ago, but she has yet to take the Joining, and if I am to enter the Deep Roads in the midst of a Blight, I want as many Grey Wardens on hand as possible. So tell me, how do we go about the Joining?"

Avernus was silent for a few moments as he pulled a hefty tome down from a nearby bookshelf, opening the book as he sank back into his chair and flicking through the pages until he found the page he was after, motioning for the other Wardens to be seated. As Conrí, Alistair and Xolana lowered themselves into the chairs available, Avernus began to talk in a curt, scholarly manner.

"The Joining is, as you know, the rite whereby we acquire the taint the darkspawn possess. It is our great advantage in the war against those beasts; to know where they are, what they think. The ritual itself requires three ingredients; firstly, a mixture of fresh darkspawn blood and lyrium ore in a liquid state..."

"Why lyrium?" Xolana interjected.

"As you know, girl, in its rawest form, lyrium can be a potent toxin, just as lethal as darkspawn blood, if not more so. Even the processed form the dwarves manufacture can have side effects; amnesia, loss of equilibrium, loss of one or more senses, and even complete mental psychosis in some truly advanced cases. However, it is these toxic attributes that makes lyrium of use to us; the addition of lyrium goes a long way to nullifying many of the venomous properties of darkspawn blood. This was first postulated by the earliest Grey Wardens during the First Blight, and my own research confirms it. The darkspawn blood provides the connection to the taint, allowing us to sense darkspawn, but the lyrium allows us to make us of it. Without the lyrium to temper its potency, the taint would reduce all who took the Joining to little more than mindless ghouls, possessing the taint but no more able to make use of it than a Blight wolf."

"Can the lyrium completely nullify the taint's poisonous side-effects?" Conrí asked, intrigued despite himself. "I've read your earlier research, on how it is the taint that causes the shortened lifespan, among other things. Is there any way these side-effects could be removed completely?"

"Not at present," Avernus replied, disappointment in his blue eyes. "I had been experimenting by introducing ever greater quantities of lyrium to darkspawn blood, but so far I haven't been able to completely remove the toxins that shorten our lifespan or trigger the ravenous hunger that we suffer, among other side-effects. I will keep experimenting, of course, but it may take years, decades even, before my research comes to fruition."

"Then you will make that your priority while we are gone," Conrí commanded, receiving a nod and more obsequious reassurances from Avernus.

"And the third ingredient of the Joining?" Alistair cut in, trying to bring the conversation back to its original topic.

"Now that is the rarest and most valuable of all the Joining's components," Avernus said with an enigmatic smile, one that did not sit well with Conrí.

"Enough with the riddles, Avernus," Conrí snapped. "I do not have the time or inclination to play games with you. What is it?"

"A single drop of blood taken from the veins of an archdemon," was the curt reply.

Conrí felt his jaw drop, and judging by the incredulous expressions on the others' faces, he wasn't the only one to be caught completely off guard by this revelation. He'd suspected, given the secrecy and mysteriousness that had surrounded his own Joining, that it comprised something so powerful, so enigmatic and so dangerous that the Grey Wardens were afraid to say it except in the company of the most venerable of their number, but never in his wildest imagination could he have suspected something like that.

"How in the Maker's name did the Wardens get their hands on that?"

"After the Battle of Ayseleigh, the Wardens bled Andoral's carcass of every drop of blood the Dragon of Slaves had left in his veins. Approximately fifty vials of the Archdemon's blood were sent out, given to the possession of every Warden Commander, to ensure the Grey Wardens are capable of inducting new members. The vast majority, however, like the blood recovered from Dumat, Zazikel and Toth, were removed and placed in a secure vault, protected by the most powerful wards the Circle of Magi could construct, and guarded at all times by a hundred Wardens, in the deepest recesses of Weisshaupt Fortress. Should the supply in any nation in Thedas dwindle, the Warden Commander would send word to Weisshaupt and the First Warden would remove more blood from the vault, to be dispatched where it was needed."

"Do you have some of this archdemon blood to hand?" Xolana asked, sounding eager to be done with it. Conrí didn't know whether the girl was excited at the chance of what she had been chosen for being so close at hand, or whether she simply wished to be done with the matter after so long waiting. "Is it possible to perform the Joining now?" Before Conrí could decide whether it was enthusiasm or resignation, however, Avernus shook his head.

