Revelations

The first spring flowers were beginning to push up through the earth; spindly green fingers playing in the dirt. Leonie paused to bend down and touch a pale green stalk before straightening and continuing on to the practice ring. Karlin was waiting for her and Leonie, realizing that Karlin always fought in leathers, had donned her own Warden leather for their practice session.

Karlin, tawny mane held back tightly in a braid, stared at Leonie. There was a challenge in the elf's golden brown eyes. Leonie smiled in greeting. "You wish to best me, Karlin. I invite you to try. If I win, you will allow Sigrun to train you. If you win, what would you ask?"

"Nothing. I want nothing from you," Karlin barked sharply.

Leonie nodded. "So be it. I myself would have requested a set of newly made and perfectly balanced blades. I noticed Wade and Herren had just such a pair in their inventory. Still, as is your right, you may ask for anything or nothing," Leonie replied with a hint of a smile. She hoped some day that Karlin's prickly pride would be tempered by a more reasonable temperament. She had never blamed Karlin for her bitterness. She did, however, feel it was time to stop letting it control the young woman.

A beautiful blue sky stretched warmly above her, marred by nothing save a few puffy clouds. The wind was a mere whisper of memory and the sun was happy to shine down from its perch. A perfect spring day. It was hard to feel gloomy with such a day greeting them.

She had promised Loghain that she would rest as much as she needed to but her body was restless and in need of physical outlet. When Karlin had told her that she wanted the lesson Leonie had promised her, Leonie had jumped at the chance. It felt wonderfully liberating to have weapons in hand, to feel the excitement of a battle coursing through her blood. It reminded her that she was alive.

She and Loghain had postponed their talk with Fiona. Leonie wanted to give Fiona a chance to come to them on her own and from what she had seen of Fiona in the past two days, something told her that would be coming soon. Fiona was a wraith, quiet and pale and it was obvious to Leonie that she was wrestling with inner demons. Loghain wanted to press her while she was in such a state but Leonie didn't.

"A person forced into submission never grows as strong as a person who gets there under their own power, Loghain. Surely you have seen this before?" she had chided and he'd glowered at her.

"The woman is old enough to have gotten there long ago were she so inclined. Your foolish notion that she will have some kind of sudden breakthrough and be honest with us is brought on by your own youth."

The fight that had followed had not been pretty but it had cleared the air of all the tension Leonie's revelations had brought on. He had accused her of being hopelessly romantic in her ideals and misguided in her principles. She had accused him of being intransigent and too old to know how to admit how woefully ignorant of women he was. When Anders came into Leonie's office and scolded them for waking Mirabelle, they had both fallen silent and not spoken to each other for hours.

He had finally found her on the battlements and stood there, patiently waiting. When she'd asked what he was waiting for he'd told her he was waiting for her apology. She'd started laughing at that and explained that she would be Queen Leonie of Ferelden before that happened. That had struck him as impertinent and childish and he told her so but she'd seen the merest hint of a smile on his face and that had been the end of their fight.

"So, are we going to stand around or are we going to fight?" Karlin asked with a biting acid in her voice.

"Fight, naturally," Leonie responded, positioning herself. She raised her weapons and nodded, indicating she was ready.

Karlin attacked with relish and heart but no finesse. Leonie, weight balanced equally and lightly on both feet, was easily able to dodge and sidestep the attacks, pressing her own attacks with precision. The first bout was over quickly; Leonie knocking Karlin's dagger out of her hand and then pressing in, dagger at the woman's throat. The next round went very much the same.

"It is not enough to be quick, Karlin. You must watch your enemy, find their strengths and weaknesses and play off both of them," Leonie explained, wiping her face with a cloth. Sweat was trickling down her back and she was panting but she felt each nerve dancing as she prepared for the next round.

She was breathing hard and her hair clung damply to her forehead. It occurred to her as she was dodging and spinning away that she was out of shape and ten years older than Karlin. She stumbled at the thought, lowering her guard and Karlin caught her on the side of her head with the blunted weapon. Leonie staggered sideways, stars dancing brightly in her vision.

