Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

47. The Path of Memory: Part I

~The Path of Memory: Part I~

Tallis and Isskari returned to Eva's cell where the young Dalish girl was slumped up against the wall with her head on her knees. Tallis was carrying a tray of food, some tea, soup and bread, in the hopes it would keep Eva calm, thought she doubted it. If Tallis were in Eva's position, she certainly wouldn't be cooperative. Eva looked up at the two elven qunari with more hatred and anger than Tallis thought a twelve-year old was capable of having. It was almost frightening.

"And just what do you two seth'lin flat-ears want?" Eva hissed angrily.

There was so much anger in that little girl's eyes that Tallis couldn't even meet her gaze. "I, uh, thought you might be hungry, so we brought you some food."

At the sight of the tray and the smell of the hot soup, Eva's stomach growled loudly against her will. There was no hiding that she was in fact very hungry.

"Did you drug this too, or do you just save it for when you want to take someone against their will?" Eva demanded.

"I promise, there's nothing in this meal except what the cookbook allows." Tallis assured, trying to smile in the hopes of making Eva believe her.

"Leave the tray and get out. The only company I eat with is family and friends, not scum like you." Eva demanded.

"If you want us to leave, fine, but we're taking the food with us." Isskari said callously. "Maybe later you'll be more pleasant company, but there's no guarantee we'll bring food next time."

Eva grumbled and cursed in elven under her breath and grudgingly conceded. Tallis put the tray in front of her and Eva tasted the soup and bread, making sure it was safe. When she tasted no illicit ingredients, she began eating as quickly as she could to make these two leave.

"While we're here, we want ask you some questions, child." Isskari stated.

Eva stopped eating before she could take another bite, despite how hungry she was, and slid the tray back to them. "Well, that figures. Just when I was beginning to think you people had a fiber of decency in you, you prove me wrong, thanks for that. So you bring me food in exchange for information. That's pretty low, don't you think?"

"It's better than torturing you, which is what most people do, especially in the South." Tallis countered calmly.

"Oh, please, don't even try to act like you've got the moral high ground, especially after capturing and collaring me like a prize-winning animal!" Eva spat back at them, still remembering the terrible pain the collar on her neck caused when she tried to use magic.

"Quid pro quo, child." Isskari said sternly. "We'll give you something you need in exchange for something we need, and we have questions that need to be answered."

"Oh-ho, the big bad, scary qunari need something from a bound and chained little girl." Eva laughed mockingly. "What questions could you, and all your meticulous certainty in the Qun have, that I could answer?"

"We want to know more about the Inquisitor." Isskari stated monotonely. "What do you know about the mark on his hand? How is he able to use it to mend the Veil? What secrets did he discover in the Temple of Mythal?"

Eva's anger began to stir inside her and her magic with it, causing the collar to sting her, but she was too mad to care. "You twisted, arrogant, soulless son of a...! How dare you!? You think I would betray him to the likes of you?!"

"You mean like how he betrayed you by killing your real father then keeping it a secret from you? Weren't you the one who declared that you hated him?" Isskari reminded.

Remembering that moment was as bitter as salt water to Eva, but she wasn't going to be used like this. "Whatever happened between me and Rajmael is none of your damned business! I owe you no explanations, and unlike you, I'm not going to sell out any of my own people just to make your job easier! So you can take your question, and that food, and shove it up your Qun!"

Tallis had to bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at Eva's innuendo. Despite everything, Tallis couldn't help but admire Eva's attitude and loyalty. Isskari, on the other hand, was less than pleased with the disrespectful Dalish mage child.

"So be it. You're obviously not hungry enough to be polite company." Isskari said, trying to remain composed, while he picked up the tray of food and turned to leave. "Perhaps later, you'll feel a bit more gracious, but as I said, there's no guarantee we'll be bringing food next time."

Isskari left the room and slammed the door behind him, once again leaving Tallis alone with Eva. Tallis checked through the cell door to make sure they were alone while Eva continued to glare at her. As soon as she confirmed that no one was watching them, Tallis reached into her pouch and handed out several apples she had hidden to Eva.

"What are you doing now?" Eva asked, looking at the apple suspiciously.

"Not letting you go hungry alone in a cell?" Tallis answered sheepishly.

"Yeah, because you're just so altruistic and caring, right?" Eva said sarcastically, still wary of Tallis motives. "What do you want in exchange for feeding me?"

"Not seeing you crying alone on the floor, hungry and afraid would be a nice start." Tallis answered sincerely with true sorrow on her face. She didn't know if this would get her in trouble, but right now, she didn't care. She wasn't going to treat a child this way.

Eva hesitated for a moment, then took the apples and gladly started eating them. She was still monumentally angry at Tallis for putting her through this in the first place, but at least she had enough decency to not let her go hungry.

Tallis watched as Eva ate in silence. What was she doing? She was violating the Viddasala's orders, but she couldn't just leave Eva like this. The Qun was supposed to look after children like her, offer them a place. Not teach them fear and anger. This went against everything she believed the Qun to be, as well as her own conscience. Yet at the same time, this act of kindness was against the demand of the Qun. What was she to do?

Location Unknown...

Cassandra's eyes fluttered open with what she could only describe as what must have been the worst hangover in her life splitting her head. Her head hurt so much that it was incredibly hard to think straight. Her vision was blurry and she was numb all over, barely able to see or feel anything. Cassandra worked past her splitting headache to try and piece together what just happened to all of them.

Cassandra remembered how her heart almost exploded inside her chest when she saw Rajmael, Hawke and Aedan all fighting each other with everything they had because of some ancient elven magic that turned them against each other. Seeing such great men actually trying to viciously murder each other was almost too much to bare, especially when they all came so close to killing themselves. Then that Antivan elf, Zevran, in a last second desperate attempt to deactivate the spell that mesmerized their friends into trying to kill each other, pressed a random key on the panel that activated the spell in the first place. Whatever he pressed, that strange tree at the top of the shrine erupted with a strange white magic that engulfed all of them. Then Cassandra was here, practically blind and her head feeling like it got pounded with a hammer.

Cassandra focused for a while, and within moments the painful, cloudy sensations she was experiencing began to fade away. Wherever she was, it was bitterly cold and raining, with a strange musk in the air. Her eyes got their sight back, and she could see that while it was daytime, the sky was darkened by black rainclouds that flooded down to the ground, making it muddy and slippery.

Cassandra looked around and saw the rest of her companions. Like her, it looked like they were shaking off the aftereffects of whatever magic had brought them here. What deeply worried Cassandra was the fact that none of the heroes were to be seen. Rajmael, Hawke, Aedan, they were simply not here.

"Oh. Aw, friggin' shit! I got the hangover, but I don't remember the party..." Sera whined trying to get up, only to fall back down.

Iron Bull groaned as he held his own horns as if to be sure they were actually there. "Can't feel my horns...Are they still there?"

Varric staggered to his feet holding his head like it was about to roll of his shoulders. "Oh, sweet Maker. Could please just put me out of my misery right now? Please?"

"That was...not a wonderful experience." Cole whimpered, taking his hat off and rubbing his aching temples.

Ranier didn't even bother getting up. He just stayed there on knees in the mud, hoping not to get vomit all over his beard. "Feels like someone took a mace to my head then poured hot lead in my eyes."

"Even the poison assassins use in the Game are more humane than this." Vivienne complained.

"Does anyone have any idea where in the Maker's name we are?" Dorian asked dizzily.

Zevran shook off the sickly effects he was feeling and looked at their surroundings. "Hm. The bitter cold, the unceasing rain, and that distinct aroma and taste of a wet dog's ass lingering in the air. I'd say we're probably in Ferelden. In fact, I wouldn't doubt it."

"You can actually tell where we are just by sniffing the air, Shanks?" Varric asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, you tend to remember the country you fought a Blight in, Master Varric." Zevran responded. "Though, I must admit, this place looks a sight much better than the rest of Ferelden did during that time."

Ranier looked up and tried to get a feel for where they were. "Looks like somewhere in the Northern Teynir, judging from the terrain. Not the bannorn proper."

"I highly doubt any part of Ferelden is different from the rest of it, darling." Vivienne said with her trademark haughty tone.

"You mean that weird magic button Zevran pressed actually transported us from that library and back to Ferelden?" Iron Bull asked in total disbelief.

"This is a place that is familiar. Not to us, but to the one who has been here before." Cole spoke out cryptically. As usual, no one really understood what he really meant.

"Hm. I don't think the mirror actually transported us to Ferelden, like the eluvians would." Dorian said thoughtfully. "Remember what the Inquisitor said? That the books in the Library were actually memories? Maybe that's where that strange magic sent us. Maybe we're inside a memory, almost like the Fade. We're still in a realm between realms."

"If this is what you people do when you go to the Fade, then you're all bonkers!" Sera commented.

"Ugh. I dread to wonder whose memory this could possibly belong to." Vivienne said distastefully holding her handkerchief to her face in an attempt to keep the odious smell of the air out of her nose.

"Has anyone seen the Inquisitor, Hero or Champion?" Cassandra asked urgently.

"I don't think they came here with us. Whatever Zevran activated, it must have done something different to them because they were the ones under the security enchantment." Dorian reasoned.

"Then how do we find them?" Cassandra all but demanded.

"According to what Rajmael told us, we'll just have to witness the events of whosever memory this is in order to leave." Dorian deduced as he shivered in the rain. "I suspect once we've done this, the magic here will let us go."

"I doubt it will be as simple as that, Dorian, dear." Vivienne rebutted. "For us all to have been transported here, this must be an extremely powerful spell."

"Well, wherever we are, Fade, memory, I don't care, maybe we should find someplace to get out of this fucking rain?" Iron Bull suggested, his teeth chattering loudly. "Maybe this memory's got a tavern with some beer and serving girls."

A loud sound broke across the wind that outstripped the thunder. It sounded like Chantry bells ringing loudly in the distance. Cassandra looked behind her and saw a massive castle not too far from where they were standing. Torches were lit outside, and it looked like people were walking towards it.

"Looks like there's shelter over there. Maybe we can find answers, or even our comrades." Cassandra beckoned. She whispered a prayer to herself, hoping to somehow find the man she loved, safe and unharmed. This place had already taken its toll on Rajmael, and she dreaded to think what else this place could do to him.

~XoXoXo~

All of them made their way to the castle in the distance. As they approached they realized just how powerful this architecture was. It was a massive fortress seated on a high hill with four drum towers surrounding it and connected by a curtain wall of solid rock with a large moat in front of it. The castle itself was made from white stones that were still vibrant even in this dismal rain. The castle itself was large enough to house a whole army, or even several villages. And in the typical Fereldan fashion, there were statues of dogs posing on the walls and roofs, instead of gargoyles or religious figures.

As they got closer, they noticed many people from a nearby village further down the hill were all making their way in droves to the castle. They looked like they were trying to make good time getting there, but were in no true rush. Like there was some kind of event going on at the castle.

"A lot of people making their way to the castle. What do you think's drawing them there?" Varric said curiously.

"With the way those Chantry bells are ringing, and the mass of people moving, I'd say it was Sunday. They're all making their way to the castle's Chantry for mass." Cassandra deduced logically. "If it's a Maker-fearing place, I'd say we're not in too much danger."

"Man! Would you look at this place, kadan!" Iron Bull commented to Dorian. "High, sturdy walls on a hill, towers in all for directions that can see for miles, and the moat is just a big, fat bonus. If you've got the men to occupy it, it'd be damned hard for an enemy to take this place."

"As far as Fereldan architecture goes, yes, I must agree, this place is rather impressive." Dorian concurred with his lover.

"It's not the royal palace of Denerim, I can tell you that much." Vivienne informed. "I must admit, I've never seen this place, but whoever owns it must certainly be impressive."

"A palace that not even you've ever seen, Madame de Fer? Shocking." Ranier said sarcastically.

"Maybe we could ask one of these gentlemen just where we are?" Zevran suggested, pointing to the men standing a post just outside the castle walls. The soldier wore standard issued gear and were grim in appearance, but whether that was their normal demeanor or a natural reaction to the rain was uncertain. Zevran approached them in an attempt to get some answers. "Excuse me, my fine Fereldan gentlemen. Could you kindly tell us just where we are?"

The soldiers said nothing. Didn't even look at the elf.

"Excuse me? Hello! Are you deaf, blind or both?!" Zevran yelled trying to get their attention.

"They can't hear or see you, Zevran. They're not even here, really." Cole spoke out, speaking normally for a change. "They are memories, like the rest of this place. Acting out their role, like players on a stage."

"What? Does that mean there's nothing to nab out of their breeches? Piss!" Sera scoffed in disappointment.

"Well, maybe we should just follow the rest of these...memory people, and find out where they're going." Varric proposed. "Maybe we'll find the answers we're looking for inside."

~XoXoXo~

Following Varric's advice, everyone followed the mass of people going inside the castle and followed them to the castle's Chantry. The Chantry itself was rather impressive. Over three times larger than the Chantry at Haven was. Stained glass windows depicting martyrs of the faith and scenes from the Chant of Light, the smell of holy incense burning in the air. The only real difference that Cassandra could see from all the other Chantries she had been in was that at the great shrine in the back of the Chantry where the sermons were held, the statue of Andraste was unlike the ones she had seen throughout the rest of Thedas. Andraste was depicted as a warrior woman wearing armor and carrying a sword and shield while wreathed in a halo, rather than a prophetess wearing robes and a crown while holding a bowl or scroll. It was the Fereldan rendition of the Lady Redeemer.

Cassandra knelt before a shrine of candles and whispered a small prayer in reverence and respect for this place of worship, before joining her comrades towards the front of the gathering. At the very front of the mass was an important looking family, all nobles judging from their expensive clothing. A nobleman, his wife, and their juvenile son. They were a handsome looking family, all smiling and seemed content with each others company. Yet there was something strangely familiar about them.

Everyone in the Chantry rose as the Chantry Mother entered the hall and began the service. She was rather young to be a Chantry Mother, and was quite lovely to look at. It was almost a shame that she had taken vows of chastity. Her voice was melodious and strong, it carried throughout the large Chantry and everyone inside could hear her voice.

"On this day, let us remember the words of our Lady Redeemer, and how she found the Maker in the cold dark days of Ferelden's history." The Chantry Mother spoke in a soft, caring voice. "How she reached out to the Maker with a voice so sweet and full of longing, that she convinced our holy creator to give us a second chance at redemption by his side. On this day, let us hear and remember the words of Blessed Andraste from the sweet voice of our newly anointed choirboy."

A young boy in ceremonial robes tentatively made his way to sermon's podium. He was handsome looking boy with dark hair and blue eyes, and his adorability peaked with that bashful look on his blushing face. Apparently, he had never been before such a large crowd before. The noblewoman's face beamed with joy and pride to see the young boy make his way there, and her husband and son shared her feelings. Perhaps this was her second child.

The boy swallowed hard, trying to bury his fear of public speaking. He opened his eyes and began to sing with a voice so sweet it would have made Leliana and Meridia jealous. His young voice carried across the vast Chantry, sinking into the ears and hearts of all those present. Even Cassandra and the rest of her companions had forgotten their troubles just listening to him, if even for a moment.

Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.

"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.
Within My creation, none are alone."

Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me
Greater than mountains, towering mighty,
Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels
From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow.

Sword-shattering fear filled me overflowing.
Grandeur of godhood no gaze should defile.
Trembling, I called out: "Forgive me, Most High,
I should sing Your Name to the heights of heaven,
But I know it not, and must be silent."

The Wellspring of All said, "None now remember.
Long have they turned to idols and tales
Away from My Light, in darkness unbroken
The last of My children, shrouded in night."

World fell away then, misty in mem'ry,
'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams
A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring,
Spirit and mortal to me appeared.
"Look to My work," said the Voice of Creation.
"See what My children in arrogance wrought."

There I saw the Black City, towers all stain'd,
Gates once bright golden forever shut.
Heav'n filled with silence, then did I know all
And cross'd my heart with unbearable shame.

Then did I see the world spread before me,
Sky-reaching mountains arrayed as a crown,
Kingdoms like jewels, glistering gemstones
Strung 'cross the earth as a necklace of pearl.
"All this is yours," spake the World-Maker.
"Join Me in heaven and sorrow no more."

"World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow,
"How shall your children apology make?
We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling,
Only a Light in this darken'd time breaks.
Call to Your children, teach us Your greatness.
What has been forgotten has not yet been lost."

Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken.
"For you, song-weaver, once more I will try.
To My children venture, carrying wisdom,
If they but listen, I shall return."

Never in all her life in service to the Chantry, even in the halls of the Grand Cathedral of Val Royreaux, had Cassandra ever heard anyone sing that verse so beautifully. How could a boy so young have such a masterful gift? It was so uplifting, it made some of them almost want to weep.

"Sweet Andraste, that boy has the voice of an angel." Cassandra sighed in admiration. "I didn't know there were people who could sing the Chant so beautifully."

"I've met professional opera singers who didn't possess half as much talent as that boy." Vivienne added with genuine sincerity.

"If there was ever a voice that would make me want to listen to the Chant more often, that was it." Zevran admitted honestly.

"I don't know shit about the Chant of Light, but that was fuckin' beautiful." Iron Bull commented on the verge of shedding a moved tear.

Sera actually gave a small round of applause for the young boy. "That's great, yeah? How many kids out there can sing like that?"

"With a talent like that, that child's probably rich and famous by now." Ranier added.

"Man, if Sebastian were here, he'd probably throw himself at that kid's feet and praise him as a gift from the Maker." Varric commented.

"People enjoyed hearing him sing. It lifted their spirits and made them forget their trouble. Like Maryden's songs do." Cole said contentedly.

"This must be the memory of a very talented young man." Dorian said just as impressed as everyone else.

Everyone watched as the sermon went on and reached it's end. Cassandra would take part in the prayers that were spoken, despite being a mere memory, she still showed proper reverence to these ceremonies. In time, sermon ended and everyone made their way back to their homes. The Chantry Mother and the young boy with the lovely voice walked up to the noble family, who were all proud of the lad's performance.

"That was brilliant, little brother. I knew you could remember all those verses, just like I said you could." The older boy said admiringly.

"You were remarkable, son. Maker knows when I was your age, I never would have had the courage to sing before so many people without soiling myself." The nobleman congratulated with great delight in his son.

The noblewoman swooped her second child in her arms and kissed his cheek, her face beaming with pride. "You were wonderful! I knew you could do it. I am so proud of you, my darling Aedan."

"Your son has a magnificent gift for singing the Chant, Lord and Lady Cousland." The Chantry Mother praised. "Surely, it must be a gift from the Maker Himself."

"Your praise is humbling, Mother Mallol." The Teyrna said graciously. "Aedan, what do you say to her?"

Aedan looked up at the Chantry Mother and gave her a smile that was neither sadistic nor menacing, but one that was genuinely sincere and happy. "Maker's blessing to you, Mother Mallol."

"And to you, Aedan."

At that very moment, everyone's jaws dropped from their mouths and landed somewhere in the Deep Roads, and were probably on the verge of having a stroke from sheer shock. The little boy who just sang Andraste 1:1-1:14 more beautifully than any of them had ever heard, was Aedan Cousland, the most ardent and foul-mouthed atheist in all of Thedas.

"No, that...this cannot be. That is Aedan Cousland!?" Cassandra said in utter disbelief. "The man who admonishes, insults, and degrades the Chantry every chance he gets was once anointed in the Chantry? All this time I thought he was raised without religion in his life."

"Aedan fuckin' Cousland, the most vicious and bloodthirsty bastard in all of Southern Thedas was damned a choirboy? I don't believe it!" Varric shouted in complete shock.

