Fergus leaned on the railing of the Siren's Call. Captain Isabella's ship was the only ship left in Highever harbor when Fergus was ready to leave for Antiva. She said that she was waiting for Varric to return, but after Fergus explained that Varric was heading back to Ostagar with his sister, Isabella decided she could take a side trip … and make a good bit of coin. Fergus paid her extra for his passage to Antiva. During the dock fires, she and her crew helped Jarin and his men save many of the piers and the cargo piled upon those piers. Fergus knew that some of that cargo was probably in Isabella's hold right now, but he really didn't care. The other "reputable" ship captains pulled their ships away from the docks and watched from afar.

Thinking of Arlaine only added to his disquiet. His sister was every bit the warrior that he and his father were. She would represent the best of Highever. But, the information about the broodmothers was worrisome; however, the Archdemon clearly demonstrated that it could attack anywhere it chose.

A merchant and his son arrived with Sancia and Warden Calianne shortly after his father had returned with Thomas, Wills, Anders and several other wardens. They were a great help with the survivors, as well as a needed presence to help with the fears and worries of Highever's people. A messenger arrived shortly before Fergus left saying that Nathaniel was heading to Highever to help rebuild. His father had written about the improvements that Voldrik Glavonak had done to the Vigil.

Wills and Calianne had to go back to Soldier's Peak. Wills needed to get word to Weisshaupt and Calianne was going to see what Soldier's Peak could spare to help Highever and the farmers in the Bannorn. Thomas worked with Jarin to patrol the area. Anders opened a clinic to heal the survivors' injuries. His quick wit and humor went a long way to healing their troubled souls as well.

"So, the cook on this ship is pretty bad, eh?" Sancia smiled at Fergus as she passed him a buttered cheese biscuit, leftover from the stash Nan had handed each of them as they left. The fact that Sancia had offered to accompany him to Antiva was a surprise. She said she had friends there she'd like to visit, but Fergus suspected she just wanted to make certain Fergus didn't end up dead somewhere along the way from the docks to Oriana's family estate.

"I've had worse, but it's hard to beat Nan's cooking." Fergus took a bite from the biscuit. "We have enough of these to stretch to Antiva, right?"

The pretty Antivan elf chuckled. "Maybe half-way."

Captain Isabella walked up next to Fergus and leaned on the railing as well. "At least Antiva City is pleasant this time of year."

"I have been meaning to ask you, Isabella … can the ship go up the river there as far as the Tellari?" Sancia laughed at Fergus' frown. "I have some family in a small village on the edge of the swamp that I may like to visit once I am assured that the banker prince Arianci is not going to take off your head for his daughter's death."

"The Cezizi village? You have family there?" Isabella looked surprised.

"Sí! My aunt works for the Rivani seer there." Sancia slapped Isabella on the shoulder. "You know Scoraza?"

"I do! And, yes, the river is deep enough through there that the ship can maneuver that far but the crew hates it." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Sancia. "Superstitious, the lot of 'em."

"Hah! Smart to be superstitious near the Tellari!" Sancia made a complicated hand sign that Fergus could only guess warded off bad spirits which caused the women to laugh again.

Fergus found it hard to be pleasant. Isabella and Sancia kept up their banter, a couple of the crew joined in, but he had stopped listening. The deaths of his wife and little boy were still an open wound. When he recalled looking into the face of his son and seeing all of his ancestors' hopes and dreams, all of his own hopes and dreams, he found it hard to breathe. To have his beautiful partner and his remarkable son killed by the Archdemon, right in his own home, mere feet from where he was … well, it made him wonder what he had done to the Maker to deserve such pain and emptiness.

He knew everyone wanted to know why he felt he had to personally go to Antiva. He respected Oriana's family and they had always been up front and decent to him. Maybe he had a death wish. "If Arianci does want to take my head, I'm not going to stop him." Fergus swallowed hard, feeling the tears again build in his eyes. He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until all the conversation around him stopped. He didn't miss the look that passed between Sancia and Isabella.

"It is difficult to know how my countrymen will react, mio signore, but I do know they respect courage." Sancia put her hand on his shoulder, winked and added. "Hopefully, they will treat your effort with respect and allow you to live … but, rest assured, they will treat your headless corpse with respect as well."

Isabella laughed so hard that she had to sit down. These people were so fiercely centered. Accustomed to loss and adapting to change. Fergus turned to Sancia in surprise … and then smiled for the first time since the attack on Highever. He thanked the Maker that Sancia had come along. He might actually survive this.

