Incorruptible

by super ginger

Alduin is dead. Purpose and duty fulfilled.Uthreida, Dragon Born, Yesimir of the North, is ready to return, But Tsun's shout is redirected, and finds herself in a land that is similar yet so very different from her home. Commander Cullen is hopeful for the future of the Inquisition. Until an unknown Dragon Slayer falls under his Command that makes him question everything he knows.

1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own the names or likeness of any characters listed in this Fic.

Getting this out of the way now, this is a long chapter, slow burn, lore heavy, tin foil hat...thing. That said, if you have questions about the lore or tin foil, let me know. I'll happily address it. Enter at our own peril.

Author awkwardly waggles brows in your general direction* They there, friend. You look...thirsty. *Winks suggestively but oversells* Can I offer you something to satisfy your pallet in chapter 13? Perhaps Chapter 18? To whet one's appetite, if you will?

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"Are you ready to rejoin the land of the living?" The living God said to her. His broad, bare chest huffed in approval but his tone didn't carry the weight. Uthreida felt off by the lack of facial expression as he spoke. Did he foresee this? Was she always destined to live? Well, so much for an honorable death against an ancient god. "It is my place to return you."

She looked around her at Sovngard. The three heroes of old stood, talking as they walked behind her cross the bridge. She gave a confused frown as she looked at the landscape, the Hall of Valor, and then the god Tsun. This is everything she had been working for. This has been her goal for the last several years. She was prepared to die. And now she has to leave? That seemed unfair. But when have the gods ever cared for fairness? "I get to go back?"

The god gave a slight chuckle. "For you are of the living. It is my place to return you. Only the dead may remain here."

She looked at the hall again. While she would love to be harassed by Linda for the rest of eternity and simply refuse to go, there wasn't anything keeping her on Nirn. No one looked forward to her return. She said her goodbyes to those closest to her. Was it over? Is it all really over? Will her people, the people of Skyrim, be safe from the monster she crowned? She looked behind her at the battlefield. Her blood still pumping from adrenaline and fear from the God of the End of Time, Alduin. His black scales slipping from her blade like water as he collapsed to the earth and disappeared. She swallowed hard, leaning into the god so the heroes would not overhear. "Did I win? Is he-?"

The Nordic God of Trials only smiled. "You won, Dragon Blood. For now. Alduin will not return to the mortal realm until the end of the next Kulpa. Take solace in your victory."

She furrowed her brows as the emptiness in her heart welled. "It doesn't feel like a victory."

"Hard-earned battles rarely do." He tilted his head in empathy as he looked at her. "You have traveled these last year's training, learning all you could. Battling and hardening yourself for your true enemy. You have become stronger than he."

She cocked a brow. Stronger than the God of the End of Time? Her eyes went wide for a second as a thought crossed her mind. Is she a god? Or was all of this temporary? Would Shore allow a rival in his halls? Is that why she's being asked to leave? She cleared her throat to be humble to the God of Trials. "It just feels, I don't know, anticlimactic? I guess I was expecting more." She looked at the large warrior who held an amused expression on his face. This is not the person to talk to about this. Or, being the God of Trials, he was. She looked at the hall again. Shore and Kyne, the two whom she prayed most often, were not on their throne. She looked away. She was ready to live here. To spend the rest of eternity here surrounded by the heroes of old. Singing the songs of her people from ages past. Ready to look upon the faces of the ones she placed her trust in when everything seemed to go wrong. And now, she had to leave. What does her future hold now? Her destiny has been fulfilled. She had nothing left but the souls she had delivered to this place. She was ready to atone for the ones lost to Alduin. What now? She bowed her head to the God. "I'm ready to go back." Accepting her fate as worse than the death she wanted.

The god seemed to look her over. "I will teach you a shout that will call a hero from Sovngard in your hour of need."

Utherida tilted her head. Tsun can do shouts? Of course he can, he's a God. He took a deep breath. Utherida looked at the ground, ready to receive the message that was to be imprinted. His shout filled her, calling the souls of the old to make sense of the words as they came to her.

And all went white around her.

XxXxXxXx

Uthreida took a deep breath. The transport from Tsun was easier than the portal at Skuldafn and didn't leave her stomach-churning. As much. She could feel the warm breeze against her neck and the smell of earth around her. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the orange hue of the trees around her. The soft ruffling of the leaves as the wind passed and the groaning of the whitebark of the linden branches. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

She left Skyrim in the spring. How is it already autumn?

She snapped. That explains the longevity of the souls in Sovngard. Time moves much slower there than here on Nirn. What was an afternoon to her was six months here.

She looked around and found a road ahead. Walking towards it, she noticed a signpost. Pulling her map from her pack, she looked at the post and tilted her head again. Then looked at the map. Then at the post again.

Denerim, to the right.

Highever, to the right.

Redcliff, to the left.

Orzammar, ahead.

She looked down at her map of Skyrim again. Maybe she landed in another country?

Thanks Tsun.

She stopped and surveyed the area. There appeared to be mountains ahead of her. Skyrim was surrounded by mountains. Looking at her shadow, she grabbed a stick and drew the outline of her boots, and pointed the stick where her head was.

Further down the road was a half wall of rocks to act as a barrier for the dirt road. Uthreida removed her Ebony helm as she walked towards it. A long single red braid of her hair falling to the shoulder of her ebony armor. Placing her helm on the pommel of the Akarivi relic of the Blades, Dragons Bane, she unloaded her pack and her belt that was holding her ebony sword and matching axe. She sat on the wall, taking a breath as the breeze filled her sweat-soaked armor. Looking over the map again, the linden trees that reminded her of Riften, and then the mountain, she concluded that she had to be either in northern Cyrodil or Western Highrock or Hammer Fell. Depending on what her shadow said.

Pulling a cheese slice from her pack, she looked over the plains before her. The trees, grass, and a bit of wheat gently with the breeze. If the wheat was still growing, then it had to be Hearthfire. It would make sense as she left during Last Seed.

She bit into the cheese and made a note of what she needed to do now. She lived. Always a bonus, but now what?

She needed to get with Paarthurnax, ask him what it means now for the dragons as Aludin was gone.

Get with King Ulfric, ugh, and let him know the dragon menace is…slowed? Accelerated? Over? She wasn't sure.

Get with Rayya to have a horker steak prepared.

She ate the last bit of her cheese and swallowed it down with her water skin. She sighed again, looking at the stick. Ever onward, she guessed. Grunting as she stood, rearming, she placed her feet in the outline and saw how far her shadow had moved. It was afternoon, and the shadow shifted to the right. She was facing west. Utherida pulled her map again. Shit, is she in Morrowind? Rolling up her map, she scrutinized the mountain range before her. Those are not the mountains of Markarth, The Reach, nor Solitude. No ash or sight of the Red Moutain around her. Where in Tamriel was she?

A horse neighed in the distance and she turned to look. There were three riders heading towards her at an easy pace. She kept an eye on them as she moved to retrieve her pack. The change in perspective showed that four riders approached. Three riding abreast, and one in front. Each taking an easy walking pace for the horses. She could make out their sways from the mounts. Uthreida looked to her bag, making sure her ebony bow could be easily drawn, and the quiver was available should she need it.

As she looked at the riders, the signpost caught her attention again. The unknown markings of towns she had never heard of. They could help.

Or they could try to rob her. And with the Dragon Elder Scroll on her, she couldn't run that risk.

But she needed information.

And they were approaching.

She pursed her lips at the annoyance of the situation and exhaled loudly. Victory or Sovngard, again, she supposed. She sat on the brick half-wall, waiting on their approach showing she wasn't a threat. Yet. And waited for them to grow closer.

The lead rider, spotting her, spurred his horse to a trot to meet up with her first. A scout. So, what's he protecting?

As the scout grew closer, Utherida got a better look at them. It was a warrior wearing full red armor. The red making her arch a brow. A doubled hefted blade slung against their back. Their dappled horse was smaller than what she was expecting, but a horse nonetheless. Its hooves clicked against the rocks on the road showing it was shoed. Military horse.

Or noble. Either way, an annoyance.

He was either trained by the 'best swordsman in the land' or a grizzled veteran. Both dangerous. Neither was she looking forward to.

"Get off the road." The rider yelled. Utherida sat up straighter on the rock wall she was seated on. She heard but needed a conversation first. "Clear the road." He ordered again. His accent was one she hadn't heard. Though akin to Breton in a way. The rider came to a slower approach when they were within shouting distance, then pulled to a stop when within ten feet.

Uthreida smiled friendly at the man as the horse nickered against the reigns. "Hail, friend." She called out, standing finally.

"Clear the road."

"Gladly." She called, "Though, I don't know which way I go? Could you help me out? I'm trying to get to Skyrim."

The rider looked behind him quickly, at the party that was slowing their approach, then back at her. His dark eyes and pale skin shining beneath his half helm. "Ser, get off the road before I remove you."

"Which way to Skyrim and I will gladly move."

"That way." He shouted, gesturing his hand in a random direction. More importantly, a direction that was away from the road.

Uthreida arched an annoyed brow. "I'm just trying to get home, Thane, but I don't know where I am. Please."

"Ricarrd." One of the riders shouted from the rear. "What's the issue?"

The scout looked over his shoulder quickly at the three behind him, then back to her. "Nothing sir." He shouted, then lowered his voice. "Get off the road." He ordered again, this time, lowering his voice and laced with a warning.

"Which way to Skyrim." Uthreida held the same warning in her tone as moved his foot from the stirrup. If he dismounts, she should be able to draw in time. She held her hands up in mild surrender. "Which way?"

Another horse behind them started to trot forward. This time, a man in green armor with a sword and shield approached. His brown hair was short but with a matching goatee on his chin. "Citizen." He called when in range. "We ask that the road be cleared for a convoy. We mean no disrespect, but please stand back."

"Gladly," Uthreida called to the man in green as he approached the one in red. "Which way to Skyrim?"

The green rider lowered his brows, the looked to the scout in confusion. The red shook his head. "It's an ambush, Teryn. We must press on."

The green nodded. "Knight, stand aside or you will be rode down."

Utherida opened her mouth to retort when a call of a dragon interrupted her. Utherida rolled her eyes in annoyance. Another fucking dragon come to eat her title. Her jaw jutted as she looked at the thanes and held her hand up to them, ignoring the panicking neighing of the horses. "Wait here." She ordered as she placed her helm over her head and looked to the sky.

A small grey and green dragon flew overhead. Uthreida heard it start the Yol shout for the horses. "Fus, Ro Dah." She shouted at it. The dragon's spell was disarmed as it circled ahead. She moved off the road and into the small clearing that was west of the road. The dragon circled again as one of the men from the road shouted, "Get back," and "Move."

The dragon circled the men again. "Joor Zah Frul."