"Ugh! Is it wrong that I feel dirty for clappin' for him now?" Sera shuddered.

"No way. There's no fucking way that half-pint little runt can be the same walking doomsday we saw kicking ass not even an hour ago." Iron Bull denied skeptically. "This must be before he started adding people to his diet."

"I don't believe it either, but hey, we all had to start somewhere." Ranier reminded. "Even you weren't born a towering block of muscle with a talent for fighting."

"Indeed." Zevran agreed. "I must admit, I didn't recognize Aedan without all the tattoos and two-hundred pounds of anger issues. Wonder how he got from this to what we know now."

"A very good question." Vivienne concurred. "It's apparent that he had a religious upbringing, yet he holds such disdain for all religion. Not only that, but he came from a very powerful and important family, yet he acts like a common thug. Perhaps his parents failed in their duties to raise him correctly."

Zevran turned to the Imperial Enchanter, his face as grim and stern as a tombstone. "Madame de Fer, you had better be thankful that the actual Aedan Cousland isn't here right now, otherwise he'd stomp your pretty head into a pretty stain for ever speaking of his parents so disrespectfully, I jest you not."

"I am merely stating what the reasons behind the Hero's attitude might have been." Vivienne defended haughtily. "A man like him doesn't become the way he is with all his anger and alleged cannibalism and not have something wrong with his life."

"Why does everyone assume that the Hero is a cannibal?" Ranier asked skeptically. "Aedan himself has never full confessed to such committing such an abomination, and all we have is hearsay. Surely, that is all just rumor based off the fact that he is a Reaver, right, Zevran?"

The Antivan Crow quickly turned his gaze away from the wayward Magister, and shrugged dismissively, evading the question altogether.

"Believe me, Ranier, some questions are best left unanswered." Dorian shuddered.

"This is how it began." Cole said insightfully, staring intently at the young Aedan. "When he began to make himself into the man he would become. "

Two Years Later...

The memory shifted back to the Chantry where the Cousland family had gathered once again for Sunday mass. Time had clearly moved forward. Fergus was on the brink of adulthood, still seated with his parents in the Chantry. Aedan looked like he just entered adolescence, and had an obvious growth spurt since the last memory they saw him in, having grown over a two-and-half feet. The young Aedan was dressed in his choir robes and was about to go sing another hymn. It was strange to see Aedan's face without his signature tattoos, even at this age.

"What's wrong with Aedan? He looks distressed." Cassandra observed, noticing how distracted he appeared and the the severe look of anxiety on his face.

"In all the years I have known Aedan, he never once looked that nervous, even during the battle of Denerim with an Archdemon flying overhead." Zevran noted keenly.

"Maybe he finally developed a fear of public speaking?" Varric suggested sarcastically.

Mother Mallol turned to Aedan and invited him to the podium to perform the canticle. "Aedan? Won't you please give the Canticle of Theondrias now?"

Aedan looked up and the Chantry Mother then turned towards his family, who all gave him urging looks. They were all eager to hear Aedan sing with that wonderful voice of his. Aedan apprehensively took his place at the podium, and looked even more nervous than the first time they saw him here, except this time he didn't seem bashful or shy, he looked like he was ready to just tuck tail and run. And that's exactly what he did.

Aedan groaned in frustration and looked to his family. "Mother, Father, I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

Aedan stormed out of the Chantry as fast as he could, tearing the Chantry robe off himself as he went, leaving his family and everyone in attendance in a state of shock. All of them, Cassandra and her companions included, went after Aedan to find out what just what was wrong with him.

They found him in his room sitting at his desk, glossing over the books he had so been obsessively reading earlier. His parents and brother walked into his room, deeply concerned what was wrong with him.

"Aedan? Darling, what's wrong?" Eleanor asked full of motherly concern.

"You gave everyone quite a shock their, Pup. Is there anything you want to talk about?" Bryce inquired, sharing his wife's concern.

Aedan just sat there, trying to avoid his parents' gaze.

"Come, now, little brother, don't be like that." Fergus urged his sibling gently. "You got Mother and Father both here and they're concerned about you. I'm here, too. You know secrets with family. Whatever's wrong, I'm sure we can work it out. Is it girl trouble? Cause I can give you some tips if you like."

Aedan sat there quietly staring down at the book in front of him. He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather his courage, but still couldn't face his family. "I...I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, but I...I just can't do this anymore."

"Do what, Aedan? Sing?" Bryce asked. "Has reaching adolescence changed your voice, because that's a pretty common occurrence for young boys."

"No, Father, I couldn't do this!" Aedan stressed, holding his Chantry robe and throwing it away from him. "Wearing this robe, saying words and singing songs that mean nothing to me. Praising a being that I don't believe in. I can't take living this damned lie anymore!"

"Aedan, what are you saying?" Eleanor asked deeply unsettled.

"Mother, Father, I make no apologies for this: I do not believe in the Maker." Aedan finally confessed summoning all his courage. "If nothing else, I spit on the Maker!"

To say that every member of Aedan's family was stunned by his words would have been a woeful The shock on his family's face could have shattered every mirror in Val Royeaux. Aedan's mother looked particularly upset by her son's declaration.

"Aedan, how can you say such a thing?" Eleanor asked terribly distraught. "How can you deny the Maker? His love is eternal and grants it to all his children."

"Says who?" Aedan questioned challengingly. "I've read every book on history in this castle's library, looked into every religious text the Chantry does and does not allow, and I've found no evidence that supports that belief. All these ancient cultures that predate Andrastianism, and there is no mention of a single great creator who formed the world. If the Maker is truly the timeless creator of all existence, why didn't he ever show Himself to the elves, the dwarves, or even the Imperium?"

"Aedan, you're being unreasonable. The elves, dwarves and Imperium all worshipped false gods and idols, they were blinded to the Maker." Bryce said trying to council his son.

"A very convenient excuse that the Chantry uses all too often to make up for what they can't explain." The young Aedan rebutted, refusing to back down from his argument, even before his parents. "The only shred of proof that exists is the word of Andraste, a barbarian woman from a dark era who failed to bring down the empire she fought against. For all we know, Andraste was an insane and the Maker was just a voice in her head!"

"Aedan, that is enough! I will not hear any more of this blasphemy, not in my home." Eleanor scolded harshly.

"Eleanor, I think the boy deserves a chance to explain himself." Bryce said gently as he placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, gesturing her to calm down. "Just what is it that has you so angry, Aedan? And what does the Maker have to do with it?"

Aedan strode over to his window and looked down on the people who were now leaving now that mass was over. "I go to the Chantry and hear all those people down there talk and sing about how wonderful the Maker is. How his love is unending, and that by bringing the Chant of Light to all corners of the world will call the Maker back, then I read all these history books, and all I see is an unending list of hypocrisy that makes me sick to my stomach."

"Hypocrisy? What are you talking about?" Fergus asked.

"Kordillius Drakon I of Orlais founded the Chantry after putting every other religious sect and denomination to the sword, even the ones that worshipped the Maker but didn't follow the Chantry's dogma. Then the Chantry declares an Exalted March on the Dales and forced the elves to either give up their identity and live in poverty, or live like vagrants with no home. Mages live like prisoners, condemned and vilified by the Chantry that imprisons them. If mages don't pass their Harrowing, they're killed. If any mage escapes the Circle, or refuses to live in one, they are killed. And if mages end up having children of their own, the Chantry takes them away, never letting the parents see their children again. It's disgusting!" Aedan looked to his father with an intense look in his eyes. "You're the one who taught me that freedom is the right of all people. The all people, men, elves, and dwarves, have the right to choose their destiny, yet the Chantry does everything it can to strip the rights and beliefs away from other in place of their own. How can I support a religion that does something so terrible."

Bryce and Eleanor remained quiet, taking a moment to consider their son's words and logic. Given everything Bryce had taught both his sons, and considering the history of the Chantry, which was not without faults, it was difficult to deny that Aedan had just cause to be less than pleased with the center of Andrastian faith.

"You make a compelling argument, Aedan, I do not deny that. I would be a fool and a liar to say that your reasons are unjustified." Bryce conceded. "However, that explains every reason you have to hate the Chantry. What possible reason could you have for denying the Maker? I cannot imagine something so damning from anyone, let alone my own son. Please, help us understand why."

Aedan turned his gaze away from his parent, ashamed at the grief he was causing them, so he gave them his reasons. "Because...because I look at you and Mother, and as far as I'm concerned, you're both greater than the Maker. The Maker is supposed to be all about love and forgiveness, but all I've seen is judgment and punishment. He demands everything and gives nothing."

"That's because we mortal must earn back the Maker's forgiveness, Aedan. Only then will the Maker return to us." Eleanor insisted.

"That's not good enough for me, Mother!" Aedan said staunchly. "The Maker never showed Himself to anyone, never taught them, but demands everything for His own glory and casts all souls who don't into the Abyss. What kind of father abandons his children twice? What kind of husband leaves his wife to be killed by her enemies? If that's the kind of god the Chantry wants to venerate, I want nothing to do with Him, because he's only earned my scorn."

Bryce, Eleanor, and Fergus all said nothing, they just looked at Aedan who stared at the floor in shame. He couldn't bring himself to look at his own family for fear of what his decision would bring from them.

"I'm sorry, but this is I can't put my faith in this Maker, He hasn't earned it." Aedan said with regret. "I know this disappoints you, and if you hate me for it..."

"Aedan, stop right now." Eleanor said sternly with hurt in her voice. Aedan quickly obeyed. The teyrna walked up to her son and gently placed her hand on his cheek, looking at him softly before hugging him closely to her. "Oh, Aedan, how could you think such a thing. You're my baby, I could never hate you."

Aedan held his mother closely and softly began weeping tears of relief. He was so afraid that once he made his atheism known, that his faithful parents would hate him and cast him out. Now his fear were laid to rest.

Bryce joined his wife and comforted his son. "Your mother's right, Aedan. You have the right to believe what you want, follow the path you choose. I...I don't agree with your decision, but I do respect it. Perhaps, one day, you might be proven wrong about the Maker. Until that time, you're still my son, and I will always be proud of you."

Aedan lifted his head and looked to his older brother. "What about you, Fergus?"

Fergus just shrugged and looked at his younger brother curiously. "No matter what you believe, you're still my little brother. But what are you going to believe in if not the Maker?"

"I still have my family, and I still have Ferelden." Aedan answered.

"Damned right you do, brother." Fergus smiled and tousled his brother's hair playfully.

Cassandra and the others watched the memory unfold before their eyes and felt the emotion this event had. It obviously had great significance to Aedan. More than that, it showed just how the events of his past and how his family would play a huge role in shaping the Hero into the man he would one day become.

"It would seem the Hero was telling the truth earlier." Vivienne recalled. "All this time, I thought he had suffered some Chantry related trauma that cemented his severe disdain for the Chantry and the Maker, but it seems that he truly had an idealistic childhood. Surprising, seeing the man he is now."

"Just wait a little longer, Enchanter. I'm sure you'll see the trauma you want use to justify your belief that Aedan is a mindless barbarian." Zevran responded with scorn in his voice. "But no matter what you'll see here, Aedan is still a greater figure than you could ever hope to be."

"All this time I thought the Hero's hate for religion was no different than that of any other black-hearted bastard who just want an excuse to do terrible things." Ranier confessed. "He actually looked into the histories, studied the Chant and compared it to what he truly believed in his heart, and found the Maker wanting."

"And here I thought he was just another nob living in a fancy castle. Guess even nobs got problems with believing in things." Sera admitted grudgingly. "Least he had parents who cared, not everyone does."

"Many people hide behind belief and use it like a mask, while others use it an excuse. Aedan knew what he believed in his heart, and his family still loved him for it." Cole said smilingly. "I wish there were more fathers that loved their children like this."

Iron Bull looked over to Dorian and was surprised to his lover was actually crying. "Hey, Kadan? What's with the waterworks?"

Dorian grabbed his colored kerchief, wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to regain his composure. "Oh, Maker, it's just that...this reminds me so much of when I came out of the closet to my parents. It was an emotional disaster. I wish so much my mother and father could have been as caring as the Hero's."

"Yeah, I know how you feel, Sparkler." Varric said supportively. "Andraste's ass, if either of my parents lived long enough to find out that I don't give a single nug's shit about the Ancestors or tradition, I'd probably be dead to them. Wish my older brother could have been more like Aedan's, too."

Cassandra looked at the memory with nostalgic feelings of child-like longing in her heart. That long forgotten feeling of how a child longs for the love and affection of their parents. "My brother and I were raised by our uncle not long after our parents died, and he barely ever interacted with us. I barely remember my mother and father, but I like to think they were good people, like Aedan's parents. They loved him so unconditionally."

~A Year Later~

The memory shifted forward and all of them found themselves in another corridor of Castle Cousland. They heard powerful footsteps echoing through the hall and saw the Teyrn walking to the outside courtyard, and he wasn't alone. Standing next to him was what had to have been the most colossal human being any of them had ever seen. He was a massive mountain of muscle wearing thick furs and splintmail and stood a foot and half taller than Iron Bull. His face was covered by a large, shaggy black beard that would have shamed all the dwarves of Orzammar, and on trailing over his left eye was a massive scar from when someone tried to stab him in the head with a sword.

"Holy crap, that guy is huge!" Iron Bull shouted in utter astonishment.

"I've seen golems smaller than this guy!" Varric stated almost unable to believe the comparison himself.

No one else said a thing. They just watched the teyrn and the human giant keep walking, wondering what the teyrn could be doing with a man like this.

"So, tell me, Bryce, me old friend, whut seems t'be da trouble wit yerr boy?" The towering human asked with a booming voice with a thick, unrefined brogue.

"Well, Argyle, Aedan is a...well, let's say a headstrong lad. He has strong convictions for a boy his age. He knows what he believes in, and he's not afraid to stand for those beliefs. It's enough to make any father proud." Bryce explained proudly, then came the part where he had to explain what was wrong. "However, he has...well let's just say he has a bit of a temper, and it's starting to worry his mother and I."

"Well, he is at that age, Bryce. I'm sure that his teenage hormones are half the problem." Argyle reasoned. "When you and I were at that age, we were learning how to kill Chevaliers, and having foreigners occupy our lands didn't exactly improve our disposition."

"Last week I took him to Denerim for the Landsmeet, and he went off exploring the city on his own. Two hours later, I'm summoned by the city watch and the Arl of Denerim's guards and they had arrested Aedan for brutally assaulting the Arl's son...with a rock."

"Oh." Argyle uttered. "Well, that is'nae normal fer a boy his age at all. What'd the Arl's son do to piss yer boy off?"

"Well, it turns out Arl Urien's son, Vaughn, is quite fond of being a bully to the city's elves." Bryce explained. "Aedan saw Vaughn and his friends assaulting an elven girl and started ripping her cloths off, so Aedan did what any decent person would do, and beat the daylights out of that spoiled brat. With a rock."

"Well, if ye're so proud of yer boy fer what he done, what do ya need me fer?" Argyle inquired.

Bryce looked up to the towering giant with a deathly serious concern in his eyes. "Because, Argyle, the only thing that kept Aedan from being locked in the Denerim prison for the next three years was the fact that he happened to be my son. Anyone else, and Arl Urien would have had them in chains or executed for doing the honorable thing. Aedan thinks far too much with his heart, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, then acting on them. If that is how he wishes to live his life, then so be it. But I want my son strong enough to face the consequences of his actions if this is how he chooses to live. You, Argyle, were one of the fiercest and strongest of Ash Warriors during the Occupation. You kept fighting at the battle of White River even after a Chevalier stabbed you in the eye with his sword. I want you to teach that strength to my son."

Argyle thought for a moment, and gave the Teyrn his answer. "Alright, Bryce, I'll do it. Ye saved m'life at White River, s'only fair that I teach yer son how to stay alive."

The Teyrn and Ash Warrior made their way to the training courtyard where the adolescent Aedan was striking a practice dummy with a wooden sword.

"Aedan, come over here please."

The boy did as his father beckoned. His eyes widened like saucers and his jaw dropped at seeing the immense size of the bearded behemoth standing next to his father.

"Aedan, it's rude to stare and leave your mouth hanging open." Bryce chided. Aedan quickly closed his mouth and did his best not stare, but it was rather difficult. "This is Argyle, an old comrade of mine from the war. He will be the new master-at-arms here at Castle Highever. And he's going to teach you everything you'll need to know about combat."

"What the hell do you eat?! People?!" Aedan blurted loudly, completely disregarding his manners.

"Oh, I like him already, Lord Teyrn." Argyle chuckled.

"You wanted to learn how to be a protector of our country, Aedan. Argyle will show you how." Bryce turned and left his son and new master at arm to acquaint themselves with each other.

"Well, now the yer daddy's nae here, I gotta admit, you're sorta of a runt, kid." Argyle stated unimpressed. "From the way yer pa spoke of ye, I was expectin' somethin'...bigger, scarier."

Aedan returned Argyle's unimpressed look. "Yeah? Well, I have to admit that your body odor smells worse than the kennels on a hot summer day, and by the looks of your face, your daddy must have been the ugliest son of a bitch in all of Ferelden and decided to steal himself a night with a pig because he couldn't even get a blind prostitute to suffer his needs."

Argyle said nothing. Just kept staring at the diminutive kid like he was stunned. Then he grabbed Aedan by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the courtyard. The straw dummies Aedan was hitting earlier broke his fall, and he quickly got back up with his wooden sword to wildly attack the giant. Argyle grabbed Aedan's fake weapon and snapped it in his hand like it was twig before shoving the boy to the ground and plant his foot on his chest. Aedan struggled to get the massive boot off him, but it was in vain, Argyle was too strong and heavy.

"That, little lordling, was yer first lesson: talk shit get hit." Argyle informed, putting more pressure on Aedan's chest. "If yer gonna be talkin' smack ta other folks, ye had better be ready ta back it up, or this is gonna happen ta ya ev'ry time. Yer daddy's hired me ta make sure ye know how to stay alive when that big mouth and bad temper of yers gets ye into trouble. As it is, ye can't even hold a candle ta me, much less a great warrior like Loghain Mac Tir. So, ye want to become a real soldier of Ferelden, then ye'd better wise up and start ta learnin' quickly. Yer life starts right now!"

Everyone watched as images of Aedan's training flashed by them. Argyle's training was brutal, especially for someone still so young. The days of physical training from morning until night, the hundreds of hours of weapons and hand-to-hand training, and the ruthlessly violent and unrelenting sparring sessions against Argyle. Yet through it all, Aedan never gave up, never asked for reprieve. He just got back and demanded more.

"Push! Push, ya little runt!" Argyle shouted viciously as he pressed his foot on Aedan's back while he tried to do push-ups on his knuckles. Aedan's knuckles bled on the ground, and he could feel his fists starting to crack from all the strain, but he would not cry, he would not submit.

"Push! Push, harder! Give honor to yer Alamarii heritage! The enemy will never show ye mercy, ye must be merciless in kind! No pain, no fear, no mercy!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan screamed over and over again like a mantra. Despite his determination, tears of pain streamed down Aedan's face against his will as his knuckles bled, his bones crack, and the fresh, deep bruises on his body still stung horribly.

"Are those tears I see? You little girl!" Argyle mocked mercilessly. "The only thing that should ever wet yer face is the blood of yer enemies! Ye think because ye're doing a few push-ups and got a few bruises in sparring ye know what pain is? Ha! Ye don't know shit, ye little runt! Ye're a Cousland, born into wealth and power on a fancy bed with a silver spoon, ye don't know suffering! Dalish, Chasind, and Avvar, the children of these barbarians all learn to hunt and kill the instant they learn to walk, and dwarven soldiers train from childhood. Ye think ye can stack up to them with yer soft hands and weak muscles? Don't make me laugh! Ye got some catchin' up to do if ye ever want to be a great warrior. Now, stop that cryin' and push!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan yelled his throat hoarse, and kept on pushing. He would never give in. If the children of the so-called barbarians can learn to endure such pain, so can he.