Wills dropped his pack by his bed and sat down. It had been a harrowing couple of weeks and he just got back to Soldier's Peak. He left Thomas in Highever to aid the Couslands as much as he could and lead patrols around the area to look out for more darkspawn. Anders set up shop in the city to help with the survivors and Wills told him to stay as long as he was needed. Calianne was rummaging around the Peak to see if there were any supplies or food the wardens could share with Highever. The wardens didn't have much, but Wills told her to gather what she could. Just before they turned north on the road to the Peak, Will's group passed a contingent from Vigil's Keep, led by Arl Nathaniel. They were headed to Highever to lend aid.

The Warden-Captain had discovered that he truly had no idea about the destructive power of the Archdemon. Until he witnessed the aftermath of Highever first hand. The upper parts of Castle Cousland were nothing more than a tumbled mass of broken stone, twisted metal and burned wood. Survivors told of the unnatural purple flames of the Archdemon that cut through thick walls and set fire to the docks and parts of the city. Surprisingly, the Alienage was mostly spared. Some idiots were claiming the elves brought the Archdemon down on them, but Wills managed to explain that the darkspawn had no agenda other than mass destruction. He pointed out that they should be thankful to the Maker that the Alienage — a tightly packed cluster of all-wood structures near the center of the city — hadn't gone up in flames or everything would have been in ashes.

Privately, however, he did find it curious and would do some research into why an Archdemon might avoid the elves, if any reason did exist. Coincidence was never good enough for Loghain and it wouldn't be good enough for Wills, either.

Captain Jarin was severely shorthanded. Many of his city guardsmen had been killed in the Archdemon attack as well as during the rescue of citizens from fires and collapsed buildings. The timely arrival of the wardens and news of Arl Nathaniel coming did a great deal to ease Jarin's burden. News of Arlaine's about-face and return to Ostagar only added to his worries. He knew there would never be anything more than friendship between them, especially since the rumor was that she was showing an interest in Warden Prince Alistair, but he still worried about her.

"Guard Captain, you have been negligent in seeing your healer!" Anders walked into Jarin's office, or what was left of it … two and a half stone walls and an oiled canvas roof. "I told you that I would need to see that arm at least once a day to make certain all the bits are healing like they should."

"Sorry, warden, I know I've been letting some things slide." Jarin shrugged off his cloak and put his bandaged arm up on the table.

Anders smiled as he unwrapped the injury. "At least you're doing better than Teryna Cousland. You tend to delegate as much as you can." He looked around and sighed. "I know there aren't that many to delegate to," he added quietly.

"Thomas' idea of recruiting neighborhood leaders was a stroke of genius." Jarin didn't know the younger Howe very well and, up until recently, didn't have a very high opinion of him. "They all dutifully meet here every morning for an update on what's going on, share the situation in their neighborhoods and … surprisingly sanely come up with solutions."

"Give it time, Jarin. All those guys will be back at each other's throats soon enough." Anders finished rewrapping Jarin's arm. "It's healing well. Give the bandages another day or two …"

"Warden Anders! We've got a babe that's wanting to show up early. Can you come?" One of those neighborhood leaders popped her head in. It was Jory's widow, Helena. Jarin never liked Jory and never understood how someone as beautiful as Helena could fall in love with him. However, the man died a warden. A hero to most, even to those who thought Jory was a pompous ass. So, Jarin just kept his feelings to himself.

Anders quickly gathered his case of herbs and potions. "Alas, a healer's work is never done."

"Just as well, I need to start my rounds for the afternoon. The Amaranthine folk should be here soon. I'd like to have a full report ready for the Teryn and the Arl so we don't waste time finding answers for questions that I should know already." Jarin cut off what he suspected Anders was about to say. "And, I will take care not to use the arm unnecessarily for a day or two more."

However, Jarin didn't get far. As he stepped out into the street, Teryn Cousland stopped him. "Ah, Captain, there you are! Are you starting or ending rounds?"

"Just starting, Your Grace, but I am at your disposal, of course." Jarin liked Bryce Cousland. He gave an air of fairness and strength, that, frankly, Jarin found lacking in Fergus. The heir was friendly enough, but just didn't seem to understand that his people needed to see him strong, as well. The recent tragedy left Fergus moody and withdrawn. Both traits that caused more worry in his people. Fergus took Jarin's advice to personally deliver the news to Lady Oriana's family. Perhaps the time away would aid in Fergus' disposition. Jarin was surprised that Sancia volunteered to go along with Fergus, but, after thinking on it, came to the conclusion that she was a good person to nudge the younger Cousland out of his depression.

"Good, good. Let's walk and talk, then." After Jarin stopped to let the city coordinator know about the destination of Anders, the teryn continued, "I wanted to let you know that Arl Nathaniel is already here and we plan to meet this afternoon, shortly after lunch." He smiled at Jarin. "I thought I'd get a brief summary from you first."

