"Now the battle awaits us. Na via lerno Victoria. 'Only the living know victory.' Fight well." –Fenris, Companion of the Champion of Kirkwall, the Blue Wraith.

The count-down has begun, the end of childhood innocence and safety was dawning.

10

~ Giles' Office, Lowever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

Giles knew about the Grey Wardens arrival before they hit the Market.

"They are the herald of what's coming, Giles," Kenna's voice echoed in the back of his mind as he spread out everything the Birds in Amaranthine was able to report across his desk.

Because he knew, he finally knew who was going to betray the Couslands, who was going to kill his Boss' parents, because Arl Howe was arriving that day with either his forces or word about them.

Howe was the only one that could move such a force towards Highever without any of the Birds raising an eyebrow in interest because he was expected, he was too be welcomed as a friend, because he was meant to be riding with Highever's forces to Ostagar.

"Fuck, fuck," Giles cursed as he scanned short messages about letters being sent to the nobles sworn to the Arl, of closed-door meetings, all with new and perhaps more jaded eyes.

He had brushed it off, wrote it off as the Arl preparing for the Blight and the King's call to arms, because that was what he was meant to be doing.

He had been wrong.

"Benji! You little brat! I need you!" he shouted as he slapped down the map of Highever, trying to predict how Howe would get his forces in if he tried to pass them off as delayed so he wouldn't have to march off with Fergus—who was hoping to march out shortly after noon, and the Teyrn wouldn't delay him, would want to get his forces to Ostagar as fast as possible, to fulfil his duty to the crown.

Not the Eastern Gate, they would expect his forces to use that gate, maybe the Southern? But that usually had more traffic going in, which could be a bonus—it would let them blend in, wouldn't it?

Maybe the Western Gate? Closer to the Castle, but more well-guarded for that reason, and it was a smaller gate.

"Giles?" Benji stopped in the door, eyes glancing from the cot tucked up against the wall with the blankets half-kicked off, to the mess of papers sprawled all over his desk, to Giles hunched over said desk wearing only trousers that were still untied and a loose sleeping tunic.

"Code Grey," Giles informed him grimly without looking up, his lips twisted in a snarl—how did he miss this? "Get the word out, I want people ready to move down here immediately after dinner, understand?"

Benji's eyes hardened, hand twitching towards where he tucked one of his daggers before he stilled himself and smiled, sharp and cold.

"I'll get right on that, Bossman," Benji told him before he left with a swirl of dark curls and a flare of his dark jacket.

"And someone get me the fucking twins!" Giles shouted out after him, pale blue eyes hard as he began to plan.

He needed numbers, he needed something more iron-clad.

"He won't believe us, he won't believe me," Kenna's hitching voice echoed in his mind, "and they will kill him because of it."

"Fuck," Giles punched at his desk, knuckles protesting and red.

9

~ Fergus' Room, Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

"I'll miss you, my love," Oriana confessed into his neck, holding him as tightly as she could, uncaring of the armour he was still in the middle of donning.

"I'll come back," Fergus promised easily, because Kenna had said he would, and he trusted her, he believed her. "Just be here when I do."

"Where would I go?" she asked, a light laugh as she looked up at him with bright dark coloured eyes. "When I know you will come back for me?"

Fergus kissed her, one hand tangling with her dark auburn braids.

"I can't see her future," Kenna confessed once.

And Fergus had shrugged off the unease of that confession—the fear, the frustration, had been clear in her mismatched eyes, he hadn't wanted to make it worst—but it had suddenly took hold of him again, the sudden fear the gripped him as he kissed his wife harder, deeper, trying to imprint her deep in his memory like this was the last time he'd ever hold her, would ever smell the citrus of her perfume, the taste of her lips, tell her how much he loved her.

"I love you," he told her with his lips hovering over hers, brushing against hers with each word of his declaration of love.

He wasn't the one that knew the future, he was just being silly, foolish—she would be fine, she had to be fine.

"I love you too," she told him easily, loving, before she pulled out of his arms, smiling that sweet smile she always gave him.

"Let's finish getting you ready, si?" she asked as she stepped back.

And Fergus nodded, pushing his fear and nerves to the back of his mind.

8

~ Courtyard, Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

"Duncan!" Bryce called out warmly, his face surprised as he watched the four Grey Wardens—or at least two Wardens and their two recruits—get off the two horses. "I wasn't expecting to see you until I got to Ostagar."