"The more ya bleed in the trainin' yard, the less ye'll bleed in the battlefield. But if ye're bleedin' in the privy then ya need to see a healer or somethin', cause I can't help ya with that."

Time flashed again, and Aedan was standing before a rack of armaments that possessed every kind of weapon there was. Longswords, rapier, daggers, maces, spears, axes, and hammers. Every weapon of every style was before him.

"Today, we begin training in the weapon style ye wish ta master." Argyle said sternly. "The weapon ye choose will become part'a who ye are and the style ye will use against yer enemies. All styles are different, with its own strengths and weaknesses, so choose wisely. The right weapon can mean victory or defeat. If and when war comes to this country again, which weapon will you go to war with?"

Aedan looked at the weapons before him, carefully considering which discipline he would commit himself to. Didn't even take a minute until he chose the weapon that would define his fighting style.

"Ah, the battle-axe. Very good." Argyle approved. "Simple, yet brutal and to the point."

"The weapon of a barbarian. The most fitting tool for a Fereldan warrior." Aedan smiled.

"Remember this, Aedan, the proper weapon is only half the arsenal necessary for a great warrior." Argyle instructed. "If you truly wish to dominate your opponents and drive the enemy before you, you must learn to break their wills and shatter their focus."

"And how do I accomplish that?" Aedan asked confoundedly.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the giant's chest. "Insult them, mock them, make them angry and they'll lose focus and make a mistake. But if you really want to break their spirit, inspire fear, make them regret ever laying eyes on you, and you will own them. For me, that's always been easy because of my size and strength."

"Well, I'm not a freak of nature like you, Argyle. How can I inspire such fear into anyone?"

"You're going to have to discover that for yourself, Aedan, if you're to become the warrior you want to be." Argyle answered. "I have found that what frightens most people is either being burned alive, or eaten alive. If you can put that fear into your enemies, then there won't be a soul alive that can challenge you."

Aedan looked at the axe in his hand, contemplating on his teacher's words. To inspire fear in his enemies, break their will. "I will find a way, Argyle. Many people revered knights. Everyone fears barbarians."

A Year Later in Val Royeaux,

Aedan was walking in the familiar surrounding of Orlais' imperial capital. At this point in their lives, almost all of them, especially Vivienne, recognized the all too familiar sights and sounds of Val Royeaux. Aedan was walking through the apartments of the University of Val Royeaux's dorm complex. He was carrying a pad of papers and a paint palette. Looked like he was leaving a class and heading back to his room. He was definitely older, on the brink of adulthood, yet he still did not have his signature tattoos, nor did he even posses that presence of his that made people afraid of him.

"This is the University of Val Royeux." Dorian observed keenly. "What was the Hero doing here?"

"I remember Aedan saying that he was a student here in his youth. That he came to the University to study art." Cassandra recalled.

"Ah, yes, I remembering Aedan mentioning this before. I believe he said that his mother insisted that he learn to do more with his hands than just beat people to a pulp with them." Zevran informed.

"And he came to very bastion of culture and learning? His mother was a wiser woman than I would have thought." Vivienne commented acerbically.

"Seems like a waste of time." Iron Bull huffed. "If this guy was training to be a master of war, why bother studying something he obviously hasn't pursued?"

"Come now, Iron Bull, surely you can't find harm in someone expanding their horizons." Vivienne insisted.

"Look at the Hero. What's he doing?" Cassandra wondered as she watched the young Aedan Cousland.

As Aedan walked to make his way back to his dorm for the day, he heard something that instantly caught his attention and his ire.

"Messere, please, I...I'm engaged..." A meek voice pleaded from behind one of the apartment doors.

"Don't worry little rabbit, I'll be sure to teach you some lessons you can show your betrothed." An Orlesian-accented voice said lecherously.

"No! Please, I...I don't want this..." The woman pleaded desperately.

A loud slap echoed from behind the door followed by the woman's pained sobbing.

"Silence, slut! I don't care what you want. What I want is all that matter, and it is my right to take it!" The Orlesian yelled angrily.

Aedan had heard enough. His sense of decency incensed and his anger provoked, the foreign noble clenched his clenched his fist and smashed the door right off its hinges. The young Aedan came upon a crying elven woman with tear stains on her face, a slap mark on her cheek, and half her clothes torn off her body. A finely dressed young Orlesian man was standing over her, with his pants down.

"Dear Andraste!" Vivienne gasped in shock. "That man...it's Duke Girarde!"

"Oh, well, that's just grand, innit?" Sera said in sarcastic disgust. "Prim and proper Lady Iron-Butt likes to rub elbows with nobs that pass the time by beating and raping serving girls. How unlike every noble in Orlais."

"There are too many bastards like this in the world." Ranier added in revilement. "The world would be better for it if someone just executed them all, title or not."

"Just what the fuck is this?!" Aedan demanded furiously.

"How dare you interrupt!" Girared shouted back, pulling his pants back up.

"P-please, messere, help me..." The elven woman begged.

"Silence, slut!" Girared ordered and slapped the elven maid again and making her cry before turning his attention back to Aedan. "I remember you. You're that Fereldan turnip this University was mad enough to enroll. Since you obviously learned no manners in that stinking ice cube you call a country, let me enlighten you: I am a noble of Orlais, and in this country, we know how to control our elves. If I wish to exert my authority on a knife-ear, and have a little fun with it, then that's my right. Who do you think you are to infringe upon me?!"

Aedan clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and the blood in his veins boiled like a witch's cauldron. He had always had disdain for Orlesians as a rule for what they did to his country during the occupation, but this? Now he truly understood why his elders back home hated Orlais, and now shared in their loathing. This vile prick needed to be reminded why Ferelden hated this wretched empire.

Aedan cracked his knuckles loudly, his eyes filled with anger and disgust. "So this is what you Orlesian nobles do for fun, huh? Well, let me show you how we have fun back in Ferelden!"

Aedan jammed his fist right into Girarde's nose, flattening it beneath his knuckles and sent him flying across the room. The Fereldan noble would not stop there. He could not abide, tolerate, or allow such vile, disgraceful actions to go unpunished. It was against everything he held sacred as a Fereldan. His father and grandfather fought against such villainy, Aedan could do no less.

All of them watched the memory unfold before them as Aedan unleashed all the years of training under Argyle's brutal tutelage on the vile Orlesian nobleman. Argyle's training was most effective. Aedan smashed Girarde's body and broke his bones like he was made of paper and twigs. Girarde begged Aedan for mercy with his own tears and blood staining his face. Aedan showed Girared the same clemency he showed that elven woman he was going to rape: with more beatings and verbal abuse. The elven woman watched in silence as she carefully placed her clothes back on, and smiled contently to herself. For the fist time in her life, she felt there was justice in the world.

The Next Day...

Aedan stood in front of the Dean of the University's desk. By now, the entire institution, and probably half of the capital, was abuzz about the severe and unadulterated mauling a Fereldan student had given to one of the son of one of the members of the imperial court. To anyone else, it would have been an unbearable scandal, but Aedan just stood there, obviously not giving a single damn.

Dean Claude, on the other hand, was less than pleased about the occurrence. He glared at the young Fereldan lord like this whole scandal was about to give him a stroke.

"Do you have any idea what your little indiscretion has done to the reputation of this university, young man?" The balding old man asked sternly. "This academy prided itself on being the center of academic learning and enlightenment in the South. Now, thanks to you, every patron and donator to this school thinks that it's some kind of...stable where the students brawl and bicker like at some seedy tavern!"

"Tch. A seedy tavern would be a step up from where I'm standing." Aedan scoffed.

"Damn it all, young man, this is serious! I should think the son of the esteemed Teyrn Cousland would respect the fact that our nations are no longer at war!" The dean shouted. "I'm sure that if he were to learn of your disgraceful behavior, he'd be heartbroken."

Aedan glare at the old Orlesian administrator, and the old man withdrew when he noticed Aedan's fist clenching.

"Be very careful, old man." Aedan warned. "Don't you dare try to assume like you know my father better than I do. It's...insulting."

Dean Claude remained composed, but had no doubt that this young man trained in combat would make an east target out of him if provoked.

"Be grateful that you didn't kill Girarde, otherwise there would be cause for war, and I'm sure that would upset your father." Claude rebutted calmly. "Small comfort, irregardless. The healers say Girarde will be lucky if h cane ever walk again, thanks to the damage you inflicted on him."

"Ha! He's just lucky I didn't mangle all three of his legs. Well, more like an eleventh toe than third leg, really." Aedan laughed.

"No, you're the one who is lucky!" Dean Cluade shouted down. "Lucky to have been born with such a powerful, diplomatic name. Anyone else, anyone of lesser stock, would have been thrown into a cell and awaiting the gallows for this offense. It's only thanks to your noble status that you're only facing expulsion and not execution. Such a pity, really. You've thrown away an education most people can't even dream of. I don't know how it is in Ferelden, thank Andraste, but here, in Orlais, we actually have civilized standards. The peasantry know their place and we do not try to start a war over one lord's minor indiscretion."

Aedan's eye began to twitch and his fist clenched in utter outrage. Then, for the first time in these memories, everyone saw that famous temper of Aedan Cousland's. The outraged Fereldan noble kicked the dean's desk so hard he pinned the dean against the wall, knocking the wind out of him, and possibly cracked his ribs, before cursing at the top of his lungs.

"Minor indiscretion? That son of a bitch was trying to rape a woman! Doesn't that mean anything to anyone here in the fucking empire!? If this is what you call a 'civilized standard', I'd rather be filthy barbarian any day of the week! Your Chevalier code is a load of bullshit! I've met dogs with more honor than you wine-sipping cheese monkeys! King Maric and General Loghain didn't kill nearly enough of you shitheads! Gods, I hope go into another war, then I crucify your fuckers, burn you alive and feed you to the dogs! Fuck this empire, fuck your Chantry, fuck your Chevalier, and fuck your stuck-up bitch of an empress!"

Aedan's tirade continued without stop or reprieve even after he had stormed out of the dean's office. Every student and teacher of the university gave the enraged Fereldan former student a wide berth as he made his way out, lest they be the next victims of his anger. Cassandra and the others even spotted a younger Josephine Montilyet in the halls, and realized just how little she aged since then.

Aedan couldn't believe this bullshit. If a lord tried to pull this kind of crap back in Ferelden, not all would the entire peasantry rise up in revolt, and all the lords with a sense of honor would condemn this action. But here? Here, the common people had no rights, and the elves had even less. Nobles strut around like peacocks, thinking their shit smells better than everyone else's, acting like they deserve respect and privilege they didn't earn. Then when someone actually stands up to their tyranny, the nobles act as if they're the innocent party. What a load of shit! All he wanted to do now was go back home.

Aedan was so angry with what happened here, that he didn't even bother waiting for the season to end to head back to Ferelden, or even for the next boat out to Amaranthine. Aedan wanted to be back on his native soil right now. So he just went to the stables, got on his horse and rode westward towards the Frostbacks. Cassandra and the other realized sooner than Aedan did that that was a mistake.

Two Days Later...

A terrible blizzard had swallowed the Frostback Mountains as Aedan tried to take the paths back to Gherlen's Pass back to Ferelden. Aedan was so furious, that he didn't take into account that he was making his way though Frostbacks at the start of winter, when the weather in these mountains was at it harshest. The storm clouds blocked out the sun as crippling winds whipped at the mountains side and hard balls of ice the size of a fist fell from the sky. Being only witnesses to this event, Cassandra and the others felt none of the terrible pains of this weather, and could only watch as Aedan suffered every minute of his ill-fated decision.

"Shiiit! What the fuck was I thinking!?" Aedan cursed at himself furiously. "Everyone knows not to brave the Frostbacks at the start of winter!"

"Even I knew that." Cole commented.

Despite the brutally harsh conditions, Aedan refused to turn back. He was too angry and stubborn to do the wise thing, and in this mood, he'd rather face certain death in this blizzard than go back to Orlais. Where as most sane people would be scared and try to find shelter, Aedan furiously soldiered on, daring the snow storm to try harder.

"Is this the best you can do!?" Aedan challenged the howling winds and frigid mountains like they were his enemy. "You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to make me turn back! You hear me?! I am Aedan of Highever! I will never submit!"

"The guy's absolutely batty." Sera remarked. "Yelling at the mountains and snow? That's crazy, yeah?"

"He is a warrior to the core, and his pride as a warrior demands that he press on, no matter the hardship." Cassandra acknowledged.

"Trust me, Aedan has survived far worse than bad weather. I've seen it." Zevran assured.

Aedan's horse soon fell and broke it's leg, forcing him to put the beast out of its misery. Not letting this mishap become a total loss, Aedan slit the horse's jugular and drank its warm blood for nutrients and warmth. An act that made Vivienne, Sera, Dorian and Varric almost vomit when they saw it. Aedan rose back up, his face covered in blood, and screamed a roar of challenge back at the winds.

"This is nothing! You are nothing!" Aedan yelled, his challenge echoing over the storm and through the mountains. "Gods of the Frostbacks, you won't deter me. Maker, if you're really out there, I dare you to try and stop me, you pussy!"

At that very moment, someone, the gods of the Frostbacks, or the Maker, answered Aedan's challenge. The mountains rumbled and groaned like they were coming to life and ground shook from its anger with such force Aedan was almost thrown off his feet. Then he saw the response of the higher powers he had provoked. An avalanche of snow came down on him like a white tidal wave as hundred of tons of snow, rock and debris slid off the mountainside. There was no cover to hide behind or a place to run, nor would Aedan flee even if there was. He would not back down from the challenge he had made. A warrior faces his death, never runs from it.

"I AM AEDAN OF HIGHEVER!" Aedan roared in defiance as he stood his ground and the Avalanche came down upon him.

The Next Morning...

Everyone watched as the sun broke through the following morning after the blizzard broke. It was clear that Aedan had survived this insane venture, but as to how anyone could survive such a wrathful encounter with nature, they could only watch to find the answer. Their answer came in the form of a certain golden-haired woman with a heart-shaped face and a generous bust wearing leathers that clinged to her buxom form like a glove.

Ranier's jaw dropped in shock. "Maker's breath, I don't believe it."

"Never thought we'd see her again." Varric commented.

"I hoped we'd never see her again." Vivienne scoffed.

"I prayed to see her again." Zevran added with his tongue wagging.

"Oooh. Now this magic memory thing is getting interesting." Sera laughed wantonly.

"Siobahn? The shaman of Bear-Hold?" Cassandra realized with a deep blush on her face. She remembered how the Avvar mage once made a pass at her, and actually found it flattering.

Siobahn was accompanied by her fellow Avvar of her tribe, and it looked like she was digging around in the snow for something. And like anything Siobahn did, even digging, she did it with sass and did everything she could to show off her feminine assets. She got on her hands and feet and began digging out the snow, giving the spectators and her fellow tribesman a clear view of her of her shapely rump.

"Siobahn, what in Korth's name are we doing here? Let's just head back to camp." One of the hunters insisted, trying to avoid staring at her ass.

"Nae, not yet. Something last night stirred Korth's wrath when he sent that avalanche through this pass." Siobahn rejected in her Avvar accent. "T'would be best to discover what that something was. It could be a danger to the Hold." Whatever it was, it was around here, somewhere."

Siobahn continued digging through the snow, searching for any clue as to what happened here last night. Siobahn screamed loud enough to start another avalanched when something with a powerful grip grabbed her from beneath the snow. The hunters rushed over to their mage-sister, ready to kill what was threatening her, but she motioned them to stop. Using her free hand, she carefully used her magic to remove the snow off of whatever it was that was grabbing her. Her eyes were filled with surprise at what she found there.

"N-n-not d-dead...yet. I...am...Aedan of Highever..." The young Fereldan shivered, almost blue from the cold. He was still alive, but barely.

Siobahn stared at the prize she found beneath the snow and considered what this could have meant.

"Siobahn, what is it? What's caught ye?" One of the hunters asked concerned.

"It's an Alamarri, and a handsome one at that. Seems he was caught by the avalanche. He's still breathing, though." Siobahn answered, taking the time to admire Aedan's perfectly formed face.

"Shall we kill him, then? Might be the merciful thing to do. Strangers shouldn't be crawling these mountains, anyway." The other hunter suggested.

"No, we shall not. We will bring him to the hold." Siobahn instructed. "Korth brought his wrath down upon this man, yet he survived when any other man would have been killed. Haakon Wintersbreath himself must have been watching this man. We'd be fools not to see the favor the gods have in this man. Besides, he's much too handsome to just kill like this."

~XoXoXo~

All of them watched as the memories of this time Aedan had with the Avvar unfolded before them. How Siobahn Skin-Changer nursed him back to health, and instead of slitting his throat or holding him ransom, they welcomed this stranger into their hold as one of their own. Aedan learned more in the winter he spent these tribesman in their mountains than he did in the time he spent at the University in Val Royeaux.

The Frostback Mountains was one of the most dangerous places in all of Thedas. Harsh weather, treacherous terrain, and if the cunning beasts of the wild didn't kill you, hostile tribesman would. Yet despite all these hardships, the Avvar have not only survived, they have flourished, making these mountains their own. Here, the harsh winds and bitter cold whittled its people to their true cores. There was no room for softness, no place for empty promises or weak wills. Here, you were either strong, honorable, and brave, or you were not. It was this strength of will, this sense of honor that Aedan sought to learn from the warrior of Bear-Hold.

With the Avvar, Aedan honed his martial skills, learned the true ways of combat. With the Avvar, unlike in Orlais and even Ferelden, there were no rules or ceremony when it came to combat. No such thing as dirty tactics. You win or you die, no room for etiquette or empty customs. He hunted the fierce beasts of the Frostbacks with them, learning their secrets and tactics. How to lure the prey and exploit it weaknesses. They even showed him their secret for boosting their strength after a hunt. They would hunt down one of the mighty beasts of the Frostbacks, such a great bear or a red lion, and ritualistically cut out its heart and eat it. To consume the strongest organ in any creature's heart, where many people believed the soul resided, was to take its strength.

That particular cultural exchange made all the viewers, particularly Vivienne and Sera, want to vomit.

Soon winter turned into spring, opening the paths back to the Lowlands. Aedan had learned all he could from the Avvar of Bear-Hold, and it was time for him to return to his own people. Aedan had come to this people as a stranger, but they had come to accept this Alamarri as their brother. In the whole winter he had spent with these tribesman, he had seen more honor and strength than during his entire time in Orlais and it's Great Game. The Orlesians hid behind their fancy masks and pretended to have honor while never truly knowing the meaning of the word. The Avvar wore their honor with pride, never hiding what they truly were, no matter who it offended. From this day forward, Aedan would wear his honor, everything he valued on his skin, so that the entire world would know who he truly is.

Siobahn herself bestowed the tattoos that Aedan has since then proudly worn on his body. On both his knees is the Royal Signet of Ferelden, declaring that he would kneel before no one but his king. On his left arm is a black snowflake beneath twin axes crossing, the symbol of Hakkon Wintersbreath, to honor the god of winter and war that the Avvar believed had blessed Aedan. On his right, Aedan placed the symbol of the Teyrnir of Highever, a green dewdrop behind twin spears crossing, that the strength of Highever might strengthen Aedan's sword arm. On Aedan's back, Siobahn inked the image of the Lady of The Skies, and an inscription in the Avvar tongue that reads, "I am always watching", a reminder of how death is but to never fear her. Over his heart is the Sigil of House Cousland, for his family is always in his heart. And finally, the most recognized of all Aedan's tattoos, the blue ink styled like Alamarri war paint that veiled his face.