"Andraste's ass, I'm sorry," Karlin began contritely but Leonie shook her head.

"My fault, entirely my fault," Leonie said, sitting down on the hard ground.

She could already feel a hot welt beginning to form and suddenly she was furious, so full of rage she wanted to tear something apart, someone apart. She blinked, her hands curling into fists. She wanted to kill, wanted to draw blood and the fury was like a furnace, hot and bright.

"Get Loghain!" she shouted, incensed. Stupid knife-eared bitch, why was she gaping at her? "NOW!" she howled, outraged at the girl's slack-jawed expression.

The sun was too bright, it hurt her eyes and Maker's breath, where was Loghain? She stood up on shaky legs and picked up her weapon. Damn him! She howled again, her wrath leaping along her sweat slicked skin; she could feel it burning and tingling.

A man came up to her, hand out. A tall man, a human. Dark haired man. Human man. One of those that hunted her kind. She could feel his taint, it was slow and weak. He was saying something unintelligible. She scrambled away from him. What was she doing with all these creatures? She looked around for escape but others were gathering. A short man with funny eyes. His taint was weak. They were all weak. The short man was speaking. She didn't understand. There was no song in his words.

She rubbed at her eyes. The tall man grabbed at her. She roared and lashed out, raking her nails along his human face. Ugly, smooth face. Her hand. Something wrong. Not look right. Where was song? Hurting her. Where were brothers? A loud howl. Hers. Betrayers! Little man whispered. She slept.


Phillipe, Darius and one of the guardsmen, Antoine, made it to the cave marked on the map. It was a moonless night; warm and still. Francoise and Harlhamus, along with another guardsman had gone in the opposite direction. The hope was that the three who were following them would follow the decoys.

They paused frequently, listening for any indication that they were being followed. Darius left them several times to backtrack and could find no trace of Laurent or De'Montague. Phillipe wished that would ease the fear that curdled his stomach.

"Here, this narrow opening, I think this is it," Darius said, sliding into the crevice.

The cave was barely large enough to stand in. Timbers were all that seemed to hold back the mountain they were entering the heart of. Phillipe felt the weight of the rock settle on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The air was dank and damp and there was a far off sound of water dripping.

Darius lit a torch, holding it up. The eerie glow from the cave moss gave way to the flickering golden orange light of the torch. Two passageways, timbered and narrow, led to the northeast and the northwest. With a nod, Darius entered the northwest tunnel. Taking a great gulp of air, Phillipe followed him.

After nearly an hour, the passageway opened up into a large cavern. The walls were slick with water and moss and each drop of water seemed to echo loudly in the chamber. There was a large, ornately carved stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room. Phillipe went to it and tried to pry the lid off but it was impossible. Darius stepped up to it and held his torch high, examining it. The lid of the casket was smooth and worn by the moisture dripping from the domed ceiling. Darius handed the torch to the guardsman. Phillipe watched as Darius took out his dagger and pried at a small indentation. Nothing happened.

"There must be something around here we can use to pry the lid off with," Phillipe finally said, a desperate edge to his voice. It seemed to reverberate off the walls and echo into the shadows beyond the chamber. He tried to ignore the skittering, murmuring noises that seemed to ride the darkness around them. He didn't want to know what was making those sounds.

Darius made a small cut in his finger and the blood dripped onto the lid, trickling slowly down a worn groove to fill the indentation; a noise, no louder than a sigh, and then a series of clicks and a grinding noise. Phillipe met the elf's eyes and they both took a cautious step back. They waited for the noise to die away before moving closer again.

The covering slid back with a firm push. Darius took the torch from the wide eyed guardsman and held it up. Several smaller caskets and leather pouches were stored in the sarcophagus. They decided to take everything and quickly packed them into their knapsacks.

It seemed to take twice as long to retrace their steps. Phillipe felt a dread humming through his veins. It had been too easy. In his experience things that appeared to be too easy generally were not. They eased through the crevice and stepped out of the cave.