The dragon's body was encased in a white spiritual mist that forced its wings to close. Trying as it might, Uthreida pulled the ebony axe and Dragons Bane from her sides as she waited for it to land. It tried to circle again, and Utherida noticed a rider come for her as the weight of the dragon landed, causing a small tremor in the land. The horse reared, knocking its rider off. Utherida turned her attention back to the dragon as it roared against the Dragonrend. Moving quickly to its side, she used the combination of the edge of the Bane and the might of the axe to carve the side of the dragon's ribs. It reached its head back to bite at her. Uthreida had enough time to turn, and in a moment, shove the long sword under its chin and pushed up. The dragon pulled back and tried to run. Uthreida ran after. Slashing at its rear leg on the tendon. Her axe snapped the tendon, causing it to lose balance and tip over. Uthreida used the advantage to get to its soft underbelly. Taking the bane in both hands, she sliced its stomach open.

The dragon howled and rolled away from her, spilling its own guts onto the ground below it. It looked below to assess the damage, as Uthreida went for the flank she was working on earlier, and drove the sword into its chest between the ribs. The dragon howled again. It snapped its teeth at her, as she jumped out of this range. It opened its mouth again for a Fol, and Utherida slid the blade across its mouth, cutting the soft leather across its jaw. The dragon pulled back. She took the blade and aimed between the ribs again, and hit the heart. The dragon shouted to the heavens, as she turned the blade, and thrust down, taking everything in the way with her. Pulling her blade from the body, the dragon tried to limp away again.

She could feel it was on death's door. She could either take the head with a fight or walk away.

She turned away. Seeing a man lying on his back a few feet from her. Uthreida sheathed her weapon, grabbing the axe from the grass as she went. She held a hand out to the man to help him stand. He was wearing brown riding leathers with white fur at his collar. His short strawberry blonde hair had bits of dirt in it and a pained smile on his face. "I guess you didn't need any help." He said, tilting his head towards the moaning dragon. As he stood up, he groaned and reached for his back. Uthreida followed his hand, calling forth healing magic, and placed her hand over his. He made a sound like relief when the magic hit. Only to look at her with wide eyes and take a step back. "You're a mage?" It was more accusatory and confused than anything.

Uthreida tilted her hand to show she was part of, but not really associated with, adding an "eh" to fix the point.

His amber eyes looked her over for a second then went wider when she felt the familiar warmth of the soul of the dragon meld with her. Uthreida took a deep breath, letting the soul merge with her own. She saw a haze of orange before it all cleared to see the man take another few steps away from her. "Now," she said again, removing her helm under her arm. "About Skyrim."

The man leaned back. Petrified concern was written on his face as his jaw went slack.

"Your Majesty." One of the men called. The one before her turned to see the shout, then turned back to her.

Uthreida arched a brow. "Majesty?" she asked with her own confusion, then looked him over. The leathers were well made. The fur was white. And he was…well, beautiful, she supposed. Uthreida rolled her eyes. Another prize to be won for a headstrong King. What a familiar path.

She sighed hard as the men approached. The one in red jumped from his horse, drawing his blade at her with one hand, the other reaching for the king. "King Alistair, get away from her." Uthreida held her hands up in surrender, taking two steps away from the said king.

She looked the king over. "Are you alright?" He was silent as he wiped the imagined dirt from his chest.

The man in red armor approached and forced his way between the two. The two other riders pulled up. The one in green armor dismounted and pulled his sword and shield. The fourth rider remained on his horse, holding the reins of another horse, keeping his distance.

The King held his hands up to the one in green. "Stand down." He ordered. The man in green slowed his approach but held his weapons ready just in case. The one in red before her didn't move. "Stand down, Riccard. She just saved our lives." The one in red kept his eyes on her, his sword pointed at her chest. "Captain Riccard."

"She's a mage, your Majesty." He retorted, his eyes glowing as he looked her over. "She just performed magic on your person."

"I'm aware. But it was healing. Lower your weapon, Sir."

The man in red wasn't having this conversation as he stood his ground. "All mages are to be excommunicated from the kingdom, your Majesty."

The king moved forward, placing himself between the officer and her. The silence of the moment as the two men squared off. The king making his authority known to the Thane. The red armored man, forced to back down, lowered his weapon but kept it drawn. His eyes watching her closely. The king let go of a breath. He turned to look at Uthreida. Visually gaging her. Her look of boredom and blood-spattered armor. Then at the dragon that laid twenty feet from them. She watched him smirk, then smile, then laugh. The king wiped his face with his hand, then looked her over again. Shaking his head in shame for a moment.

"My king?" The one in green said softly from behind. "Is everything alright?"

The king looked over his shoulder at the man, then smirked. To Uthreida, smiled. "Alright. Who are you and what do you want? Be honest."

She looked at the two men that were slowly trying to surround her. "I am Dovahkin Uthreida Storm-Blade. I am trying to get back home to Skyrim."

The king lowered his brows at the name of her country only. "Skyrim?"

"Aye."

"Where-where is that?"

Utherida gave her own look of confusion. "North?" she offered off hand. "North of Cyrodil, East of Highrock? West of Morrowind?"

The king cleared his throat. "Do you have a map of this location?"

Uthreida moved to her pack and heard the chink of armor from the red one as he raised his sword again. "I'm just getting me map." She said annoyed as he reached for one of the side pockets to pulled at well-worn roll-up parchment. She handed it to the king for his inspection.

He unfurled it but his Thane spoke. "Sir, it could be magical."

The king smirked as he looked over the map. "Relax. If it is, I can dispel it. And if it is, I can smite her." He gave a quick smile to Uthreida who looked more confused.

"Smite, as in Oblivion?"

He tilted his head as he looked at the map. "As in rendering you without magic."

It was her turn to tilt her head. "Ha?" It's been unheard of to remove someone's magic. Unless he practices mysticism. Does he practice mysticism?

"So, where's Skyrim?" He asked, looking over the map turning the map to find north. Utherida focused her attention back on him. She waved a hand over the entire map. He looked at her with concern, then at the map again. He opened his mouth to say something, but let it go as he looked at the map. "So, this, is Skyrim?"

"Aye."

"And, where is Skyrim?"

"It's a country on the continent of Tamriel." Her tone bordering on condescending.

"And where's that?"

Uthreida found herself looking at this 'King' in silent astonishment of his stupidity. This milk-drinking idiot is a king? Of people. Only for another thought to occur to her. What if, - What if Tsun didn't send her to a different country. What if he sent her to a different continent? No, that wouldn't explain it. Nirn is mapped. He would have at least heard of Tamriel. What if this is another plane? Or, even more frightening, a different world? If such a thing is possible. The realization hit a little harder than she would like. She pulled back slightly at the man even as her brows furrowed. "Where am I?'

The king rolled up the parchment and handed it back to her. "You are exactly where you think you are." He said with a smile. "With your fake map, fake accent, interesting armor, and" he turned looking at the dead dragon. "Interesting prowess."

Uthreida took the map with a look like she had been slapped. "Where am I? What year is this?"

He arched a single brow. "You are on the King's Road, heading south, in Ferelden, in Thedas, in the year of the Maker Nine-forty one Dragon. Does that clarify it?"

"No?" she shrugged her shoulders exaggeratedly causing him to smirk.

"Your majesty." The one in green caught their attention. "The convoy."

The king turned to look up the road and saw the beginnings of the wagons that were following them. "Right." He turned back to Uthreida and paused. "Just to clarify. You think you're from a different continent." She gave him a bold look of tediousness. "Right. Well, we're on our way to Sky Hold. You're welcome to follow. I know they need Soldiers during these troubling times."

Uthreida looked south on the road they will walk. The King and his men all slowly stepped away from her to retreat to their horses. "What's at Sky Haven?" she called after them.

The two in armor turned to look at her as the King mounted his horse. "Sky Hold houses the Inquisition."

"What's that?"

The man in green armor chuffed. "Have you been living under a rock, Ser?"

She shrugged. "I've been preoccupied, as of late." She looked back at the convoy. She wanted to ask if this 'inquisition' had a library, mages, something that could help her understand what was going on.

"Riccard." The king said to the man in red. "Fetch a horse for our new friend."

"Your majesty-" he argued, but was cut short when the King looked at him with a mirthful smirk. The man bowed his head quickly and steered his horse back towards the caravan.

Uthreida watched as the scout headed back. "You'll ride with me." The king said openly, causing her to look at him. "Call me sentimental, but you remind me of an old friend. Will you join us?"

Uthreida fell silent as she looked at the road ahead. She saw a hawk above fly south, and a breeze in the same direction. She felt the soft pushing of Kyne at her back. She turned to look at the mountain and felt the remorse of not knowing where her home was or her people. She lowered her brows in the pain. She had nowhere to go. Nothing to go off of. Nothing to get back to. Maybe this, Inquisition, can have the answers she sought. She looked at the King. In his kind eyes and soft smile, there was a sort of safety there. She placed her right hand over her heart in the salute of Talos and gave a small bow. "Of course, my king."

The third man, with long brown hair and a single braid off his right temple, spoke. "King Alistair, is this wise?" He was an older man than the other two. He wore no armor. But the leathers of riding and the clothes of a high born. He only had on him a dagger at the waist. He was not prepared for battle.

"It's alright, Tegan. She won't harm us." As the king spoke, the red armored man approached at a canter with another horse from the King's envoy. A blood bay stallion with a white muzzle and forelegs cantered beside him. When the scout came to a stop, she noticed the branding on the side of its flank with what looked like two rearing animals of some kind.

"Do you need help, Ser?" the one in green asked as she placed her foot in the stirrup and tried to get up. She realized her pack added extra weight. She removed it, placing it on the horse's bags, and tried again. This horse was shorter and leaner than what she was accustomed to. Skyrim horses were larger for a reason. They were used for everything from farming to travel. She wondered what these were built for. She looked over at the man in green armor, who smirked at her. She couldn't place why. "Ready, Ser?"

The king nodded. "Riccard, take point." The man in red eyed Uthreida again before clicking his horse ahead. The king turned to look at her. "Ride with me." Uthreida looked at the other two men riding with the king to gauge their approval before gently kicking the horse forward. Both seemed apprehensive, though the one in green seemed more eager for a fight than the other. Judging from his calmness, he was next in line for the throne. The king waited until a few steps into the journey before he spoke. "Forgive them." He leaned into her as much as the distance would allow. "Teryn Fergus and Arl Tegan are good men. Loyal. If you don't mind proper introductions, I'm King Alistair Theirin. King of Ferelden, titles and such forth. What was your name again?'

"Dovahkin Uthreida Storm-Blade."

"Ew-tree-da."

"Uth-re-da"

"Ew-three-da."

She arched a brow at the misprouncement but let it slide. "Close enough."

He smirked. "So, Uthreida, what brings you to Ferelden?"

"Fur-rel-din?"

"Close enough."

She laughed softly at the joke then sighed. "I have no idea, my king."

"You have no idea?" he joked with his head tilted at her.

She rubbed her neck in stress. "It's a long story."

"We have a two days ride. Enlighten me."

She sighed again then tilted her head at what she thought was a long story. "Well, it started when I was arrested for trying to 'cross the border illegally' by the Empire." She looked at him and he seemed slightly off-put. "The Empire of Cyrodil."

