CHAPTER 1

..x..

Loghain leaned back in his chair, gently swaying the red wine inside a chalice while gazing at it with disdain, his reflection staring back at him. He was still not used to all the flourish of nobility, even after thirty years of involving himself in politics. He missed the farmlands and wondered how simple life would have been if the Orlesian Empire hadn't occupied the country so long ago. Perhaps he'd be just some nobody still. A man whose name meant nothing when compared to what he'd become after helping the then Prince Maric reclaim his throne. It was strange to ponder now. Sitting in what was once his best friend's chair.

A knock drew his attention away from his musings. "Enter."

The door opened and in came Hawe, his hawkish features twisted with worry. "My lord, I bring news."

"Speak, then."

He shifted nervously under his severe stare. "The darkspawn are advancing. We have lost many minor villages and farmlands to their raids. I fear that... with the civil war, we might not have enough manpower to battle their numbers. Perhaps we should—"

"Father!"

A blonde woman clad in a fine, purple dress barged into the room, stalking her way towards Loghain and pinning him with a glare. "My people are dying out there. Shouldn't we be fighting the Blight instead of each other?"

Loghain took a drink, then calmly regarded his daughter. "We must bring the nobility into line first and then we may gather our forces to replace those lost at Ostagar." He shook his head, waving her off. "This is no true Blight, Anora. Only Cailan's vanity demanded it be so."

She sighed, a frown over her youthful features. "Father, Ferelden cannot face this crisis alone. Cailan was right. We should seek Orlesian aid."

"No!" He slammed a fist down onto the chair's arm, startling the two standing in the room. "Maric and I drove those bastards out from our lands, and we will not roll out the welcome mat for them now! Ferelden will stand on her own!"

The queen's hands closed into fists. She didn't want to believe it, but there were dark whispers in the halls that spoke of betrayal. Of her father's inaction during a battle that could have held back the darkspawn threat, yet killed her husband instead. "Father…" Anora cast upon him a hard look, quiet anger in her blue eyes. "Did you kill Cailan?"

He averted his stare from her, his expression unreadable. "Cailan's death was his own doing..."

His response drew a suspicious look from her and she angrily threw her arms up before stalking out of the room. An uncomfortable Howe watched her go before stepping up to ensure no one was listening, shutting it upon seeing the hall was clear. He warily regarded the teyrn, who rose to his feet and headed for a nearby table to pour himself more wine. "There is also the matter of the surviving Grey Wardens," Howe spoke, drawing his attention as he gestured towards the open window where the wind picked up the drapes. "I have taken the liberty to arrange a solution… with your leave of course."

A cloaked figure stepped out from behind the curtains, a smirk over a sun-kissed face as he bowed deeply to Loghain. His velvet voice carried a chilling tone, as sharp and smooth as the edge of the two daggers he carried. "The Crows send their regards, Your Lordship."

Loghain scowled at his right-hand man. "You hired an assassin?"

He nodded slowly, gaze downcast in a gesture of submission. "By our recent reports, the Grey Wardens have proven to be resilient. Conventional means will not suffice and this man can be discreet."

Ferelden's regent sighed tiredly and turned to the fireplace behind him, resting a heavy arm over the mantle. He gave his head a shake, shoulders slumped as he looked upon the flames. "Just get it done..."

The Crow bowed again, the smile spreading further into a wicked grin. "As you wish…" He whirled about, his cloak flowing with the motion while cat-like strides took him to the window. In one leap, he left, disappearing in the same way he came.

Seeing Loghain's back was still turned to him, Howe looked towards the flowing curtains. And his lips curled into a sneer of his own.

.x.x.x.x.

Horses galloped over gravel and rock as the Grey Wardens and their party traveled further up through the Hinterlands and along the King's Highway. They were heading northeast, with Denerim, Ferelden's royal capital, as their destination. It all seemed peaceful, with the occasional shack or village at the roadside. Everil would have found the scenery relaxing were it not for the danger still looming over it.

Seeing the beauty of the Fereldan landscape only made her realize just how fragile it all was, something she hadn't thought about before the Blight began. It was nearly embarrassing to her how sheltered she once was in comparison to the others around her. However, despite her lack of personal experiences outside the castle walls, she felt her parents' constant lectures and her brother's training were becoming quite useful lately. A sigh escaped her at the thought of them, the familiar ache returning to her chest. It had been close to three months now since her family perished at the hands of Howe. And yet, it all still felt fresh every time she remembered their faces.