Now, this was the Aedan Cousland all of them recognized. He came to the Frostbacks as an enraged youth, and now he would leave on his journey to become the greatest and most feared warrior in Ferelden.

"So this is how he got all those tattoos. I gotta admit, didn't really recognize him without them." Varric confessed.

"Seeing all this, explains a lot." Zevran realized. After witnessing this memory, a lot of things with Aedan made much more sense to him.

"He left his home to learn more, only to find what he hated. Then he came here, and discovered strength of character he didn't know existed. When he left these mountains, he knew who he would become." Cole spoke out insightfully.

"Such very juvenile and impulsive decision, putting those marks on his face." Vivienne admonished disdainfully. "I would think the son of a powerful noble would have had more self-respect than that."

"So, I guess you think the same about the Inquisitor? Huh, Iron Lady?" Ranier countered rhetorically. "That to display what one values without shame is uncouth and barbaric? It's better to wear what you honor and live by them, then to discard it like an accessory when it's outdated."

"From what we saw of those Avvar guys back in the Frostback Basin, they're probably some of the toughest sons of bitches in the South. He learned a lot more from them than he did from those pansies back in Orlais." Iron Bull agreed. "Too bad he couldn't make off with that hot Siobahn chick."

"Yes, but I think we all could have done without the whole hunting-an-animal-down-then-eating-its-heart sort of thing. That's just gross." Dorian stated, sticking out his tongue.

"That's for damned sure." Sera groaned looking pale at the thought of it.

"There are too many people who use the visage of righteousness and honor to hide what they truly are, to further their own agenda. We saw much of that in Winter Palace and amongst the remaining Grand Clerics, and Aedan saw that in Val Royeaux." Cassandra recalled disappointedly. "Amongst the Avvar, you either have honor or you do not, and those who don't are worthy only of contempt. It's an admirable way to live, even if he's still an asshole."

The memory began to fade away once again. The memories shifted and melted into blackness like paint off a canvas. Soon, the mountains and snow where gone, and the found themselves surrounded by darkness as black as pitch, and waited for what was to happen next.

Years Later...

The blackness faded away and everyone found themselves in new surroundings as another memory came to life before them. As soon as they got their bearing of this new environment, some of them began wishing they were back in the frigid mountains. They were standing in what appeared to be some kind of mansion back in Ferelden. It was spacious and grand, filled with rich trappings fit for the wealthiest of nobleman. Vibrant banners, Antivan rugs, dwarven furniture, and there was even statues that must have been carved in the Anderfels. However, it wasn't the finery that catching everyone's attention right now.

All around them, strewn across the floor, were the slain corpses of dozens of soldiers. More than dozens. There wasn't an inch of floor here that wasn't covered in blood, and the air reeked of death. This was no home of the living, but a killing field. An execution ground.

They looked like private soldiers, and all of them had been mauled and gored to death by what must have been a rabid giant. Their bodies had been cleaved open, their limbs torn off, and their heads smashed in. And all of the, every corpse that still had a face, had a twisted expression of unbridled terror frozen on them. Even the brave those who had witnessed Corypheus' terrible power did not have such fear instilled in them after death.

"Holy shit. This makes the massacre at Bartrand's mansion look like a wet dream." Varric gasped.

"This is more like a waking nightmare." Dorian commented, unable to take his eyes off the mangled corpses around them. "And here I thought the attack on Haven was brutal."

"Hot damn! This looks like bad day back in Seheron." Iron Bull exclaimed, remembering how much death surrounded the civilians of his old home.

"Blessed Maker, what happened here?" Cassandra wondered, appalled. by all the blood that surrounded him. "Look at these men. Just like the qunari back in the library, it's as if they were horribly scared of something, before being ripped apart."

"Ripped apart, split open, crushed, these men all died in some very painful ways, like their killer wanted them to know real pain before they died." Ranier observed.

"Whatever it was that came through here, these common soldiers stood no chance." Vivienne stated with no room for argument.

Cole began breathing erratically and could barely contain his discomfort. It was as if the very presence of this place was causing him pain. He could feel the emotions that radiated from this place, even as a memory.

"This is a bad place, a horrible place." Cole whimpered, trying cover his ears. It was as if he could hear the agonized screams of the dead men surrounding him. "They all died screaming, wailing, begging for mercy, but were given none. This place is drowning in fear and pain and...anger. So much anger."

"Maldecion...I prayed I would never have to relive this day." Zevran lamented aloud, his face fallen into his hand. "Why did it have to be this memory?"

Everyone turned their attention to Zevran, and it became blatantly apparent that he was familiar with this place.

"Zevran, you know where we are? You know what did this?" Cassandra inquired.

"Of course I know, how could I not? Take a look around you, Seeker, who else could have done this?!" Zevran shouted motioning to all the carnage around them. "Only Aedan could have wreaked such devastation. And these motherless swines deserved every last bit of it!" Zevran hocked in his throat and hatefully spat on the dead surrounding them. "This...this is the Arl of Denerim's mansion. The hole where Rendon Howe chose to place himself after becoming Loghain's top bootlick, then decided to hold Queen Anora prisoner after she began to realize how insane her father was. Arl Eamon tasked Aedan and the rest of us to save the queen to use as political leverage against Loghain, so Anora's handmaiden snuck us into the manor dressed as soldiers. Then...then that's when everything went straight to hell."

"What happened next?" Varric dared to ask.

"Turns out, Arl Howe has adopted a new hobby: the delicate and widely formed art of torture." Zevran answered satirically, his lips curled with disgust. "Aedan...found the severed, rotting heads of the most loyal servants of his house hanging in the guards' armory like trophies. The captain of the guard bragged about how they kept them alive and tortured them to death, like it was a damned joke. Aedan completely lost his mind in a fit of rage, grabbed the axe of his slain master at arms they were keeping as a trophy, and slaughtered everyone in his path to Howe. The queen didn't matter, even the Blight didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Aedan's revenge."

All of them had heard the stories, though some gave them little credence. How Teyrn Bryce was betrayed by his closest friend, his family murdered, then declared a traitor to Ferelden. Howe had stolen the Couslands ancestral seat at Teyrn of Highever and began a reign of corruption and tyranny in Loghain's name. Then Aedan came along with King Cailan's half-brother, and wreaked a terrible vengeance on Howe. The whispers amongst Loghain's supporters were that Aedan cannibalized Howe, a claim that Aedan neither denied, nor confirmed with anyone outside his circle. Now, they would all bear witness to the truth of Aedan's revenge.

Zevran walked forward and motioned everyone to follow him. "Come on, I still remember the way. But I hope you're all ready for what we're about to see, because I never did."

The Antivan elf led them further into the mansion, all of them carefully tried not to step on the trail of corpses in their way, or slip in their blood. Zevran led them down to the Arl Howe's dungeon, which was adjacent to his bedchamber. The mansion was as quiet and as dead as a tomb, with every soul that had not fled this place being slain. Then the silence was broken by the sounds of battle at the end of the dungeon's hallway.

Steel clashing and magic igniting from within the final cell, followed by the sounds of screaming, flesh tearing and the vile smell of death in all its forms emanating from the other side of the door.

"No! This can't be!" A cold, arrogant voice denied furiously.

"I know that voice." Zevran stated, clenching his fist angrily. "That's Arl Howe. We made it just in time."

"In time for what?" Cassandra dared to ask.

"To see the most spiritually uplifting moment in Aedan Cousland's life." Zevran answered with uncharacteristic seriousness.

All of them rushed through the door and into the cell and saw the companions Aedan had during the Blight. There was Alistair Theirin, now ruling King of Ferelden. Leliana, now Divine Victoria I. Zevran himself, though it was difficult to tell he had aged since this day. The Sten of the Baresaad, who rose to the role of Arishok. The late Senior-Enchanter Wynne of the Circle of Magi and representative of the Aequitarian Fraternity. The dwarf, Oghren Kondrat, ex-husband of Paragon Branka, former member of the Warrior Caste, and now decorated Grey Warden. And finally, there was Morrigan, the raven-haired Chasind witch and former Arcane Advisor to the Imperial Court. Every member of Aedan's company had risen highly in the world, thanks in no small part to their association to the Hero.

All of companions, the Inquisitor's and the Hero's both, watched as Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck and broke the Arl's back on his knee, paralyzing Howe from the waist down. Howe writhed and screamed in horrible agony, cursing and spiting wildly. Aedan watched his hated enemy writhe a depraved sense of glee in his eyes.

"Maker spit on you, and all Couslands, you godless whoreson!" Howe cursed viciously. "I...deserved...more!"

Aedan knelt down on his crippled enemy.

"Oh, but you do deserve more, Howe. And I'm going to give it to you." Aedan's grin was wide and sinister, and drooling in anticipation. And hunger. He held Howe's head in his powerful grip and turned the side of his face towards him. "All of you get out. Me and my old friend Howe have to get reacquainted."

Wynne understood that Aedan's family deserved to be avenged, but not like this.

"Aedan, please." Wynne begged. "If you kill this man like this, you'll be no better than him."

"I can live with that." Aedan answered indifferently.

Alistair knew Aedan deserved revenged but they still had a mission to accomplish. "Aedan, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Killing him is my sole purpose for existing, Alistair. I must do this." Aedan growled angrily to his friend.

"But we don't have that much time!" Alistair urged, almost begged. "The queen is…."

"GET! OUT!" Aedan roared one last time. All his companions quickly, though apprehensively, obeyed. There was no talking him out of this. While the memory-versions of Aedan's companions left, Rajmael's companions had no choice but to stay. They watched as the horrible extent and truth of Aedan's terrible vengeance unfolde right before their eyes. They wanted to look away, but the memory before them was so horrifying, that they were compelled to watch.

Aedan smacked his lips hungrily and sank his teeth deeply into Howe's left cheek and slowly ripped it off his face, leaving behind a massive, bloody hole that showed off Howe's jaw and screaming tongue as blood spurted from his gapping wound.

Aedan slowly chewed on the piece of flesh in his mouth, savoring the metallic taste of Howe's blood. It was even more delicious than he had dreamed of, and the shrill screaming of Howe's agony coming from his shredded face was sweeter than any of Leliana's songs.

Aedan spat Howe's cheek out of his mouth when it lost its flavor. He paused for a moment and thought about what else he could cut off. He reached into belt, grabbed his hunting knife and sliced Howe's ear off, making the old man sob and cry in agony.

Howe vainly tried to push Aedan's face to get him off, but to no avail. Instead Aedan grabbed the hand that was on his face and saw his father's ring on Howe's finger. Aedan grabbed that finger and snapped it like a chicken bone. He twisted the broken finger completely backwards ripped it right off Howe's hand.

"Damn you!" Howe gritted through his teeth in agony. "Maker Damn You!"

"The Maker's not here, Howe." Aedan answered as he rightfully placed his father's ring on his own finger. "He doesn't want to see what I'm doing to you."

Aedan looked down at the pathetic little man that had caused him so much grief and decided to remind him of the lives he destroyed. Aedan tore Howe's armor and shirt off his body and set to work on him at a very slow and very excruciatingly set to wok on Howe with his hunting knife. Bryce. Eleanor. Orianna. Oren. Fergus. Old Nan. Gilmore. Mallol. Argyle. He carved all these names into Howe's skin.

Finally, Aedan carved the Cousland Wreath right into Howe's forehead. "So that the souls of those you wronged will find you in the Fade!"

Howe tried to kick and fight Aedan off him, but his broken back made it impossible. All he could do was scream, gnash his teeth and curse that the Maker would damn his tormentor.

It was time for the bloody finish. Aedan sliced his knife down from Howe's sternum to his navel in one clean, deft stroke, causing Howe to writhe in searing agony the likes of which he never thought possible. The blood-crazed Warden grabbed his enemy by the hair and forced him to stare at his own eviscerated innards. Disembowelment was a horrifying thing to inflict on someone because it caused unbearable amounts of pain, while at the same time, not killing the victim.

Aedan speared his hand right into Howe's stomach like a lance. Howe screamed a blood curdling cry that sent Aedan's joy to new heights as he pulled out Howe's intestines right in front of his eyes.

"I guess you had some guts after all, Howe." Aedan laughed manically.

Aedan began absorbing the entropic energy of Howe's torment and clenched his now claw-like hand. It was time to finish this. The moment he had been dreaming about was finally his. He speared his hand into Howe's body one last time, and ripped his enemy's vile, greedy, and wretched heart right out of his own body. Howe's eyes bugged out of his skull in horror; the last thing he saw in this world before he died was watching his still beating heart be devoured by Aedan Cousland.

Cassandra and the others watched in horror and disgust as Aedan raised the vital organ over his head, and squeezed the heart's blood into his mouth. Aedan savored every drop of blood like it was sweeter than any wine he had ever tasted. Then he brought the heart to his lips, licked the warm organ with his tongue, and began to wolf it down his throat in several powerful chomps. He couldn't eat it fast enough. Aedan's hunger for vengeance was insatiable, and he had been starving for it for too long.

Aedan swallowed the last bit of Howe's wretched excuse for a heart, and licked his lips so that he might remember how savory vengeance tasted. A loud, wet belch erupted from Aedan's gullet, spraying chunks of flesh and blood in the air. The Hero of Ferelden stood over the eviscerated body of his hated enemy, and took a moment to enjoy that look of terror and pain frozen on Howe's face. Aedan hocked in his throat, and spat in Howe's dead eye before leaving his body to rot in his own dungeon. The rest of his body would be consumed by the rats.

Cassandra and the others were all frozen in utter horror at the nightmare they had just born witness to. All except for Sera, who was vomiting the contents of her stomach all over the floor. None of them could speak. It was like they had been paralyzed by Howe's death.

No matter what the circumstance, cannibalism was a heinous taboo in practically every culture in existence. To commit such an act was to lower oneself beneath even an animal. It was turn oneself into a monster and be forever separated from ones own kind. Not only did Aedan willingly commit this atrocity, he did it happily and with a smile on his face.

"Andraste's perky tits! I'm gonna be sick for a week!" Sera shouted before hurling on the floor again.

"O Holy Maker and Andraste, please be merciful..." Cassandra shuddered, finally finding the courage to say something.

"Mercy? For Howe?! Surely, you jest, Seeker." Zevran denied in disbelief. "As if that wretched son of a pig was worthy of such a thing! You didn't see the crimes he committed, the people he tortured, how he made all those loyal to Aedan's suffer! As far as I'm concerned, whatever hell Howe's rotting is too good for him!"

"I have no doubt that Howe's sins were terrible, and he deserved to be punished for them, but how could Aedan commit to something so abominable?" Cassandra dared to ask.

"For vengeance sake, what else?" Zevran enlightened. "None of you, and definitely not myself, had a family that you loved and loved you in return. Then to have that stripped away from you all for one man's greed, well, cruelty is the only answer to such treachery."

"War is a cruel and vicious thing. Sometimes, it does things to men and makes them into monsters." Ranier spoke, knowing that truth all too well.

Vivienne held her handkerchief to her face to keep herself from feeling the same ill-effects Sera was suffering. "To be raised a nobleman, born into power and influence most cannot even dream of, and he chooses to be a bloody savage. Such a waste."

"I'd be very careful about what you say, Madame de Fer." Zevran warned casually. "Ask yourself this: after seeing what Aedan is capable of, would you ever want to earn his hatred?"

Vivienne silenced herself. She wouldn't admit it, but knowing that General Cousland had no regard for any form of protocol or even civilized conduct, and to earn his would be a most troublesome thing.

"Andraste's flaming knickers. I thought all those stories about his cannibalism were just that: stories meant to scare criminals and naughty kids." Varric spoke, trying to move past what he just saw. "Don't go bullying that kid down the street, or Aedan Cousland's going to get you while you sleep and eat you. Now we all know those aren't empty threats."

"Jeez! No wonder people don't wanna fuck with this guy. I know I don't." Iron Bull commented loudly. "If there's anyone dumb enough to piss this guy off, then they deserve to die!"

"I was with Rajmael in that horrible future Corypheus tried to create, and I saw first hand what Aedan Cousland was capable of, including his...unusual eating habits." Dorian recalled, trying to collect himself. "And I know full well the extents he'll go to exact his vengeance on someone. Which is going to make it all the sweeter when we get out of here and find the Viddasala."

Despite seeing the depths of darkness that dwelled within the souls of some of the most villainous people in Thedas, even Corypheus, Cole was visibly shaken by what he had just seen. "There was so much pain and anger and hatred in him. It boiled inside him like a cauldron until it was overflowing into his soul. What he did here, it was the only thing that could give him peace."

Now there was a frightening thought. All of them found inner peace in their own ways, something that helped them cope with the insanity of their lives. Some found peace through their faith in religion or their friends, for others it was living by a code or a standard of living. Then there were those who found peace just through the simple pleasures in life. What kind of a man was Aedan Cousland that the only thing that could ever bring him peace was the horrific death and cannibalization of his most hated enemy?

~XoXoXo~

Howe's dungeon walls disappeared around them as the projections of Aedan's memory took them forward into his life. They found themselves at the front gate of Denerim, and the whole city was on fire. Black clouds of smoke eclipsed the sun and they were almost deafened by the sounds of wails of anguish and battle cries. The acrid smell of brimstone and burning flesh filled their nostrils and churned their stomachs. The streets were littered with dead Fereldan citizens as hordes of Darkspawn laid waste to the kingdom's capital.

People attempting to flee into safety only to run into towering Ogre and be devoured by them. Men butchered while vainly trying to fight back against the hurlocks. Women trying to hide their children, only to fail and all be killed and eaten by Shrieks. All of them had borne witness to the atrocities of war, but this was something beyond that. It was slaughter, an evil slaughter. It was the Fifth Blight.

"Blessed Andraste!" Cassandra gasped in horror at the sight of so much slaughter. "What is happening here?!"

"No, no, no, no! Cannot be here, not here. I forgot about, never wanted to think about it again!" Sera denied erratically. The Red Jenny was only a child when the darkspawn laid waste to Denerim, and she did everything she could to forget that horrible time.

"This is the corruption Corypheus brought into the world, the destruction he wanted to create a new one." Cole whispered.

Zevran looked upon the wanton destruction with grim nostalgia. He too was witness to this invasion of evil. "Ah, the darkspawn's assault on Denerim. I remember this day all too well. It was the single greatest thing I ever did with my life. This was the day Aedan Cousland became the Hero of Ferelden."

"This is why the Wardens are always needed, yet they're always the first things forgotten. Most people never stop to think why their job is so important until the Blight is already at your doorstep." Ranier spoke out.

A terrible shrieking roar split the air and shook the ground as colored fire rained down from the sky. A powerful gust of wind sent the slain corpses flying off the ground, an immense shadow cast itself over the ground, and the darkspawn raised their weapons to roar cries of exaltation. All of them looked up and saw the epitome of destruction and chaos. Urthemiel, Old God of Beauty and Archdemon of the Fifth Blight.

To label the Archdemon as a dragon wasn't nearly strong enough to describe this monstrosity. Even Corypheus' pet dragon fell short in comparison to the malignant majesty of this ancient horror. Once worshipped as a god by the Ancient Imperium, Urthemiel was now a monstrous reflection of what he once was. Maggots seeping out from beneath its scales, devouring the rotting flesh underneath. Its jaws were filled with long, sword-like teeth that were riddled with rot and decay, with saliva and pus secreting out of its gums. The dragon's wings were massive tattered ruins of shredded flesh and membrane that overshadowed all life before it. Even in their ruined state, those terrible wings beat the air with such terrible force that they kicked up a gale that could uproot trees. The dragon spewed great black fire from its gullet that threatened to burn the world.