"Alas no; if I did, you would already be a Warden by now, my dear girl, and there'd be no need for the conversation that follows now. Sadly, Soldier's Peak's cache of blood ran dry many years before the rebellion; Sophia was, shall we say, less than frugal when it came to the Joining. I remember her once saying she'd conscript the entire population of Denerim if it would give her the edge over Arland. Naturally, after the 'events' here that resulted in our Order's exile from Ferelden, no more blood was sent from Weisshaupt. After King Maric repealed Arland's decree, I learned that more had been dispatched from the fortress to the Wardens' new compound in Denerim..."

"May as well be in Val Royeaux for all the good it does us," Alistair muttered darkly. "The compound's at the palace, which means Loghain will have it more tightly guarded than a crab's arse."

"So how are we supposed to perform the Joining now?" Conrí demanded angrily, annoyed at their plans being thwarted. Avernus spread his hands helplessly, before getting to his feet, pulling bottles and glass phials off shelves around him.

"I do not know, but I can make sure that if, by some miracle, you do manage to acquire Archdemon blood in your travels, you will be ready to undertake the ritual," Avernus replied as he poured a good measure of darkspawn blood, reddish black and stinking of decay, into a glass bottle. He uncorked a second phial, this one full of a shimmering blue fluid, and poured it in with the blood, the mixture taking on the deep purple coloration of a bruise.

"It is ready," Avernus said, holding out the vial to Conrí. "The glass is enchanted, so it won't break if you drop or misplace it, and its contents will stay fresh and ready for use. For the same effects of the potion I gave you, Cousland, add a measure of your own blood. With it, the young lady will have much more of a chance of survival." Conrí nodded by way of thanks and got to his feet to leave, Xolana and Alistair doing likewise, but Avernus's call stopped them as Conrí made to open the door.

"And if you'll take my advice for what it's worth, be careful in the depths. Even locked away as I am here, I still hear word of what's happening across Ferelden. Despite what the fools at court believe, the lack of attacks in recent months does not mean this threat is over. The darkspawn may be crude and animalistic beings, but I assure you, the one leading them is not. If the Archdemon has not made its presence known to the surface, that can only be because it is biding its time, and no recent attacks mean that it has kept the bulk of its army with it. The Archdemon is neither stupid nor impulsive; it is like any predator, simply awaiting the perfect time to strike. Mark my words, the second it scents weakness, an opportunity given to it by these fool nobles who throw their armies and their lives away tearing this nation apart, the darkspawn will descend upon us like wolves on a wounded beast. Do not linger overlong in Orzammar, for the enemies of all life will come at us again before long, and unless you have the armies the treaties grant you ready, no one of either side of this civil war will survive the onslaught that is to come."


"I admit, there have only been a small number of times I have questioned Conrí's decisions, but..." Leliana trailed off as she and Xolana made their way towards the barracks. "Are you sure it was wise to leave that Avernus alive?"

"Well... I don't know," Xolana shook her head. "Being a blood mage myself I feel like I'm in no position to judge, though... intuitively, I am also concerned about the choice."

Leliana sighed. "I worry sometimes. He is almost too pragmatic at times... though he did give Avernus those orders..."

"But will he truly follow them..?" Xolana asked. "Is he trustworthy enough..? I do not know the answer..."

"I admit... for all his faults, Avernus seemed truly affected by Conrí's words. Then again, it is hard not to be, no?"

"I agree," Xolana nodded. "But someone as far depraved as Avernus appeared to be... I think it was obvious that he still had some morality, but how deeply sunken into the blood magic he truly was... I could not tell you. I have always been very careful about how I used it so... I can't empathize. Not completely."

"You are stronger than you give yourself credit for my friend," Leliana smiled. "You dance a finer line than most and it hasn't gotten the better of you."

"Perhaps you give me too much credit..." Xolana sighed. "I hope we must never find out."

"I must admit, I do worry about you," Leliana acknowledged. "Blood magic is... seductive from what I understand."

Xolana smirked. "You worry about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Leliana asked.

