Author's note: So, for those interested, I added some general portrayals of the characters, as well as some songs that could work as character themes, in my profile.

Disclaimer: Bioware, of course, owns the characters and setting.

Chapter 36: Retribution Foreseen

"-. .-"

Raonar Aeducan regretted the fact that, at least as far as the weather was concerned, 19 Verimensis of 9:31 Dragon was proving to be the best day of that entire winter.

Not that he didn't like good weather, because he did. One would have to be a bit wrong in the head not to appreciate that clear blue sky, the fresh winter air and the blanket of snow that covered the mountains on either side of the Imperial Highway. The group, along with Bodahn and Sandal (whom they had run into again somehow) had made camp just after leaving Dragon's Peak Bannorn and, simply put, the general morale wasn't really all that horrible. Granted, everyone was still a bit stand offish, what with them all getting whammed in the face by that big deluge of revelations about their commander, and about his father's untimely death, but their moods weren't too bad.

Regardless, everyone was minding their own business, deliberately finding something to occupy themselves with. As it happened, Faren had gone off away from camp, to practice his chained dagger fighting by using icicles hanging off tree branches as target practice. The dwarf noble suspected this might be his way of distracting himself from the fact that he had no idea how to be there for someone that had just found out, like a sudden crack in the stone, that his father was dead, probably because of him.

It was Faren that the exile had gone off to find.

As he walked through the snow-covered forest, following quite literally in Faren's footsteps, which were quite visible in that layer of white, crystallized water, the prince's reasoning again confirmed that, contrary to what everyone else thought, he was not feeling guilty. Certainly, there was regret and sadness, as well as that distinct feeling of loss, but not guilt.

He really wished he could feel guilty, because even that would be easier, for him at least. Unfortunately, he lacked the necessary amount of ignorance or bias for that, and he also did not have all the information necessary for that sort of self-pity, not that he would indulge in such fallacies. He stood by his idea that guilt wasn't the worst thing one could feel. What really bothered him most was that, despite his best efforts, despite his power, his genius, despite everything, things just looked like they wanted to go to hell.

At least he could take solace in the fact that the impending events were going to be more bearable because of the fact he had always known that they would eventually come to pass. As always, he was going to experience the results of his choices, and while he knew he was definitely not going to like them one bit, they were, in his view, still more bearable than the alternative.

The prince was someone who really liked to take a third option whenever he could, but there was a particular kind of choice that made it hard, if not outright impossible, to do so. Basically, when holding a particular piece of information, one can either tell it to a certain person or not.

And Raonar was now once again going to experience just how much of a bitch this sort of choices can be.

The trail of tracks in the snow finally led the former aristocrat to a place where trees were fewer and farther apart. It wasn't exactly a clearing, but the ground was mostly flat and smooth, though the snow layer might have disguised the lumps somewhat. There, on top of a more or less level stump, stood the castless dwarf. He had just managed to shatter an icicle hanging off a branch with a precise throw of a dagger and had pulled said weapon back into his grasp by the trademark chain. He'd succeeded in not affecting the two other icicles in either side of the targeted one.

The newcomer cleared his throat.

"Huh?" Faren twisted his head to look back and deftly jumped off the stump to face him. He then opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut and looked aside, no doubt because he didn't know what to say. That, of course, was understandable, since he was far from being an expert in comforting someone in mourning. He probably felt useless and helpless at the same time, this no doubt being the reason he sought isolation.

Fortunately for him, the white-haired one wasn't exactly in mourning mode. "You know, you're really adorable when you're fidgeting and all at a loss for what to say."

The redhead gaped. "That... should have sounded awkward..."

A white eyebrow was suddenly higher than usual. "Oh please, your sister must have called you adorable at least once."

Faren shook off the shock and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, she never did call me that..."

The two allowed themselves to stand there in silence for a time, but the elder one eventually broke it. "Can you do me a favor?"

The other one was actually surprised. "... You have to ask? Don't I actually owe you a few favors?"

The prince close the distance between them until he was close enough to take a hold of the rogue's weapons. Faren didn't stop him from doing so, but did feel surprise when he tossed the daggers, chain and all, well away from their position. They sunk into the soft snow after several seconds. "What are you doing?"

That question went by ignored. "Can you take your gloves off too? Those wrist blades of yours are really sharp and I'd like to make sure your degree of lethality is as low as possible right now."