"So, that is the Archdemon. The monster that led the Blight." Cassandra acknowledged.

"Yes. Hard to believe my ancestors ever worshipped such a foul thing. Though I suppose that was before it was corrupted by the darkspawn taint." Dorian commented.

"Ooh! Does this mean we're going to see Aedan slay the Archdemon? That would be badass!" Iron Bull laughed with high hopes.

"No, I do not think so. Look over there" Zevran answered, pointing his finger towards a nearby clearing.

Aedan was standing in courtyard full of dead darkspawn as soldiers began filing in to make their final stand here. This would be the single greatest battle of their lives that would determine the fate and survival of their nation. This was purpose Aedan was born for, the very thing he lived for, and he was finally brought to where he belonged. On his back was that legendary sword he used to kill the Archdemon, a blade of pure starmetal that shinned like moonlight in the darkness, Starfang.

However, Aedan was not holding his legendary weapon, nor did he stand ready to march of to battle in defense of his nation and people as he had always dreamed. Instead, he stood alone, separate from the rest of his companions, his eyes not filled with anger or determination, but with sadness and loss. He stood before the only weakness a man like him could possibly have. That weakness came in the form of a young woman with raven hair and golden eyes, and she too shared in his melancholy.

"Is that...Lady Morrigan?" Cassandra realized wide-eyed.

"That filthy apostate from the Wilds? She was on of the Hero's companions?!" Vivienne asked in utter disbelief.

"Oh, she never told you? That's just classic Morrigan. Never letting anyone know her real intentions while making complete asses of themselves around her." Zevran laughed. "Yes, she was one of Aedan's companions! In fact, she was one of his first companions. The way I understand it, he and Alistair would never have survived Ostagar if it weren't for her."

A bitter scowl unconsciously gripped Vivienne's face. How could she not have known this? Why would that miserable apostate hide such an influential fact? For the life of her, she couldn't understand.

"What's wrong them? Why do they seem so sad?" Dorian asked.

"He loves her, and it hurts him. He wants her to be in his life, and cannot understand why not." Cole answered, his voice filled with the sadness Aedan was feeling.

Morrigan stood before Aedan, her face remained cold as winter, but her eyes betrayed the sadness that dwelled in her heart. "And so we go into the city together, yes? As it should be. Once it is over, I am gone. You understand this, I hope."

Aedan gently took her soft hand and pressed it to his cheek, trying to savor and remember the feeling of her touch one last time. "Morrigan, please. Please don't do this. We can still be together. Us and the baby. Please. I love you, Morrigan."

Morrigan's cold façade melted, revealing all the emotion she truly felt inside. The conflict of what she felt she must do against what she felt for Aedan.

"Please, don't make this more difficult for me. I want that more than anything, to have a life with you, but it can't be. Accepting it would make things so much easier." Morrigan begged on the verge of tears. She looked into Aedan's eyes and could see that there was truly no way to convince him to give up on her. "Allow me to say this before we go. I was….I was foolish. I knew what I had to do, yet I cannot regret ever meeting you. I cannot regret loving you. Aedan, please, understand that this brings me no joy. And no matter what happens after today, I will always love you."

Aedan pressed her warm hand to his face as bitter tears finally broke from his eyes and wet her hand. "When my family was killed, I thought all the love I had in my heart died with them. Then you brought my heart back to life. All the tears I have left in me in, I shed for you. I will always hold you in my heart, Mo Siuile Orge Whurnin."

"What did he call her?" Cassandra asked curiously.

"It was his pet name for Morrigan." Zevran answered in an unusually somber tone. "It means 'My Golden-Eyed Darling' in the Alamarri tongue. While she always made it difficult for others to feel the same way, Morrigan was beyond precious to Aedan."

"I...I never knew the Hero of Ferelden had such a romantic side to him." Cassandra confessed.

"Seeker, it's a fact that every great hero in history has a romantic side. Every one of 'em." Varric stated as fact.

"Oh, yes, Aedan most certainly does have a romantic side. It's just hard to see with his violent and angry side usually covering it up." Zevran went on. "There was something about Morrigan that calmed Aedan's spirit. Like he could feel something more than just bitter anger when he was around her. Like his parents, she loved him and he loved her, despite all their faults. Who else in all of Thedas could love a monster like Aedan Cousland?"

"If she loved him so much, why did she leave him? I mean, thats what happened here, right?" Sera asked.

"I do not know, nor is it my business to know." Zevran answered. "Morrigan's reasons were her own, and Aedan honored them, even though I know it broke his heart to do so. I know Aedan found Morrigan eventually. He was never one to lose what he loved so much."

"Hold a moment, did Aedan mention a baby?" Dorian recalled. "Morrigan must have been pregnant at this very moment. And the Blight was twelve years ago. That means Lady Morrigan's son, Kieran...Aedan Cousland is the boy's father!"

Zevran shook his head, unable to believe his pointed ears. "None of you were aware of this? Seriously?! I mean, even I knew this, and I'm just a guy who kills people for a living! Well, I suppose Morrigan wouldn't go around announcing to the world that her little boy is the Hero of Ferelden's son. Who knows what kind of trouble that might bring him."

"Huh. So, that curious little lad back at Skyhold is Aedan Cousland's little boy." Ranier affirmed before turning his attention to Vivienne. "As I recall, Madam de Fer, you have, on a number of occasions, said some less than pleasant things about both Morrigan and her son. How foolish you must feel now, knowing that she's the lover of a very powerful lord and the mother of his son."

"Your attempts to ruffle my feathers would almost be slightly amusing if they weren't so sad, Ranier." Vivienne retorted disinterestedly.

"You actually...?! Well, Lady Vivienne, if Aedan hasn't found out about this, I'd make sure he never does." Zevran warned the Orlesian mage. "I once watched Aedan break a man's face because he made a tasteless joke about his mama. I dread to think what he'll do to you if he learns you insulted the love of his life, and his son."

As some of the others teased Vivienne, Cassandra began to realize that there was more to Aedan Cousland than just his bad temper, ultra-nationalism, and heretical atheism. He was a man of fierce passions, who valued the content of character more than superficial differences. When he hated, it's to the death, and it's the same when he loves. Whether it's his country, his comrades, or the only woman in Thedas to truly see the depths of his heart.

A Year Later...

Time phased forward once again, after Aedan's victory over the Blight. They found themselves at yet another castle, but none that any of them recognized. Like many of Ferelden's castles, it looked like a converted fortress, built during the time when Ferelden was not a kingdom but a land of warring Arls and Teyrns. This fortress, however, looked like it had seen better days. The keep look like it had recently been under siege and took a terrible beating from whatever enemy invaded this place.

"This must be Vigil's Keep in Amarathine, then." Ranier confirmed. "The former land and holding of Arl Howe, given to the Order after the Blight. The Hero of Ferelden was tasked with rebuilding the Grey Wardens here."

"A kingly gift, but we've seen the consequences of what happens when you give this shady Order too much power." Vivienne condescendingly referred to the events at Adamant fortress.

"Did you forget the destruction we saw Denerim, Lady Vivienne?" Ranier balked defensively. "The whole purpose of having Wardens is to ensure that carnage like that doesn't happen. To paraphrase an old quote of yours, 'when a horde of darkspawn appear at your doorstep, suddenly the world has too few Warden'."

Masons were hard at work repairing the damage to the fortress, craftsman were pushing themselves to their limits at the forges and alchemy labs while green recruits were being outfitted for equipment and sent off to run drills. It quickly became apparent that the people of this keep were preparing for battle, and they were in a hurry. Like they enemy could show up at any moment. However, it didn't look like this castle had enough soldiers to man it, and they walls didn't look ready to withstand a strong assault.

Standing in the courtyard, looking over the necessary repairs and training was the master of this fortress, Aedan Cousland. The Hero of Ferelden wasn't wearing his usual black Fereldan armor, but was instead wearing heavy silverite Warden issued armor that had his rank of Warden-Commander emblazoned on his chest. These were not the companions that fought alongside Aedan during the Blight, all except one. All of them were set to their own tasks. Some were just exchanging witty banter between each other, while some of them were training, or just wanted to be left alone.

Three men encompassing the three disciplines of combat, an elven woman, and male and female dwarf both clad in heavy armor. They recognized most of these new comrades of Aedan's. There was Nathaniel Howe, scout and archer. Sigrun, former member of the Legion of the Dead. Oghren Kondrat, Aedan's companion during the Blight. Even as a memory, Oghren reeked of alcohol and body odor. Then there was the apostate Anders. Even though Varric was the only one here to have ever known him, everyone recognized the progenitor of the Mage-Templar War that set the world down a path of destruction.

The elven woman looked Dalish, judging from her facial tattoos, and they were of similar design to Junnarel's. She had a dusky complexion with sandy blonde hair and wore robes of animal furs. She also carried a staff that looked like a tree branch with its roots wrapping around a magic sphere at the top, revealing her to be a mage.

The last one was a queer-looking human, if he could be called that. He was tall and powerfully built, wearing heavy, high-quality armor and armed with a kite shield and very mean-looking spiked mace. What was so strange about him was that his skin and eyes were unnaturally pale, as if no blood flowed in his body and was now congealing into a black mass in his veins. There was a crook in his neck that shifted to the left like his spine was out of alignment, or something snapped his neck then put his head back on straight.

"I recognize some of these people. Most of them were the Grey Wardens who came to assist us against the Order at Adamant." Cassandra recalled.

"Yeah, all of them served in the Amaranthine Crisis under Aedan Cousland, back when he was promoted to Warden-Commander and tried to reestablish the Order in Ferelden." Varric added. "Blondie told me about how the horde fled north from Denerim and broke into two different tribes that began some kind of civil war with one another."

"Yeah, but who're these other two, the elf and the gross looking guy?" Iron Bull asked.

"I know who they are." Zevran answered. "Aedan told me about them once during one of our conversations. The charming elven woman is Velanna, a mage from the Dalish clans. Her clan ran afoul of humans in one of the nearby villages, and was subsequently exiled from by her Keeper when she refused to give her notions of vengeance. Others wanted what she wanted and joined her, including her younger sister, but I think she wanted to convince Velanna she was wrong. They were all killed by the darkspawn."

"That's a terrible shame. I'm sure that was a horror that was inflicted on many families in the Blight." Ranier said sympathetically. "And who's the last man here? He looks like a Warden, but there's something very strange about him."

"More so than you might think, Ser Ranier." Zevran said grimly. "To answer your question, yes and no. The man before you is the late Warden Kristoff, and current host for a Spirit of Justice."

"You mean to tell me that Aedan Cousland not only allowed one of his own Wardens to become a possessed Abomination, but he actually allied himself with it!? The man is more insane than I realized!" Vivienne shouted.

"So this is the spirit Blondie was friends with before merging with him." Varric observed. "If you were to judge this book by its cover, I guess you'd think twice before even stepping near it. I guess there must've been something good about this guy. Blondie said even Aedan considered Justice a friend."

"Hey, you guys ever notice that the Inquisitor, Champion and Hero all have a strange assortment of freaks and weirdos as friends, or is that just me?" Iron Bull pointed out.

Everyone watched curiously as Aedan stood by himself next to the nearby forge. He wasn't training or painfully dismembering someone in battle, or giving orders, like they would have expected him to. Instead, he was just standing there with his arms crossed, like he was waiting for something. Waiting eagerly.

"Warden-Commander! The blade you requested, it's finished!" A giddy voice called jubilantly. A bald man with a thick, knotted beard wearing a smith's apron eagerly motioned the Warden-Commander over to him. Aedan's eyes lit up as the man approached the smith's forge and looked down on the item concealed beneath the canvas like a hidden birth day present.

"I know that man. He is Master Wade of Denerim. One of the finest smiths in all Ferlden." Cassandra realized. "He is famous for his works, though he is known for being very particular about what he makes. He claims to be an artist, not a mere smith, and only works on memorable pieces. If you were to show him Bianca, Varric, he'd probably go green with envy."

"The guy must know quality when he sees it then." Varric chuckled.

"How well did the ancient dragonbone work, Master Wade?" Aedan asked with anticipation.

"Oh, the Eldest Dragonbone and materials you brought me were magnificent." Master Wade answered joyously. "It was so receptive to the enchantments, and the Avvar runes you told me to carve into the blade practically added life to the weapon. I have never seen anything like it before in my life, and am proud to have made it myself."

"You made it to specifications?" Aedan inquired.

"Down to the most minor detail." Wade assured. "This weapon was made to suit not merely your fighting style, but reflect your very abilities as a warrior. There is no other weapon like this in all of Thedas and all of history. It is the best weapon I have ever made, and adequately replace the Starfang. Take it, and use it well."

Master Wade unveiled the weapon he had created for the Hero of Ferelden's hands only. With the way these two were talking, Cassandra and the others thought it would be the most beautiful sword to ever grace the grip of a warrior's hands. Instead, what they saw was without a doubt the most gruesomely ugly and vicious brutal greatsword any of them had ever seen.

The long handle was made in the form of a bone with a skull shaped pommel. The hilt was carved into the shape of a dragon's skull with its horns curved downward towards the handle. Clenched in the dragon's maw was the most heinously cruel blade ever forged by a man's hand. It was a single edged blade with a slight curve, but the edge of the blade wasn't smooth like it should be for cutting. Instead, the blade was serrated with deep grooves that were formed like teeth along the edge of the blade, meant not for cutting, but for ripping flesh apart. Carved into the hilt and blade were ancient Avvar runes that were glowing with life, and gave the sword a demonic aura. It was the perfect weapon for a man like Aedan Cousland.

Aedan looked down on his newly forged sword with an anticipated grin on his face. "As the man who forged this weapon, what did you name, Master Wade?"

"I call it 'Vigilance'. I know it's nightmarish, but I felt it deserved a noble name." Master Wade answered proudly as Aedan reached to pick it up. "Now, I must warn you, because of your rather specific designs, there are some, shall we say, drawbacks? Because of its serrated edge, it cannot cut very well, but will rip your enemies to shreds. And there was also an issue with the weight..."

Aedan grabbed the weapon and clenched it firmly in his grip. The weapon gave him a sense of euphoria as he held it for the first time. A demonic red aura consumed both the weapon and it wielder as the blade woke with a life of its own. The runes on the blade burned brightly and the eyes in the skull seemed to be glowing, almost as if the blade itself were alive, and hungry.

Aedan's own eyes burned with power as his Reaver powers manifested with the blade in his hands. His sinister grin grew wider as he felt the power of this weapon join with his.

"With the sword, forged from the bones and soul of the Queen of The Blackmarsh, there will be no enemy I cannot slay, and my power will dominate any foe that stands against me!"

"Man, with a sword like, I wouldn't doubt it." Iron Bull commented, seeing the power the sword possessed.

"That sword looks just like his fighting style: brutal, vicious, and meant to inspire fear." Cassandra noted, recalling how merciless Aedan fought against Rajmael and Hawke.

"Aedan told me about the Vigilance once, and only once." Said Zevran. "He told me it was the greatest weapon he ever held in his hands, surpassing even the Starfang he used to kill the Archdemon. It was a weapon he commissioned to his own specifications and was meant to be wielded only by his hands."

"What's so special about the weapon that would make the Hero so practically in love with the damned thing?" Ranier asked curiously.

"From what Aedan told me? The Vigialnce...siphons entropic energy from its victims, and Aedan in turn feeds off that entropic energy to heal the wounds he suffers to increase the power of his Reaver abilities. That's what Aedan told me." Zevran recalled.

"If that ugly thing is phwaor, what doesn't Ser-Bites-A-Lot have it with him?" Sera pointed out.

"And that's why he only told me once." Zevran sighed. "Turns out his sword was...stolen. By Antivan Crows, no less. Even after over a decade, Aedan still hates talking about it."

"General Cousland is a man of considerable means. If the sword means that much to him, why didn't he search for it?" Vivienne inquired.

"He tried. Even enlisted my help to get it back from the Crows." The former assassin assured. "Turns out, the Crows who stole it got themselves killed by other people who wanted the sword. Ever since then, all we've heard is unreliable rumors and ghost stories. Like the blade has a mind of its own, that it kills whoever wields it, that it's haunted by the soul of the dragon it was made from. Untraceable stories that lead to nowhere."

"Then perhaps it is a good thing that the Hero lost that sword." Cassandra said dourly. "We all saw what he was capable of against the Champion and the Inquisitor, and that was just with his bare hands. Maker knows what that man would be capable of if he actually had that terrible weapon in his hands."

~XoXoXo~

They found themselves in a nightmarish place. A wasteland of death with rotting corpses littering the ground and piled into giant mounds that had been lit on fire, filling the air with black smoke and the horrid stench of burning flash. There was evidence of the Imperium's influence here; their architecture littered the landscape in many crumbling ruins. The Tevinter ruins, however, were completely dwarfed by the literal mountains of bones that filled this place. The scariest part was that most of these of these bones weren't human: they were all the skeletal and fossilized remains of dragons.

"Man, would you look at the size of these skulls! Some of the are bigger than warships I've sailed on." Iron Bull marveled with admiration glinting in his only eye.

"Yes, Amatus, this smoldering wasteland of bones and death is certainly a charming place. Maybe we should make a summer home here. We can admire all the carrion as they come to feast on the dead carcasses." Dorian said sarcastically.

"Awww, you're the best, Kadan." Iron Bull said graciously, not registering his lover's sarcasm.

"Where in the Maker's holy name are we, Zevran?" Cassandra wondered in aghast at the mass grave before them.

"I'm Aedan's friend and occasional hitman, not his wife or journal, Seeker. I don't know everything he's done or everywhere he's been." Zevran groaned in annoyance. "But from the look of things, I'd say we're in the Dragonbone Wastes."

Dorian quirked a curious eyebrow when he heard the name of this place. "The Dragonbone Wastes? There are legends of this place back in the Imperium. A place deep in the cold wastes of the South where High Dragons would go at the end of their lives to die. I always thought it was a myth."

"Well, as you can see, Master Pavus, it most certainly isn't." Zevran confirmed.

"Yeah? Well, what the heck are we even doin' in a place this creepy?" Sera shuddered.

"What do you all know about the Amaranthine Crisis?" Zevran inquired.

"I've heard of it. A lot of the farmers and people I encountered in the wild talked about it when I was living as Blackwall." Ranier spoke out. "Supposedly, after the Blight was ended in Denerim, the Horde fled northward towards Amaranthine and fractured into two warring tribes, and some kind of darkspawn civil war broke out right in the middle of the arling. The darkspawn invaded Amaranthine City, and the Hero drove them back and hunted them down to their layer, ending the threat."

"Wow. That was pretty well said for a rookie storyteller." Varric complimented with a small applause. "Blondie told me about this mission once, and only once. That the two darkspawn factions were led by leaders, the Architect and the Mother. The Mother created a new breed of really disgusting darkspawn called the children, and both her and the Architect were capable of granting other darkspawn intelligence and speech."

"Sweet Maker, talking darkspawn!?" Cassandra said with revilement. "What monstrosities could create such things?"

"You mean there were other darkspawn more gross and creepy than the ones we've seen? Eww!" Sera groaned sickly.

"What else did your apostate friend say?" Vivienne asked curiously. "That is, if the word of a terrorist can be trusted."