"Oh, no reason," Xolana assured her with a happy smile. "But do not worry, I am fine and will remain so... I will not let myself be controlled by my own magic."

Leliana smiled as well. "That is good to here. Maybe that will get Wynne off your back, no?" she chuckled.

Xolana laughed as well. "It might, though I would not bet on it. On the other hand... Perhaps I would not mind if you worried just a little anyway," Xolana's happy smile became a smirk.

"Ooh, you would like that wouldn't you?" Leliana giggled.

Xolana chuckled. "Who could be so silly as to mind a beautiful woman worrying about them?"

"Beautiful is it?" Leliana chuckled skeptically. "You need to get your eyes checked, my friend. I couldn't be more plain."

"Leliana, really, now it's you who does not give herself enough credit."

"If you say so, Xolana," Leliana sighed.

Xolana stepped closer. "What will it take for me to help you see how beautiful you are?" A slight leer was developing.

Leliana pondered for a moment with a smirk. "Hm. Let me think..."

Xolana's leer grew. "Hm...?"

"Not to interrupt such an interesting conversation," Tira's voice came from the doorway. "But dinner is ready."

Xolana pulled away from Leliana, though only a tiny bit. "I swear you do this on purpose, Tira," grumbled Xolana, her eyes still firmly on Leliana.

Tira raised eyebrow with a smirk. "Maaaybe. But seriously, if you're hungry, you'd better hurry before Alistair, Erin and Conrí eat everything."

Leliana sighed. "She has a point," she said, her stomach grumbling.

Xolana sighed too and mumbled to herself. "Why do I even try..." she started pulling away from Leliana slowly.

"I have the worst timing don't I?" Tira chuckled.

Xolana shot her a glare. "Just you wait and see… I will get you back."

"Uh huh. Just try it, sparkle fingers."

Xolana ignored Tira. "So Leliana... think about it for me, will you?" her smirk returned as they turn to head to the mess hall.

"Ooh, I interrupted something good, didn't I?" Tira giggled. Xolana was ignoring her with such purposeful vehemence it almost hurt. "She's ignoring me now. How mean."

"Well, you are quite nosy," Leliana pointed out.

"Five minutes is all I'm asking, Tira..." Xolana groaned, trying hard not to get angry.

Tira gave a defeated sigh. "Very well. Don't blame me if those three rabid wolves eat everything," she said, turning to head back to the main hall.

Xolana rolled her eyes. "Do not miss dinner on my account. I do not mind if you want to go. I was just... well, hoping for a response, though." Tira waved over her shoulder.

"A Grey Warden willing to miss dinner. Color me astounded," Leliana giggled.

Xolana chuckled. "Not Joined yet, remember? Besides, I can always get my own dinner later if they really leave nothing for me... and I find this conversation both more stimulating and important right now."

"Is that so? I am flattered, my friend," Leliana chuckled.

Xolana let out a pleased sigh. "I suppose letting yourself be flattered is a start. Yet I maintain... you give yourself too little credit."

"Vanity... is not a quality I wish to have anymore," Leliana told the mage, growing serious.

"I am not speaking of vanity, but self deprecation is also not healthy," Xolana pointed out.

"You misunderstand. I do not think of myself as beautiful, as I once did. If I allow myself to believe that, I... may slip into some of my other earlier habits," Leliana shifted uncomfortably. While she was being honest with herself, there was still parts of her past self she didn't want to indulge.

"Are you so scared of the person you once were?" Xolana asked. "So terrified of the shadow of the past? Do you truly believe you could sink back into your own history?"

"Xolana... you would probably be ashamed to know the person I once was..."

"You do not know this..." Xolana mumbled. "You are just assuming it to be so. I am a blood mage... not many things are considered worse than that. I sincerely believe I understand your fear but... I also believe it to be unfounded."

Leliana sighed and looked to shift the conversation. "I never did tell you about my friends while I was working under Marjolaine, did I?"

"I suppose you did not," Xolana admitted.

"They weren't bards themselves, one being a mage and the other a warrior, but they came with me on many of my jobs."

"You do not have to tell me if you feel very uncomfortable..." Xolana assured the bard. "But I appreciate the trust you place in me if you do."