Suddenly, dark voices rudely interrupted her silent reverie, prompting her to quickly raise her hand and halt the group trailing behind her She focused on the wicked whispers, understanding not a word, yet knowing exactly what they meant. Her head spun in the direction from where they beckoned her, sensing their evil through the thicket of trees at the edge of the Highway.

And she was moving, sliding off her saddle while Alistair followed suit next to her. They drew their weapons, walking with purpose as they answered the call of the taint. The others in their party didn't need to be told what was happening, their caution giving them all the information they needed. They simply dismounted and went after the pair, heading into the woods with them.

Distant growls echoed into their ears from beyond the bushes as they edged closer, spotting a large group of hurlocks and genlocks currently camping out in the field. A rotten stench saturated the area, worsened by the gruesome sight of the creatures bickering over the dismembered remains of several dead travelers. The victims appeared to have been part of a small caravan, their belongings scattered about along with their corpses.

"Another group that came out of the ground…" Alistair muttered next to her as they both took cover behind the thick greens.

"Quite a few of them too… I say we make them regret ever coming out." She reached for her bow and drew an arrow, before signaling for the others to come closer. Then her eyes shifted from one to the next as she laid out her commands. "Morrigan, I want you to set one of them aflame and create a distraction. Leliana, you and I will flank them from opposite sides. Take out as many as you can with your arrows. Alistair, Sten, and Bjorn can then charge in and take out the rest. Wynne, stand by and provide support if necessary."

They split up to their respective positions. Leliana snuck around the enemy camp, as Everil did the same, remaining hidden behind the foliage. As the two took aim, one of the genlocks by the campfire suddenly combusted. It screeched in agony, dropping the severed arm it had been chewing on and scrambling to put itself out. The darkspawn around it simply watched it run in circles, amused by their brother's pain as it burned alive.

Taking the opportunity, Everil and Leliana began to pick off those that were distracted, their arrows piercing through heads and chests. When the darkspawn finally noticed they were under attack, nearly half their numbers had already been downed. They released enraged cries, drawing their weapons when the muscle of the party charged. Alistair promptly rammed his shield against the first hurlock, destroying its balance before running it through. Sten swung his greatsword, slicing several creatures in half as Bjorn tackled one nearby and tore off its throat.

They were dead in minutes, their tainted blood seeping into the dirt and mixing with the crimson color of that of their victims. Everil frowned angrily at the corpses of innocents littering the ground, shaking her head while putting away her bow. She walked up to the others as they gathered in the middle of the massacre, speaking quietly."Let's pick up anything of use."

Again, they split up, each one taking a corner of the destroyed camp. "I wonder where these people were going." Leliana knelt next to one of the bodies, gathering the bit of coin still in its pockets.

"They seem to have been going to Redcliffe," Wynne said while flipping through the pages of the journal she'd found. She reached the last entry, surprised over her aging face. "They were running from the civil war—Maker, there's a civil war now?"

"Yes. Against Loghain's rule," Alistair answered for her.

Morrigan let out a cynical laugh at this, hands on her hips. "My, but humans are a curious bunch. Death by darkspawn just isn't enough, it seems."

"They didn't know about what was happening in Redcliffe before we helped save it," said Everil, sighing sadly. "They would've just walked into even more misery. Still, running into darkspawn was a worse fate…"

A hand on her shoulder drew her gaze to Alistair's solemn expression, her heart skipping a beat upon seeing him standing so close. "No use dwelling on that now. We should probably keep moving before wolves come to pick at what's left."

She nodded slowly, then shifted her attention to the others. "All right. Let's go, everyone."

.x.x.x.x.

Hours passed as they traveled further along the dirt road, not once seeing another soul in their path. They were eventually forced to camp out in the wilderness once more, with only moments before sunset. Having horses meant finding water, so it took them longer than usual to spot a suitable place to rest. Thankfully, they'd stumbled upon a flowing river, which Everil was now using to bathe while taking her hound to keep watch.

Alistair let out a small huff, feeling somewhat envious of the dog as he stared at their campfire, a bladder of wine in one hand and a triangle of cheese in the other. His mind drifted, recalling their kiss while a content smile spread over his face at the memory.