It was probably the first time since leaving the Deep Roads that Faren actually frowned and looked at the only other dwarf with suspicion. Nevertheless, he complied and took the leather gloves off, only for them to suffer the same fate as his weapons. Then, without waiting to be asked again, he unstrapped his throwing knives, along with the belt, from his left leg. "Now will you tell me what this is about?"

The former high nobleman took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "Remember when I told you there was something I would eventually tell you and that you might end up hating me for it?"

"-. .-"

Excerpt from journal of Senior Enchanter Wynne

19 Verimensis, 9:31, Dragon: We have come to our first stop along the road on our way to the dwarven city-state of Orzammar and I must say that we haven't exactly traveled as far as I would have expected. Given the urgency of our situation, I would not have been surprised if our fearless leader pushed us beyond our limits in order to reach our destination as fast as possible.

As it stands, the sun has not yet descended completely beyond the horizon which, being winter, means that we are apparently going to waste some daylight today. I actually asked Raonar about it and he said there was something he had to take care of before he really decided on what course of action to take. He told me there was more than one way he could approach this whole mess, this being the reason for how we hadn't left the city as immediately as originally planned.

Yes, while he did intend for us to leave at once, we ended up lingering there until the next day. The first thing he did was get Bella to hire Arik and Dekel as bouncers. It didn't even take too much convincing in fact, since she was already hard-pressed. Of course, it did help that Dekel threw out a couple of drunks half an hour later, once again proving the hardiness and strength of dwarves in general, as well as why they did well as dungeon guards in the first place.

Those two looked so amazed and grateful at how all their immediate problems (being homeless and copperless) had suddenly been solved. I didn't understand why they held the commander in such reverence, even with him being a prince, but Faren later explained to me that the dwarven noble caste tends to treat lower classes like nothing more than tools to be used, which makes Raonar, who mostly treats everyone equally, something of a special case. Of course, there was also how he had those two accompany him to the best Dwarven smith in Denerim, to order a pair of better suits of armor for them.

After they came back. I think I even heard Arik talk about the smith's daughter, Belgret, and how Dekel was teasing him about how the fact he no longer has a beard made his blush totally visible. Somehow, I can't help but feel our commander may have a matchmaker's complex because I doubt whatever situation occurred there was completely spontaneous.

Regardless, once that was done, which was by early afternoon, he took Leliana and went to the market district, to 'buy some supplies.' I later asked Leliana just where they were and she told me they'd gone to see Liselle, that Orlesian trader. She refused to tell me what exactly that large bag they returned with contained, saying 'it's a secret.' Oddly enough, I have grown so used to being kept in the dark about things that I was not surprised or even upset at not having been given an actual answer. Either way, what I really am curious about is why Raonar spent the rest of the late afternoon, up until nightfall, writing on and arranging pieces of parchment into stacks.

We left Denerim this morning and have now stopped alongside the Imperial highway just on the fringe of Dragon's Peak Bannorn. My, Morrigan's and Alim's magic should be enough to ensure that all of our tents are warm and comfortable throughout the night. Theron is currently preparing dinner, some sort of stew if I a correct. I am sure it will be just as good as everything he cooked before. Even I have to admit that the elf has very good cooking skills, even though one wouldn't immediately assume that to be one of his talents.

"-. .-"

Sten just couldn't shake the feeling that these Bas were definitely odd. He was currently walking back and forth along the so-called edges of camp and generally looking at nothing in particular, but even so he could not actually completely ignore what everyone else was doing. This, he surmised, was most definitely the Warden Commander's fault, because he was the one that actually made him pay more attention to how those that do not follow the Qun lived their lives.

That dwarf had also somehow managed to find the time to ask him about various things and he had somehow managed not to ask ignorant questions.

The Qunari still remembered when the short thing had asked him to tell him about his people. Sten said 'No.' Raonar said 'Please?" So Sten said that people are not simple an cannot be summarized in sentences like "Elves are a lithe, pointy-eared people that excel at poverty." Raonar's retort? "So use more than one sentence. We've got all night, so start talking." And of course, when Sten said it was not his duty to teach others of the Qunari (that was the job of the Tamassran), Raonar again retorted by saying that, as an Ashkaari (which Sten had called him, much to his eventual chagrin), he had to seek knowledge and enlightenment.

The point was that Sten would violate his people's ways by denying him the right to learn more of the Qun and the people who follow it. Sten relented and answered his questions only because he wanted to be spared further nagging. And through it all (he actually pried everything out of him about the various occupations and the social hierarchy, etc.), the dwarf had managed to get him to somehow tell him all about how he had gone berserk and killed the ones who had rescued him.