Leliana smiled. "It is no discomfort. Merely... nostalgia and regret. The mage was an elf named Sketch. A more nervous fellow I have never met. I always did find it odd that he would agree to accompany a bard. Though I'd wager his hatred for the Circle rivals yours."

Xolana chuckled. "If that is truly so I should like to meet him."

"Unfortunately I haven't seen him since I left for Fereldan. I do hope he is alright..." Leliana grew pensive.

"Apologies... but I'm sure he is. Mages tend to have good cards up their sleeves if you know what I mean," Xolana smiled.

"He always did have a good head on his shoulders," Leliana nodded. "The other was Tug, a dwarven warrior. He confused me more if I'm honest. He only ever said the view couldn't be better if he worked for someone else."

"So... what was the matter with the time you spent with them? With you... with them?"

Leliana sighed. "Nothing. I enjoyed my time with them, working for Marjolaine. But... I was not the only one she betrayed..." Xolana waited in silence, not wanting to interrupt. "When I was captured... Tug and Sketch were taken as well... when I finally managed to free myself and found them... Tug was already dead. Sketch told me the guards killed him because he wouldn't stop talking, distracting them from cutting Sketch's hands off..."

"That... that is horrible," Xolana gasped, horrified.

"As much as Tug teased him, Sketch was... not in the best shape when he died," Leliana hung her head.

"I... I can imagine. Travelling together can do that to you..." Xolana's mind turned fondly of their companions... even Alistair.

"We had help escaping the estate we were being held in and we weren't alone when we left. A man named Silas Corthwaite was being held for poaching and a Revered mother had slipped me a key to the cells. Along with this," Leliana added, drawing her belt knife briefly.

Xolana raised an eyebrow. "Quite the token from a revered mother."

"It turns out the Revered Mother, Dorothea, was seduced by Marjolaine as well. Marjolaine had been attempting to start a new war between Orlais and Fereldan. I do not know why. Perhaps a few nobles wished to reclaim what they see as a rebellious territory and hired her to make it happen. But Marjolaine had stolen documents that could make that war a reality. It seems she was still going to try until we confronted her."

"You... weren't lying when you said there was more to it than we thought…"

"Yes... Dorothea is why I returned to the chantry after I dealt with Marjolaine's compatriot, a disgruntled Fereldan soldier named Commander Harwen Raleigh."

"But Leliana..." Xolana started hesitantly. "I understand this was a painful past, but I still don't understand... why did you feel like you couldn't trust us with this information before...?"

"I was ashamed..." Leliana admitted. "If I had been quicker... maybe I could have saved Tug..."

"But how on earth was that your fault? How can you think that?" Xolana was baffled. As far as she could tell, Leliana had been in no place to help anyone at the time.

"I believe the term is survivor's guilt..." Leliana mumbled.

"Well I promise you... you don't need to feel that. At all," Xolana assured her crush.

Leliana wiped her eyes as a few stray tears escaped. "I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I came here to speak on friendly terms and end up spilling my guts..."

"Hey, hey, hey now. Calm now. Come here... it's ok," Xolana pulled Leliana into a hug and stroked her hair.

Leliana accepted the hug, pushing away the remaining tears. "Thank you, my friend." Xolana cringed slightly that she was being so insistently called friend, but ignored it for the moment and held the bard.

Leliana pulled back and kissed Xolana on the cheek. "Thank you again, Xolana. But I think we had better get back now. Conrí may well send Koun out looking for us. Last thing we need is another scolding from a mabari."

"Leliana..." Xolana, gaining courage from the cheek kiss, gently grabbed Leliana by the wrist before she could turn away. When the bard looked at her quizzically, Xolana pulled her closer to herself and kissed Leliana properly.

Leliana froze, shocked at herself for the momentary thrill of enjoyment before pulling away. "Xolana..."

Xolana quickly realized this was probably not the smoothest move. "Leliana... I... I am sorry."

"No, I'm sorry... I... I like you but..." Leliana trailed off.

"...Forgive me. I shouldn't have," Xolana backed away. "You are right, let's go back to camp."

Conrí came into the clearing. "Is everything alright? I was starting to worry about you two."

"Yes, sorry sir," Xolana said formally. "We were just on our way to return," she tore her eyes away from Leliana and started to head back to the main hall.