"You look like an idiot smiling at nothing."

He turned his head to Morrigan, who was staring at him while standing nearby.

"You're just angry because I happen to be in a good mood," he responded with a smirk, attempting to play off her insult. "What do you want, anyway? Did you get bored over in your dark corner and decide to come ruin my night?"

"I simply came to ask you about something I find rather troubling." The fire reflected over her yellow stare, its light allowing him to see her irritation.

"Heh... I thought it was impossible for you to be bothered by anything. You know, since you're always so nice and friendly."

"Tell me, Alistair…" Morrigan ignored his comment, folding her arms while watching him take a drink. "Is fraternizing allowed in the Grey Wardens?"

He spat out the wine and coughed.

A smirk formed on her lips. "I thought as much..."

Alistair wiped his mouth, heat rising to his face. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please... Did you truly believe I would not notice the change between the two of you? I see the way you look at her now—with eyes similar to those of a lost puppy, begging to be petted." Her nose curled in revulsion. "And she welcomes this, for some reason… Are you two courting each other, yes or no?"

"None of your business," he mumbled, looking away from that penetrating glare while finishing the cheese in one big bite. He gulped wine to wash it down and again wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hmph…" Morrigan arrogantly lifted her chin. "As a Grey Warden, you have the fate of all of Ferelden—my home included—in your pathetic hands. I would say 'tis my business to know if you are truly committed to your cause. For instance, what would you do if a situation were to arise in which you are forced to choose between ending the Blight and the woman you love? Would you sacrifice your love for humanity's sake? Or would you instead make the selfish decision of safekeeping your future together?"

His brow furrowed, suddenly feeling nervous under her scrutiny. "D-Don't be ridiculous. That sort of thing would never happen."

"Anything can and will happen in this war, Alistair. 'Tis something you should consider carefully." She put on a pleased smirk before stepping over to their supply of food. Lithe fingers wrapped around a red apple left on their bag before she spun about and walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.

A scowl fell over his features as he watched her stroll towards her secluded corner, casually taking a bite from that fruit. Did she come all this way just to tell me that? He inwardly cursed the witch, wondering why it was she found it so amusing to torture him.

He hadn't thought that being with Everil would ever hurt anything, but Grey Wardens were expected to sacrifice it all against the darkspawn. Which meant there was a real possibility that their relationship could be affected. Either one of them could die on this journey or be forced to make a difficult decision that may ultimately tear them apart—one which could very well make or break their chances of success against the Blight.

Just as that thought crossed his mind the object of his affections returned to camp, long hair dripping wet from her bath. Everil quickly sought the heat of the fire, lowering herself to the ground next to him. Bjorn sat beside her, also a bit damp from having been washed off of darkspawn blood. The dog placed his head on her lap, relishing the heat of the fire and the proximity of his charge.

"Ah, it's so good not to smell of dirt and sweat," she commented while attempting to warm her bare hands.

Alistair's apprehensive eyes went to her. Should he end it before things get too serious between them? Perhaps he should cut it short, save them both from possible heartache. They could go back to being just friends, helping each other through tough times. Only comrades in arms off in an impossible quest to save the world. Maker, but that would be easier said than done. What should I do…?

Everil visibly shuddered, and he saw then that her once pink lips were turning pale. His pensive expression turned to concern and he mentally kicked himself for not noticing sooner. "Cold?"

She glanced at him. "Yes. The river was much colder than I anticipated."

"Uhm... Here…" Alistair timidly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to him. She seemed to stiffen a little at first but released a content sigh when his body heat helped ease her jitters. Those around camp sent them curious glances, but he avoided their stares, attempting to ignore them. Everil, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice nor appear to care.

"Is that better?" he murmured with a gentle smile.

"Much..." She melted against him, letting herself relax in spite of the rapid beating of her heart.

He held her for a long moment, her sweet scent in his nose and her warmth pressed to his side. His gaze drifted to her features, admiring her profile while she remained distracted by the dancing flames. And as he stared at her, remembering all they'd been through together, Alistair came to a resounding conclusion.

She was worth the risk.

He wanted to be with her. To give them a chance. He would still place their duty as Grey Wardens first, and knowing her, she was sure to do the same. So if the worst came to pass, then he would do what was necessary and deal with the consequences. Right now, however, all he could do was hope that such a time would never come and enjoy her company for as long as he could.