"Something about the Mother having a grudge against the Architect, and the Architect wanting to free the darkspawn. I really don't know." Varric admitted honestly. "To tell the truth, Blondie neever really liked talking about his days as a Warden. Said it gave him nightmares. Something about a lot of nipples."

Before any of them could event take a moment to dread what that could possibly mean, they saw Aedan and his crew charging through the paths between the hills of bones, slaughtering any darkspawn that dared to stand in their path. It would seem they would get to watch the answer to the questions unfold right before them.

Aedan and his Grey Wardens had repelled the Mother's attack on Amaranthine and were now here to pay her back for all the pain and terror she had inflicted on the arling. Aedan had brought all his Wardens with him, an act he now regretted, now that he knew about the siege that was happening at Vigil's Keep right now. He couldn't let himself think about it now, he had to focus on the mission. The best thing he could do to help his men back at Vigil's Keep was slay the Mother, and have faith in the fortress he built.

All of them watched as all these Wardens unleashed their anger against their hated enemies. Each of them a venerable army unto themselves. Oghren and Justice cut down scores of them with their respective sword and hammer. Oghren had been fighting the wretched 'spawn since his youth, none here knew how to fight them better than him. Justice was a warrior-spirit, a being of the Fade that reflected righteous retribution against the wicked and unjust, he would not falter against these creatures whose very existence exhumed evil.

Velanna and Anders were mages from almost literally two different worlds, but they set their differences aside to accomplish their goal here. Anders used his healing magic and protective spells from the Spirit School to keep his comrades from harm. He would repay the Warden-Commander for saving him from Rylock and her Templars, for giving him his freedom. Velanna unleashed two-thousand years of elven resentment and abuse on the darkspawn with her primal Dalish magic. There was no fear in this elf's heart, only hatred for what the darkspawn did to her. She would kill them all and find out what happened to her sister.

Sigrun gripped her hatchet and dirk tightly and dashed between the darkspawn with such speed it was like she was wearing silk instead of plate-mail. She darted past each genlock and Hurlock before they could even touch her, severing their arteries and cleaving their bones, laughing as she went. Sigrun, just loved her job. While his companions were engaging the darkspawn in close quarters, Nathaniel found the perfect vantage point on one of the massive mounds of bones inside the mouth of a dragon's skull. From here, the former nobleman could see the entire battlefield, but no one could get to him. Nathaniel unleashed a hail of arrows from the Howe Ancestral Bow with devastating accuracy, each arrow finding its mark in a darkspawn eye, heart and liver. These vile beasts tried to destroy the city his family spent centuries protecting, now he would destroy the darkspawn in their own lair.

Cassandra and the others watched as Aedan unleashed his fury on the monsters who threatened his homeland. They watched as he wielded the Vigilance like it was an extension of his own arm. With that gruesome blade in hand, Aedan cleaved through scores of darkspawn and ripped them to shreds. The more blood the sword drank, the more alive it seemed to become. The injuries he sustained from the darkspawn's crude weapons only served to increase Aedan's power, and when his sword tasted blood, the entropic energies it fed on healed Aedan before he became too badly injured. With the Vigilance in hand, Aedan was nigh invincible.

The constitution of the Inquisitor's companions was put to the test when they saw the true monstrosities that dwelled within this wasteland. The Mother's Children. They spewed forth from giant gestation pods like man-sized maggots from a dead carcass. Giant, grotesque grubs covered in tainted black slime with humanoid faces that opened up into rows of poisonous teeth. Some quickly sprouted spider-like legs and leapt at the invading Warden, spewing poisonous slime at their enemies.

Aedan and his Wardens squashed the children like the bugs they were. Cutting them down, riddling them with arrows and roasting them with fire. These vile monstrosities would not stand in their way. They would eradicate every one of these sins against nature, and their Mother would spawn no more after today.

The Hero and comrades pressed to the Tevinter ruin in the middle of the Dragonbone Wastes, killing any and ever monster sorry enough to stand in their way. As they pressed in, Cassandra and the other witnessed a reunion occur within this memory. Not long after they broke into the ancient ruin, a strange figure emerged from the darkness. A young Dalish woman, with severe signs of the taint on her body. Dark blotches, milky eyes and brittle hair. It was a wonder she wasn't a mindless ghoul.

"I am glad to see that you are well, Sister." The younger elven woman announced, catching Aedan and the others off guard.

Velanna gasped in relief and horror at the sight of her sister and what had become of her. "Seranni! Oh, thank Mythal you're alive. What has the Architect done to you? Why are you with him?"

"The Architect is kind to me, and tender, and he has told me of his pain, his plan." Seranni whispered almost affectionately. "Velanna, the darkspawn are just like us."

"If I were an elf, I would take serious offense to that comparison, child." Aedan interrupted sardonically.

"Yeah, elves are infinitely better looking." Anders joked.

"And they smell better." Sigrun added. "Like trees and sunlight, and fresh air."

"Last I heard, the elves didn't wipe out most of the dwarven empire." Oghren huffed.

"I fail to see how these wretched creatures have anything in common with any mortal race." Justice stated shaking his head.

"Do you even realize what you're saying?" Nathaniel asked disbelievingly.

"The Architect has freed his people." Seranni declared. "They're searching for a place in this world, a place where they can live in peace, just like the Dalish. Everything he's done, he did it to help his people. You can respect that, can't you sister?"

"This is lunacy! The darkspawn are a cancer, a living disease to be wiped out! They are not a people!" Aedan rejected with hateful disgust.

"That is no longer true!" Seranni defended.

"Seranni, they killed our friends, and so many others. Don't you remember?" Velanna beseeched her sister.

"I do, and that is exactly why I must help them." Seranni confessed. "They are like children, come into the world with no understanding of what is good and fair. They have a bestial nature, but I have seen them overcome it They just need to be shown how."

Aedan gritted his teeth furiously, he refused to listen to any more of this insanity. "Enough of this bullshit! Because you're Velanna's sister, I'm going to give you a choice, which is more than what most people get from me: you can walk away and forget this madness, or you can stay here and die with the darkspawn who have brought ruin to my country!"

"No, stop! You can't!" Velanna shouted, getting between her sister and her Commander.

Seranni took the opportunity to run back into the shadows, leaving he sister behind. Desperately shouting her pleas for understanding. "You don't have to do this! There can be peace between our races. Think about what I said, please!"

Aedan could see that what Seranni said had some effect on her sister. That killer instinct that dwelled in her eyes didn't shine as brightly, and that concerned him.

"Velanna, wake up! We still have a job to do, and I don't want your sister's idiocy interfering with our duty." Aedan ordered.

"I know what I'm here for, Commander." Vellana assured vehemently. The exiled Dalish elf looked back one last time in the vain hope of seeing her sister there, only to find nothing but shadows.

After their encounter with Seranni, Aedan did what he had done best for the past two years: leading highly skilled individuals into the jaws of death and horror where even the Maker and all other gods dared not tread. The darkspawn and the Children didn't stand a chance. Not when Aedan held that sword in his hands and it fueled his powers and healed his wounds. His companions followed his lead and obeyed his orders, and in doing so, they all left a trail of carnage in their wake. Cassandra and the others watched in a strange sense of awe as Aedan devastated the enemies of all Thedas.

As they delved deeper into the ruins, all the Wardens felt a strange presence approach them, and held their ground, ready for battle.

"He's here. Another of the Awoken." Cole whispered fearfully.

"And so we meet again, Warden-Commander." A strange, hollow-sounding voice greeted.

Cassandra and the others looked up in horror at a nearby balcony to see a creature of unnatural ghastliness approach the intruders. It was twice as tall as any human any of them had ever seen, with long skeletal arms and large, demonic claw-like hands attached to them. Its face was unlike any darkspawn any of them had ever seen. It was almost human, with a long gaunt face, and a sharp nose over thin lips. It's head was crested with a strange chitin-like shell that intricately intertwined atop its head, making it look like it was wearing a holy man's miter. Its scawny body was garbed in an old robe with faded, drab colors and golf embroideries intertwining on the chest and feathered pauldrons. And covering its face was a richly embroided Orlesian-style mask resting over its eyes, as if it wanted to hide its ugliness. It was almost as if the creature wanted to appear civilized.

Standing next to the queer darkspawn was a dwarven warrior in heavy plate-mail that was of unmistakable Smith Caste make. It was nearly impossible to tell that the dwarven warrior was a woman because of how thick the taint was on her skin. She was practically a ghoul in appearance.

"Merciful Andraste..." Cassandra gasped in horrified realization. "That creature, it looks...just like Corypheus!"

"Ah, so that's the Architect." Zevran realized grimly. "Aedan described it to me once, but I never realized just how hideous the damned thing was."

The dwarven warrior silently went for her weapon and prepared to engage in battle with Aedan and the others.

"No, Utha. That is not how we should begin." The Architect bade. A strange magical energy burned in the creature's hands and floated down to talk with Aedan face to face. "I owe you an apology, Commander. When last we met I intended to explain myself. Fate, however, intervened."

"Oh, that's bullshit!" Aedan spat angrily. "I escaped your putrid dungeon after you captured us, experimented us in our sleep, and stole our stuff!"

"I restrained only to prevent the misunderstand...that occurred with the rest of your Order." The Architect explained.

"Yeah, the kind of misunderstanding that ends in a field of dead bodies. Uh-huh. I get those sometimes." Oghren commented sarcastically.

"Oh, well, when you put it that way, I guess it was all just an honest mistake. I'm sure all the people you killed will understand." Anders said with more contempt than sarcasm.

"Of course they saw it as an attack, shit-for-brains! Darkspawn aren't exactly known for approaching people's doorsteps to sell cookies!" Sigrun mocked with detest.

"You show up with an army and ogres and weapons drawn, how else do you think rational people are going to react?" Nathaniel asked rhetorically.

"This creature confesses to the slaughter its minions committed under its orders. It must be slain for its crimes!" Justice stated righteously.

"I sent the Withered to ask for the Grey Wardens' help. I should have anticipated that our approach would have been viewed as an attack." The Architect informed sympathetically. "I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate."

"Unfortunate!? You took the Grey Wardens posted there and bleed them dry in your dungeons!" Aedan spat hatefully.

"They Grey Wardens brought to me were already dead." The Architect defended.

"Dead because of you!"

"Yes, but I still needed their help. I took their blood, just as I took yours because I had little choice. Things...have not gone as planned." The Architect said morosely. "I only ask that you hear me out, Commander. If you wish to slay me afterwards, you may try."

Aedan laughed at the creature as if it just told him a hilarious joke. Oghren also started laughing, but most of them, especially the Architect, failed to get the joke. Aedan never had to try to kill anything. Trying implies the possibility of failure.

"Tell you what, creature: I'm a little tired from killing all the darkspawn here and back at Amaranthine. I'll take a short break and let you explain yourself, before I rip your fucking head off."

The Architect ignored Aedan's threat and proceeded to explain itself. "My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This our nature. When we succeed, a Blight begins. Each time, we invade your surface and you fight back until we are defeated. To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of their compulsion. For that, I need Grey Warden blood."

"Urge to decapitate: rising." Aedan warned seriously. "Aside from your naturally wretched inclinations, what could you possibly need Grey Warden blood for?"

"For the same purpose you need our kinds blood." The Architect answered. "In order to become what you are, you take the taint of my kind into yourselves, in order to transform from the rest of your kind. Similarly, my kind must transform from the rest of ours. I have created a version of your Joining ritual using Grey Warden blood. You take the taint into yourself, what we take is your resistance. That is how my kind our freed. In your blood, lies the key to their immunity from the Call of the Old Gods "

"I like my blood right where it is. In my veins, where it belongs." Anders commented disdainfully.

"The darkspawn can't do anything that isn't gross." Sigrun groaned.

"The Wardens are supposed to stop the Blights, no matter the cost. And this cost doesn't sound too bad. We'll be retired and talkin' about our glory days over ale in no time!" Oghren suggested loudly.

"If it can stop the Blights, isn't a little blood worth it? This is the opportunity my sister saw!" Velanna urged.

"Hold a moment, if this is true, how did you get darkspawn blood in the first place?" Nathaniel inquired.

The Architect directed their attention upwards towards his dwarven companion, who gave a respectful bow. "The first blood came from Utha, freely given. She was a Grey Warden, as you are, and joined us many years ago."

"Now let me guess, this is the part where you tell me that there's a problem with your precious plans." Aedan guessed sardonically.

"Once they are freed, the darkspawn think for themselves. They speak, they act. Some, however, have reacted poorly." The Archited said grimly, finally getting to the heart of the matter. "They are flawed, and they rage against me. The Mother gathers them to stop me. She created the Children to destroy both our kinds. I cannot defeat the Mother on my own, and I cannot defeat the darkspawn on my own unless she is defeated. Our goals are the same, Warden-Commander."

"Really? To me, it sounds more like you want me to clean up the mess you made of your unnatural experiments." Aedan snorted. "Just what the fuck is the Mother, anyway?"

"My most flawed creation." The Architect lamented woefully. "Freedom drove her mad. Now she poisons the minds of the others. She has influence over those who have not been freed, and gathers them as an army. She seeks my death as well as the deaths of your kind. I do not seek to rule my brethren, I only seek to free them from their chains."

"And just what the fuck are you? How is it you do not adhere the Calling? How is it you can speak, wield magic the way you do?" Aedan asked, eager to know what kind of monster he was dealing with.

"I was born as I am, an outsider amongst my kind. Why? I do not know." The Architect stated with melancholy.. "How is it some of your kind are able to become Wardens and others are not? Why are some of you born with magic? I have no real answers."

"And let's say I help you, then what? What happens when you've taken control over the rest of your kind after the Mother is slain?" Aedan demanded.

"I will take my brethren and return to the Deep Roads, where we will be of no harm to your kind. And I will continue my experiments, to try and free my brethren from their chains." The Architect answered truthfully. "I do not seek war with your kind, Commander. I seek peace. I want to free my brethren from the Call of the Old Gods so that we will never have to wage war with the surface world again."

"You can't be serious. Please tell me you're not taking this seriously, Commander." Sigrun bade. "This reeks of utter stupidity. The last thing we need is more darkspawn thinking for themselves."

"I don't know, hot stuff. Might be worth thinkin' over." Oghren interjected. "If darkspawn are too busy playing with their newfound brains, maybe they'll finally leave Orzammar the sod alone."

"This is what my sister saw! An ally, amongst the darkspawn! This is opportunity we cannot pass up!" Velanna all but shouted in her Commander's ear.

"No, this is absolutely out of the question!" Justice rejected ardently. "These monsters are responsible for more death and horror than other creature in existence. Remember your cause and do not falter. Slay it now!"

"Darkspawn or no, the Architect has a point." Nathaniel spoke out. "Do we really want to keep killing each other until there's no one left? Who's to say the Grey Wardens will succeed next time a Blight occurs? If what we do now saves millions later, isn't this alliance worth it? After what just happened in Amaranthine, is not worth considering?"

"And who's to say these new thinking darkspawn won't be as dangerous as the Archdemons?" Anders argued. "We're playing with fire here, and we're the ones who risk getting burned the worst."

Aedan paused for a moment, looking like he was considering the options before him. "So, let me see if I've got this straight: I help you destroy your own creation, a monster who is a threat to us both, then you will leave, with your Awakened brethren, and not trouble us? I scratch your back, you scratch mine?"

"Yes, that is precisely what I mean. There will be no need for any more bloodshed between my brethren and yours." The Architect answered with a glimmer of hope in his strange voice. "Will you help me?"

"FUCK NO!" Aedan shouted with livid outrage.

Everyone was taken back by the Commander's rage, some were glad for it.

"Now, that's the Aedan I know!" Zevran laughed loudly.

"I knew you wouldn't do something so stupid." Sigrun smiled.

"This is as it should be. The righteous cannot stand alongside villainy." Justice affirmed.

"Oh, good. Because I want absolutely nothing to do with darkspawn and blood ever again." Anders sighed with relief.

"No, no! The Architect is a visionary. Do not be foolish!" Velanna insisted desperately.

"But we could end the Blights from ever happening again!" Nathaniel admonished.

"It does sound like we're missing out on an opportunity here, Aedan, but who am I to say no to a little murder?" Oghren chuckled reaching for his warhammer.

The Architect lowered his head and shook it sadly. It did not want things to go this way. "How very unfortunate, Warden-Commander, but I cannot blame you. You are as bound to your nature as we are by ours..."

"Do not compare your putrid, disgusting race to me, you rancid piece of shit!" Aedan growled hatefully. "It's not my nature that compels me, it's my duty. Look at you! You're a walking plague of pestilence and disease! Your very existence is a sin against nature, and you defile everything you touch! You said so yourself that the Mother is one of your creations. Anything capable of creating such a monstrosity can only bring death and horror to the world. So I'm going to do the world a favor and slaughter you like the freak of nature that you are, then I'm going to do the same thing to the Mother. Neither of you will every threaten my country ever again."

The Architect looked up to Utha with deep sadness on his face and in his voice. "I am sorry, Utha. It appears that I won't be able to keep my promise after all."

The dwarven ghoul drew her sword and silently ran as fast as she could to her leader's aid.

"You will have to forgive me, Commander, for fighting to preserve my destiny."

"Your destiny, freak, is death at my hands." Aedan smiled sinisterly, his eyes and the Vigilance glowing red. "And on behalf of my brethren, who you killed and experimented on, I will enjoy killing you."

Utha and the Architect attacked all the Wardens. Aedan and his comrades, even the reluctant Velanna, engaged their sworn enemy.

Cassandra watched as the battle unfolded before them like an intense play. The power the Architect wielded was beyond incredible. Whatever magic he possessed, it was beyond the level of any mage they had encountered outside of Corypheus. With a mere flick of his claw, the very ground around them erupted in flames as balls of fire rained down from the ceiling with enough heat to smote a volcano. When Aedan and the others moved for cover from the flames, the Architect used a telekinetic blast to knock them of their feet and expose them to the fire.

Utha was no push-over, either. Her technique was flawless and powerful, attained from a lifetime of arduous training and discipline. Her style was that of the Silent Sisters of Orzammar, a mix of speed and power, and her stature made it difficult for the others to hit her. Her weapon was two metal rods held together by a metal chain. With silent precision and devastating power, Utha dashed between her former brethren with her chained club and used it to smash their joints and break their armor.

Any lesser enemies would have been quickly killed by these two powerful enemies, but they were not fighting against lesser combatants. These were Wardens chosen and led by Aedan Cousland himself. They saved Amaranthine and broke a siege of darkspawn with only a handful of guards and conscripted peasants. They didn't overcome all that and delve into the Blight-ridden hole just to fall to these tainted fanatics. They would not fall.

Utha may have been a Silent Sister and a Grey Warden once, she might have been a hardcore fighter her whole life, but Sigrun grew up in the pits of Dust Town. Her first fight to the death was against three full-grown thugs over moldy loaf of bread when she was six. And in all the time she had spent in Dust Town, the Carta and the Legion of the Dead, there was one thing she learned how to do better than anyone else: how to fight dirty.

Sigrun brought her hatchet down on the traitorous Warden, Utha blocked and locked the axe with the chain between her metal rods. With her weapon caught, and the two of them so close together, Sigrun found her opportunity. Sigrun hawked in her throat and spat a lugi in Utha's eye, blinding her. In that brief moment of distractions, Sigrun quickly slashed her dirk across Utha's throat. Utha's tainted blood sprayed from her wound and gurgled from her mouth, and the traitorous Warden fell to the ground dead.

They couldn't let the Architect control this battle, nor could they afford to let this fight linger on when they still had the Mother to contend with. It was time to end this. Justice used his connection to the Fade as a Spirit Warrior to unleash a burst of spirit energy from his own being. The blast of spirit energy disrupted the Architect's magical energy for the briefest of moments, and that was all the time they needed.