"Phillipe Delacroix, what a surprise to see you here, of all places," a sarcastic voice, a familiar baritone, spoke up. De'Montague had found them after all.

Hand easing to his sword, he carefully lowered his knapsack. "De'Montague, what is more surprising is that Evard allowed you off your leash," Phillipe replied, easing his way forward, toward the sound of De'Montague's voice.

"You always seem to pick the wrong side, Delacroix. You just never learn," the man said, his voice mocking.

"I think this time, De'Montague, you are the one who is on the wrong side," Phillipe disagreed, speaking softer in the hope that De'Montague would not know that he was moving closer.

"Just hand over the knapsacks, Phillipe, and perhaps we'll let you live."

"I think not," Phillipe whispered and lunged forward, sword extended. Jean De'Montague screamed as Phillipe's sword tip caught his cheek. But it wasn't the sound of pain. It was the sound of rage.

In the chaos that followed, Phillipe wasn't able to discern where the others were, how their own fight was progressing, he was too engrossed in battling De'Montague. Fighting the darkspawn had sharpened Phillipe's skills and he knew he had hurt his foe, could tell by the grunt of surprised pain from the other man. It only further enraged De'Montague, who lunged and parried with increasing finesse.

Phillipe was dimly aware of a body falling with a whispered groan. And then another body fell with a guttural cry. A torch wavered and fell and Darius called out, "Finish them!"

He stood, in the faint light afforded by the sputtering torch, on his own. Laurent and De'Montague were advancing on him.

"So Laurent, how much is the price for betrayal nowadays?" Phillipe asked disdainfully.

Laurent gave a sharp bark of laughter. "You would know better than I would, Delacroix. I seek to protect my homeland, what do you seek to protect?"

Phillipe smiled softly. "Leonie Caron, the Lion of Orlais, of course. The woman who saved your life more times than she should have," he replied proudly. "I serve her, I champion her. And she champions Empress Celene, the rightful monarch."

"Lion is not dead yet?" Laurent asked, frowning. He glanced at his compatriot. "Didn't you tell me she had succumbed to the taint, De'Montague?"

"Does it matter whether she is still alive? I assure you, she won't be for long. As I told you, Laurent, we don't need her anymore. We only need what's in those knapsacks."

Laurent hesitated. Even in the faint light, Phillipe could see the man's struggle. He pushed his advantage, hoping it would work.

"You were once a man of honor, Laurent. Leonie always spoke with the greatest admiration of her honorable Laurent. You betrayed her and yet she still speaks of you with affection. She still thinks you're an honorable man. We both know you forfeited that honor when you betrayed her trust."

Impatient, De'Montague spoke up, "Just kill him, Laurent."

Phillipe raised his sword again, pointing the tip at De'Montague. "Still using minions to do your work, you little mouse. Scurry back to your hole, tell Evard he won't win. The letters in Ostagar have been destroyed."

De'Montague stumbled slightly at the news and Phillipe felt a flush of triumph. "You know what you must do, Laurent," Phillipe said without taking his eyes off the smaller man.

Phillipe stepped back, preparing himself for a fight with both men. He brought out his dagger and lowered his stance. The other two men started toward him and Phillipe continued moving back, hoping to find a more advantageous spot for the figtht. De'Montague lunged with a precision that Phillipe had not expected and his sword went flying out of his hand. A sharp pain screamed in his wrist and blood began to flow. He took another step back and his foot caught on something, a body. He felt himself falling backwards. The wind hissed sharply out of his lungs as he landed on his back.

De'Montague raised his sword. "This is the best she could do? Sending a boy like you, a fop of a boy?" the older man jeered.

Phillipe propelled himself to his feet, dagger in hand, a battle cry on his lips. He felt the tip of De'Montague's sword sliding along his chest, piercing the thin material and biting rabidly into his skin. And then De'Montague was choking, his sword falling away from Phillipe. Phillipe watched, too shocked to do more than stand there staring as Laurent and De'Montague fought.