Sten had no trouble admitting to his failures and regrets. After all, denying one's own mistakes was cowardice. He supposed he also owed him that much for reuniting him with Asala (and saving his life by practically curing him of the taint). That Raonar could probably beat him to an inch of his life if he wanted to definitely contributed to the respect and trust the two shared now.

The really unusual part was that the two had even reached the point where they called each other kadan. Sten couldn't exactly remember when that that started but he didn't really mind. It gave him stability, to have something he considered precious even so far from his homeland. That the dwarf had somehow managed to procure cookies for him on several occasions, as well as a couple of paintings, was also something that the giant greatly appreciated.

As far as the others went, he had come to respect their skills. Each was an expert in some field and even Gwen had proven quite formidable at using the same type of weapon as him. Unfortunately, she lacked the sort of feeling of communion he and Asala shared, though he supposed a woman couldn't really reach that sort of unity. He was still not entirely convinced women could really be warriors, though he had to grudgingly admit he had questioned that notion several times already, the same way Alim Surana had made him question his belief that magic was evil.

Yes, another thing he never expected to happen, for one of the Saarebas to actually start to make him think not all magic might be evil. Certainly, that woman, Wynne, had also proven unlike what he expected a mage to be like, asking him if he was cold (Seheron was much warmer that Ferelden after all) and even knitting a sweater for him (which he was currently wearing and had to admit, was cozy). Nevertheless, it was Alim's relentless use of anti mind control magic during the cleansing of the Circle Tower that made him ponder.

That and how handy it was to have Wynne's own magic, which could instantly knit muscles back together and mend broken bones. That Raonar himself could perform certain magical feats was just something extra for him to take into account.

Of course, there were also things he disapproved of, like the overly long time spent in Denerim. Really, they hadn't fought any darkspawn for too long a time (months!). He was supposed to atone for his misdeeds by fighting the Blight, not prowling the streets of some overpopulated city and killing bandits stupid enough to engage them. Granted, he did trust kadan when he said their business there was important, but Sten would have still appreciated some more palpable proof. At least now they were finally going to make good on one of those treaties...

Sten would have probably contemplated things longer if the sounds of hurried footsteps didn't attract his attention.

"-. .-"

Gwen was wondering if she was becoming evil. She couldn't shake the feeling that she accepted Alistair's offer to set up her tent all too easily. She could have probably dealt with his puppy dog eyes if he'd used them but he didn't. He practically ordered her to shoo and let him work, making an off-hand mention that she was useless at it anyway. He actually seemed more driven lately, commanding even, unlike what he used to be up until a few weeks ago.

He had also stopped using jokes like a defense mechanism as well. Where he used to deflect questions with humor, he now had far fewer reservations and spoke his mind. Of course, his sense of humor wasn't gone at all, far from it. That was, after all, an integral part of his charm. What was different was that he used it as a means to tease her, of all things, quite successfully too. He'd also stopped indulging Morrigan's attempts at annoying him.

Basically, he was much more... mature.

"Do you realize you've been smiling for hours now?" Morrigan asked her with a grin as she passed her by.

"Oh, have I?" Of course I'm smiling. "You're one to talk."

The witch blinked a few times. "That is besides the point," she waved it off. "I must say I approve however."

"Approve of what?"

"You have Alistair curled around your little finger. Truly, having a man willing, or in this case eager, to meet your every whim is an accomplishment I can respect."

Gwen wasn't sure if Morrigan was being serious or sarcastic, or both, but she didn't really like the implications. "He's not curled around my little finger..."

"No?" the dark-haired woman really looked surprised. "I beg to differ. He's performing your own chore as we speak."

"That's not because..." she trailed off. "He's just being gallant, that's all."

"I fail to see how that contradicts what I said. Still, I say again, I approve."

"I'm not sure how I feel about your approval... And it's not like..." She was going to say that kind of behavior between them went both ways but she stopped. She searched her memory but, to her horror, she couldn't find anything that could prove that true. She couldn't remember even one time when she did him a favor, only of him taking work off her hands.

And thus it was that lady Cousland realized that she had been behaving like a sheltered princess and letting him spoil her. No wonder Morrigan totally failed to consider that actual love might be at work.

This... was a problem. "My word, I really have been exploiting him haven't I?"

"Why the long face?"

Gwen stifled a scream but jumped around anyway. "Zevran! How on earth did you get behind me?"