"I wanted to get one more recruitment trip in while I still could," Duncan told him, a hint of a smile curling his lips as the robed mage behind him took wobbly steps under the amused amber cat-like eyes of the elven Warden—it was obvious to Bryce's eyes that the mage was still getting the hang of riding a horse. "We believe the next battle will be the hardest."

"And you decided to come all the way to Highever to recruit someone?" Bryce questioned curiously. "That person must impressed you greatly."

"There a certainly a lot of rumours," Duncan agreed calmly, noncommittal to Bryce's unspoken question. "I hope you don't mind putting us up? Arian isn't in the best health at the moment," he glanced over his shoulder to where the Dalish recruit was resting his head against the neck of the mare he had rode in on with the elven Warden.

"Of course not, Duncan," Bryce waved over one of the servants, "you know the Grey Wardens can always find shelter under my roof—though I hope you won't mind meeting me in the main hall? Arl Howe is supposed to arrive with his forces at any moment, and I think we'd both appreciate more recent news about what's happening at Ostagar."

"It would be my pleasure," Duncan bowed his head slightly before glancing towards the mage, "I hope you don't mind if I bring Ciarron with me? Arian needs his rest, and Sirena doesn't have much patience for nobles, I'm afraid."

Bryce glanced at the red-head elf, she offered him a fanged grin as she played crutch for the Dalish as the stable-hand took the horse to the stables.

The look she wore spoke volumes to Bryce.

"It's probably best not to introduce her to Rendon before its truly necessary," Bryce agreed making Duncan smile with some amusement.

7

~ Ravencrest, Highever Harbour, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

"Are you brooding again?" Art asked as he leaned next to him near the bow of his ship.

"Perhaps," Bran allowed his lips twitch up in a smile, amused by the amount of resigned affection Art could pack into his words.

"At least tell me it's not because of a certain golden King again," Art groaned, an undertone of worry clear to Bran's ear—his cousin hadn't been pleased by Bran's relationship with Cailan, had informed him it would end badly when he first found out, but didn't say another word against it, didn't even say 'I told you so' when Bran left Denerim a week after Cailan was crowned and the date was set for his marriage to Lady Anora.

"No," Bran shook his head as he leaned more on his forearms and gazed down at the bustle of the harbour, idly wondering when he would next see it—"you'll give up the sea for us," Kenna had told him, eyes boring into his.. "You remember the plan?"

"You mean the plan based on the unlikely event that the bells will ring because of an attack?" Art questioned, still as doubtful as he was when Bran first laid out his plan several months ago. "Yes, but I really don't understand. Do you really think someone is going to attack? Now? When there is a Blight meant to be going on?"

Bran paused, letting Art see him consider it.

He thought of Kenna, of her eyes looking older then her face, the weight to her words, the completely and unshakeable certainty in her tone.

He thought of day after day of watching her train, of hands blistering and bleeding, of hands that still seemed so small being so rough from sword callouses.

He thought about muffled cries in the middle of the night, of a Shadow slipping through her bedroom door, of white braids pulled back roughly as large grey hands paged through dozens of books, of bruises under dual coloured eyes, of the protective steadiness in pale green eyes, of sun-kissed hair pushed back in a wild mess as the spymaster stalked through the halls.

"Yes," he almost breathed out that damning word filled with horrible conviction, "yes, I do."

Art was silent, his stormy eyes watchful as he scanned Bran's face, before nodding shortly.

"We'll be ready," Art promised as he clapped his shoulder. "Though you should going, won't Arl Howe be here soon?"

"Don't remind me," Bran grimaced, still remembering all the times the Arl had attempted to convince him of his daughter's value as his future wife.

Briefly his mind turned to his sister's other words; of sky-blue eyes and hands bloodied because of compassion, of a man he was meant to love like he had loved Cailan, perhaps even more.

He would never have a wife despite what the Arl thought.

6

~ Main Hall, Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

Caitlyn adjusted her skirt as she stood beside her father as they awaited Arl Howe to enter the hall, hopefully with the news that his army was ready to set off to Ostagar and not delayed—again.

Rosina stood just behind her and to the side, alone as Davia didn't do social things if she could help it, and Alouette had already departed for Denerim—Cait still wasn't sure it that was a good thing or not, that Kenna had insisted so much that Alouette was needed in Denerim, and away from Cait's side for the first time since she had come into her employment.

She almost felt unbalanced without Alouette behind her with her sharp dark eyes and practised smile, and she honestly didn't know how Kenna would cope without either Asaaranda or Giles by her side when they left—at least she would still have Lileas and Shadow, Caitlyn supposed, and then almost cringed at the thought because Lileas and Shadow just took in stride whatever Kenna did and wouldn't think twice about following her as she did something stupid.

