Ok FF is still messing with me really bad, which is the reason I haven't been uploading...stupid blank screen when I try to upload to the document manager...anyhoo, I searched the wide wonderful web and hopefully have found a temporary solution to this crap, but expect me to revolt if this shit keeps up.

Nope, don't own.

An hour later, while she, Spiorad, and Zervan search for an alternate route the the massive building squatting in the distance, the elf falls into step with the wild mage, "Cara, were you aware that Leliana cornered me before we left and practically ordered me to divulge the reason behind your favorable mood?"

Lynx quirks an eyebrow at him in silent query and he shrugs. "I did not tell her, of course. I would never bely what occurs between us behind closed doors, so to speak, and I must admit what our little songbird did next truly caught me unawares. She fussed a bit then pointedly expressed her desire for me to continue what I am doing if that meant you yelled less," he leans close enough that his lips graze the shell of her ear, "Then she offered her many talents as well, if any of them would placate you just as thoroughly. Being the gentleman that I am, I informed her that although I was fairly confident that I had things well in hand and doubted the need of her...skills...I would speak to you on her behalf."

"Oh I don't know Zev," she pauses and gives the assassin a slow, appraising look before continuing, "Maybe I ought to trade your attentions for hers, she'd probably be nicer than you. Until she started babbling about shoes and ball gowns at least."

"Nicer?" he blinks his eyes a few times before his shoulders begin quaking with laughter, "Did the half feral-not to mention deadly- sex goddess just make a joke at her own expense? Too bad our Templar is nowhere close enough to enjoy this, then again he'd more likely faint with disbelief."

"I did no such thing you pointy eared thug," she scoffs and resumes navigating her way through the bracken, "I believe that the hit you took to the head last night might be causing you to hallucinate."

"Of course la mia anima," he snickers, his amber eyes never deviating from her shapely rump as he follows, "My mistake."

Ten minutes farther up the trail, they are no longer laughing as their entire group of companions is surrounded by maniacs. Luckily for them that they seem ill equipped to deal with her as they scramble to escape both her blades and her spells. Spiorad lunges at those stupid enough to attempt a frontal assault while Zevran's razor edged daggers protect her from the rear.

Morrigan's malicious cackle rises over the din after a particularly large cluster of fanatics are felled under her gigantic spider shape. A man's guttural war cry is abruptly silenced by Sten as the qunari slices his opponent from right shoulder to left hip. Leliana and Gabriel orbit around Wynne, taking turns with sword and bow as the elderly mage fires consecutive healing spells to keep everyone in the fight. Alistair-currently paired with Ruby-focuses his smites on the enemy mages, choking the bulk of their offensive magicks before they ever reach his comrades.

After what seems like an age, the last foe drops with a disappointing squish, leaving the companions panting shots of steam in the ancient temples frozen main hall. They pillage the corpses while catching their breath and having their wounds healed, then scour the once resplendent chamber before pushing deeper into the structure...and into wave after wave of dragonlings.

"I'm starting to getting an idea of why they sacrifice people to Andraste," Lynx mutters after neutralizing a rabid mage and claiming his lyrium infused longsword.

"Because we taste good when deep fried and smothered in ketchup?" Alistair offers with a lopsided grin, earning himself a swat upside his helm from the bard, who mutters about Fereldens and their obsession with putting ketchup or cheese on everything.

"Why don't we ask him?" Gabriel interjects, raising the tip of his weapon towards a bear of a man who is wielding an ax and a helm with a pair of mismatched horns sticking out of it.

It is from Kolgrim that they learn of the alleged resurrection of Andraste, who has evidently come to her faithful servants wrapped in the silvery scales of a high dragon. This new Andraste also seems to be sunning herself in the rocky clearing that separates the outer temple from the inner sanctum.

Not even Sten complains when they decide to take a detour in order to slink around the lethal and overprotective serpent when it is mentioned just how many of the dragon's young the group had killed on their journey up the mountain.

The air in the next building feels wildly different than the first one, almost electric. As Lynx and the others enter the dimly lit chamber, she is stopped in her tracks by a single name called out in a voice she's yearned for twenty long years to hear again.

"Aurora."

The apostate slinks forward, terror and exultation struggling for dominance, until a figure emerges. An elven man with vivid violet eyes and bronze kissed skin stands before her, a rakish smirk etched onto his visage. "Aurora, da'len, you have grown so much."

"Pappae?" her ears do not recognize the sound of her own voice as she calls out to the memory made all too real.

"I've missed you terribly, my Aurora," he smiles and spreads his arms wide as she rushes to hug him, "I am so sorry that I had to leave you alone emm'asha."

"Pappae, you're back, that's all that matters," Lynx finds herself announcing as the young girl that was once buried rushes to the surface, "The Templars took you away, but now you're back."

"Ssh," the man coos soothingly as he strokes her pale hair, "You must listen emma'vheran, my time here is short."

Lynx childishly tries to bury her face into her father's shoulder, but he gently yet determinedly pushes her back until their matching gazes lock, "You must stop hating yourself for what you are, for who you are. No matter what others try to tell you, you are the most wonderful gift I could have ever received from the Creators. Do not blame yourself for what happened, the Templars did not come because of you that day da'len."

"Why did they destroy everything then?" she simpers, unable to stop the torrent flowing down her cheeks, "Why did they kill everyone Pappae?"

"Because a bad man was put in a position of power and he sought to destroy any who opposed his methods," the elf confesses and wipes away her tears with calloused fingers, "People like Fiona and Aiden. People like me, Cyrus, and little Kelsie. That man had told the Templars that Aiden was harboring maleficars and they believed him. They would have come that day whether you'd been a mage or not, my little Aurora."

She is quiet a few moments, absorbing the new information, and is too distracted to notice that her comrades are similarly shocked when she takes a ragged breath and peers up at the shade, "It's not...my fault?"

"No, da'lath, it was never your fault," the spirit smiles at her as he presses a leaf shaped silver medallion into her hand," Take this Aurora. Your mother wanted it to be given to you when she passed, but I could not bear to part with this last remnant of her until now."

"Mammae," the mage whispers, awestruck, and throws herself into the elf's arms for the last time, "I will never forget you Pappae, nor Mammae. Ma'arlath."

Her father presses a reverent kiss to her forehead, "Ma'arlath emm'asha da'len. Little Brock loves you as well. Now close your eyes and remember me as I am right now, not as the cursed Templars made you see me."

Cold wisps of air swirl around Lynx as she clings to her father, her eyelids clamped tight, but her desperate prayers are to no avail. When she finally gathers enough courage to open her eyes once more, her father is gone.

Translations

emm'asha-my girl

emma'vheran-my heart

da'lath-little love

ma'arlath-I love you