"I am an assassin, my dear Warden, taking people by surprise from behind is what I do," the Antivan answered, his innuendo completely deliberate. "But again I ask, why so alarmed? Having those of the opposite sex serve such a beauty as you should not come as a surprise, should it?"

"World-shattering as this occasion may be, it seems we agree on this point, assassin," Morrigan added. "Perhaps you should actually take some lessons from the camp fool yourself, mm?"

"He's not a fool Morrigan..."

"And your proof of that is..."

"Do you always eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" Gwen asked Zevran, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"Not just conversations, but yes. After all, what else is there for me to do? I am not allowed to cook for fear of poisoning you all and I already have all the weapon coatings and drugs I could possibly prepare under the circumstances anyway. I did aid sweet Kallian set up her tent, but my attempts at... striking a conversation... ended up in a dead end. I would have tried my luck with Leliana as well, but she and Wynne haven't returned from the spring yet."

Gwen felt like it would probably be less annoying to start pulling her own hair out, but a noise (someone running), thankfully, put a stop to that pointless exchange of theirs.

Turns out, it was Leliana herself. She ran up to camp and came to a stop, almost out of breath. "You... trouble... Oh my..." She took a few deep breaths. "We have a problem! A big one!"

Even Kallian and Theron, who were preparing the food, turned their attention to the bard, but it was Gwen that addressed her. "What problem?"

The non-chantry sister finally managed to get her breathing more or less under control. "Those two... Faren and... and Raonar, you won't believe this but... they're having it out!"

"What?" Only Zevran didn't join in that choir of shouts.

"What do you mean?" Kallian pried, running close to the commotion.

"I mean fighting! Well, it's a bit one-sided, but they're already throwing punches and kicks! And they're serious!"

Kallian had already run off, soon followed by everyone else, except Sten, whom Alim (he had been reading a book by the fire, again) ordered to stay behind and watch the camp.

"-. .-"

The men and women reached the sight of the struggle soon enough, finding only Wynne watching what was happening from afar...

...just in time to see Faren's fist hitting Raonar straight in the face. "You bastard!" the redhead yelled, angrier than he had ever been before.

The exile staggered back a few steps but managed to regain his balance, just in time for Faren's next punch, who sent his head jerking to the other side. Again he didn't fall, but some red spots appeared on the snow a short distance away from him.

The rogue cut through the snow with a step forward and was going to strike him again. "You son of a bitch!"

His punch was caught in the prince's palm. Then, after an instant, a knee buried itself deep in Faren's gut, causing him to keel over and gasp for breath. The side effect was that he could barely bring his forearms up in time to shield his face from the next knee strike. He was almost flung backwards, but succeeded in avoiding a fall.

The noble wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "You can hit me and swear at me all you want," he said, in a voice colder than he'd ever used. "But don't insult my mother."

"Fine!" another punch sent blood flying out of the white-haired one's lower lip, but there was no more time to react because Faren let go of all restraint and began showering him with hit after hit, punches, kicks, a veritable barrage of manifested rage. "Guard, you bastard! Fight me, you coward!"

"What on earth are they doing?" Alistair gasped in shock.

"We have to stop them!" Kallian let out, but her charge was stopped by Alim, who grabbed her arm, even before she could move. "Let go of me!"

"Let them sort it out," the elf mage advised.

"Why isn't he defending himself?" Morrigan asked.

Gwen wanted to ask the same but winced when Faren somehow drove his heel straight into his target's abdomen. "Ouch..." was all she could whisper.

"You can't just let Faren keep beating at him!" Laliana pleaded, looking positively panicked.

"Much as I hate to see that delicious physique marred, I am afraid it is not up to us," Zevran said with a sigh. "After all, if our beloved leader does not see the need to shield himself, who are we to question his judgment?"

It was then that Faren managed to land a clean gut punch, followed by a roundhouse kick that practically sent the other one spinning though the air, until he fell on his face in the snow. "Get up! Fight back you fucking, opportunistic asshole!"

"Wynne, you have to talk some sense into them!" Leliana begged.

"I tried but..."

Everyone went silent when the commander began to weakly push himself up, groaning and clutching at his middle with one arm. The snow where he'd fallen had been flattened, but was stained red with the blood pouring out of his face. One of his eyes could no longer open and both his lips were busted.

"What started all this anyway?" Theron asked, sounding remarkably nonplussed about the whole situation. "I feel like I'm looking at a twisted version of our universe."

Leliana was getting too anxious. "It doesn't matter, we have to do someth-"

"Oh, I am NOT getting between those two," Alistair said with a slight shudder that, thankfully, the other ones didn't see.