"From your homeland?"

"Aye. I was on the executioner's block, with axe in hand when a big black dragon swooped in and started to set the fort on fire. It was a panic for everyone to get out alive. I left, alive, obviously, and was instructed to go to Jarl Bulgruff in Whiterun to inform him that a dragon had attacked Helgen. By the time I told him, another dragon was attacking a watchtower. I, politely, declined." She smiled guiltily at the king, then scoffed at herself. "I was dragged by Irileth to put the dragon down, as I had the most experience with dragons, at that time. When the dragon was slain, I absorbed the soul into myself, as you saw earlier."

He paused with furrowed brows. "Was that the orange glow you had?"

"Aye," she nodded. "That is when the sky opened up and the Grey Beards called out 'Dovahkin' from the heavens. That's when I started my journey to becoming the Dragon Born."

"Oh," he exclaimed with understanding. "Dragon Blood is a title. I was scared there for a second. So, then what happened?"

"I was then informed that Alduin had returned. And he was resurrecting all the dragons from his original army with him." He looked patiently confused. "Alduin was the dragon king during the time of the dragon wars almost two thousand years ago. He and his ilk enslaved mortals. The mortals rose up and defeated him. Sending him into a prison of sorts. He broke out. I was informed that as a Dragon Born, it was my destiny to send him back."

"Did you?"

She looked away, blinking away the idea of failure. "I don't know." She sighed as she looked at the road ahead. "I have just returned from Sovngard to slay him. I fought him. I stood against him. I saw him fall, but" she stopped. She didn't absorb his soul. She didn't see the bones. She didn't know for sure if he was gone. All she knew was that the three heroes reveled and Tsun seemed proud. So, maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. That's why she needed Paarthanux to verify.

"But," he egged on.

"It was different."

"Different good?"

"Different… weird."

He smiled at that. "You just killed a young dragon by yourself. That's a different kind of weird for us."

"I suppose."

"So," he looked off into the distance with her. "How many dragons have you slain?"

She shrugged. "I don't even know anymore."

He scoffed at the response. "Don't get me wrong. What you did was brave and obviously well trained and executed, pun intended, but dragon-slaying isn't exactly an occupation where one dies old. And you don't look old enough to have even seen twenty dragons. So, how many?"

She smirked at the king. "However many makes you feel comfortable."

"Five then?" He said with a playful smirk.

She felt slightly off-put at the low ball number, but also saw he was trying to understand. "I'm positive it's more than that, but if that number suits you, so be it."

"How many men are in your company?"

She pulled away for a second, unsure of what he just asked. "Excuse me?"

"How many people are in your dragon-slaying party?"

"Oh," she looked away embarrassed. She honestly thought he was asking about sexual conquests. "It's just me."

"Just you?"

"Well, we do have a guild of dragon slayers, but" she sighed again thinking of Delphine. Her betrayal when she refused to kill Paarthanux.

"But"

"They are no more."

"Last of your kind then?"

She nodded slowly. "The Last."

"I'm sensing a lot of history." She gave a soft laugh at the understatement. "Care to start from the top?"

Uthreida took a heavy breath and did as he asked. She told him of the dragon at the west watchtower. Her ascent to the Throat. Her time with the Blades. Her travels to Sky Haven Temple. She told him of the leader of Grey Beards but left out the part that he was a dragon. She told him of the War and Ulfric's Skyrim Rebellion. She told him of how she diverted her interests to stop the Black Sun Prophecy in the middle of her original tasking of slaying Alduin. She told him how she, honestly, ran away from the Moot for a two-month vacation in Solstheim. She told him how she managed to lure and trap a dragon in Whiterun. She told him of how she traveled to the beyond to kill Alduin.

She neglected how she turned her back on the Thieves guild, her family, to pursue this destiny. She neglected how she restarted the Foresworn War on accident. She neglected how three more women were murdered during her investigation in Windhelm. She left out how she failed at the peace talks with the Grey Beards. She neglected how countless deaths were on her hands when she sacked Whiterun. She neglected the parts where she worked with the Dark Brotherhood to end the war. She neglected how she ran from duty and choose to become a Vampire to enter the Soul Cairn. She neglected the part where she had to make a pact with Hermas Mora and use the Black Books to reach the First. She left out all the bits that made her heart heavy with regret.

So this King would not find a reason to kill her as well.

He did his best. He would ask questions. Interrupt with a quick quip or joke. But mostly, he listened. He watched. He waited for her to draw a knife. He waited for her to bluntly lie.

By the time her five-year story was complete, he nodded. "You sound like a real hero of the people, Lady Uthreida. Going around, slaying dragons, ending prophecies. Saving people." He smiled again. "You really do remind me of Sam." She looked confused for a moment at the name. Was it supposed to mean something to her? "Samurila Surana. The Hero of Ferelden. She gave her life to stop the Blight."

Uthreida furrowed her brows again at the time of the…conflict…disease…she wasn't sure. "The Blight, my King?"

He gave a laugh, then looked at her again. "Are you serious? I mean, I know it's been a decade, but, come on."

She shook her head slowly, unsure of how to respond. "There is a disease back home called the blight. It's central to Morrowind. It affects all creatures with increased aggression. It can be reverted and treated." He arched a brow at this. "What?"

"I believe our Blights, and your blight is slightly different." She tilted her head for an explanation. He smirked. "A Blight is when an Archdemon is raised. Its army of Darkspawn runs on the surface and spread the disease they carry."

Uthreida shook her head with so many questions. "What is a Darkspawn and what is an Archdemon?"

The King sat up straighter on his horse as a smile curled around his lips. She couldn't tell if it was from pride or willful destruction. "A darkspawn is a blighted creature that carries the taint. It destroys all life around it. They spend their lives in the Deep Roads searching and digging for an Archdemon. A blighted dragon."

Utherida felt her lips curl back in a deep frown as she looked at the heavens. The Gods wouldn't do that. Right? They wouldn't bring her here to do that…right?

He seemed to notice and laughed. "Don't worry, my lady." She gave a relieved breath. "It's what the Grey Wardens are for. You're safe."

She looked at him again. "Grey Warden?"

He beamed once again. Pride. It was definitely pride. "The Grey Wardens are an order that is sworn to protect the people from the Darkspawn. They are the ones who end the Blights. They are, without a doubt, the most trained and fearsome order in the land. But not political. They only serve those whom they are sworn to protect."

She smiled at his pride. With his war over, it's no wonder he would have respect for them. "How much do they charge?"

"Nations usually pay them as a tax levy. Unfortunately, as the Archdemon fades from memory, those taxes tend to be overlooked or forgotten as well."

"So they don't charge by the head?"

He looked at her with a look of miscommunication. "We're not mercenaries. The Order stands to protect. It's a responsibility. A duty to the people. An order founded on honor, commitment, and sacrifice." She smiled at his pride in such an order. Though, she could only wonder if their vault was draining as well. The king took a deep breath and sighed. He looked at her earnestly. "You really aren't from around here, are you?" His question was honest. Slow understanding of the story she had just revealed.

"I am unsure." She rubbed her neck at the stress. "I want this to be my home. But given how you didn't recognize any of the names. None of the locations. Nothing from that time. It tells me that either our people forgot their history, or, maybe, I am on a different continent than my home. But if that's the case, we've mapped all the continents and I've never heard of this" she paused, "What is this continent called, again?" She asked sheepishly.

He cocked a brow. "Thedas."

"Thedas. Aye. But, my people have never heard of such a land. I mean," she looked away in thought. "Oh, that would be interesting."

The King, not following her logic, tilted his head at her. "What would?"

"I'm reminded of a lesson from Vivic, the Mortal God. He said that Tamriel was a foil to Lyg. That it was the same, and yet, absolutely different. Two sides of a coin. Or cloth, if you will. Um." She squinted her face to try and remember about a topic she had only read once in passing. "It's not on Nirn but is a part of Nirn. Like a slightly distorted mirror."

He smirked. "So, are we the mirror, or are you?"

She leaned back and looked at him suspiciously. "Sounds like something a mirror would say."

"Sounds like something a mirror would suggest." He stated playfully.

"Too true." She laughed with him and his wit. "If memory serves, Lyg was created so Alduin couldn't eat the world. It would be interesting to be in a place created specifically to stop the dragon god." She looked at him with the hope that she just figured this out, but his patient, confused smirk showed he didn't understand. Uthreida bit her lip sheepishly. "Then again, I think it was destroyed in the last Kalpa. Anyways I have no answer for you, King."

"Alistair."

She dropped her jaw in mocking shock. "Such a lack of decorum, your majesty." She placed a hand to her heart in surprise.

He gave a bashful smile to the ground. "Well, I'm not wearing a crown. And," he leaned near her from his horse and dropped his tone, "someone could be listening."

"For starters." The one in leathers behind them spoke. The older man held an expression of boredom as they rode.

The King offered an apologetic smile but turned back to his guest. "He's got ears everywhere, I tell you." He whispered loudly to make the point. The man groaned, and Utherida smiled at the friendship between the two.

"So," the king stated to drive the conversation. "You didn't come by boat to Ferelden, but was sent by your Gods."

"Apparently?" she stated uncomfortably.

"To do, what, exactly?"

She took a deep breath and released it as a raspberry between her lips. She gave half a shrug. "I don't, I don't know what they want of me. Or, why I'm even here." She gave a hard sigh. "All I know is that I'm the last Dragon Born. My life should have ended at the end of my prophecy."

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "Think about the hero's you grew up with. Did they retire to a straw death? They die in the conflict for something that is bigger than themselves. So that their sacrifice means something."

"Is that what you wanted? For your sacrifice to mean something?"

"No, I," she looked away. It was something hard to confess. "I just accepted it as the end." It isn't Nordic to accept one's death. Nor was it honorable to allow it to happen without seeing all tasks put to rest first. But something in her told her Alduin was to be her death. To live now, here, it seemed like a death. In an odd, way.

"In duty, sacrifice." The king said to himself as he gazed off into the distance. Uthreida found herself nodding with the notion. Uthreida enjoyed the silence of the moment. Hearing the horses clomp down the hard-packed earth as they…reached their destination? She wondered. "It all seems," he said to himself, "odd." She turned to look at him. He laughed to himself at the idea of something. "Three months ago, we had learned that an unknown enemy had made itself known that was trying to usurp my kingdom. Two months ago, a dragon burned down a sacred holy place. Just last month, we were discussing how to increase trade to levy more taxes to get more lumber to fix the Alienage. And here you are." He looked at her again with a smirk. "Where's your land again?"

When she looked at that smile, and the person it was coming from. She felt the blood drain from her face. He wanted war. She swallowed back her answer. "I don't even know where here is. I can't give direction when I don't even know where I am." At that moment, she started to analyze everything she just said. Last of her kind. Last of the dragon slayers. Her country is recovering from a civil war. Plagued by dragon attacks. Her country is ripe for a new usurper for the throne. His country has had ten years since their last war. He's had time to rebuild. Skyrim hasn't. If he is in fact a king, he has boats, fleets. A decent navy. Skyrim is at her weakest. He wants to invade. He wants their gold. Her people to do the reconstruction here. He wants slaves.