Swords screeched as they clashed. The two men fought with a savagery born of panic and hate and betrayal. Phillipe groped around for his sword and advanced, sword point tearing into the back of De'Montague's neck just as Laurent fell, De'Montague falling on top of him. Phillipe dropped to his knees and pushed De'Montague off of Laurent and when he saw the blood on Laurent, he knew there was nothing he could do to save the man. A gut wound, agonizing and fatal with no healer available.

"Laurent," Phillipe murmured regretfully.

"Ha, this is not the way I intended to die," Laurent whispered weakly. "A woman in my arms, that is the way of heroes, isn't it?" Blood was pooling underneath him, trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, Laurent. Leonie will know that in the end, your honor was restored," Phillipe said thickly. He felt emotionally raw and infinitely sad. Once Laurent had been a good man, they had known each other well as favorites of Celene.

"Finish it, then. Finish it and go, friend," Laurent said as his eyes slid shut. Phillipe slid his dagger into Laurent's chest. Without another sound, Laurent's body went still.

Not giving himself time to think, Phillipe moved to Darius. The elf stirred as Phillipe reached into a pack for a poultice. "I thought you'd be a better fighter than that," Phillipe said with the hint of a smile.

The elf grunted and drank the health potion Phillipe offered him. "I didn't expect shems to fight so fiercely," Darius replied.

The chest wound was not serious. There was a knot on the back of the elf's head where he had fallen and struck a boulder and that had caused him to black out. Phillipe was relieved. The guardsman had not been so lucky. Nor had De'Montague's guard.

"Can you walk?" he asked Darius, helping the elf to his feet.

"Give me a minute and I'll run," the elf replied seriously.

Twenty minutes later, the men were on their way back to Val Royeaux. Between Churneau and Ghislain a hawk, screeching and flapping its wings, appeared. Phillipe's horse reared and plunged. He reined him in and Darius came up beside him. The hawk disappeared behind a tree and with a soft rustle of wings, a woman stepped out from behind the tree.

"I am Frith, sent by Nemishia. She asks that you search what you have found and if it is small enough, we can carry it back to Leonie quickly," the woman said, smiling. She stepped closer.

"You are Phillipe, the one who came to our lands, aren't you?" she asked.

Phillipe's relief was nearly overwhelming as it rushed in warm waves through him. He dismounted quickly and began to rummage through the knapsack. They spent an hour going through everything, trying to determine what might help. Finally Darius held up a small scroll. "I think this might be it. It looks like a formula."

Phillipe took the scroll and examined it. So far it was the only thing that looked remotely helpful. A series of symbols and figures, a few words, it did appear to be a formula of some kind. If it wasn't, they weren't out anything. If it was, precious time could be saved. He held the scroll out. "Is this small enough?"

"Yes, I'll shift into my flight form and you must attach it to my leg with this," Frith said, handing him a small piece of twine.

"How long will it take you to get back to the Vigil?" Darius asked quietly.

"I will take this to Ephrona and she will take it to Nemishia. Leonie will have it in three days time."

Phillipe watched the hawk gracefully take to the air, the small scroll attached to her leg.

He allowed himself a moment of hope and then he was riding again, pushing himself and his horse onward.


Dusk was gathering around the Vigil like a dark cloak. Loghain had sat with Leonie for hours as she slept, ignoring the stinging in his cheek where her nails had raked along his skin. Finally Anders convinced him to allow the mage to look at the wound. He reluctantly left Leonie's side and went into the small office adjacent to the infirmary.

"Hold still, Loghain," Anders said, dabbing at the cuts on his face. "I can't close them until I make sure the wounds are clean," he continued.

As soon as Loghain felt the cooling magic on his skin, he pushed Anders's hands aside impatiently and went into the infirmary. Leonie was strapped down to a bed, restlessly pulling at her straps in her sleep. He hated to see her that way, knew that memories of Montran were the cause of her unrest. He put a hand on her forehead, relieved to find that her skin was cool and dry. When they had first brought her to the infirmary she had been burning up.