"Hmpf, so he really is a squishy creature of flesh," Shale mused, "I was starting to think he was more sturdy, like me."

By now, Raonar had managed to get to his feet and, still clutching at his belly, made to turn around...

...only for another kick to grace his face and send him several feet backwards. It was just a last minute backstep that spared him another fall. Faren had started to breathe heavily himself, having thrown more punches and kicks than he'd used on the proving fighters, the guards and all the carta thugs, Beraht included, put together.

But he wasn't tired enough to stop, because he lunged forward and kicked the exile hard in the ribcage. "You fucking used me!" Another kick, in the same place, actually caused the prince to clench his teeth from the pain. "You're no different from all those other noble scum!" Another kick sent snow like a ring around the rogue as he spun again, until the momentum gathered in his heel.

It struck Raonar exactly in the chest and sent him flying quite a distance before he landed on his back and slid through the snow for another half a meter.

Faren looked like he barely had enough energy left to stand. "Fucking say something, Stone DAMMIT!" There was undiluted rage in that shout, but also a shred of something akin to despair.

It took a while, and the onlookers were starting to wonder if the exile was even conscious anymore, if not outright dead, but he eventually moved. Slowly, he pushed himself to lie on his side, after which he used whatever strength he had left to put distance between his face and the bloodstained snow. After a while, he was barely standing, hunched over and breathing painfully.

He probably tried to smile, but his face was such a mess that it looked like anything except that. "I... never said I was any better..."

There was a cry of hopeless rage as the castless rogue ran straight for him and drove his fist cleanly into his jaw with all his might.

There was an audible snap.

The prince collapsed face-down in a motionless heap.

And Faren screamed. "Dammit! DAMMIT! FUUUUCK!"

"He's gone berserk..." Gwen gasped. None of them dared move. They just stood there, staring in shock at what they had just been witness to. Normally, they would have jumped in and broken them up. They would have rushed to give Raonar medical assistance. Either way, they would have done something. Instead, they just stood there, frozen, because those two fighting each other, or one of them beating the other senseless, was such a crazy and impossible scenario in their minds that it left their brains at a loss for what to think, for how to interpret that whole mess.

It fell to the dwarven rogue himself to finally notice them all standing there. His eyes widened, as he hadn't noticed them before then. Eventually, his eyes met Kallian, who was staring at him in utter bewilderment and confusion. Only then did he look at his fists and saw how completely his knuckles were covered in blood, a blood that was not his own.

He looked aside and left, walked away from that scene, passing them by without saying a word. The others didn't even try to follow him, not even with just their eyes. They just waited until his tired but hasty footsteps went beyond their edge of hearing.

Alim was the first to charge off. Soon enough, he was kneeling beside the exile while the others had formed a sort of circle around them. He was a bit hesitant in touching him, but he still pushed him over to get his face out of the snow.

Everyone cringed and even Shale frowned. He was a real mess. His right eye was swollen over and both of his lips were busted in several places. Blood had trickled out of them, as well as his eye and had flowed down until it was absorbed into his beard. The moustache was almost completely red and even some of the hair on his head was stained in his own blood.

At least he was breathing... barely.

Alim and Wynne examined him and found few things promising. Since both Raonar and Faren were only wearing their winter clothing (no armor) there had been nothing to absorb the impact of the strikes. At least two ribs were broken and his jaw was itself fractured.

"So, are we to keep staring or will you inform us of his condition?" Morrigan asked with a certain edge to her voice.

Raonar blindly grabbing Alim by the wrist was answer enough. At least he was able to open his left eye, somewhat.

"What in Thedas happened here?" Alistair finally couldn't hold it in any longer. "How did... Why did you two... Why didn't you fight back?"

The two mages drew back as, even as he lay on his back, the dwarf reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the stack of parchments Wynne had seen him writing on the day prior. He cringed as he reached for it with his other arm and pulled out the sheet on top of the stack, after which he handed it to Alim, only because he was the one within reach.

The elf took it and read it aloud. "I deserved this. And if my jaw is broken, don't ask me any questions."

There was a pause.

Alim cast a glance in Kallian's direction and gave her a nod, letting her know Raonar's life was not in danger. She breathed a sigh of relief and left, in order to catch up with Faren and ask him what the hell that was all about.

"Maker's breath," Alistair muttered.

"What do you mean you deserved this?" Leliana broke in, still confused and shocked.