Cait clasped her hands in front of her, allowing her to discreetly rub the hand of her ring to calm herself—it had been a method she had become accustomed to using since the Blight had been announced, and a steady pulse of panic and terror began to haunt her daily life as the day that Fergus was leaving came ever closer.

Time was running out, Caitlyn was well aware of that, and she knew the 'end' was coming closer.

Fergus was leaving today, marching off to war against monsters, and without him there, present and reassuringly there, well, they were well aware of what was going to happen with Fergus gone—even if they wished not to know, even if Cait sometimes wondered if it would have been better to live with ignorance.

(Truthfully, Caitlyn would have never chosen to remained ignorant.

Ignorance had never been a choice when it came to Cait, she always wanted to know, wanted to learn the answer, was never content with what she already knew. It was what made her the apple of Aldous' eye, because at the heart of her and despite all her scheming, she was a scholar.

And ignorance wouldn't have saved them, it would have just made things worse and she knew that.

It would have made things cut deeper, Caitlyn had had twelve years to prepare herself for what she was coming, and there was still days she didn't think she was truly prepared.)

"Rendon!" Father called out with an almost joyous smile, and Caitlyn quickly donned her own smile—pretty, practised, and hiding all signs of distain for the man that sired one of her dearest friend and hit her when she refused to make herself miserably by bowing down to his own ambitions and desires.

"Arl Howe," Caitlyn bowed her head in a greeting, lifting her skirt as she bent her knees slightly in the shortest curtesy she could give while remaining polite. "Welcome back to Highever."

5

~ Kitchen, Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

Nan leaned against one of the wooden tables covered with things for lunch and dinner, her arms crossed over her chest as she listened to the clamour of her fellow servants.

"You can't be serious—"

"I have lunch to get on the table and then dinner—"

"We have duties—"

"Guests—"

"Why should we—"

She met Ser Kenneth's equally unimpressed gaze across the kitchen for a moment before she stepped forward.

"Enough!" she finally snapped, her voice raising above the clamour and silencing the lot of them before she pinned the boy in front of her with dark eyes.

Benji blinked back calmly, all dark curls and sea eyes, a spine of steel and diamond hard loyalty that was a trademark of the Little Birds that the Brat and Lady Kenna had gathered around them.

"Is the Brat asking or telling?" she finally asked when she was convinced that the others would hold their tongues—for now at least.

"Telling, very much telling," Benji informed her with a rather cheerful chirp to his tone.

There was some unhappy grumbling at that.

"And if I asked Lady Kenna about this sudden order?" Nan asked after silencing the lot with a hard glare.

"She would definitely be ordering," Benji decided after a moment making Nan nod thoughtfully as she shared a glance with Ser Kenneth.

"You can't be seriously considering this, Nan," Aldous said with disbelief.

"Lady Kenna is trouble," Nan said with pursed lips, "I would never say otherwise, but she wouldn't ask this of us if it wasn't serious."

"But she's not asking," someone piped up.

"But Giles is," Ser Kenneth shifted on one of the barrels that he was using as a chair, his voice rumbling out, "and that is basically the same thing."

"Do we have enough food?" Nan ignored the others as she stared at Benji, focusing more on the important things then their inconvenient feelings.

"Lady Caitlyn has made sure we have enough to last us almost two years without severe rationing," Benji informed her making Aldous start in surprise.

"Lady Caitlyn is involved in this?" the sage asked, with the surprise clear in his tone and a more considering light to his eyes.

"Lady Caitlyn is very aware of what goes on in Lowever," Benji said agreeably making Nan bit back a smirk—clever brat, just like most of the Birds in Nan's experience.

There was mutterings, considering now that Lady Caitlyn's name was added to this order.

"Right, you lot," Nan called out sternly as she moved to stand beside the clever little brat and let her stare down the gathering servants—fellow servants she had put the fear of the Maker in several times over the years she had worked with them.

"The Castle has guests—Howe, Grey Wardens and the Teyrna's friends—and we have our duties, which we will complete," she reassured them, commanded them, "however, we are going to have to be ready to move down to Lowever after dinner, which means we have to careful, keep up with our duties, and only ready things that are necessary—we don't have to worry about food, which is good for us and save us time."

She paused to survey the lot, from the lowest servant to the cooks, from Aldous and Jonas to Ser Kenneth.

"Those with light duties, you lot will be focused of getting everything of importance—things that can't be replaced, things that can't fall into enemy hands, priceless bits of history—down in Lowever—and that means only some of your books, Jonas.