Everil gazed up at him, finally sensing his eyes on her. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah…" He smiled and held her tighter. "Everything's fine."

She returned the smile and again snuggled against him, no longer quivering from the cold.

He took another swig from the wine and, for a moment, let the popping and crackling of the coals fill the quiet around them as he shifted his attention to a different subject. The prior battles against the darkspawn and the dangers they faced thus far had reminded him of something he hadn't thought about in some time. And he figured now would be as good a time as any to speak to her about it. "So I've been meaning to ask…" he quietly began, a little hesitant.

"Hm?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"Would you mind if we... looked someone up when we reach Denerim?"

A smirk spread over her face. "This someone wouldn't happen to be a former lover, would they?"

"What?" His eyes widened. "You think I would take you to... Together? But I already told you that I've never—"

A stream of laughter interrupted him. "Relax. It was a joke."

"Oh, uh… Good." Alistair let out a breath, slightly flustered by her antics. She sure knew how to mess with him sometimes, but it didn't help he was so damn easy. "All right, how do I explain? I… found out a while ago that my mother had a daughter, from another man. Possibly someone she was married to before my father came along."

Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. "Oh? So you have a sister?"

"Yes. A half-sister. I've never met her and only learned of her existence days before Arl Eamon sent me to the Chantry. So when I joined the Grey Wardens, I was able to do a bit of digging. I found out that her name is Goldanna, that she's still alive, and is living in the poorest district of Denerim—near the elven alienage." He gave her a hopeful stare. "I know we have far more important matters to deal with, but I would like to meet her… If I could. Maybe warn her about the Blight. I don't know."

"Well, I'm sure we can spare some time. We can go see her."

"Great!" He hugged her, both relieved and excited by her response. "Thank you so much!"

Everil chuckled. "You're welcome. By the way… Since we're discussing Denerim, I think we should speak to the Dalish elves after our business in the capital is over."

"Hmm… The Brecilian Forest is south of Denerim. Yes, we could kill two birds with one stone."

"All right, it's a plan then." She reached over and took the wine from his hand before taking a drink herself. The alcohol warmed her throat and she sighed, licking her lips at the bitterness of it. They sat by the fire in comfortable silence, occasionally breaking it when chatting about the day's events or Grey Warden tales. The others systematically retired to their tents, tired from the hours of travel.

Everil yawned loudly and stretched her arms before rubbing her eye. "So you'll be pulling guard duty? I thought tonight was Leliana's turn."

"Yes... I lost a bet I made with her," he grumbled, feeling dejected.

She arched an eyebrow. "What bet was that?"

"I bet her I could make Sten crack a smile. She said she had a lot of faith, but that even the Maker himself wouldn't intervene on that for me. I wanted to prove her wrong, but—" He huffed in mock defeat. "—she was right."

"It sounds like you did this to yourself then!" she laughed.

"Yes, I know. No need to pour salt over the wound." He jokingly pouted, then a corner of his lips curled up as he pointed to her tent with his thumb. "Anyway, you should head to bed. It's getting late."

"Yes, I suppose I sho—" Another yawn interrupted her, giving her barely enough time to cover her mouth and causing him to chortle at her.

"Go on," he said with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, yeah…" Everil sighed and returned the bladder to him before pushing herself to her feet. She turned to take a step but paused midway, tapping him on the shoulder. When he craned his head to look up at her, she bent over and gently kissed him. "Good night…"

"Good night…" he whispered, lightly stroking her cheek as his heart fluttered inside his chest.

His fingers left a tingling sensation and she straightened while biting her lip. Blushing a little, she spun to leave, promptly calling her hound. "Let's go, boy."

Bjorn rose at her command and approached Alistair, sloppily licking his face. He hadn't much liked the human before, but he could sense his mistress was happy around him. And that was more than enough to win him over.

"Aw…" He let out a light laugh, scratching the war hound's ear. "You sleep well too, buddy."

He whined a little in response and followed her. Alistair watched as they retreated towards her tent, just a few steps away from him. She entered and her hound went in with her, leaving only him sitting outside. He grinned as he returned his stare to the fire, imagining what it would be like to sleep through the night with her in his arms. And once again, he was envious of that dog.