"He did just ask us, however indirectly, not to ask him any questions," the witch of the wilds pointed out.

The exile, of course, didn't answer. Instead, he put the stack of papers back in his pocket and refused help, preferring to stand up on his own. It took a while for his efforts to pay off.

"You really shouldn't be walking right now..." Dammit, these wounds might kill you and we can't use healing magic because it doesn't work on you Alim wanted to add, but didn't. Raonar would just have to use that healing meditation of his again, even though it took time.

The dwarf just shook his head and, while holding an arm around his fractured ribs, began to hobble in the camp's general direction. And all that time, the others could just stand there, watch and ask themselves...

... what the hell had just happened?

"-. .-"

The tree shook as both bottom sides of Faren's clenched fists struck its trunk. "Dammit..." he no longer had the energy or will to shout. The adrenaline rush settled by the time he returned to the camp and he had finally gotten around to reviewing that whole mess and try to make better sense of it.

He didn't like the conclusions he was drawing.

"Faren..."

Great, just what I needed. He twisted his head to look at her. Kallian had stopped some paces away from him and was looking at him with a mixture of disapproval, concern and lingering shock. Her hands were crossed over her chest. She didn't immediately say anything, so he turned around and propped his back against the tree and crossed his own arms in a similar fashion.

"You really scared me back there," she said slowly, not meeting his eyes as though she didn't want to see what was in them. Faren felt a bit sick for a moment.

Just a moment, however. He was still really angry and huffed quite audibly to show it.

"So do I really have to ask you? What the hell was that? Why did you... What happened?"

"He's a sodding liar, that's what happened!" he yelled. "He's been holding out on me ever since before we even left that fucking underground city!"

The city elf took a step back and continued to look at him, although warily.

"Don't give me that look!"

The young woman threw her platinum blond hair over her shoulder and looked like she was about to leave. "Maybe I should go before you somehow start to hit me too."

"That was a low blow! I can't believe you could possibly think I'd do that!"

"I would never have thought you two could possibly have a reason to even get upset at each other either, but you just pummeled him senseless!"

"It was his own fault for not fighting back!"

"Right, so you figured it was alright to break as many of his bones as you could!"

"Oh please, like he's going to be in pain for all that long with Wynne-" He stopped mid-sentence, finally remembering that particular problem with healing magic and how they didn't exactly have any overly competent health poultices, at least none strong enough to heal that much damage. Winter made it hard to procure the necessary ingredients. "Bah... Dammit!"

Kallian just scowled at him, but her face softened soon enough and she switched over to worry. "Faren... what happened? This... "

"I..." He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched his teeth. "It's my sister, Rica, she..." he sneered. "Before I left, she told me not to worry, that she'd... found a patron interested in her. I already told you about... all that."

"What does he have to do with that?"

"Oh there's a lot! The so-called patron? It's that so-called brother of his! The one that tried to kill him and his other brother! That's who my sister got involved with, that's the sort of monster she ended up with and she had no idea! But he did! He knew the whole sodding time and he deliberately kept me in the dark about it! Dammit! Now what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to think? How can I know he didn't suddenly decide she was better off dead? And even without that, Just the thought of a bastard like him... with my sister..."

His fists clenched tight enough to go white.

"So that's why he said he deserved the beating you gave him..." she breathed out.

"Pah!"

None of them said anything for a while, but it was clear enough they still hadn't finished that discussion, so Kallian decided to speak again. "You fiipped out way too hard."

"You can't be serious!"

"Then tell me this! If he'd told you from the start, what would you have done about it?"

"I would've...! I..." he opened his mouth to speak a few more times. "I would've thought of something..." he said lamely.

"Like what? Jumping off the top walls of a castle? You may be all stealthy and clever, but you're really rash!"

"Unbelievable! You're taking his side?"

"This isn't about taking sides!" she finally countered with a short shout of her own. "This is about you acting completely irrationally! Did you even stop to ask him why he didn't tell you before? Did you even stop to ask why he even bothered telling you now, by his own initiative, instead of waiting until the truth came out on its own?"

"He should have told me over six months ago!"

"So you could do what? Go back to Orzammar and get yourself killed?"

"That's not..." That's not what would have happened he wanted to say, but he couldn't, because he knew that was exactly what would have happened. The guards wanted him for defiling the Provings and the carta wanted him for killing Beraht. No matter how he looked at it, there really would have been no way for him to help make things better, and Rica would have done what she thought was best anyway. "Fuck..."