Gods damn the pretty ones. She just enslaved her country.

Her hand tightened on the reigns of the horse she was ready to steal. The sound of leather tightening caught his attention. His mirthful expression changed in a moment to surprise, then an apology. "You have nothing to fear. I need you and trade. Not, whatever you're thinking of." He ended with a calming smile, which had the opposite effect.

Uthreida looked him over. He carried a sword and shield. His men behind them, only one was armed. The caravan behind them had more soldiers. The Soldier at the point had a long sword. Because of her seated position, she couldn't draw in time to-

"Lady Uthreida ." He said softly, interrupting her thoughts. He held one palm towards her in surrender. "Don't."

All she could see was the fires in Whiterun. The heat of the sun as it boiled her blood. And the rage that came from seeing her sister's dead bodies. Her nose started to crinkled at the man next to her. She heard the man behind her reach for his sword. Her eyes turned to verify then back to the King.

The King licked his lips for a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps, we should stop for the night. Suns getting low." He swallowed, his pleading eyes never leaving her. "Will you join us tomorrow as we finish our journey to Sky Hold? To present you to the Inquisition. You'll be well protected there. I swear it." Uthreida remained silent as she watched him. He brought his horse to a stop, causing the others behind him to do the same. "We can meet later. To discuss honest trade between our people." He paused, letting her hear his words clearly. "Or, you can be tried for being a horse thief. A king's horse."

Uthreida didn't have to look to see the branding on the horse's flank to know he spoke the truth. "I can walk."

"You could." He admitted. "But you ask questions like a child. You don't know anything about this land. And it shows. You need me to get you home. All I ask is a conversation for fair trade. Will you grant me that?" Uthreida was silent as she looked him over, waiting for the man in green to draw his blade and call that the king has been killed. "We'll meet later tonight. You'll hear my bargain, if you agree, you'll join the Inquisition where they can protect you. If you don't, we can go our separate ways. Do you consent?"

Her eyes darted again to the man behind her. The caravan and warriors behind her would hunt her if she ran or killed the king. She would be an outlaw in a land she didn't know. She could fight. She could live today, but what happened when she hits exhaustion? When his soldiers do find her? If she killed this king, she would ensure war for her people. She did the only thing she could do. "I agree." She stated lowly.

The king nodded and looked to the men behind him. "Let's set up camp for the night. We'll pick this up tomorrow." He looked at her again. "You're welcome to join us."

She let her eyes to the men that surrounded her. "I'll make my own camp."

Xxxx

Alistair rubbed his temples in his makeshift throne in the tent for the evening. Tegan and Fergus were going over battle plans. He could hear it. Maker, he could almost understand the song. The scratching on his skull as he forced his leg to not bounce at the anticipation of the foreboding of the song. His eyes danced around the flags on the map.

It's been twelve years since he took the joining. He shouldn't be hearing this now. He was too young. But how many other Wardens have said that as well?

He forced himself to breathe deeper. Forced himself to calm down at the idea of his calling. It's too soon. He told himself.

Months. This has been happening for months. He's done his best to hide it at court. Choosing to engage in some the more 'afforded liberties', as Anora once put it, that Cailan had once perused. Leaving his council to decide for him as he roamed the halls trying to make the song stop. Leaving the throne room for days to 'hunt' to find someplace the song didn't reach. Drinking heavier than he would like before bed to drown out the song.

All he could do was distract himself. Clinch his fist, and force his mind to focus on the tasks at hand. However, on this particular evening, his mind was everywhere but in the present.

"Majesty?" He looked up to see Tegans waiting face. He had been asked a question, he guessed.

Alistair smirked like a child. "Sorry, what was that again?"

Tegan arched a brow in annoyance, meaning he would have to explain the whole situation again. "Should we leave the forces in the Bannor, or divert to assist in the south?"

He nodded. "Where they are. We need as many roads as possible for trade and the Inquisition only has so many forces." He stood but found his knees weak. Neither of the men said anything when he paused to gather his center. "It would appear that the Fade Rifts appear closer to the Breech. However, as more time passes, more tears occur. I think the Inquisitor needs to focus on these areas first. As time progresses, our men will have the first sight of what may come up later. When we do, we can track when they occur and have men ready to block off the area and engage as necessary until the Inquisitor arrives."

Tegan nodded with a frown as if he didn't realize it himself. Alistair was ignoring the fade rifts that occur on Storm Coast as they are presumed to be outliners of the situation. "Well said."

"You know what would be really helpful about now?" Fergus said from Orlais on the map. His arms were crossed and his look of utmost annoyance.

Tegan exacerbated. "Not now, Teyrn."

"The entire Mage Templar rebellion was a ruse. We need Templars to push those damn demons back. And now with the Mages out of the country-"

"And no Templar insight?" Alistair asked as he rested his weight on the table below him. His hands held by the edge of the Sunless Lands.

Fergus smirked at the King. "Well, all except for" He tilted his head at his King in respect.

Alistair smirked. His eyes falling back to the map, and to Amerithine. "Any word from the Wardens yet?" he tried to make his voice sound calm as he spoke. It's not like he wanted to march there right now, grab the commander by his collar, and demand to know what was happening.

Tegan licked his lips. "No, sir. It would appear that Arl Eran Kadar has fled his post. According to his Senachel, Arl Eran had only returned from Orlais when he told the Wardens that they needed to investigate an area of the deep roads. The Wardens departed and have yet to return to the Vigil. The Senachel is acting as Arl for the time being."

Alistair bit his lip. It's been months since any word from the Wardens was heard. Amazingly, they went silent as the infernal whisperings started. His eyes moved west. "What of Orzammar? How are they holding? How are their resources?"

Fergus cleared his throat. "According to King Bhelen, they are fine. Some of their caravans are being attacked by lyrium crazed Templars, but other than that, he says that the Stone will hold them."

Alistair arched a brow. A dwarf that's too prideful to accept a helping hand. Perish the thought. "So what does that actually mean?"

Fergus shrugged. "That they can handle it."

"Until they lose their last great Thaig." Alistair shook his head. "The only reason we crowned him was so that the Dwarves would come into the light. Not push themselves away to be lost again." He sighed. "Keep pressing them. I want to know what the Darkspawn are doing now that the Elder one had shown his hand." He fingered the flag for Orzammar. "What if there are rifts in the Deep Road? Could you imagine a reverse invasion? Or worse, abomination Dark Spawn." He visibly shuddered at the thought. As did Fergus. "Make sure they're taken care of. Ferelden and Orzammar need to be allies for what may come next. Besides," he stood tall and smirked at Tegan. "The Dwarves helped us in Denerim. The Shaperate will remember. If we make them feel isolated, when they fall, they'll blame us."

Tegan smirked at him. Nodding in agreement.

"We'll keep pressing, your majesty," Fergus said in a softer tone.

Alistair ran a hand down his face from exhaustion. The whispering was quieter as he worked. And he preferred it that way. "Please, what else?"

Tegan looked at him like it was a side he hasn't seen before. Alistair rarely asked for bad news, but the impatience in his voice for more sent the older man on the edge. "Well, the Winter Ball will be in Halamshiral in four months. From what I am told, your invitation is on its way to Denerim as we speak. Do you intend to attend?"

The king gave a pained look. "Do I have an option?"

"No."

"I'd love to." He stated deadpanned with the same expression on his face. He sighed hard as he leaned against the table again. "Doesn't seem like an appropriate time, but where would Orlais be without its parties in a time of war."

Fergus cleared his throat. "I've received reports of fade rifts in Crest Wood."

Alistair whipped to look at the man. "What?"

He nodded. "If I send my men to Orzammar, I won't have enough to cover Crest Wood. The Senechal of Amaranthine doesn't have enough men to cover Storms Coast and Crest Wood."

The king sighed again. "Andraste's flaming. Alright. I'll inform the Inquisitor to send some of his troops to the area while we move men from the Bannor." He turned to look at Tegan. "How many can they give?"

Tegan ran his hand through his beard. "Not enough."

Alistair nodded. "We'll deploy some troops from the standing army to bolster their numbers as best we can."

"We could" Fergus started, then fell silent as he mulled his own idea over.

Both men looked at him in anticipation of his thought. "Please."

Fergus waived a hand. "It's a foolish thought. And even if we did do the traditional route, I can't guarantee it would go well."

The silent stare continued at the Teryn. Fergus looked at Tegan in a silent look, biting his lips. A look that Tegan mimicked in understanding that Alistair wasn't following. "I'm glad you two know what's going on, but…"

Fergus sighed as he reached over the map to point at Gwaren. "As far as our reports indicate, there aren't any Fade Rifts occurring near Gwaren. The Arl could deploy half his troops to the Bannor. It would allow half the troops in the bannor to move north. By the time the replacements arrive, the Bannor's men will be in the north. Neither traveling too far for any particular purpose. We can have all movements complete within the month."

Alistair knew their look now. Arl Brennon Mac Teir wasn't the best to follow in his second cousin, twice removed, leadership. He took his lands and position as means for elevation and is quite adjusted to the life of that status. However, the Arl lacked a military mind or even a political one. Yet, when he came to court, he was all smiles as if he was waiting for the moment when Alistair was to promote him to Teryn as was expected of Gwaren. Alistair shook his head. "Just move Gwaren north to Crest Wood. It will take the same amount of time. Have them, I don't know. Have Amaranthine deploy some scouts to meet up with them to point out the choke points and areas to be on the lookout for. Areas that might cause problems for the people."

Fergus gave a nod. "I'll get started."

"If I may." Tegan gave a heavy sigh as if revealing the truth to the king. "Arl Brennon has made notions in his own lands that he won't move his troops to aid others. He says he's having difficulty enough time with the Avvarr that are moving from the mountains, the Templars that moved into Therinfal, and the Dalish are attacking his supply lines. Though, little evidence supports the former." Tegan's tired eyes fell to the King. "He won't assist you, Alistair."

The king tried to bite back the anger of the situation. "The whole nation is on the brink of collapse and he's refusing to move?" His brain clicked and turned to Fergus. "Invite his wife to Denerim."

Both of the advisors went agape for a second, the looked at one another at the assumed meaning of the command. Fergus tucked his head as he spoke, "Majesty?" a word of caution laced in his tone.

Alistair shook his head in shame. The whispers were silent in his anger. It was a blessing but caused its own havoc at court. With a deep breath, he tried to formulate a thought for the men. "As a guest."

Fergus gave a disagreeable frown at the King. "Just to make sure I understand, his 'wife'" the Teryn held his hands wide to indicate the woman's girth, "is to come to Denerim, as your guest." His look turned confused as he eyed the king up and down for a moment.

Alistair only arched an annoyed brow at the innuendo. "Yes."