Fiona and Travis were there, standing off to the side, neither speaking.

"What happened?" he asked, staring at Fiona accusingly.

"It's the Calling. There will probably be more episodes like this. I'd advise having one of the mages nearby in case it happens again, they can put her to sleep."

Loghain was furious and beyond furious. "She waited for you to come to your senses, to tell her the truth because she has some foolish notion that you are an honorable person. Look at her, Fiona," Loghain snarled, grabbing the mage and forcing her to look at Leonie. He watched with no sense of triumph as she flinched and closed her eyes.

"You haven't got an honorable bone in your body," he sneered and dropped his hand. "I'll deal with you later. Now get out."

He turned back to Travis. "Any luck?"

Travis shook his head, clucking softly. "But her sleep is natural now. She'll wake soon."

Loghain touched her cheek again. She was trying to escape her bonds. "Try again, Travis. She's frightened at being tied up."

"Then untie her. Whatever threat she posed earlier, she doesn't now," Travis replied, his voice reasonable.

Reluctantly, Loghain shook his head. "I'm not willing to take the risk until she wakes up and I see that she's herself."

Travis shook his head. "Will you keep her strapped to this bed until the men return from Orlais? That could be two more weeks," he chided with a sharp cluck of disapproval.

Loghain eyed his friend angrily. "Would you rather I let her go she can run into the Deep Roads?" he asked icily.

Travis fell quiet. Loghain took Leonie's hand in his. "I'm here, Leonie. You're alright now."

It was a lie, of course. She was not alright. By Leonie's estimation she had less than a month before the taint overtook her completely. Could her body hold out that long? He bent and removed the amulet that held her vial of poison. He no longer trusted her judgment. He could not afford to.

There was a bitter familiarity in seeing her wasting away, in feeling her death creeping closer to them while he was powerless to stop it. Helpless but not hopeless, she had told him earlier in the day. Yet he felt the futility of hope, watching her now. It welled up in him with the fierceness of a winter storm, chilling him, freezing him and yet it didn't stop the pain at seeing her as a pale shadow of the Lion she had been when he first met her.

Would he have done anything different? Would he have been able to seal off his heart from her? Maker knew he had tried. The last thing he had wanted was this kind of pain again, this kind of tortured helplessness. He would willingly exchange places with her. He had lived long enough to watch almost everyone he had ever cared about die. She had just turned thirty. His laugh was bitter and never left the confines of his heart. She too had lost almost everyone she had ever cared about and yet she would not let her hope die.

"I would rather have had a year with you than a lifetime without you," she whispered, breaking into his thoughts tenderly, gingerly, as if she knew just how bleak and despairing they were. "Each bright river leads me merrily, to my home, to my heart, to the endless sea," she added and smiled at him, smiled with all her hope and faith shining in her eyes.

"You must tell me, Loghain, what happened to make you restrain me. I remember only that I fought with Karlin. Did I - did I do something to her?"

He watched her silently, unable to tell her that she had become a raging, howling stranger, more darkspawn than human. The thought that she could become one again cut through him more viciously than any blade ever had.

"Oh," she said in that still quiet voice, her smile faltering. "Oh Maker, tell me I did not hurt anyone," she said and her voice was gaining strength. She struggled against her bonds. Loghain untied her.

"You didn't. Do you know what triggered it?"

Leonie sat up, rubbing at her temples. "Karlin's blunted sword caught me on the side of my head because I let my mind wander. I was angry with myself and then I – I just was so furious at everything."

He watched as she pushed herself off the table and stood. She slipped her feet into her boots and bent to lace them. Arms folded, he watched her. She seemed completely herself. For the moment.

"You think you'll just get up and wander off, do you?" he asked with a raised brow. She flashed him a smile.

"I think to go and speak with Fiona. As much as it pains me, you were right. My foolish notion that she will have some kind of sudden breakthrough and be honest with us is brought on by my own youth."