Fate then proved to have a very bitter sense of irony, because it was that very moment that the dwarf noble came into view. He looked like he could barely stand, but he somehow wobbled along anyway, even with his face bloody and battered as it was. Ever so slowly, he approached his pack, which was next to the entrance to his tent, fell to his knees in front of it and began to rummage through it, weakly, because his broken ribs made it all really painful.

He found three flasks, and drank them, but they didn't do much good save from alleviating the pain somewhat, a testament to just how well he had been trounced. After that, he made off toward the edge of the camp, but didn't stop until he was out of sight again. He kept holding onto his side the whole time, and his walk was far from graceful.

"You even told me he outright tried to keep you from getting involved in his problems, but you did anyway. So, sorry, but I really don't see how he was using you," his significant other reminded him.

Faren was feeling a bit sick now. "Shit..."

Kallian said nothing more. She just turned around and left him there to think.

"-. .-"

Faren spent about two hours of that evening thinking. He even skipped dinner (Raonar did too, no doubt because broken ribs probably wouldn't have agreed with hunger anyway). And, even after that time, he failed to actually find honest justification for losing it like that. It all felt so justified, in the heat of the moment, and he had been so angry. He had had to go over his feeling several times before finally figuring out exactly what might have caused that extreme reaction.

Apparently, he had felt betrayed.

The worst part was that, when he tried his best to analyze things objectively, he just couldn't really agree with what he had done. Something just made it all fell wrong. Case in point, he had almost subconsciously made his way to where the one he had beaten the living light out of earlier was sitting.

It was some distance away from camp. The exile was sitting cross-legged, in that all too familiar meditative position, on a blanket spread over the snow. He had his back turned towards the direction that Faren approached him from. Faren couldn't really know if he had heard him come close or not. Either way, he didn't seem to pay him much attention. The prince just... kept meditating and radiating that now familiar white light of his.

The rogue stopped a few meters behind him and just stood there. He didn't really know how to start. He didn't really know what to say, actually. He wasn't even completely sure he had to apologize but, then again, this was probably the first time in his life he ever felt like his trust had been trampled. Dammit, why does shit have to get so complicated?

Apparently, he was spared the effort of speaking first because the light of meditation abruptly ceased. Raonar got up, quite easily, all things considered, and turned to face him. The lower half of his face, along with his nose, was covered up in that white scarf of his, and his eye had healed a little, but still couldn't open.

Silence dragged on, but the prince eventually began to walk up to him, slowly. By the time he was close enough to Faren, he had taken out that stack of paper notes again.

He took out the one at the very top of the stack and handed it to the younger dwarf.

"My jaw is broken, so we'll have to make do with these for now."

Faren read through it and briefly met the noble's gaze. He was completely thrown off by how utterly devoid of any aggression it was, and the warmth it conveyed, even though only one eye could actually open.

The white-haired one handed him the next note.

"Do you want to beat the crap out of me again...?"

The castless dwarf's fingers suddenly stiffened and the paper crumpled in his hand. He shut his eyes and turned his head away as even his shoulders slumped. "You really knew I was going to freak out... That's why you prepared these..."

Another note was handed to him.

"I prepared for the possibility, just in case."

"Dammit... is there ANYTHING you haven't prepared for?"

"Probably. Nobody's perfect."

Faren was getting really weirded out because those notes had apparently been arranged in the exact order they needed to be to answer every one of his questions as he spoke them. "Why did you just let me hit you?"

"I could take it. You need to blow off some steam once in a while."

"So what, you just decided to take it all?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"What the sod does that even mean?"

The white-haired one seemed to chuckle as he passed him the next paper. "if I had fought back, you would have probably refused to speak to me for days."

"You gave this a lot of thought..."

There was a moment during which the former prince looked at him in a very disapproving way, with his working eye at least. After that, the next paper, again from the top of the deck, was passed over. "Stop trying to sweet talk the Stone and ask your questions."

Faren really wanted to look defiant and act like the injured party there, but he didn't really manage it. The tone of his voice ended up conveying just a sort of hopeless confusion. "Aren't you angry with me at all...?"

"No."

"Why?"

Finally, he had to search though his stack of notes before he found the suitable one. "Your reaction was prompted by concern and because you felt betrayed."

"That doesn't really answer my question..."

"No it doesn't."

"You've definitely been spending too much time talking to Sten," Faren couldn't help but say.

"He probably thinks so too."

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Shit man, you predicted I'd say even that?"