"Ah, let's see." Jarin tried to organize his thoughts, to no avail. Nathaniel would likely be most interested in seeing his brother again. "The wardens have been a tremendous help, of course. Thomas is out today with a couple of my lads, ranging the area around Highever. He shared some reports of darkspawn sightings near Drake's Fall, but said that would need to be a warden expedition to investigate. He thinks the group that attacked Teryn Loghain's party may have originated from Drake's Fall. He put it on his lengthening list of places to check soon. Other than that, Thomas has been unable to find any other serious darkspawn sightings nearby."

"Thank the Maker," the teryn said quietly.

"Of course, Warden Anders has been Maker-sent. He's off delivering a baby that's coming early. Third one this week." Jarin chuckled and added, "He said the trauma and tension of the attack is stirring the natural bravery of the babies who want to make their mark on the world."

Teryn Cousland nodded. "Anders' humor horrifies Eleanor and makes her laugh at the same time. Has the Chantry given him any trouble?"

"Not a bit. Maker forgive me for saying this, but the death of the Revered Mother has enabled the rest of the Chantry to remember that they are here to serve the citizens, not control them." Jarin knew his face was turning red as he said those words.

The teryn put his hand on Jarin's shoulder. "Then, the Maker would have to forgive me as well, Jarin. How about the rest of the city?"

They continued to walk for at least a half-hour as Jarin pointed out places that Bodahn and his son had made a difference. The day the dwarf merchant arrived, he walked around the streets and gave Jarin some messages to send to nearby towns and villages. Within days, blacksmiths arrived with extra metal, woodworkers arrived with wagons of lumber and cooks set up kitchens in areas where the workers could take short breaks from time to time to keep up their strength.

"They should have recruited him to the army, but I'm glad they didn't!" was all the teryn said.

"Agreed. In short, Your Grace, the city is still a mess, but it's become a manageable mess with the Grace of the Maker sending us such competent aid." After assuring the teryn that he'd be up to the castle in short order, Jarin headed to the docks. He knew that Harbormaster Portman was harried, but Highever had to get more than one dock clear to receive any incoming aid. At least, Jarin hoped aid would be coming.

Saharius awoke with an uneasy feeling. He felt, before he saw, the intruder at the end of his bed. He gathered his magic, flung off the covers and sent a ball of force toward the stranger. It dissipated before it reached halfway, after it hit a counter spell cast by the intruder … the very powerful intruder.

"Now, is that any way to treat your guests?" There stood a tall woman in red leather armor, hair upswept to look like a dragon's horns. Just as Xan had described her. Flemeth. She crossed her arms and smiled. "I wouldn't try that again, if I were you."

Saharius narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. Then, he reached over, grabbed his silken robe and slipped it on, tying it loosely shut. "How did you get in here past my wards?!" He had some ideas about just what Flemeth was. At the moment, she was annoying.

"Yes, very pretty wards. And effective against most … but obviously, not against me." Her smiled slipped.

He could tell she was upset about something and he wondered what Xan might have done. Surely, Flemeth didn't care about Caladrius or Jenra. Saharius sighed and tied back his long hair. "I have a front door, you know."

"How … undramatic. This was much more impressive, don't you think? Did I impress you this morning, Saharius? It seems that I failed to impress your mistress on the importance of not interfering with the Blight. Or, I suppose she failed to impress you that I was serious." Flemeth raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been helping the wardens here." Saharius was truly confused. He thought he was helping to end the Blight. Flemeth rolled her eyes and walked into his adjoining study. When she started to look through his papers, he walked over and took a parchment out of her hands. "Speak plainly."

She took the parchment back. "Good. I hate dancing around an issue." He almost laughed at that. Her reputation was that she was the queen of dancing around an issue. She held the parchment up. It was an inventory of slaves that had been turned over to the wardens. She slammed the parchment down and jabbed a finger on his bare chest showing through his loosely tied robe. "You are responsible for creating an improved form of darkspawn, Saharius. A form that thinks and speaks and will cause the Blight to continue on unabated even after the Archdemon has been slain. Is it your desire to live in a world of darkspawn?"

Her touch made him shudder. He tied his robe tighter. "I've done no such thing. Warden-Commander Thelius needed wardens to fight the darkspawn so I provided them."

"Fool." Flemeth laughed. "Xan told me you wanted to take over Ferelden. You had grand designs on becoming Archon. As it stands now, your name will go down in history as the puppet of The Architect. When speaking darkspawn take over all of Thedas, you will be known as The Facilitator." She wasn't being clever. She knew this would come to pass. He definitely knew what … or who she was now.

"Who's The Architect?" Saharius was becoming nervous. He'd been trying to figure out her true goal in appearing here, expecting it to be shrouded in layers of subterfuge, but she seemed to be spitting out the bare truth. And, that made him doubly nervous.