Someone get a Sleeping Draught from Lady Caitlyn's workroom, we'll need that to stop the children causing a fuss—that Lady Landra could probably do with some," she paused for a moment, "and probably one for the hounds—Lady Kenna would pout horribly if something happened to the mutts if we just left them in the kennels."

There was a long moment of silence as some of the servants fidgeted and muttered amongst themselves.

"What are you lot standing around?" Nan glared heavily with her hands on her hips, "you have your orders, now get to it!"

There was a lot of movement then as they did as Nan had ordered.

"This has something to do with her dreams, doesn't?" Nan asked Benji in an undertone making him blink up at her, all falsely innocent.

"I couldn't say," he demurred, looking up through his dark lashes.

No, he probably couldn't, Nan figured.

She doubted anyone outside that core group Kenna had built around her knew for sure, but she was also certain that Benji had put the pieces together—like Nan had, like Ser Kenneth had—because he was a clever little brat, because he like the others—all the Little Birds that swore themselves to Kenna and wore her symbol somewhere on their body—had taken to the lessons he had been given and ran with them.

"You probably should round up some of the stronger Birds," she informed him, "Jonas will try his best to save as many damn books he can."

Benji inclined his head in agreement before he slid out the door on quiet feet, leaving Nan to keep a stern eye on everyone.

4

~ The Market, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

Souren walked with unsteady steps, her quarter-staff in her right hand and tapping at the ground and tripped into the chest of a passing man with a 'surprised' yelp, feeling the armour he had hidden under his cloak as she 'tried' to scramble up.

"What the—"

"I am so sorry," she twisted, staring blankly up towards his face making him cut off his words with a curse. "I didn't mean too, I'm so sorry—"

"Souren!" Itha called out as she rushed forward, reaching out for Souren's arm as she turned to the man with an apologetic look on her face, "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," the man—the soldier, the enemy—informed her gruffly.

"I looked away for one moment," Itha continued rapidly with an apologetic tone.

"Really, it's fine," he insisted as he glanced around at the attention they were gathering, adjusting his cloak quickly so it was once again covering his chest-plate, "didn't even hurt."

"I'm still getting the hang of using a cane," Souren added mournfully as she twisted the staff in her hand.

They continued on with the act as the soldier became more uncomfortable and other men began to cast him unhappy look for drawing attention.

Neither the soldier caught up with the twins' plan nor his fellows were aware of the eyes watching them sharply, picking out his allies while a young elf had already dashed down to Lowever after catching the crest of Amaranthine on the soldier's chest-plate—Giles would needed to informed after all.

3

~ Guest Quarters, Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

"Duncan should have sent you off to Ostagar ahead of us," Sirena mused as she carefully sharpened her blades near the cracked open door, hearing more attuned to what was happening outside the room than to the pained breathing of the Dalish on one of the beds. "You look like you'll die before we even leave this place."

"Your concern for me is overwhelming," Arian grunted as he untied the leather braces around his wrists with shaky fingers, grimacing at the darkening of his veins that were spreading further up his arms.

"I'm just telling it like I see it," Sirena shrugged idly, ear twitching as she heard rapid steps in the hallway and a door being opened almost forcibly nearby, "I don't want your dead weight suddenly collapsing on me when we leave."

"Jonas wants more trunks," a soft voice whispered just in the range of Sirena's hearing and the rhythm of her whetstone against her blade slowed.

"He can't take the whole library!" another voice exclaimed making the first voice shush them sharply. "What part of discreet doesn't he understand?"

"You know what he's like when it comes to his books," the first voice sighed, "just help me with this trunk."

"Shall I try to fall off the horse while dying?" Arian asked dryly making her flash him a somewhat distracted grin.

"If you would be so kind," she informed him making he give her a look.

She just flashed him another grin before she returned most of her attention back to her whetstone, the grin dropping when she no longer felt his dark eyes on her.

Something was rotten in Highever, she mused to herself.

And the Wardens had walked right into it without a clue.

Well, let's hope I don't have to cause another massacre, Sirena thought as she tried the razor-sharp edge of her dagger with her finger, smiling at the ruby red droplet of blood welling up.

Even if it did end up in a bloodbath, she had already proven she could handle herself and survive against the odds.

She glanced up through her dark red fringe, taking in the milky-tea like pallor of Arian's skin, the sheen of sweat on his brow, the deeper pained breathing because of the poison burning through his veins, the spreading and darkening veins of his wrists, all things that spoke of liability, things that made part of her—the part of her that survived in the Alienage, survived the massacre, survived thieving from the wealthy humans—want to leave him to his fate when the shitstorm hit.