There was a faint chuckle and then came the next previously written response. "Not predicted, per se. I told you, I just prepared a lot of written answers to whatever questions I thought people may ask me before I had a chance to heal properly."

Faren decided to finally ask what he wanted to know before he had a chance to really start feeling guilty and stupid about the whole mess. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Raonar handed him the written answer a bit more slowly than the others. "You tell me. If I had told you immediately, what would you have done?"

Thinking about it, Faren figured he should have seen that retort coming. It was, after all, a very pertinent thing to ask. So what was the answer? Since his life was forfeit if he was to go back, what with being wanted by practically everyone, he would have gotten in trouble or killed easily. There was always the chance Rica would have been raised to concubine and he would have gone up with her, but the fact was that it was Bhelen, of all people, that had picked Rica out.

Yes, Faren would have tried to persuade Rica out of it and, whether he would have succeeded or not, things would have ended up bad anyway. He probably could have managed it, if he revealed to her about what kind of fratricide he tried to pull. But that would have meant dooming her to keep living in Dust Town, and with all those thugs after them... and her especially... Faren really didn't want to think about that.

The other possibility was for Rica to end up as Bhelen's concubine anyway... and that would have made Faren's life dreadfully complicated and unpleasant. That so-called prince would have probably tried to exploit him in some way, or just dispose of him for knowing too much about him. There were many accidental ways for people to die, after all. Either way, going back to Orzammar, if he was even allowed back in, could either turn out bad or worse, not in any way good.

Apparently, the other dwarf had guessed as much, and his next note made it plain. "So yes, I didn't want you to have a reason to go back to that cesspit."

Faren wasn't satisfied. "Look man, I know going back to Dust Town would have been a bad idea at that point, but I would have realized it then too! I would have still stuck with you, so why did you wait for so long?"

There was a sigh. "If you'd known Bhelen was your sister's patron, you would have spent you every day and night of the past months worrying about things you couldn't affect."

Faren really felt like there was a knot in his stomach now. "I... You..."

The prince was quick in giving him the next note. "Don't fret, I did tell you months ago I had selfish reasons, right? Basically, I draw a certain kind of joy from seeing you enjoying your life as best you can and I didn't want to lose that feeling of self-satisfaction. So don't start thinking I did it all out of altruism."

"That... that doesn't make any sense! Is there any sort of self sacrifice or emotion you can't make look like just another type of selfishness?"

The prince looked thoughtful, as well as someone with a swollen eye can look thoughtful at least. Still, he managed to find an already written answer for that question as well. "There is one, yes."

"Right... I'm not even going to bother asking."

The noble didn't waste any time in sending the next note over. "So, do you hate me?"

Faren looked like he'd just been kicked in the gut, or like he wanted to kick himself. "No... I was just so angry... Just the thought of anything happening to my sister... I shouldn't have... Sod..." He couldn't meet his eyes anymore, but of course that guy would know exactly how to calm him down again. The former noble simply placed his hand on the side of his face while the other hand delivered yet another piece of parchment.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes I do, dammit! I... I really hurt you for no real reason..."

"It's alright."

"No it's not!"

"I've been through worse, remember? My own brothers wanted me dead for no real reason and you're still way above that level, since you didn't try to outright kill me, even with all that rage"

Faren couldn't help but feel that was a very low standard to have when thinking about other people. "How do you do this? Even though you already had enough on your mind, what with your father dying, you still told me this now, knowing I'd flip out unreasonably..."

"You're getting angry again, eh?"

"Yes, damn you!" he shouted. "All you've been doing was shield me from worry and I broke your bones for doing it! And now you act all understanding and won't even let me hold on to even one idea long enough to put together a suitable apology! How the sod am I supposed to react to this?"

Raonar just turned around and walked off with a chuckle.

"This is just unfair! The way you always take everyone's suffering upon yourself is unfair!" Even though he didn't really understand it himself, he just knew it was unfair, and a really good reason to be pissed off.

Apparently, so did the prince himself, because he threw something in his direction, over his shoulder. It was a paper plane that glided through the air until Faren caught and unmade it, revealing one final piece of written parchment. "That's me, I'm a horrible person."

Whatever creatures lurked in that wood, despite it being winter, quickly scattered when the forest was filled with a scream of pure, unadulterated exasperation.

Many thanks to Sarah1281 for letting me allude to Belgret, the woman that, in another time, would have become the wife to an exiled Gorim. If you haven't already, read her 'I Am Not a Tragic Figure," where Aunn Aeducan even meets her at one point. Go read it now.

The review space is there and waiting!