"So, you're a blind fool, then." Flemeth's snide tone wasn't helping his disquiet. "Allow me to enlighten you. Archdemons are not mindless horrors. They think and plot and plan. They … experiment to improve the darkspawn race. Centuries ago there was the Fourth Blight. Sometime before Andoral was awakened, the Grey Wardens found and imprisoned one of the ancient magisters … Corypheus."

Saharius sat down. The names of the ancient magisters who actually went to the Golden City were a secret known only to a few families in Tevinter. Saharius' family was one of those. "The wardens captured Corypheus?" he mumbled to himself. "Did they find any of the others?"

Flemeth frowned. "Beside the point. Pay attention." When she recognized his return scowl, she continued, "Andoral found the place where Corypheus had been imprisoned. She didn't want to release one of men responsible for imprisoning her for centuries, she just wanted to use a bit of him."

"She? Archdemon's are female?" Saharius stood quickly. "The Old Gods were female!?"

Flemeth gave him a greatly put-upon sigh. "Really, your attention span is lacking this morning, isn't it? Now, where was I …" When Saharius sat in a chair nearby, Flemeth walked over and took his chin in her clawed gauntlet. "Andoral created The Architect, a speaking, thinking darkspawn who is creating more speaking, thinking darkspawn by using the tainted blood of all those hapless warden slaves you've been providing." She twisted her mouth into a very insincere smile. "So, you see? You've been made a fool by the Tevinter wardens and by The Architect. Correct this. Destroy The Architect."

"What if I decide to use The Architect instead?" He couldn't help his wince when she closed her hand around his chin.

She leaned closer. "Then, I will kill you." He could tell she meant it. "Thelius also thinks he is using The Architect 'to stop Blights forever'. Arrogant fool. Kill The Architect and do it quickly before more of his superior darkspawn can be created. If Thelius stands in your way, kill him, too. It is that important."

Flemeth had him. She knew it. Saharius knew it. And, he knew exactly what she was and how she would know the outcome of the arrangement he had with Thelius. He slipped out of his chair and went down on one knee, but kept his gaze on her face. "I swear to you I will see this done … Chrona."

That almost caused her to flinch. Almost. She stood stock still for long moments before she laughed. "Whether or not I admit to that name, know this. The future is never clear to any being or god. What you do … what I do … will shape the path of time. Entities like you or me are creators of greatness or 'architects' of destruction. My … gift, if you will … is to recognize the mighty columns upon which the streams of time break and branch into new paths." She stepped toward the balcony and turned. "End The Architect in this stream or I will smash your mighty column and you will become a pile of washed stones at the bottom of the stream, joining all the other stones from futures that might have been." Then, she took the shape of an ancient high dragon and flew away.

Saharius stayed on his knee for several minutes. Everything became suddenly clear. Flemeth was the silent god, Chrona. The one who refused worshippers. The ancient dragon known only to those same few Tevinter families. Saharius was the sole descendent of his own family. With his death, his name and accomplishments would disappear. His "mighty column" would crumble with no intervention of Chrona's. He stood and went to his desk to pen a letter to Lady Margeria, asking for her daughter's hand in marriage. He smiled. Flemeth's threat finally spurred him to take action to assure his own legacy. An unexpected change to the stream of time? Or, maybe Flemeth meant her threat to serve a dual purpose? So hard to guess the unguessable.

Xan had reported that Flemeth seemed to be able to see into the future, but that wasn't the case. Flemeth could do much more. She couldn't make the future, but she could mold it with strategically placed hints, seemingly small maneuvers, and … deaths. Anyone could do that, really. Saharius prided himself on that practice, as well. The difference was that Flemeth could bring her ancient power to bear on the stream of time. Saharius could change a few stones in the current and, perhaps, over time, cause a small trickle to form outside the main flow. Chrona could dam it all up and cause it to flow in an alternate direction if she disliked where the flow was heading. And, that would change his world immeasurably, likely in ways he would not appreciate.

Gavin was standing on the bridge between the ruins of Ostagar and what used to be the Tower of Ishal when a large shadow crossed over him along with a loud roar. Shouts of "Ho! Above!" and "Archdemon!" circulated around the camp. It was too high to do anything about and the tainted dragon just continued on south without stopping, but Gavin knew why it flew over Ostagar. Fear. The Archdemon wanted everyone here to know that it had returned … and it was angry.

AN: Thanks to all reviews, favorites and follows! :)

Lady Cougar-Trombone, thanks for your ongoing wonderful reviews! They are always thought-provoking and makes me look forward to seeing your take on our favorite world. :)

No, no, no … they can never reveal what Flemeth truly is unless they are absolutely certain it will be the very last expansion.

But I can! ;)