Fergus bit his lips and held his hands up in surrender. "I'll see that it gets done. I'm sure I can say something along the lines of 'with the rifts, Templar, and Dalish raids on your Arling, excetra exctra, King Alistair invites you to stay the palace. That should motivate Brennon to move."

"Or," Tegan said with exhaustion. "Let her go knowing that if the implication received is met, you'll have to pay back her dowery. To him." Tegan looked at the young king. "If memory serves, during the Spring Lands meet, he was in the process of increasing taxes on the people for" he paused then shook his head as if he couldn't remember. "It was trivial and would garner no profit for the people."

Alistair gave a tired smirk. "Look, I need his men to move to a location that would help. I leave it to you two to figure out the best method."

Fergus rubbed his neck in stress. His brown eyes caught something on the ceiling and smirked. "Doesn't he have a sister?"

Tegan looked concerned at the man. "Yes. But underage."

Fergus waived it off. "Same story, a different narrative. I'll see to it."

Fergus headed out of the tent with new vigor as he was already planning the letter in his head. Alistair watched the tent flap shut when he looked back at the map for a moment. The reds and blues of the flags on the table were making his head spin slightly. The whisperings returning in the silence. He felt his hand clench, hearing the map give a slight crinkle to his movement gave some relief to the song.

"Majesty?"

Alistair looked to Tegan. The older man had a look of worry etched on his face as he looked at his king. Alistair gave a comforting smirk to the man. "Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

Alistair gave a heavy sigh as he looked at the map again. He wanted to tell Tegan what was happening. What was going on. The song. The anxiety. The all-nighters of trying to silence it. But all he could hear was Anora telling him that he had to show strength. That he had to look strong or others will clamor on the perceived weakness. He had to be the rock in the kingdom. It was his place to lead in war, and remain calm in panic.

"Alistair, please."

His eyes drifted to the Frost Back Mountains with a blue flag posted in the middle. The Inquisition. And just northeast was Haven. Now decimated. A place he had visited ten years ago and looked upon the ashes of Andraste. He bit his lip as he looked at the map.

It's always a damn dragon, isn't it?

He turned his head to look at the wall of the tent opposite him as a thought occurred to him. "Do you think it's possible?" he asked softly, not sure who he was directing it at.

Tegan was silent for a moment as if he wasn't aware either. "I beg your pardon, your highness?"

He looked at his friend and sighed. "Do you think our dragon slayer can kill that dragon?"

"No."

Alistair tilted his head at the man with a smirk. "No?"

Tegan crossed his arms as he spoke. "This, Lady Uthda, obviously staged the whole set up. A dragon comes flying in, on the King's convoy, and saves the king? Even then, if she does claim to be from another land, how is it she speaks our language? How does she know of our land when we don't know anything about hers? Honestly, I believe she's an assassin. Or spy. Whether for you or the Inquisitor. I don't know."

"She killed a dragon."

"A young dragon. How many young dragons did you slay in your youth?" Alistair was doing his own math and had to give a guilty smirk to his uncle. "Precisely. I would caution reason, your majesty. She's here for a reason that is unknown to us and, apparently, her.

"Still" Alistair argued as he stood, "you can't deny that whole, orange…thing…after the fact."

He waved it off. "Minor illusion magic."

"It wasn't magic," Alistair stated, looking at the blue flag again. "That she cast, anyways." He added as if just remembering it himself. Even he had to admit, the magic was…odd.

Tegan gave a heavy sigh. "Your majesty, if I may. I don't mean to criticize, but, I was close enough to hear her story. She said things, words that you didn't pick up on." Alistair arched a brow, his eyes on the table trying to center his breathing. "She spoke a foreign language that you didn't seem to pick up on. She said things that sounded like Qunari, and yet, no response from you. I know you traveled with a Qunari during the Blight, but if she continues, it will look bad for the court to be seen with a... what's the word?" Alistair gave a skeptical look at his Uncle. "Sera-bast."

"Seera-Bas?"

"Yes."

Alistair gave a confused look at his Uncle, crossing his arms with a smirk on his face. "Yes, that would be difficult to explain. But, as the recipient of the conversation, she didn't say anything like that." He gave a slight chuckle. "You're age is becoming apparent, Uncle." He laughed again and saw his annoyed look. Alistair cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"What I mean is" Tegan paused, and his looked nephew over for a second as if to delicately place his words. "You want her to be more than she is." Alistair cocked a skeptical brow. Tegan moved to the other side of the map as if to place distance between himself and the conversation before him. "Perhaps we at court are putting too much pressure on you to find a new wife."

Alistair's cheerful disposition faded to a scowl in a moment.

Tegan paused, as if ready to receive the onslaught of his rage but continued to make his point. "I know you see a warrior's heart, a hero in the making, but these are not indicative for leadership nor queen-like behavior."

"Neglecting the fact your sister sided with Maric during the war."

Tegan nodded his head. "But we are not at war." Alistair arched a brow. "Technically." His eyes looking at his nephew and not the map below them. "She is a mage, your majesty. And as you have already ordained, no mages are to remain in our country."

Alistair grit his teeth at his uncle. Two years. Two years since Anora had a fifth stillborn. Two years since she was ultimately taken by the last babe. Two years since his companion throne was empty. For two years the court has tried to fill it. Was a man not allowed to mourn? Alistair looked away from him in anger in hatred.

Tegan circled the map to stand closer. "I know you never intended to love her-" his speech was cut off when Alistair slammed the table with a fist to silence him. Tegan took a step back. Licking his lips, he said softer, "If you are intent on delivering the Dragon Slayer, Lady Uthda to the Inquisition, I see no harm in it. However, be aware that she could be a spy for this Elder one or the Qunari. She could be dangerous. All I ask is that you heed caution."

Alistair breathed through his nose to quite his rage. Once his mind was cleared, he stood tall. "I've asked to meet with her tonight. For honest trade between our countries. Perhaps, I can gather more information from her during our talks. See if she is a spy."

"Or an assassin," Tegan warned. "Who will you take with you?"

Alistair thought of it. She became hesitant during their last talk. She believed him to be…he didn't know. She would need to calm her down. Allow her to open up. Alistair smirked. "I know just the man."

Twenty minutes later with his sword and the grudging noises of Tegan, Alistair walked the camp with Baldric, his mabari hound. One of the sires of Sams Barkspawn. Baldric was gentle-natured and usually a good judge of character. He would know if Uthreida was telling the truth or if she really had nefarious plans.

He found her small camp on the outskirts of his own main tent. Her smaller tent was set up in the tree line with the horse that was granted to her earlier eating the grass nearby. Her black armor was removed to reveal a green tunic with embroidery around the collar. Her red hair was still pulled back in a thick, red braid down that slung over one shoulder and hung down past her chest. She sat in the light of her own campfire, sharpening the blade on her curved sword. Baldric crossed behind his master and moved cautiously towards the woman. Alistair turned to look at the war hound and heard a whisper in his ear.

He turned to look and saw nothing. Baldric still cautiously watching the woman. Alistair was confused until he looked at the Dragon Slayer again. Her eyes were on him. Her pink scar that bisected her left eye seemed to grow white in the light. She was looking directly at him. Through him. Alistair swallowed back the idea that she was trained to slay dragons, and lifted a hand to her in a friendly gesture. She relaxed slightly as he came into the light. "My king." She stated, standing slowly to meet him. Her eyes turned lower. "And friend." She smirked at Baldric who was half behind his king. Alistair patted his hound as she sheathed her blade. "You're true to your word. At least you have that."

Baldric started to come around his master and stood at his side, ready. Alistair rubbed his shoulders as he looked her over. "I wanted to discuss trade, as I stated. As you may have guessed, there is only so much I can tax the people before they want my head on a pike. So, trade it is." He opened his hand to her fire. "Shall we discuss this?" She watched his hand carefully and nodded. Alistair clicked his tongue for Baldric to follow. The dog sat between the King and the Slayer. She seemed more interested in the dog than the man.

"What kind of dog is this?"

Alistair smirked as she held her hand before the dog to take her scent. "Mabari war hound."

"War hound?" She looked at Baldric with more respect. "Fascinating." Baldric accepted her touch and allowed her to pet him. She gently petted his sides and felt the muscle of the beast. "Our dogs are only used for hunting and companionship. But for war." Her voice excelacted to show excitement for the dog, "Not even Ysgramor could fell this beast." She vigorously started to rub his chest, causing him to sit on his hind legs, then fall onto her with a happy expression on his face. She gave a squeal of delight when she felt the weight of the dog on her legs.

Alistair felt himself smirk. If Baldric approves, then she isn't here to kill him. The King called the dog off their guest and petted him. "So let's be honest. Before we discuss trade, there are some…concerns that my advisors have brought up."

Her petted Baldric slowed as she looked at him with a knowing smirk. "Such as."

"They can't help but find your timing of rescue…opportunistic."

She arched a brow. "And finding out my people are recovering from a civil war to use them as slaves to help you rebuild your own country is also opportunistic."

"Slavery is illegal here."

"Aye, illegal in Skyrim too." She looked at him with a bored expression. It may be illegal, but it's still a problem in both lands.

Alistair nodded in agreement. "I have no intentions, nor ideals for slaves."

"Of course." Her emotionless tone drawing more to the point than he cared to argue about.

"Right. So, I noticed a hole in your story earlier, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time. You were sent, by your destiny, to kill a dragon?"

"Aye."

"If you were born to kill one dragon, why do you claim the title of Dragon Hunter?"

She lowered her brows in confusion. "Ha?"

"You said your title was Dragon Hunter."

She looked him over quickly. "My title is Dragon Blood Hunter Utherida Storm-Blade."

"That's not what you said."

"The word hasn't changed." She stated emphatically. "While I'm excited that you can speak-" She looked at him as if she just realized something. Then frowned in disgust. "You lying, milk drinking, son of a whore."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You speak Dragon Tounge. You know who I am." Her tone getting deeper with each word. Baldric noticed and gave a low growl of his own. Her eyes turned to the dog, then him.

"What?"

She pointed to her lips. "Drag-on-hunter." She said. But her lips moved differently than what the sounds should have made.

Alistair leaned back. His breath held in his throat. Then looked at her again. Aware that the look of surprise and not understanding the world was written on his face. And her eyes, set to make amends against her honor, softened to see his lack of understanding.

They both pulled away from one another at the same moment, trying to take in the situation.

He could hear Tegan in his mind. She performed magic on him earlier. This would explain why he understood the Qunlat without it registering. "What did you do to me?"

"Who trained you?"

"I swear by the Maker-"

"There are only a hand full of people to know, let alone speak-"

"-if you performed magic's on me, you will have-"

"-the fact that you are translating without knowledge can-"

"-the Army of Ferelden will-"

"By the Nine."

"-seize upon you and raze-"

"Stop." She shouted over him. And he snarled. Her eyes going back and forth between his as if to find her answer. She shook her head to get the idea out. Then looked away. Then back at him with the same look of disbelief. "No. That. That can't be. That's impossible."

Alistair looked at her as if silently demanding to know what she was thinking.