Conrí frowned and watched Xolana leave before turning back to Leliana with a quizzical expression. Leliana sighed and put a weary hand to her forehead. "I'll... explain later..."


Snow began to fall thick and heavy as the group neared where Haven was marked on Genitivi's map. The group had broken out thick wool cloaks to fend against the biting mountain wind. "Keep moving!" Conrí barked. "Genitivi's research says the tomb rest atop this peak!"

"Lovely!" Morrigan sneered. "We shall freeze to death digging for the bones of a madwoman…"

Those of Andrastian belief ignored the mage and her barbed tongue and continued up the mountain. But one of a different belief had something to say, though not to the witch. In fact, he shoved past the mage, disregarding her hiss of annoyance, and trudged towards the front where Conrí was leading the way. "An interesting strategy. Do you intend to continue going north until it becomes south and attack the Archdemon from the rear?"

"You think I'd be on this wretched mountain if it wasn't necessary, Sten?" Conrí growled.

"Necessary. My mistake. It seemed to me that a flight of religious fancy had taken you, Warden," Sten rumbled.

Conrí, having heard such complaints from the Qunari before, turned around fully, putting his back to the wind. "You can always leave, Sten," he said, voice brimming with agitation before turning and continuing up the path.

"I'm not leaving," Sten snarled. "I'm taking command. Your cowardice will mislead us no more."

Conrí stopped cold. The air around the group seemed to drop even further, even the wind died down, leaving a malevolent calm. "Cowardice?" Conrí asked, his voice dangerously quiet. He turned halfway to stare at the Qunari, his face half shrouded by his hood, but Sten still saw his pupil had dilated. Not in fear, but a towering rage. "I hope you do not expect me to step aside quietly."

"Fight if you wish," Sten growled. "It makes no difference."

Conrí pulled off his cloak and tossed it aside before grabbing his sword. "Then face me, Qunari," he sneered.

Sten snorted and charged like an enraged bull. Conrí ducked the swing of his axe and drove the pommel of his sword into the armored gut of the Qunari, making him stumble slightly. The stumble didn't keep Sten from evading Conrí's counter swing, slipping his leg away from the honed edge of the Cousland's Claymore. Sten swung again, this time getting the haft of his axe caught between the blade and quillon of Conrí's sword. Conrí spun his sword so he could grip the blade and trap Sten's axe. The two warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, glaring at each other, molten violet meeting piercing ice blue.

Rather than rearing back to strike, Conrí thrust the curve of his skull into Sten's face, using the thick bone to snap the Qunari's nose and loosen a few teeth. Sten's head snapped back, letting Conrí swivel his hips and toss the large man to the ground. Sten quickly got to one knee, seeing Conrí rearing back for the final strike. The Qunari acted quickly, swinging his axe to meet the claymore. The sound of splintering metal echoed through the still forest.

Conrí stumbled, gob smacked as he saw the hilt and a few feet of metal in his hands and the rest of his blade scattered about. He reacted quick enough to cross his arms and block much of Sten's next blow, but the bit still sliced his face, opening a gushing wound from his right eyebrow to his upper lip. He cried out in pain, his head jerking down. This gave Sten all the time he needed to knee him in the face and force Conrí back to his feet just in time to take the broadside of the axe to the chest, sending him flying.

Conrí collided with a pine tree and fell face first into the snow. The world spun as he looked up, seeing Sten shoulder his axe and turning to the group. "It is done," said the Qunari. "I lead from here on."

"No," Conrí growled, pushing himself from the snow, a good bit of it painted crimson. Blood poured down his face, covering half of it and getting into his eye. "It's not done… not while my heart still beats…"

"Conrí!" Erin cried, rushing to his side. Her brother forced himself to his feet, his right eye shut tight against the stinging blood coating his face and running down his neck and onto his breastplate. "Stop this! You have no weapon!"

"I will not let some hornless oxman screw this up now!" Conrí snarled. "It's bad enough I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere looking for an artifact that might not even exist for a man I thoroughly detest! I've tolerated bitchy comments from a swamp witch, friendly fire from a bastard elf with a chip on his shoulder the size of Starkhaven, and the snide comments of some glorified scout from Seheron! I've had it! You want to lead so badly, you oversized bastard?! YOU'LL HAVE TO KILL ME! Because if you don't, I am gonna beat the shit out of you with my own two hands! Unlike you, Qunari, I don't break with my weapon!" Conrí raised his fists, showing he wasn't bluffing.