Anders conjured the most powerful paralysis glyph he could summon beneath the Architect's feet, freezing him in place. Velanna used her Dalish magic to unleash Nature's Vengeance and summoned massive roots from the roof and ceiling to capture the Architect and pierce its body with spear-like thorns. While the mages captured the Architect, Nathaniel used his ancestral bow to loose a rain of arrows down on the the creature, hitting all the vital areas. Oghren came in from behind and smashed every bone in the Architect's torso with his warhammer. The Architect cried out in pain and black blood spurted from its mouth.

Aedan approached the bound and broken darkspawn mutant, himself and his sword cloaked in that demonic red aura. Aedan held the Vigilance ready and prepared to execute the wretched monstrosity.

"Commander...please." The Architect pleaded pitifully, blood dripping from his mouth.

"There can be no pity for a freak like you." Aedan growled hatefully. He gripped the Vigilance tightly in hand and carried out his duty, by slowly, very slowly, sawing off the Architect's head off with the serrated edge of his sword.

Velanna shook her head angrily as a sense of loss, bitterness and that all too familiar feeling of rage consumed as she watched her Commander murder not only the best chance they had of finally being rid of the Blights, but the only chance she would have had for finding her sister.

"How could you? How could you be so blind!?" Velanna screamed at her Commander. "The Architect was our best chance to stop the Blights. Of getting my sister back!"

"We could have stopped the Blights before they ever became a threat again. Why waste this opportunity?" Nathaniel questioned indignantly.

Aedan glared back at his two subordinates with an angry gleam in his eyes and the Architect's blood on his face. "You two really want to talk to me like that when I've got a sword in my hands after viciously murdering something?" Aedan wiped the blood off his face and looked at his two Wardens with a deathly seriousness. "Now, I'm only going to say this once, so you two had better listen: Our job, our sworn duty is to fight our enemy, hold the line and man our post. Not search for an easier way out or exploit some scheme to outsmart the Blight by making deals with our enemies. Once you start compromising your duty, giving up what you swore to do for the sake of convenience or ease, that's when you've failed and corruption truly begins to set in your heart. Just like with Loghain."

"And what about my sister?!" Velanna demanded angrily.

"What happened to your sister and clanmates is tragic, Velanna. I know what it's like to lose family, and there's nothing worse." Aedan said genuinely sympathetic. "However, your sister chose to be counted amongst the enemies of all Thedas, including your people. And I have more important things to worry about than one misguided elf who's bought into the lunacy of some monster that thought it was some kind of savior. For all I know, the Architect might have been responsible for the Blight!"

"Aedan, I don't mean to interrupt your chew-out session, but we got a date with the Mother. And I'd rather be back at the tavern sooner rather than later." Oghren called out.

"I haven't forgotten, and neither should either of you." Aedan glared at Nathaniel and Velanna.

Nathaniel felt a sense of shame come over him. As much as he hated to admit it, the Commander was right. The entire reason why his house fell was because his father kept making underhanded deals, kept doing whatever it took to achieve his goal, no matter how selfish, instead of remembering what his true duty was. Nathaniel would not make the same mistake.

Before pressing on, Aedan ransacked the Architect's headless corpse, never minding all the blood and disease-ridden flesh. In the tattered robes of the slain monster, Aedan found two items of particular interest to him.

"Find something interesting, Commander?" Sigrun observed.

"Some kind of journal...and a strange amulet. Tevinter by the looks of it." Aedan answered showing it to his comrades.

"Let me see that." Anders requested, taking a closer look at the rare piece of jewelry the Architect once had. "Oh, this is definitely ancient. Pre-Andraste, at least. Possibly from before the First Blight. Why would a darkspawn emissary on the opposite side of Thedas have such a thing?"

"Another matter for another time. Velanna? Burn this things corpse." Aedan ordered.

"What?" Velanna questioned incredulously.

"I said burn that wretched thing." Aedan repeated deliberately. "That was an order, not a suggestion, Warden Velanna."

Velanna cursed under her breath in elven and contemptuously did as she was ordered. She stood over the Architect's corpse and begrudgingly used her magic to set it aflame. As she burned the Architect's body, she also burned any chance she might have had of finding her sister again.

"Now that we've taken care of that, let's go see what kind of bitch this Mother is, and slaughter her, too." Aedan ordered, stuffing the journal and amulet in his satchel.

As Aedan and his Wardens marched on towards their final battle in this place, Cassandra and the others tried to comprehend what they had just witnessed. Just what kind of monsters his in this world.

"What in the Maker's name was that thing?" Cassandra asked aghast. "That was no mere darkspawn Emissary. It was almost exactly like Corypheus!"

"Blondie used to tell stories about talking darkspawn back at the Hanged Man. Before I actually saw Corypheus for the first time, I thought he was just spinning yarns to make the drunks piss themselves. Now that I know there are things out there that are worse than just regular darkspawn, I wish he was." Varric shuddered.

"If that thing was anything like Corypheus, then it's blessing that the Hero killed it." Ranier said approvingly.

"It was just like Corypheus." Cole spoke out cryptically. "Like Corypheus, it was lost, confused, wandering and searching for a thousand years, looking for a purpose. It couldn't remember what made it what it was, the trespass he and the others committed. All it could remember was that it was the Architect."

"I know that amulet that..." Dorian stated in disbelief. "Two years ago, the Inquisitor had me research into the genealogy and records of the High Priests to the Old Gods. He gave me two amulets to start my search. One he received from the Champion of Kirkwall, and the other he received from the Hero of Ferelden, both taken off of incredibly powerful and intelligent darkspawn. The amulet the Hero here discovered belonged to the head priest of a cult called the Builders called the Architect of All Thing Beautiful, the head priest to the Old God Urthemiel. The one the Champion discovered belonged to a head priest called the Conductor of Silence, head priest to Dumat."

"That cannot be a coincidence. That must mean that this Architect was one of the Magisters who invaded the Golden City, just like Corypheus." Vivienne concluded.

"How batty do ya gotta be to look at somethin' like that and says, 'yeah, I wanna help that thing that fucked up the world'." Sera asked unable to comprehend Velanna, Nathaniel and Utha's thoughts to join the Architect.

"Take it easy, Sera. Don't forget, these guys have to live with this kind of horror every day and night, no rest, no retirement, and no appreciation. Sometimes, looking for the easy way out seems a lot better than having to go through a life of shit." Ranier informed sympathetically.

"Yeah, trust me when I say that every sorry duster and his mother back in Orzammar would probably give up their own lives just for a chance at not being under threat of the darkspawn and not be on the brink of extinction every day." Varric added.

"I witnessed the Blight first hand with Aedan back in Fereldan. I saw the horror these things inflict on people, the evil they poison the world with." Zevran recollected with sour look on his face. "During the Fourth Blight, Antiva was almost completely destroyed by these creatures. I can understand anyone's desire to wish to do anything to stop this nightmare from ever happening again. But Aedan did what he felt was right, he always does."

"Hey, maybe we should keep following them, and see how this story ends?" Iron Bull suggested, pointing after the Wardens.

Taking Iron Bull's advice and followed the Wardens and the trail of dead darkspawn they left behind down further into the vile, tainted ruins. The further they delved, the more gestation pods they discovered, and the vile Children darkspawn emerged from the slimy, rotting ruins. This was no mere base, as they knew it. This was a breeding ground, where the Mother and her Awoken darkspawn allowed these vile monstrosities to grow and mature. Aedan and his Wardens left none alive as they roved their way past them like an angry death squad.

They finally reached the very bowls of the Dragon Bone Wastes. It was godforsaken put of putrid filth and rotting flesh. Even as a memory, the very smell of this place was enough to turn even the strongest stomach, it was thick with the smell of rotting meat and the taint. All around them were those vile gestation pods with the Children growing and writhing inside them like maggots inside a dead carcass. It was like one of Cassandra's worst nightmares come to life.

When they saw what Aedan and his Wardens were up against, their hearts practically stopped inside their chests. The very creature responsible for so much devastation and horror, the Mother in all her malignant despicability. It was a horror unlike any of them had ever seen. It surpassed even Corypheus in being so horribly grotesque.

Cassandra and the others couldn't believe what had just transpired right before their very eyes. It was a grotesque mass of pale, diseased flesh covered in weeping sores and blistering boils stacked on top of itself like a hill of rot. Slithering from bloated mound of flesh were massive tentacles, dripping with black ichor thick with the taint, and beneath their lethargy were muscles powerful enough to shame a kraken. Writhing beneath the wretched flesh were future generations of darkspawn, all thrashing and squirming, eager to enter the world and spread their taint. This was no mere slab of flesh and fat line an engorged giant, but a massive womb of unholy portions filled to the brim for an unholy purpose.

Resting atop this foul hill of flesh filled with unborn darkspawn was the torso of a woman. Whatever beauty she might have had once was now replaced by the freakish mutations of the taint. Her clawed arms and slicked hair were painted black with the Blight, and it oozed from her black lips and red eyes that were filled with insane malice. Protruding from her back were spider-like legs so sharp they tore at her own flesh. And trailing down from her bare, naked chest was trail of breasts that grew more monstrous and vile as the led down her hideous body. The many teats she possessed were filled with what fueled the darkspawn: the taint, hatred and evil. This creature was the most foul offense against all creation. This was The Mother.

All of them, memories and viewers alike, even the mighty Aedan Cousland was appalled by such a nightmarish horror. Justice and Aedan held their weapons ready while Anders looked as if he was going to vomit. Sigrun tried to block out the smell from fouling her lungs and choke her out. Nathaniel and Velanna both called upon the strength and mercy of their respective gods to aid them against this monster. Oghren merely commented on the vast amount of nipples this creature possessed.

"And so, at long last, the great Hero has come to visit me in my parlor. I see you are at a loss for words. Does my image leave your tongue tied? Am I not beautiful!?" The Mother cackled insanely at the intruders.

This was more than some of them could bare. They could not stomach to look upon this heinous memory any longer.

"Blessed are those who stand against the darkness and do not falter." Cassandra whispered in horror.

"What manner of horror is this?!" Vivienne gagged behind her handkerchief.

"I think I've permanently lost my appetite." Zevran groaned in disgust.

"Now that's fucked up!" Iron Bull cursed.

"No, no! NO!" Sera screeched, covering her eyes as if she could block out the horror before them. "I'm not seeing this! I don't want see any more. Make it stop!"

~XoXoXo~

As if the memories adhered to Sera's desperate cries, the images of this terrifying memory disappeared, leaving them in a world of blank light. Not even bothering with their new surrounding, everyone tried to come to grips with the horror they had witnessed. The horror Aedan was tasked to contend with.

For most of her life, Cassandra believed that out of control magic, bloodmages, corrupt Templar were the gravest of threats. Until Corypheus, she had never fully comprehended the true threat the darkspawn pose, the true evil that they are. Not all that long ago, she wished that Rajmael had banished all the Grey Wardens out of Orlais. Seeing what those brave men and women must fight against made her realize what a fool she was.

"Is it over? Please, for the love of Andraste's tits, tell me it's over!" Sera cried hysterically.

"Take it easy, Buttercup. It's over. I don't know what happened back there, but it's over." Varric said trying to calm the Red Jenny down. He too was deeply disturbed by what they saw. "Holy shit, that was a lot of nipples!"

"If such things like that exist, then perhaps the Wardens serve a purpose after all." Vivienne admitted contentiously.

"There was so much hatred inside it. Hatred for the Architect, for the world, for itself. The Mother wanted to destroy everything, anything to hear the Call again." Cole shuddered

Ranier remained calm, but was just as disturbed as the rest. "And you'd better remember that, Vivienne. This is the reality Wardens live in every day. While the rest of us get to bask in the sun, sleep in a bed, enjoy simple companionship of other people, the Wardens are down underground fighting horrors like that so we can enjoy those pleasures. No reprieve, no benefits, and no appreciation. They live and die in pain so the rest us of don't have to."

"That...thing was a human woman, once. It was someone's daughter, could have been someone's mother." Cassandra uttered shakily. "Maker, I never realized just what it is the Grey Wardens truly face. Compared to that, runaway and rogue Templars seem like a small matter."

"Regardless, when this is all over, I'm going to deal with this the same way I'm going to deal with witnessing the Hero's cannibalism: with lots and lots of alcohol." Dorian proclaimed.

"I second that motion." Iron Bull agreed.

"I don't think even every drop in the Inquisitor's liquor cabinet is enough to forget all this shit, but that doesn't men I'm not willing to try." Varric declared.

"So far, I've yet to find any problem that is solved, or started, by the right amount of alcohol." Zevran chuckled.

~XoXoXo~

Their hopes that they were done with Aedan's memories were crushed when they found themselves on the scene of yet another one. When would these trail of events cease? They weren't sure they could handle any more of the Hero's horrific life. They didn't even know how the hell Aedan was able to put up with it. No wonder he was so pissed off all the time.

Instead of finding themselves in some nightmarish monster lair deep underground, they found themselves back at Vigil's Keep. There were obvious signs of battle, battered and burned walls, but repairs were quickly being made to the now legendary fort. This must have been after the Mother's army assaulted the Keep and after Aedan killed the wretched thing. This was no battle, but a gathering of cheering crowds all gathered to celebrate the men and women who defended the arling from the darkspawn.

Aedan stood in the center of the jubilant crowd, surrounded by his Wardens, and strangely enough, had a proud smile on his face.

"We gather here today to repair the damage that has been done, to rebuild what we have lost, and to remember those who died giving their lives so that others might live." Aedan announced respectfully. "And we're also here to honor those who stood brave and valiant against the darkspawn horde that assaulted us. Amongst these brave souls, there is one who deserves particular attention. Private Alec, please step forward."

"Hey, I remember that guy." Iron Bull stated. "He was one of the Knights of the Silver Order the Hero brought with him."

"More specifically, Iron Bull, that's the current Lord-Commander of the Silver Order." Vivienne corrected.

Alec approached the Warden-Commander, bashfully lowering his head. He was not used to being the center of so much attention, but was infinitely proud to be standing here.

Aedan looked on the former sheepherder with pride. "When you first came to me, you were charged as a criminal. Now, you stand before me as hero. There is no finer example of greatness rising from humility than you here. There is only one thing I can grant to recognize such valiance. Please, honor me, and take a knee."

Alec did as he was bade, and knelt before the Warden-Commander. Aedan drew the Vigilance from his back, and gently rested the blade on Alec's shoulder.

"Alec, I, Aedan Cousland, recognize your bravery and leadership skills against the darkspawn horde who assaulted Vigil's Keep. Your actions saved the lives of many men and women who fought behind these walls, and were instrumental in breaking the horde here. The only word for such deeds is heroic. For outstanding courage and magnificent valor in the face of overwhelming odds against a terrible foe, I knight thee Ser Alec the Valiant, that none may ever forget your deeds. Now, rise Ser Alec, knight and defender of Amaranthine!"

Alec had knelt as a convicted conscript and rose to his feet as a knight. The cheers of the people and his family behind him was enough to make him weep, but he would not show tears here, even as his heart soared with pride.

"Thank you, Warden-Commander."

"I'm thinking of petitioning the king and founding a new knightly order, one that will be dedicated to protecting Ferelden's borders." Aedan stated to the newly appointed knight. "Can I count on you to be one of my first recruits? You're exactly the kind of man we need to defend this country."

"I would be honored, Ser." Alec saluted with pride.

This was an unexpected memory. All of them were expecting more violence, more blood. Examples of Aedan sheer will to dominate. But this was not one of those times. It was a moment of recognition, of honoring another man's heroism. To tell the truth, most of them didn't even realize Aedan was capable of being so magnanimous. It was certainly a side of the Hero none of them had ever experienced in person.

"I had no idea General Cousland was capable of such generosity." Vivienne commented with, quirking her eyebrow.

"Most people don't realize that Aedan is a man of outstanding judge of character, and he always honors those who prove themselves through deeds of character and accomplishment. Much like the day he spared my life and made me his companion." Zevran spoke out on his friend's behalf. "To be shown any kind of respect by Aedan Cousland is an honor most can't even imagine. I know that from personal experience."

~XoXoXo~

The landscape changed before their eyes once more as the memories shifted forward to another event of importance in Aedan's life. They found themselves once more in an underground dwelling. Except this was no monster's lair covered in slime, decay and death. No, this was a dwarven thaig. But unlike so many thaigs that had fallen to the darkspawn and left the dwarven empire a crumbling shadow of what it once was, this one was full of roaring fires and cheering dwarves, all shouting and praising a glorious victory. Dwarven soldiers stood around the great halls and building of blue stone, their banners flying high and their swords raised in victory as toasted on another with full mugs of dwarven ale.

Varric looked at the banners that were hanging upon the walls and recognized them. "I know that heraldry. That's the symbol of House Helmi. I guess they must've reclaimed this thaig for Orzammar."

"A tremendous victory, given how much Orzammar has lost." Ranier remarked.

"More so than you might think." Zevran added. He pointed ahead towards a massive feast that was being held with every manner of food and delicacy one could think of. At the head of the table was a dwarven man wearing noble armor with crown upon his head. "That's King Bhelen. I'd recognize any man who Aedan placed upon a throne."

"Holy shit! Do you any idea what members of the Merchant's Guild would pay just to get a look at the King of Orzammar? And here I am seeing him for free!" Varric laughed.

"Looks like some kind of party. This must've been one helluva victory." Iron Bull commented.

"Joy, victory, dominance and hope. All these things swirling together in an ocean of celebration. None of them ever thought they'd live to see a day like this, yet here they are, and they want to shout it to all the Deep Roads." Cole said clairvoyantly.

"Wow! Would you like at the spread they got goin' on!" Sera practically drooled.

The massive stone tables were almost spilling with every kind of food a chef could possibly make. Barrels of dwarven ale, Antivan wine, Fereldan beer filled the mug and glass of every guest here with no signs of running out. Roasted and braised nugs on silver platters and there was even a whole-roasted bronto cooking on a spit over an roaring fire. And not just dwarven food, but also hearty Fereldan stew, Orlesian pies, roasted ducks, links upon links of sausage, plates of veal and venison. After all the stomach churning grossness and terror they had seen in Aedan's memories, the sight of so much food made most of their stomach's growl and wish they were back at the Winter Palace.

All the dwarves went silent when King Bhelen raised his mug to give a toast. "All hail the brave warriors who gave their lives to reclaim this thaig for the glory of Orzammar. The Warriors of House Helmi have proved their mettle and loyalty to our people and reclaimed a piece of our empire we once thought lost. Let us also praise the brave souls of Kal-Hirol who were born Casteless and died Warriors, giving their lives to defend the dwarven people, for without their sacrifice, Orzammar surely would have perished."

"All hail!" The dwarven warriors cheered.

"Let us also give thanks to the man who rediscovered this thaig and made it possible for Noble House Helmi to reclaim it." King Bhelen continued. Aedan and his Wardens approached the feast table and showed the king great respect. King Bhelen in return also showed the human noble and his Wardens equal esteem. "Warden-Commander Aedan, Kal-Hirol was once the seat and pride of the dwarven Smith Caste, it's loss was a great blow to our people, and many of its secrets were lost to the darkspawn. Your efforts here made it possible for us to reclaim what our people had given up in the name of survival. With this thaig back under our control, we now have access to all the secrets we lost, and have a renewed chance to reclaiming more of our lost territory. First crowning Orzammar's rightful king, and now this. If you had the fortune of being born a dwarf, you'd have been made a Paragon twice over! For you truly must have the Ancestors' favor!"