He winced as she used his words but she held no animosity, continuing to look at him expectantly. "Do you wish to join me?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"I think it's important that you not allow yourself to get all worked up about anything," he admonished. He didn't want to trigger another episode. Maker, he didn't want to see her that way again.

"Perhaps that would get her to talk?" Leonie joked, her smile twisting into a wry grin.

"You have the oddest sense of humor," he grumbled, pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around him and for a moment he was content. For a moment he allowed himself to believe.


Fiona was in her room, according to Jarren. He looked nervously at Leonie and she smiled reassuringly. "I am fine, Jarren, just keep working. Our time is short, yes?"

Leonie didn't bother knocking on Fiona's door. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room to confront Fiona. Pulling herself up to her full height, shoulders squared and chin tilted, she spoke in a low, cold voice.

"I have given you every chance to correct all of the ignorant, foolish and pathetic decision you have made with regard to your work, Fiona. Yet still you hold back. I wanted you to come to me and tell me of your own accord why you have held back answers that may help me, may help other Wardens. You have not. Never have I seen a more cowardly, idiotic person. You have precisely one minute to tell me what I wish to know. If you do not, I will not hesitate to kill you with my own hands."

Her hands on her hips, she watched as Fiona paled and for a minute, she was sure that Fiona would choose death. Fiona was struggling, Leonie could see that. She could only hope in the end that Fiona would be honest. She didn't relish killing another Warden.

"If you kill me, how would that help you?" Fiona asked, a flash of anger in her brown eyes.

"If you do not tell me, how would that better serve me? At least this way I shall rid the Wardens of one more twisted soul, yes?" Leonie replied with a sad smile. She moved her left hand from her hip to her scabbard and withdrew her dagger.

"You are out of time, Fiona. What is your decision?" Leonie asked, winter winds coating her words.

Fiona looked down at the floor and sighed, her shoulders slumped. "If I tell you anything, they have threatened to kill my son."

Loghain growled, a menacing sound that caused Fiona's head to whip up. "Wouldn't you do everything within your power to protect your daughter? Haven't you done so for Leonie?" she demanded in a voice that was at once disdainful and scathing.

Loghain didn't speak. Leonie found she couldn't, her thoughts in turmoil. Would she have done anything to protect someone she loved? Probably. Maybe. Her sense of duty warred with her need to protect those she loved. A momentary stab of pity forced her to hold her tongue against the dam of words that raged to be spoken.

"Fiona, do you think he is safe anyway? Regardless of what they promise, they will do whatever is necessary, no matter the cost. This you know well enough, yet you are foolish enough to believe he will ever be safe. Talking or not talking will not save him," Leonie chastised.

"However," she said, her mind churning through the information and searching for a viable answer, "we can ensure that we are all safe from the machinations of those in Weisshaupt. Share the knowledge. Share the secrets with every Warden Commander in every nation. Share the secrets with the leaders of every nation. Encourage the Wardens of other nations to break completely with Weisshaupt and form new alliances among themselves. Reveal the treachery and the secrets. Chop off the snake's head and it no longer has power, yes? So too must we do with Weisshaupt."

"A sound strategy. It's difficult to hide in the open," Loghain agreed, looking expectantly at Fiona.

"You run the risk of having an army of Wardens trying to kill you," Fiona argued. "And that same army will find Alistair and kill him."

"I do not believe this is true. It will not be an army. Once those who follow a madman recognize him as such, they are less willing to follow, especially if there are many more who do not follow the madman. As for Alistair, let him decide what he should do. As long as he is among Wardens he trusts and who trust him, he will be safe."

"No! I won't have Alistair know about this, about me," Fiona cried, strength and determination in her voice.

"Fiona, he should be given the information so that he may protect himself. We can try to find a way to explain it to him without mentioning you, of course, but you do yourself and Alistair a disservice by withholding his true parentage. You are his mother."

Fiona laughed harshly. "No, I'm not, Leonie. You have been more of a mother to him than I ever was or could have been. Maybe," she began and tears gathered in her brown eyes. She cleared her throat and continued, "Maybe had I not been so bitter I could have been a mother to him, but I don't have that kind of compassion inside me. I don't know if I ever did. I didn't want to give him up but doing so was the most compassionate thing I've ever done."