Sten cast aside his axe as he studied the wounded human. He had his right foot forward, giving him good balance and mobility. His left fist was tucked near his cheek, ready to defend. So they trained him in unarmed combat as well, Sten mused. Like before, Sten threw the first blow. Conrí ducked under the wide swing, aiming two quick left jabs into Sten's exposed ribs.

As they traded blows, Sten couldn't help but be impressed with the human. Unlike his normal fighting style which chained together broad sweeping strikes, Conrí's unarmed fighting was quick, nimble despite the massive armor he wore. Rather than blocking most blows, Conrí dodged, ducked and evaded them, usually delivering a painful counter. After not landing a single strike, Sten finally grew agitated and seized Conrí by the throat.

This mistake proved almost fatal.

Conrí grabbed Sten's wrist instinctually. To Sten shock, Conrí threw his legs up, dragging Sten to the ground. Before Sten could react, Conrí's left leg snaked around the Qunari's arm like a python while the right wrapped around his head. This left Sten's neck between Conrí's left shin and right calf. Before Sten could pull back, Conrí grabbed him by the back of the head, his fingers lacing and he began to pull Sten's throat into his shin, using his right leg as extra leverage.

Try as he might, Sten couldn't break Conrí's grip. His struggles began to grow slower and more feeble by the second as the blood flow and air was cut off. Conrí wrenched back, screaming in rage even as his own life blood poured from his wound, running into his hair and pooling in the snow. Eventually, Sten went completely limp. Conrí pushed the heavy body of the Qunari off him and stood quickly, ignoring the vertigo. When he was sure Sten wouldn't be attacking anymore, he sat heavily, panting and attempting to wipe the blood from his eye. Wynne bustled over, intending to heal the wound, but Conrí waved her off with a curt, "Leave it," and stood up. Leliana however, would not be swayed and began wiping the blood off his face with a damp rag.

"Stubborn man…" she muttered as she pulled out some pulverized elfroot. Before Conrí could argue, Leliana cut him off. "It will keep out infection and let you keep your scar, you stupid bull headed idiot." Conrí merely grumbled as Leliana smeared the paste on his cut.

Sten gradually regained consciousness as Wynne repaired what damage Conrí had done to his throat. "Torn vocal cords… nasty business," Wynne muttered. "I know you usually refrain, but do not talk anymore than necessary for the next few days, Sten."

The Qunari nodded and turned to Conrí. He'd been defeated. There was no denying this. He'd lost consciousness at the hands of a bas. No… he was no mere thing. Sten saw that now., though whether he was Basalit-an remained to be seen.

"Sten," Conrí growled. "If you ever raise a weapon against me again, not only will I kill you, but I will find your sword and keep it as a trophy. Am I understood?" Sten nodded. "Good." He picked up the hilt and part of the blade of his sword with a sigh. Besides his ring, the last tangible thing he owned from Highever was in pieces.

As he contemplated what he would do with the broken weapon, the hilt slipped from his fingers. He turned to see Wynne levitating it and the pieces of the shattered blade. To his amazement, the fragments aligned in the shape of the completed sword and seemed to stick together. Wynne motioned for Conrí, who held out his sheath. The magically pieced together blade slid into its sheath.

"It won't be any good in battle, but it will hold until you can get it repaired," Wynne explained.

"You're going to have to tell me how you did that later," Conrí grunted, grabbing Sten's axe and tossing an old maul to him. "For the moment… let's hunt down this myth."

AN: And there's 29. I want to thank my Beta for the idea of Conri and Sten fighting before Haven. I was originally gonna go with Sten getting Asala back in Redcliffe the first time, but RomanticVoltaire talked me out of it and I'm really happy with how it came out. I think this may be the first time Conri has lost his cool, excluding the bout of Lycanthropy. XD Next up is Haven and the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And i'm taking my own spin on that part too. Merry Christmas everyone. For those who don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Whateverholidayyoucelebrate. :) ~Sin