She scooted closer to him with her brows furrowed. "This is going to sound extremely weird, and I apologize. But, is there a chance, we're related?"

His look of anger moved to disgust. "No."

"You're not my son?"

"No."

"Grandson?"

"No." he stated more absolutely.

"Oh, blessed are the Nine." She grabbed her heart and leaned away from him. She started laughing at her lucid ideas of humor leaving Alistair to question her sanity. "Sorry, I was just checking."

"Anyways," he ground out against her. "Did you perform magic on me that would alter what I hear when people speak to me?"

"No. The only magic I used was simple healing. That is-way up there-illusionary magic, and if I'm being honest, I'm not there. I will probably never get there." Emphasizing where she was at, barely above the ground, versus that sort of spell that was above her head.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't believe you either, yet here we are. There is no way" she bit her lip, looking at him accusingly, before sighing.

"What?"

She was silent as she looked at him. She was silent as she looked over her grove and the tents that were barely within sight. She looked at him, as she clenched her jaw, and sighed again. "I'm doing it."

"Doing what?" He asked as she turned away from him to dig through her bag. She removed the cloth, bags, a few pieces of food and finally settled on a book. She sat down next to him again and handed it off.

She met his eyes before she released it. It was a black leather-bound book with stitching of a silver dragon on the cover in the shape of a diamond. "This is the book of the Dragon Born." She tapped the cover for him.

He looked at her suspiciously then at the book. He didn't feel any magical enchantments on the book as he opened to the first page of writings. The writing was mostly vertical lines with some horizontal, some dots, a couple of triangles, but none of it made any sense. This wasn't an alphabet he had ever seen before. "The book of the what?" he flipped forward a few pages and saw more the same kind of writings.

"It describes what it means to be a dragon born."

He looked at her with an expressionless gaze. "Which is?"

She pointed at her lips again. "Dragon Hunter."

Her lips did that weird thing again where the words weren't right. He flipped through the book and didn't see a single semblance of his written language. "I can't read this."

"I'll save you the read. Basically, it states that a 'dragon hunter' is born with the blood and soul of a dragon." Alistair's heart stopped. "That they are able to absorb the souls of dragons. Because of this, they are able to understand the language of the dragons and are able to use their words against them. Their shouts. ' She gave a hard sigh. "There is a second meaning, though." Alistair's eyes were on the page that he was demanding to learn and yet, nothing came to mind. "It is said that those beloved by Akatosh, would be granted the blood of the dragon and be seated on the-" she stopped, a look of worry creased her brow.

He looked at her. "Well, you've gone this far. May as well fill me in."

She paused and closed her eyes as if afraid of what the truth would reveal. "We were once ruled by the Dragon Emperors. Those blessed with the blood. So long as they sat on the throne, the portals between Oblivion and Mundus would be sealed."

He blinked slowly at her. "I don't know what any of that means."

She gave a pained look as her eyes were desperately wanting him to use this information for good, and not terrorize her people. "It means, that if you can understand Dragon Tounge without teachings, you have the blood in your veins too."

Alistair felt the book weigh heavy in his hands. How does she know this? There are only three people alive who know this. One is in the middle of the ocean, one is in Tevinter, one is with the Inquisition. And he knew two would never break. His eyes went back to the silver stitching on the cover. "Where did you get this?"

"The College of Winterhold Library."

"And where is that?" He asked, not caring how scathing his tone was.

"Skyrim" She said softly

How did she get this information? Alistair dropped the book between them and looked her square in the face. "How is Isabella these days?" Her brows drew in worried confusion. She was silent awaiting his point. "May then, I hope you left her alive." Her look of honest confusion didn't abate even as she shook her head slowly at the turn of the conversation. "This is a bit much for a practical joke from Varric, so who do you work for? Who sent you?"

Her look of confusion slowly turned to concern. "Majesty?"

"Who sent you." His tone cut deeper as his hand went to his sword.

"Majesty, I spent the last five years believing I was alone." She spoke slowly, his anger showing her he already knew what she was saying to be true. She just gave it a name. "Why" her confusion marred her face as she looked him over. "Who? Who did this to you?"

He leaned in close to her to the point where he could smell her musk as his teeth bared. "Tell Flemeth that she will get nothing from me. Do you understand?" She shook her head slowly at him. Not understanding him or the situation. "I will no longer be the pawn to her game."

Baldric started to growl, but both sets of eyes turned to see he was growling at Alistair. He looked at his dog confused, then at her. He paused. She really didn't know. Baldric licked his nose and started to whimper. Rubbing his muzzle against Alistair's shoulder, then licked his face. He scratched the dog behind his ears and looked at the woman again. He turned away disgraced by his behavior. "It's said that mabari are intelligent. More intelligent than humans. That's why they don't speak."

Her blue eyes turned to the dog and gave a soft smile. "Your dog appears to be something of a people person."

Baldric licked at his master's face again causing a smile to curl on his lips. "He is." The way Baldric looked at him now was the same way he looked when he would place his chin on Alistair's knee after every stillborn. He smirked at the dog, then looked at her with sorrow. "I appear to have misjudged you."

Her eyes went wide then looked at Baldric. "Shores beard, I need this dog."

Alistair gave a chuckle as he looked at said dog. "So, you have the blood too?"

She nodded. "And the soul. We are both dragon born, but I am 'dragon hunter' and you are 'dragon blood'."

He took a deep breath and reflected on everything she just said. One thing stood out. "What do you mean, absorb the dragon's soul?" All he could think of was Riordian telling him and Sam that the dragon needed to be slain by a Grey Warden. That they do the same thing.

"It's like you saw today. I glow orange, and I take the dragon's soul into me."

"You take them into yourself?"

"Aye."

Why would that kill a Grey Warden and not her? "And what do you with all those souls?"

She gave a mild shrug. "Having these souls allows me to use their words. Or shouts of power. I can then use this power to kill or take down dragons."

He arched a skeptical brow. "Really?"

"Aye. You saw it today."

"To be honest, when the horse threw me, all I could see was the sky. "Alistair allowed himself to laugh at his own misdeed.

She smirked at his telling of the story. "I can recreate the dragon's abilities through the use of my voice."

"How?"

She looked him over, seeing something of a student rather than a King. "The power of the shouts was gifted to mortals during the dragon wars when the dragons were the overlords of the land. Mortals learned the shouts to turn the tides of war. Over the centuries, they learned how to make fire, ice, even inspire peace in their enemies. The voice was once used for war, then peace."

"Dragon fire."

"Aye."

"You can do dragon fire." His tone was skeptical to say the least.

"Aye."

He waved a hand towards the grove. "Show me." She looked at him with suspicion. "I've seen a few dragons in my day. Show me what you got." She stood and walked around the campfire and took a stance. "And remember, I'll know when you're using magic." She looked at him with confusion again but shook her head from it. "Watch" he leaned into Baldric and whispered, "she's going to use a fireball and claim it's-"

"Yol Toor Shul"

The blast of fire from the woman's mouth was hot enough to make his skin burn. Alistair was thrown back by the force. His eyes were trained on the woman and all he saw was the fire of the Dragon Andraste and the fire from the Arch Demon. The fear that filled him was unlike the fear of the other two very real dragons. The speed, distance, and sheer heat of the fire sent his blood pumping. His heart feeling like it was caged in his chest. Then, it all went dark. From the light of the campfire, he saw her turn towards him, blowing smoke from her nose as she approached.

He was aware he was on his back. He was aware she was drawing closer. He was aware that he had a sword on his hip. And yet, it all seemed too far off. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted to have never spoken to her. He could barely make out her look of concern as she tilted her head at him. She barely heard her over the sound of his blood rushing to his ears as she called his name.

Baldric, however, stood before him, guarded him against her. The hairs on his back stood tall and his head was low, ready for a fight.

Her eyes looked at both of them. Then looked away in shame. She said something else, but he couldn't make it out. Slowly, he felt his heart rate slow. The blood was not as loud as it once was. His breathing slowed as she kept her distance from them. He finally found the mind to get out of the dirt and stand with her. His hand never leaving the pommel of his blade. He pressed his aura out, cleansing the area of magic. No weaknesses in the vail. No magic was pulled to her when she did it. Makers breath, it-Fuck it really was-

Dragon.

Fire.

Oh, sweet Andraste. He turned to see her looking at her hands and chest as if not knowing what was going on with her own body. He drained her of all magic. "Do it again."

"Majesty, you were frightened the first time. I'd rather not-"

"Do it" he shouted. She can't do it a second time. Not with her magic sapped. Not with him standing there creating a barrier from the fade. She can't.

She did.

Andraste's flaming- use a better phrase. Makers—fuck. When the darkness encroached on him again. He swallowed hard. "Uh," his mind was blank. There's no way. No way. No. uh. She looked at him again. Slow understanding crossed her features. "You know the flame." She said softly. "You've fought a dragon before." Alistair felt his fear rising as it became harder to breathe. "Did you slay it? Did its soul become yours?" He did remember seeing something after the dragon Andraste but it was Wynne. It was her magic, not, whatever she was. Not whatever she spoke of. Her features changed as she looked at him in both fear and curiosity. "Can uh, that is, umm, how, how, how many, umm, of your, ya know, people, can uh, you know, do. That. Exactly."

She looked away for a moment, letting her question die as he blessedly changed the subject. She smirked but paused before giving her answer. "At least six." She stated calmly.

"Oh. Uh, okay. That's, uh, small, right? You're not pausing for dramatic effect to say hundred. Thousand. Right?"

She chuckled softly at his obvious discomfort. "No, your Majesty. Just six."

"Oh. Well-"

She looked him over in concern. "You look like you should sit down."

"I'm fine." He retorted quickly. "I'm good. Uh. Ss-uh."

"King Alistair." He looked at her, her soft smile played on her lips as she was only looking at him. "I do not speak for the King. But I believe that Skyrim would be honored to conduct trade with Ferelden."

It took him a second to connect the dots. "Right. That's why we're here. Right."

"Do you have yue?"

"What?"

"Yue."

"Oh, sheep. Yes." He gave a nervous laugh. "Getting hungry, huh? Bad joke, sorry. Uh, uh yes. Yes, we do. Take whatever you want."

She gave him a doubtfullook. Opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again. "That's not how this works." She looked away like a mother trying to have a hard conversation. "Our greatest trading partner considers us outlaws. Skyrim does not have strong trade. The fact that you're not calling your men for my head, tells me you are an honorable man."

"I am clearly stricken by fear." He chuckled out with a smile to match.

She took two steps towards him, causing him to recoil and flee a step. When she took another, he tripped over the line of her tent and landed on his back again. He could hear her shake her head in shame at him. Baldric took the opportunity to lick at his face as he laid there. King, fallen. Behreated by his dog. Oh, how Maric would love to see this.

She appeared at his side, helping him to sit up. "My King, you have no reason to fear me."

"Let's agree to disagree."