She fell quiet then and Leonie didn't know how to break the silence, wasn't sure she wanted to. She stared at Fiona, trying to understand what drove the woman to inflict such pain on herself and those around her.

Finally, with a long, pensive sigh, Fiona looked at Leonie. "It began with my first encounter with the Architect. I told everyone, even Tremain and you, that I was leading a team to find the Architect. That was never the truth. A group of us hoped that the Architect would succeed in freeing the darkspawn from the song, we believed that if he could control them, if his purpose was to find a way to live peacefully, we could end the Blights forever, we could end the threat of darkspawn entirely."

Leonie sank down on a chair, listening with a growing sense of horror at how twisted the notion of 'by any means necessary, no matter the cost' had become.

"But when you lead the coup, when you reminded me of honor and duty and compassion, I wanted to help you, I was determined to. That's when I was given access to the First Warden archives. That's when I discovered how the first Blight came about and then I read about the cause of the third Blight, the experimental new Joinings. I knew I could find a way to reverse it, given time."

"What happened to change your mind?" Loghain challenged acidly.

"I realized how powerful Leonie's blood was, how it could command the darkspawn given time, that she held the hope of humanity in her hands and I went to talk to Magnus about it. He wanted me to continue to work of a way to cure it, to reverse the effects. But others heard, somehow. You know what Weisshaupt is like."

Fiona paused again, looking unhappily at Leonie. "They wanted you to go through the transformation and lead the darkspawn, to bring about peace. I believed that was necessary. I did what I thought was right, Leonie, and then it was too late to change anything. Finally when I was sent here, I saw Alistair, knew you had saved him but I…" Fiona trailed off, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"It is easy to become as gnarled and twisted, as cold and bitter, as those who live in the Anderfels, is it not?" Leonie asked and found she could not hate Fiona.

"So it's true? We created the darkspawn?" Loghain asked after several minutes of silence. His voice was deathly quiet.

"What Leonie heard, what those creatures told her is true, if I am translating the original records correctly. An army of elves, dwarves and humans volunteered to undergo a treatment that would make their blood impervious to blood magic. They were to use the Deep Roads to come up in the heart of Minrathous and destroy the archon and the magisters. The volunteers became known as the Dark Stewards and they amassed in the Deep Roads in preparation. They were promised that the cure would be given to them as soon as the Tevinter Imperium had been brought to its knees but the sickness proved more virulent than any had imagined."

"They were betrayed," Leonie whispered, her own tears beginning to fall. "And now that there is the possibility of a cure, there is no hope for them. They are empty, soulless creatures now, no longer able to be cured. All those lost souls and all the death in the centuries that followed."

"If word of this gets out it will destroy the Grey Wardens, not the darkspawn. The darkspawn will always be a threat, there are estimates that there are over a million or more in the Dead Trenches at any given time. The only way to ever rid ourselves of them is to have a leader guide them to their deaths in the lava pools of the Deep Roads, to have them kill each other, or themselves."

Loghain's cold and stony voice broke in. "You sacrificed Leonie for that, sacrificed who knows how many others? Your actions are responsible for the deaths of a great many Fereldans who died in the Blight. You should be tossed to the mercy of a group of grieving Fereldans," he snarled in contempt.

"Did it ever occur to you that the real reason this group in Weisshaupt wants control of the darkspawn is because their power would be limitless? The whole of Thedas could be conquered by that army and they would rule over everyone, this little cabal of yours. Maker, you bloody fool!" he finished, furious with her.

For a blink of an eye, Leonie was sure he would kill Fiona with his bare hands. She put a restraining hand on his arm and took a deep breath, trying to absorb Fiona's words, trying to understand them. Whatever is necessary, no matter the cost. She looked up at Loghain and smiled softly, sadly.

"If there is a way to stop the Blights, stop the darkspawn attacks, should I not pursue it?" she asked softly.