"Valos atredum!" The dwarven warriors cheered.

Aedan smiled proudly and respectfully saluted the dwarven king. "You do me great honor, King Bhelen. I could not have done this without the aid of my brave Wardens. Nor without the aid of Dworkin Glavanok's lyrium explosives."

Oghren, Sigrun, Anders, Nathaniel and Velanna all stood proudly as the mighty Warriors of Orzammar cheered their praise. A mad-looking dwarf with singed eyebrows who could only have been Dworkin Glavanok also took a bow as the Warriors cheered his name. An honor most people never achieve.

"May this be yet another sign of friendship between the kingdoms of Ferelden and Orzammar!" Aedan shouted, raising a mug of beer to the dwarven king.

"To friendship!" King Bhelen toasted.

"Frienship!" The dwarven army cheered.

Music played and merriment filled the thaig as all the attendants drank, ate sang and celebrated this victorious occasion. Every member of the Warrior Caste showed tremendous respect and gratitude to Sigrun and Oghren, two dwarven warriors with no Caste or standing in dwarven society, and at one time, considered lower than dirt in the eyes of Orzammar. Now Orzammar's elite warriors cheered their names and sang their praises.

Anders and Justice sat at the feast table with several plates of different kinds of foods stacked in front of them. Neither one of them had ever expected to partake in such revelry. Anders always thought he'd be on the run and the only time he'd ever get some good food was at his last meal before the Templars executed him. As a spirit, Justice had never thought to see the waking world outside the Fade, let alone partake in its splenderous chaos, but now he was here being celebrated by these mortals simply for doing what he was meant to do. The mage and the spirit took the time to enjoy this celebration while it lasted, and Anders tried to show Jutice the simple joys of getting drunk every now and then.

Nathaniel and Velanna both kept to themselves, neither one of them were much for celebration and revelry. Despite this, both of them recognized the weight this accomplishment meant to others, and a sense of pride quietly swelled inside the human noble and Dalish mage. After all the shame and revilement that had been slandered on his family's name thanks to his father's action, Nathaniel was beyond proud to have taken part in this achievement and removed some of the dishonor that stained the Howes. Not all that long ago, he never would have imagined being here, let alone celebrating it with Aedan Cousland. When Velanna was exiled, she thought she would never feel proud to be Dalish again, yet being a part of this made her feel like she was a part of something great once more. She only wished that her sister was there to share this moment with her.

Cassandra never realized Aedan was capable of being so festive after everything she had seen of the man. She and the others watched as Aedan drank beer and sang songs of victory with the dwarven warriors, and even danced with them. All of them were reminded that deep down, beneath all that intensity and wrath their still dwelled the soul of a human being. Even a man like Aedan Cousland remembered how to take a moment to breath and celebrate well-deserved praise with friends, for moments like this were not common and should be savored while they lasted.

"Man, these dwarves sure know how to throw a party!" Iron Bull laughed.

"One thing I can positively say about the dwarves as a compliment: they know how to fight hard, drink hard, and party hard." Zevran complimented.

"When the dwarves actually take a moment to not kiss up to the Ancestors or let themselves be restricted to the sodding Castes, they can actually be a pretty tolerable people." Varric smiled.

"And to have been attended this soiree with the King of Orzammar? Most people can't even dream of such an honor." Vivienne said rather impressed.

"Well, of course Aedan has met the King of Orzammar, he put the man on the throne himself!" Zevran reminded.

"Did you see the Warden-Commander? I didn't know the man was even capable of being joyous, let alone sing and dance."

"Yeah, didn't think Cassandra was capable of bein' love-dovey, smooch-faced, but look at how long she's been with the Inquisitor." Sera joked.

"Ugh. Thank you, Sera." Cassandra said sarcastically.

"This was another happy day. When victory not tragedy and loss sang in the Deep Roads, when the dwarves reclaimed what they believed lost. Getting it back made them feel whole again. And he made it possible, so he shared in their joy."

"I guess in some ways, the dwarves of Orzammar got a lot in common with the elves." Varric sighed sympathetically.

Aedan took a moment to sit down, weary from all the singing and partying he had done with the dwarven warriors. Now, he wanted to take a moment and enjoy the fine dinning that King Bhelen had served for this banquet. As he poured himself a tall mug of beer with a perfectly cooked, rare steak in front of him, Aedan was approached by yet another dwarf. Judging from the fact that he didn't wear armor, but dwarven finery, the man was of the Noble Caste. A son of House Dace, judging from the heraldry embroided on his tunic.

The dwarven noble gave a humble bow of respect to the human warrior before introducing himself. "Stone met, Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. My name is Jerrik Dace of Noble House Dace, and it's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"Atrast vala, salroka." Aedan greeted in dwarven.

"My uncle Anwer Dace told me how you rescued him and his men from Deep Stalkers in Aeducan Thaig. With this and settling Orzammar's throne, you're quickly becoming a hero to the dwarven people. You've certainly done more for our people than Paragon Branka ever did." Jerrik praised respectfully. "I had hoped that, perhaps, you would be willing to hear of another way you can help me and my House reclaim another piece of our people's lost glory."

Aedan finished his drink and looked over to the dwarven noble, raising his eyebrow with interest. "What do you have in mind, Jerrik Dace?"

"Have you ever heard of thaig called Amgarak?"

~XoXoXo~

The world around them faded to black once more, and they could already feel another shift in these memories shaping around them. They once again found themselves in the setting and trapping of Vigil's Keep. It had been completely repaired since the battle against the Mother's darkspawn, and now showed no signs of ever being under siege. In fact, is was grander than ever.

Aedan was standing in the Keep's throne room. The brazier was burning brightly, and the sounds of men training out in the courtyard echoed into this place, revealing the intensity of their instruction. The vast hall was empty except for him and one other soul. It was Nathaniel Howe, the man who once wanted to assassinate Aedan and now served as his second-in-command. The two Fereldan Wardens had come far from the expectations their fathers had set out for them.

Aedan sat on his throne with his prized and beloved mabari, Dane, sitting next to him. He scratched the massive hound behind his ears, and Dane enjoyed every second of his master's attention. The two of them had been apart from each for a long time now, and both master and mabari missed each other like two close brothers would.

Nathaniel stood quietly before his commander while he petted his mabari, not knowing why he had been summoned here in private. Usually, such meetings with Aedan were never good ones. "You wanted to see me, Warden-Commander?"

"Yes, I most certainly did, Nathaniel." Aedan answered, directing his attention to his subordinate and away from his dog. "In the past year since your conscription into the Order, you and I have seen a great deal."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one." Nathaniel confirmed.

"And in that time frame, much has been accomplished." Aedan continued. "Our victory over both the Architect and the Mother and rebuilding Amaranthine. Now, thanks to the resources we're mining from the Dragonbone Wastes, the Silverite Mines, and our friendship with the dwarves in Orzammar, our nation's military is almost back on its feet. The Silver Order has fully replaced Maric's Shield."

"A tremendous accomplishment to be sure, especially after suffering a Blight." Nathaniel acknowledged. "However, we've also lost much, as well. Velanna leaving the Order to find her sister, and then losing both Anders and Justice in a single ill-fated encounter. Who knows where he is now, and what Justice might be doing to him."

"A sad loss, but one of Anders' doing." Aedan said unsympathetically. "And now, you and the rest of this Order are going to suffer another loss."

"What? What do you mean?" Nathaniel asked completely off guard.

"I'm stepping down from the rank of Warden-Commander. I am leaving the Order, Nathaniel. For good." Aedan clarified specifically.

"You...you can't do that! Can you?" Nathaniel questioned confusedly. "The Order is supposed to be a lifelong commitment. You can't just turn your back on that."

"I have given more for this Order and its cause in the past two years than most have done in an entire lifetime." Aedan rebutted sternly. "Not only did I have to recruit an army to combat the Blight, I had to solve a civil war and solve everyone else's problems in Orzammar, the Circle Tower, and the Breceilian Forest before finally killing the Archdemon, which was no small or painless feat. Then I had to put down two darkspawn armies here in Amaranthine. I think I've done more than fair share for this Order, and am entitled to a little selfishness now."

"Isn't that why you joined the Order? To fight these monsters and keep the world safe?" Nathaniel inquired, still not believing they were even having this conversation.

"Truth be told, I never gave a single nug-shit about the Grey Wardens." Aedan answered honestly. "I only joined the Order to save our country and avenge my family. I have more than fulfilled my obligations to the Order. And after the shit I saw in Amgarrak, I realized that I don't want to die in some hole in the Deep Roads without fulfilling my own affairs. It's time for me to look to my own heart.

Nathaniel still couldn't believe this was really happening. "And what about the rest of the Order? Do you think they'll simply accept this?"

An amused chuckle rang in Aedan's throat. "If the rest of the Order or the First Warden have a problem with it, they can kiss my ass. After everything I just said, they have no business telling me what I can and cannot do. What I brought you here for is to discuss my immediate replacement as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

"Who do you have in mind?" Nathaniel asked curiously.

"You, of course. Who else?" Aedan stated factually. "I am abdicating my rank as Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine to you."

Nathaniel's eyes went wide with revelation and shock. Ever since he returned to this country and was conscripted into the Wardens, he never thought to ever be placed in a seat of any kind of authority in Amaranthine.

"Warden-Commander, you cannot be serious..." Nathaniel said disbelievingly.

"And why not? You know this land, it's people. Amaranthine was your family's seat, and as the elder son, you were groomed for rulership of this arling one day." Aedan listed, unconcerned with Nathaniel's surprise.

"Yes, but now my house's name is lower than mud! My father's crimes will forever haunt my family, even when my nephew has grandchildren of his own. The people of this arling will never accept a Howe are their ruler!" Nathaniel argued painfully.

Aedan was unconvinced and undeterred by Nathaniel's reasoning. "Your remarkable service to the Order and actions against the darkspawn horde has scraped away the blemishes your father left on your houses name. In the time I have known you, you have shown tremendous leadership skills and outstanding character. And I didn't believe it when we first met, but I have come to consider you a friend. Now, I am asking you, as a friend, to take my place, the place you have earned, and protect our people."

Nathaniel was practically stunned by Aedan Cousland's words. When they first met, the Hero actually wanted to execute Nathaniel, but was convinced to put him through the Joining by Oghren. Then Aedan punched Nathaniel out cold. Nathaniel was the son of the man who murdered the Cousland family, now Aedan wanted to make him Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine? Nathaniel was humbled by Aedan's confidence in him, and honored that he considered him a friend. With so much faith in him from a man of such accomplishment, how could Nathaniel refuse?

"I...I would be honored to take you place, Aedan." Nathaniel obliged respectfully.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." Aedan smiled and Dane barked happily. "Seneschal Garevel will swear you in and host the formal proceedings with the rest of the Order. Watch over this land, Nathaniel. Protect our people. When I leave, I don't know if I'm coming back."

"That was always the case whenever you set off on a mission, Commander." Nathaniel responded unworried. "What are you leaving the Wardens for?"

Aedan turned his back to Nathaniel, but Cassandra and the others could see him carefully holding a ring in his hands and looked upon it forlornly. It was a twisted band of rosewood, the grain of which seemed to change and shift from one moment to the next, taking on the forms of animals and people. Aedan looked upon it with such affection that it had to have been more than just a souvenir or keepsake. That ring held a place in his own heart.

"Let's just say I've got some unfinished business to complete. Very personal business." Aedan answered after a long pause.

"Allow me to say this then, before you go, Commander." Nathaniel bade respectfully. "When we first met, all I could think about was how much I blamed you for what happened to my family. And despite our original hostility, serving with you gave me the chance to redeem the shame my father smeared on our family. Serving with you has been my life's honor, and I am proud to consider you a friend."

"The honor was mine, Nathaniel."

"In case anyone asks, what do I tell them you left for?" Warden-Commander Nathaniel asked the Hero.

Aedan stopped for a moment and smiled. "Tell them I'm going on a Witch Hunt."

The two Fereldan nobles saluted one another then Aedan and Dane made their way out of Vigil's Keep one last time to start another adventure. They started by heading south, to the Korcari Wilds.

"This must have been around the time when the Hero of Ferelden all but disappeared from the world." Cassandra discerned. "After he abdicated his position as Warden-Commander, Leliana could only find rumors of scattered sightings of him. The only time he ever truly reappeared to the world was when he traveled to Kirkwall with King Alistair."

Zevran nodded his head in acknowledgment. "It's true. Most of us who kept close relations with him didn't even know where he was for all those years. Even his brother Fergus was in the dark, but he wasn't worried. He knew his younger brother could take care of himself."

"Yeah, well, a guy like Aedan Cousland is best taken in small doses. Maker knows I wouldn't want to be near him all the time." Varric commented.

"With the way the Hero is always taking about duty and honor, I'm surprised he chose to leave his post." Ranier contemplated. "What could possibly be so important that it would take a man of such convictions like Aedan Cousland away from his duty?"

"Hey, so long as he ain't eatin' people, he can go where he wants for all I care." Sera dismissed without care.

"It was love." Cole answered without even needing to wonder. "It left an emptiness inside him, just like when he lost his family. He couldn't stand to suffer that feeling again, and sought her out. She was the only one who could make him feel whole once again."

Vivienne scoffed and quirked an eyebrow, more disappointed than unimpressed. "You mean to say that he left for a woman? If General Cousland is that emotionally fragile, than he is less impressive than I believed."

"We just watched this man destroy one of the darkspawn monstrosities that invaded the Golden City with Corypheus, who survived an avalanche in the Frostback Mountains, ended a Blight, oh, and we witnessed him commit the taboo of cannibalism, and you think he's emotionally fragile?" Dorian listed off scathingly. "I think you need to take a moment to reevaluate your judgment of others, Madame Vivienne."

"Yeah, and what better reason is there to leave everything behind than find a woman?" Iron Bull chuckled. "Right, Varric?"

"Hell, yeah!" Varric agreed loudly.

"In that case, there is only one woman in all of Thedas that is more precious to Aedan than any military commission. His golden-eyed darling." Zevran realized with a wide grin on his face. "He would have moved mountains and slain armies for that woman. If there was ever a woman to abandon the world for, it was her."

~XoXoXo~

The walls and trappings of the keep faded away, leaving the visitors to this strange place standing in darkness. Light slowly filled the world around them again, revealing them to be standing in another realm of the Crossroads. It was serene and quiet with elven ruins scattered across the landscape. There was no sign of danger around them, all they could feel was a strange yet welcome sense of tranquility that seemed to radiate from this place like a warm sun.

"Are we back at the Crossroads? Is it finally over?" Dorian asked, hoping dreadfully that it was.

"I don't think so, Sparkler. Look over there." Varric pointed to the nearby distance.

There was a small ruined shrine that looked like it had been converted into a house. A small pillar of smoke billowed from its stone roof with the smell of stew coming from it, and outside the humble home was a small garden filled with fruits and vegetables ripening in the fertile soil. Someone had take great effort and care into turning this ruin into a home.

Standing before the humble home was an Aedan Cousland none of them recognized. There was a look of such utter joy on his face, not like the look of celebration he had in Kal-Hirol, but one of truest and complete happiness. Like he was truly content to be here and nowhere else. Standing next to him was the object of his joy. The only woman who could ever love a man like him, the witch, Morrigan.

Morrigan also shared in Aedan's unrequited joy. And in her arms was the object of their shared happiness: a baby wrapped in a blanket. Morrigan carefully handed her child to Aedan, who held him with great. For the first time ever, Cassandra and her comrades saw something they never thought possible: Aedan weeping, not in sadness but from the pure joy that filled him. The hands that had delivered so much death, brought so much pain to his enemies, now held his son for the first time. For any man with a soul, there was no greater day of pride and joy than holding their child in their arms for the first time.

"His name is Kieran. Our son, Aedan." Morrigan introduced, her voice filled with blissful happiness.

"He's beautiful, Morrigan." Aedan smiled joyously, happy tears streaming his face as his son smiled at him for the first time. "He has your hair."

"And your eyes and smile, my love." Morrigan placed her hand on Aedan's tattooed face and wiped the tear from his cheek before gently kissing him. Aedan carefully wrapped one arm around her, gently hold her and their son close to him. "I...I'm sorry I left you, Aedan. I never want to lose you again."

"You will never lose me, Morrigan. I live only to hold you both in my arms. I love you, Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin."

"And I love you, Aedan of Highever." Morrigan returned, her golden eyes filled with longing and affection that she had kept buried for too long.

The Hero and the Witch embraced each other and their son closely, their love from one another radiated from their whole beings. For the first time in Aedan's life since the destruction of his house and joining the Grey Wardens, he felt complete. All the anger he felt, the pain he had suffered, it all washed away. It was like his soul was a raging storm, but being with his family brought calm to it. Some people thought they needed the Maker to find inner peace and meaning to their lives. Aedan had his country, and now he had a wife and son. His life was complete.

For the fist time since they met, Cassandra's heart now truly went out to Aedan. These weren't merely his memories, but an insight to the depth of his soul. "But it wasn't to last. According to what Leliana told me, Aedan had to leave known Thedas for the East to seek out a cure for the Blight."

"And this, right here, is the reason why he sought out that cure." Zevran elated. "Aedan does not fear pain or death, but he has something worth living for."

"This is where he found completion. All the pain, and loss and anger, all gone. He was beyond happy here, and he would do anything to be reunited with them." Cole said with a sensation of contentment as he looked upon the memory.

"Giving up everything, risking it all in the unknown, just so he can go back home to his woman and kid? Guess the Hero of Ferelden is more human than most people will ever know." Varric said quietly.

"Not human enough. He still eats people." Sera shuddered.

"After everything that man has been through, everything he accomplished, I don't fault his decision to leave the Wardens." Ranier admitted. "What man with half a soul wouldn't give up all the power and rank in the world for a life with the woman he loves and his son?"

"Such men are extremely rare indeed. Either existing only in a child's story, or dying before their time." Vivienne confirmed. "Aedan Cousland is surely a rare breed."

"If that's not true love, I don't know what is." Dorian sighed. "I'd be even more moved if I wasn't irrevocably scarred by all his other memories."

"Back in Par-Vollen, amongst the Ben-Hessrath, we all were taught that this guy wasn't to be underestimated or fucked with unless absolutely necessary. If they knew about this, they'd probably be even more afraid of him." Iron Bull said ominously, catching everyone's attention. "Men with something to lose are always the most dangerous."

The memory of Aedan starting his life with Morrigan and Kieran came to an end as the world around them began to change as though it had a will of its own. This change was different than the others. The ground they stood on shook strongly under their feet. The same white magic that brought them here to begin with whited out the rest of Aedan's memory and enveloped them in its strange magical energy. As it surrounded them, they heard a strange, majestic music coming from all around them. Was this the end of this venture, or the beginning. They didn't know. The only way out was forward.

~Language Codex~

Seth'lin: Elven slur. Translates as "Thin Blood".

Valos Atraedum: Dwarven phrase. Translates as "Favor of the Ancestors".

Atrast Vala, Salroka: Dwarven greeting. Basic translations is "Greetings, My Friend".

Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin: Old Alamarii. Translates as "My Golden-Eyed Darling".

Author's Note:

Alright so here it is, my latest chapter!

I know it's a bit later than usual. Things got pretty busy on my end, and I had computer issues.

This is the longest chapter I have done so far, so I hope that makes up for the tardiness on my part.

These will be my last chapters of this story, and after that I will be done with writing for a while.

So, I have decided to take an opportunity to answer some questions and reveal some things I didn't with my previous heroes.

I hope this chapter was to your liking and that you will all continue to read, review and enjoy.