She smiled at him showing her teeth. "You have shown great patience tonight. You have given me your time, for which I am thankful. For that, I wish to help you in any way that I can. And because you are blood of my blood, you shall never fear me." He gave a chuckle at his disbelief. She helped him stand. Alistair could feel his breath escape when she walked to her pack. But his blood pressure went up when she returned with a dagger. His hand went to his pommel, as she reached for his hand, and placed the dagger in it. Using his hand, she placed the tip over her heart and looked him in the eyes. "As I stand here before the gods, this I swear to you, King Alistair. I will never bring harm to you or your people so long as I draw breath. Only those with wickedness in their hearts will fear me."

"So all men then?" He offered a comical smile.

She gave a playfully annoyed look at the king. "This is sacred, do you mind?"

"Sorry." His eyes drawing to the blade in his hand. How easily he could push and kill her.

"We need each other, King. I will not harm you nor forsake you or your people. I would hope that you make the same vow for me and my people. In the event of war, this oath will be nullified until terms of war have been written. Do we have a deal?"

He paused. That's actually…"I don't know if I like the word 'deal'"

She smiled, removing the blade from her chest and holding her hand out. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yea, whatever you want." He shook her hand vigorously. "So how should we celebrate this…victory."

"Uh, I think I have ale and cheese."

"I'll take the cheese."

"Fine choice." She nodded and turned her back to get to her pack. He turned and saw his post just across the clearing. He could run. He could make it. "here." He turned and saw two slices of blue-veined cheese handed to him in one hand and two bottles of…something…in her other hand. He took the cheese. She sat back down by the fire, and pulled the cork off of one of the bottles, drinking deeply.

Alistair stood awkwardly over her. But with a breath of courage, took his seat next to her. He sat there, looking at the cheese in his hand. She noticed his lack of movement, and tore a piece off, eating it to show it wasn't poisoned. Or she was used to the poison. "So," he started, placing the cheese back with her. "Anything else you want? I mean, we discussed sheep. What of, I don't know. Land? Seeds? Throne?"

She smirked as she ate another piece of cheese. "I don't think I would do well on a throne."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short. You have the whole fear thing going. You'll do great."

She was silent as she looked over the grove at the same camp that he wanted to run away to. "If it's any consolation, my people fear me as well." Alistair looked at her because of her tone. Her voice conveyed loneliness. She was the last of her kind. Or, so she thought. Her own people feared her. Thusly, hated her. "Your men," she said, her eyes wandering to the camp, "they are going to kill me in my sleep, aren't they?" She looked at him again. This time, with the wisdom of a thousand betrayals. "The only way I can get to Sovngarde is to die a warrior's death. Will you ask them to give a blade before they kill me?"

"Won't that break our agreement?"

"I'm still mortal. If you bring enough-" She shrugged. "Besides, they'll be following orders. They don't know the situation. I can't fault them for that."

He paused. Actually taking the idea into consideration. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." A silent moment passed as he sighed. "I can tell you're exhausted. But I have one final question."

"Just one?"

"Maybe two." She smiled as she looked into the fire. "Should I awaken tomorrow, do you still want me to travel with you?"

"Let's, uh, let's see what tomorrow brings first. Hmm?"

She gave a chuckle at his lack of an answer. "Finally," she took a deep breath, knowing so much was riding on this question, "IF the agreement stands, will you help me find my way home?"

It was Alistair's turn to gaze into the fire. "If we both live in the morning. If" He was pulled into the fire's light as he mulled over the ideas that will come. "If we do this, will you talk to your King in favor of Ferelden?"

"Aye." She stated, without hesitation.

"If this agreement stands, will you" he looked at her, rubbing his gloved thumb over his lip, "will you be honest in all our trade dealings?"

"Of course."

"And If, emphasizing the 'if' here. If we go to war, whose side will you fight for?"

She reflected the question as she ate another bite of cheese. "I will fight against whoever brought the war to me."

"Meaning?"

"If your men come onto my land with the intent to harm or kill me or my family, you…will see me again."

Alistair took a deep breath. "Got it. So, fun new question. Can I rely on, sorry, where are you from?"

"Skyrim."

"Skyrim. Yes, can I rely on Skyrim for allies?"

"Not for a few years, but if the trade goes well, maybe give my king a daughter, I don't see why not."

"Of course." He smirked. Harder than it looks. He ran a hand down his face as he asked his last question. "So, not to be rude or anything. But what happens when we discover that you're home doesn't exist? What happens then?"

She took a deep breath. This is a question that decided her fate. "You will have my blade then. I can protect you, or you can order me into exile. You could order me into battlefields."

"Just like that." He asked incredulously. "You would serve me?"

"I don't exactly have a lot of employment opportunities here."

"Fair enough. Oh, uh, so how is it you speak our language?"

"Ha?" she asked around a bite of cheese.

"If you're truly from another continent, how are you able to speak our language?"

She looked genuinely confused for a moment. "Are we not speaking Common?"

"Well, I mean, yes, but," he paused, unsure of what she was saying. "How is it we have a different written language but have the same spoken language?"

She thought about it and seemed to reflect only to slowly shrug her shoulders. "Great minds and all that?"

Alistair lowered his brows at her half answer. "Right. Um, right. I'm going to go."

"Good evening, your majesty." She raised to bottle to him in parting as he stood.

Alistair walked about casually, but in a bit of a fog. That's a lot to take in a few short, minutes? Hours? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that she was powerful. Used dragon language for shouting that didn't touch the fade and was willing to trade with her homeland. Wherever that was. Further, she authorized her assassination tonight? Seems odd. She's…odd. Baldric rubbed his muzzle against Alistair's hand either wanting a pet or to help with reflections. She wasn't trying to hurt him. She wasn't a threat. But can she be trusted?

She gave his search a name. She gave his bloodline a name. All the questions that plagued and haunted him, she gave a name for it. Dragon-Blooded. Dragon Emperor. Yet, he didn't feel like a dragon. He didn't want to rule like a Dragon from Tevinter. He wanted to be a good King. A king his father would be proud of. He wanted to…

He wanted to forsake the conversation. He wanted to pretend like it never happened. He wanted her killed so she couldn't tell the others. So she couldn't spill his family secret that the only reason why they have ruled is due to dragons' blood.

As he left the comfort of her campfire, encompassed in the dark once again, he heard the whispering of the calling. He looked at her campfire again and realized he hadn't heard it since he was with her. Either through fear or…her presence? He didn't know. But it was back again.

He made his way back through his camp. A Soldier stood outside his tent as if looking for him with a messager. "Majesty" the messager stated, rising to his feet to meet the king. The knight shoved him back down. Alistair looked at the knight then the messager. "Yes?"

"I have a delivery for you, sir."

The knight shook his head. "Says he has a message for you. Your hands only, your majesty."

Alistair took a breath. Assassination attempts were becoming infrequent, but still a threat. "Let's see it then."

The messager pulled a sealed parchment from his bag and handed it to him. Alistair looked at the paper and forced his aurora around it to check for enchantments. Sensing none, he reached for it. Turning it over, he saw the red seal with a dragon on it. Gwaren.

Alistair took the letter. "Thank you." He fetched a few silver pieces from his purse, passing to the knight to the messager as he entered his tent.

Inside was Tegan awaiting his return looking more stressed than how he left him. But his eyes warmed instantly as he rushed to his side. "Alistair. I was getting worried."

"It's alright, Uncle. We weren't gone that long." He stated, rubbing Baldric on the shoulders.

"How did it go? What did she say?"

Alistair placed the letter on the table and moved to take off his weapons and minor armor. "She said that she would speak to her King in favor of us. For honest and fair trade. Provided we can find her home."

"That doesn't exist." He said under his breath. "Did you at least as her about the things we talked about?"

You mean like how I'm apparently the blood and soul of a dragon. "It was discussed."

"And."

"She doesn't know either. Making her a horrible assassin, or pitiful spy if she can't explain her story."

Tegan gave a nod. "I'll have the men watch her tonight."

"Watch, but do not engage."

He gave a chuff. "She's one woman."

Alistair could feel the heat of her fire on his skin. He's seen what one mindless dragon can do. A sentient one could dismantle all of Thedas. "Do not engage."

He tapped the table in thought. "Maybe a few more to protect you tonight?"

He thought about how that would look. Not only are men watching her, but protecting him as well. He thought about how she would see that. If she saw that she wasn't trusted, she could make a run for it. She needed to be somewhere she would be watched all the time. Somewhere where she couldn't fall into the enemy's hands. She needed to go to Sky Hold. Do some good, and then find her way home. With luck, some reports showing her true character. "Neither. Double the men on patrol tonight."

"Majesty-"

"Double the men on patrol tonight. We don't want to show our hand too soon."

"And what exactly is our hand?"

He paused, looking at Baldric for answers as he already curled up in the bed for the night. "I don't know." Tegan sighed. "But she doesn't know our patrol patterns. She won't know we're doubling men."

There was a silence between the two. "Is this what the Grey Warden was delivering?"

"What?" Alistair turned to see Tegan holding the letter. How did he miss that?

"There was a messager for you, but he was wearing the blue cloak of the Wardens. He said it was for you. Only." He turned the letter over to see the seal and smirked. "Loghain again, I take it." Alistair shrugged. Of course it is. More father-in-law friendly advice on how to do it better because 'when Maric and I' blah blah. "Shall I?"

"Please" Tegan broke the seal in the Fereldan ceremonial tradition of turning away from himself and the king so the letter was to be opened to a part of the room that was not occupied in case of 'magic'. The seal broke and he opened the letter. Turning it back to himself to read. Tegan furrowed his brows. "Man's gone mad."

The king arched his brow. "How so?"

"It doesn't make any sense. There are letters, but no decipherable words. Kdsut ekvy h oesgtoc dspofguvme?"

Alistair feigned confusion as he took the letter from his Uncle. "omei diwsiif, lweiscie jd isseid diwv" he gave a snort at the trial of the words. "If only I had this years ago I could've proved so much."

"Do you want me to take care of it?"

"No, I'll dispose of it. Double the men. I'm going to bed."

Tegan gave a sweeping bow "By your leave, your Majesty." He gave a nod to him as Tegan exited his tent. He overheard Tegan tell the guards that no one was enter and to tell the Captain of the guard to double the men on patrol tonight. Specifically the tree line.

Alistair put the letter on the table as he searched his trunk. Loghain, for all his years, has never used the Grey Warden cipher before. Whatever he was trying to say was meant to be kept secret and somehow knew that Alistair had the cipher. Or hoped. Even though he hated the man, some of his advice was helpful in some situations.

He found the stone that Duncan had given him and one point. A worry rune. Or so he told others. He placed the stone on the paper and watched the letters move across the page to form words.

"King Alistair,

As you may have already guessed, I do not want this information to end up in the wrong hands. But I feel the need to warn you as my King, my son, and my brother.

You've heard it haven't you? The Calling? It's not just you. It's all of us. All of the Grey Wardens across southern Thedas is hearing it. All the Grey Wardens in Orlais fear it. But do not.