But she also took in the ease, the confidence, in his movements with the sword he wore, the sped he had fired arrows during their travel here.

He was ill, yes, he was dying slowly, but he was more skilled than Soris had ever been, had actual armour, and the rush of battle can make the body forget many things like dying.

He would be useful, he knew how to fight, and as long as he could keep up with her, he would survive—hopefully long enough to go through the Joining, perhaps even survive it.

2

~ Cousland Castle, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

Kenna was doing her best to avoid the Main Hall where she knew that Arl Howe was.

(Honestly, Kenna hadn't met a noble that she disliked more, and she knew Hebren Bryland—the most spoiled insufferable little brat this side of the Waking Sea.)

She may have felt a bit guilty for leaving Cait to deal with him, but really, it was for the best that she avoided him for as long as possible—he completely blamed Thomas' refusal to think about marrying Caitlyn and his threats of eloping with her solely on her, like it was somehow her fault that his son didn't want to marry Caitlyn or any of the other pretty noble daughters Arl tried to nudge him towards.

(Kenna still didn't know what to think about the fact that Thomas had given her the best proposal she had ever received and had decided to ignore it all for as long as possible.)

But of course, someone had to decide to step in and send her towards the man she was avoiding, and of course it was her Mother surrounded by Lady Landra, her son and her handmaiden.

Probably because Mother wanted to introduce Caitlyn to Darrien, hoping to nudge them towards marriage, again, despite Kenna informing every hopeful suitor that came crawling that Cait wasn't going to marry him, that she was going to marry someone that treated like a Queen—was going to make her a Queen—and that wasn't him.

Mother had scowled at Kenna when she had opened her mouth to deliver her normal speech towards Darrien about how he would never win the hand of Caitlyn, that he wasn't good enough for her, that he wasn't the one, and to give up now before he made a fool out of himself, and she grudgingly closed her mouth and walked to the Main Hall with Lileas at her side and Shadow at her back.

1

~ Main Hall, Castle Cousland, Highever, 15th Justinian 9:31 Dragon ~

The doors of either side of the Hall opened instead of just one, making Cait look behind her in surprise as her younger sister stepped in flanked by Lileas and followed by Shadow with a hint of a pouty scowl on her face.

"Cait," she called, completely blanking the people entering the room as she focused on her sister, "Mother wants you—"

Kenna stopped in her tracks, eyes widening and focusing over Caitlyn's shoulder as she paled.

"You…" Kenna trailed off, horror and shock mingling together, and Cait turned, eyes widening as she stared at the sky-blue eyed mage next to the Warden Commander.

"Grey Wardens, here!" Arl Howe spoke up, voice higher in shock and something flashed across his face as he stared at them, "I wasn't prepared for this….honour. You should have told me, Bryce."

"They arrived just before you, Rendon," Bryce chuckled, ignorant to the horror and shock on each of his daughters' face as they stared at the mage recruit.

Caitlyn locked her knees as her ears began to ring as she stared numbly at the mage, at the Grey Warden beside him, as she took deep breathes to stop herself from being sick.

"Spitfire? What did your mother want?" Bryce's voice broke through the fog, allowed Caitlyn to think.

"She wants to introduce Cait to Darrien," Kenna spoke woodenly, gaze dragging away from the mage slowly as Cait's blue gaze darted to Arl Howe, to her father's friend, with horror-struck realisation.

He wasn't here to help them, wasn't here to march beside her father and brother to war, he was here to betray and kill them.

"Father?" Caitlyn's voice sounded strange to her own ears, "can we speak before dinner?"

She could feel her father's concerned and sharp gaze on the side of her face.

"After Fergus has left," he promised, and Caitlyn nodded, feeling sick, "you should go, this meeting doesn't involve you, and—Cait? You look a bit unwell, perhaps you should lay down."

"Perhaps, I will," Caitlyn nodded as she turned towards her sister, seeing the dawning realisation in her dual coloured eyes that darted in rage towards Howe, of her hands reaching for a blade she luckily wasn't wearing before Lileas' hand clamped down on her wrist with a slightly panicked look, "come, Kenna."

"But—"

"Now," Cait put more force in her tone as she hurried with Rosina towards her sister.

Betrayal and War had entered through their doors.

Author's Note: This chapter just didn't want to be written, I hope you like it, and I'm always happy for feed-back.