I've had to chance to speak to Grey Warden Commander Eridan Kadar in Orlais recently. He can confirm my suspicions of the events that are transpiring as one of his own men knows the monster that lurks in our minds. He said that his man felt succumbed by the calling until the Champion Hawke killed the beast known as Corypheus. That is when the calling stopped for him. But now, this beast has come back.

This Corypheus, or the Elder One, has returned. He is rumored to be one of the original Tevinter Magisters that entered the Golden City. I never much fancied the tales of the Chantry, but this one holds some truth. This monster is tainted, formed by the blight. He can control it somehow. He is the reason for all of this.

I send this to you not as a means of fear, but as a means of protection. Please, your Majesty, though it may go against your desires, be wary of all Grey Wardens that come to you. They are being controlled. Possessed by the fear of the Calling. You cannot trust them. Not now. Not yet. Not until this beast is put down.

I've requested aid from a few sources and will bring this information to the Inquisition. I'm told they are the experts on this sort of thing.

King Alistair, as your subject, I ask that you do not fear this. I ask that you carry on with your duties as is required. I ask that you terry on. I ask that you do not fear this false Calling. I beg that you don't jump headlong into the Deep Roads. Do what you can to drown the noise, but do not be succumbed to it.

I know you will never want to see or hear from me again, especially after the passing of Anora, Maker rest her soul, but I want you to know, you have my blessings. In all that you do. You gave my daughter a life of love and happiness even if it was full of hardship and broken dreams. You made her laugh in a time of sorrow. You gave her the life that I had always dreamed of her. I see Maric in you. I see the wonder that you hold for the people of Fereldan. Our home. I hear of the hope you give to them. You have my blessings in all that you do.

From one father to another, I know Maric would be proud of what you are doing and what you have accomplished. Stay strong. We will get through this. And Maker willing, put that bastard down for good.

Faithfully yours,

Loghain Mac Teir

Senior Grey Warden"

Alistair arched a brow at the paper. He didn't know if he wanted to treasure this or throw it away. The man, who left Duncan to be butchered, was the closest thing he had of a father when Eamon died. This man, who betrayed his entire country, was the voice of reason for Anora. The man who fought to save his country, betrayed his country, is the only one who seems to know what is going on.

He gave a hard sigh. The letter was treason. But he trusted his words. Removing the stone from the page, the letters moved again to cipher the script. Walking to the nearest candle, he set the corner a flame. He watched the scribbles fade as the fire consumed the letter. When it was rendered to ash, he heard the echoing voice scratch at the back of his head again. Stay strong. He told himself. See this through. And if the Dragon Hunter is the way to do it. He will.

XxXxXxXx

Uthreida awoke the next morning. Shocked and somewhat unnerved by the idea of it. Waking. After the evening with the King. His look of fear and shock etched on his face. She was certain she would awaken by Kyne's gates and be forced to fight Tsun again. She had noticed the larger group of men that wondered the camp. She assumed they were meant to look busy, keep an eye on her, and wait for her to retire for the evening. Keeping a sheathed dagger in her hand during the night as if to feign the Gods.

Curiously, she popped her head out of her tent. The men were working on packing up the camp. A quarter of the tents had been torn down as the men were scurrying about preparing for the day's ride.

She assumed she ought to do the same. She dressed, applied her kohl to protect her eyes, and started to tear down her camp, arranging her pack on her back for her journey. She looked at the horse. It grazed on the grass, its saddle left on the log, and ready to be mounted. She grinned looking at it. Red, it's white flash on its muzzle looked like a tankard. Ragnar. She decided. This horse's name will be Ragnar.

Her eyes turned back to the camp.

The King was frightened of her. She should run. Find her own way. But she promised to aid him. Defend him. Trade with him. Her thief training telling her to run, to blend with the people and the shadows will assist her better than any warrior's death. But the honor she tried so hard to earn, was holding her back. Even as an assassin, her word to complete a mission was her life. As a warrior, or one she pretended to be, was her honor.

But would he even accept her at his side for the ride to…Sky something.

She looked at the horse again. The King didn't kill her. He needed her for…something. A dragon, if she had to guess. He needed her to fight. But not necessarily at his side. Walking to the saddle she hefted it off the log.

"My Lady." A voice called to her. Uthreida turned to see a single Thane approach her. She dropped the saddle back onto the log. And so it begins. The Thane grew closer and their voice carried. "My Lady. King Alistair has requested an audience with you." She said.

Uthreida lowered her brows. Does he still want her? In his presence? She was struck dumb for a moment until her eyes returned to the horse. "Ah, umm, aye. I'll uh, I'll be there in a moment."

The woman smiled at her. "We'll be moving soon. I'm sure he would like to have this conversation sooner rather than later. I'll have a Soldier collect your things and prepare your horse for the ride. Please." She held her hand out to Uthreida. Not to take, but to guide.

Unsure of what to do, she did as instructed. The walk through the camp was both quiet and awkward for her. She didn't know if she was walking into a peace talk or to her hanging. If he could catch her. She would side glance the Soldier was walking slightly in front of her. She would occasionally give a conversation to another passing Soldier and instructed two men to collect Uthreida's belongings and prepare the horse and bring it to the King's tent. She appeared to be moving in good favor. Is that why the King chose her to collect her. She, or lack of actually knowing the Soldier, seemed…polite. But was still a Soldier. She came alone. Meaning she, if thought through properly, should be able to take care of herself in a fight.

They came to the tent where another Soldier was guarding the entrance. The woman explained that Uthreida was there under the King's orders and was to enter. The Soldier gave a nod and stood aside for both to enter.

Uthreida followed after the woman, moving the tent flap aside, and entered. King Alistair had a man assisting him with his riding leathers while the other two men from the ride yesterday were accompanied him with parchment for his review, she assumed. The two advisors stopped talking as they entered. The woman gave an odd gesture, fisting her hand to her heart as she bowed her head to them. "Majesty, Teryn, Arl. Lady Uthreida, as requested."

"Thank you, Ser Juliana." The King smirked as he spoke. "How's is the progress so far? On the camp?"

She bowed again as she spoke. "We should be ready to depart in half an hour, your Majesty." Uthreida wondered if she would bow when she spoke to him. Or, salute when he speaks to her. Perhaps one of them, the Jarl and Teryn, would be so kind as to point it out.

"Lovely. We'll depart in a moment so they can tear down the tent and we can be on our way. Thank you, Ser."

The woman saluted again and left the tent and Uthreida alone. With these men. Alone. Uncertain of the situation that was about to transpire. She mimicked what the woman did, by fisting her hand to her heart and bowed her head. The Tyern giving a slight audible nasal laugh followed by the light slap from the Arl to the other. Apparently, she needs to work on that. "You sent for me, your Majesty?"

She could hear the smile in the man's voice as she kept her eyes averted. "I did. Rise." Uthreida stood tall and slowly lifted her eyes back to the men. With the exception of the man that was dressing the King, each wore a kind of smile that was varied from the other. "For fun, what's the formal greeting where you're from?"

Uthreida looked at the three men in question. She was here to be executed and they are asking that? "Generally, we make the symbol of Talos's hammer before greeting."

"Which is?" he asked, looking at the man as he was finishing the last buckle.

Uthreida gave a demonstration, fisting her right hand to her forehead and bowed her head. "Health and Strength. Or the more traditional and less favorable" she moved so that her right hand was open to the ground and held far before her. "Health and Strength."

King Alistair nodded at her actions and waived the man helping him away. "We should get a move on. Long day ahead of us." The two men gave a bow. The Tyern gave the proper salute, his eyes on Uthreida to make sure she understood the movements before departing the tent. Alistair reached for his cowl and made a gesture for her to leave the tent with him in tow. As they exited, it seemed like twelve Soldiers were lined up ready to breach and start looting the King's tent. He walked away as if nothing was happening. The King kept walking towards the edge of the area. Uthreida moved to catch up but seemed more distracted at the Soldiers carrying trunks, boxes, and other articles that belonged to the king and loading them in a cart.

"How did you sleep?" He asked, dragging her attention back to him. She moved to be at his side as his tone indicated a close conversation and not one for yelling at her distance from him. "You seemed distracted this morning. Is everything all right?"

When she looked at his face, she could see it was a passing concern. She gave a polite smile. "Any day I awaken is a good day." He laughed deep his chest in agreeance.

"True enough." He said. Then fell silent as his eyes moved over the hills to the still waters of a lake that had a tower spring out of it. It reminded her of Lake Geir. "I'm not sure what to make of you, my lady." He said as if drifting in and out of a dream. "You are by far the most interesting, yet fearsome person I've had the pleasure of meeting. Yet, I'm not entirely sure of your intentions."

She looked over the landscape with him. It all seemed so familiar, and yet, all so different. "My intentions are to return home, your majesty. And hope to bring trade to our two peoples, as promised."

"You are aware it will take time. I've never heard of your land as you've never heard of ours."

She nodded slowly. "I know, my king."

"Until we can come to a result, I'd like for you to reside with the Inquisition. Aid them in any way that you can."

Uthreida furrowed her brows at the comment. So many open possibilities for a king in that one statement. "And how will I aid them, King?"

"Well, dragons for starters."

"And."

He paused, drawing his eyes away from the scenery to look at her. "I'm not expecting reports if that's what you're asking." She looked confused for a moment. She didn't know what he was playing at or why. She didn't understand the full context of his statement. In Skyrim, the backward talk was at least slightly visible. He smirked. "You promised to protect my people. Do that by helping the Inquisition."

"Which will help you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He gave a slight chuff as the sound of falling lumber made her jump. She turned to see his tent had been torn down as the men were folding the fabric for cargo. "The enemy they face is no friend to any nation. I intend to give them the authority to do as they see fit within the parameters of their purpose. Besides, it's a better place for you to learn our customs and culture than on your own. You'd be safe there. Protected by these who, forgive me, who would see a naive woman. Which is why I can't take you to court." He turned back to the lake and asked herself what in Oblivion did she just sign up for? "Though," he paused, a slight smile in his tone. "You might want to keep your powers as much of a secret as you can." She bobbed her head in a grudging agreement. The truth was truth no matter how it's said. "They may not take to it as kindly as I did."

The silent smirk curled at her lips as she remembered the fear and venom from last night. "I've never been luckier than to be in the presence of a Dragon Emperor."

"Yeah, probably best not to tell anyone about that too. You know, just in case."

She saw the feigned playful jests and nodded. "They are not welcomed here, I take it?"

"Makes us look bad. More sinister, I guess." He made a face of feigned pain as he spoke.

She nodded. "They are both beloved and feared in my land too. I shall carry your secret to my grave, my king."

"Thank you." he said with a nod.

She smiled at the idea. "I could teach you if you like. The shouts."

"No," he said quickly to shoot it down. "It's fine. Really. It's alright."

She had to laugh at his quick rejection. She sighed, her eyes on the still waters of the lake. "Will you help me find my home?"

He nodded once. "Is that really all you want?"

A slight tinge of sorrow filled her as she looked at the land. "Isn't that all anyone ever wants? To go home again?"