Author's Note – My continued thanks to all of you who have read/faved/followed this story, with special shout-outs this chapter to KalenCaelli, ANCIENT WARRIOR, & What Ithacas Mean.

Hugs again to Genjutsu-Dragon for the beta read!

Late Justinian, 31 Dragon

Talia forced herself to walk down the gangplank at a measured pace, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead but nonetheless aware of the gap between the hull of the ship and the dock. A foot wide, maybe less, it was too narrow for her to fall through if she did slip, but it still felt like a yawning chasm beneath her feet, the water lapping gently at the hull of the ship seeming to reach up hungrily for her, and it was all she could do not to bolt the last few steps.

It was always easier to wear her armor than carry it, but she'd removed it as soon as she had boarded the Lady Arabelle; the notion of bearing its weight in the middle of the ocean, with fathomless depths only a single misstep away, had been intolerable. Even without it, she hadn't much cared for being on deck. Fortunately, Leliana had proven quite creative in devising ways to keep them in their cabin and keep Talia's mind off of the ocean surrounding them, and the three-day voyage from Denerim to Kirkwall had been by far the longest time they had been allowed to enjoy each other's company without interruptions for duty.

That didn't mean that she was eager to repeat the experience. "Maybe go home overland?" she suggested hopefully as her bard joined her on the dock.

Leliana slipped a hand into hers, squeezing gently. "It would be a long journey," she warned. "Two weeks, maybe more."

"Would that be a bad thing?" Talia asked, giving her lover a significant look. Leliana's gentle laugh danced in the air, but Talia didn't need to be told that there were reasons apart from time for not making such a trek. Two women alone would be tempting prey for bandits, and while Talia was confident that she and Leliana were more than a match for any brigands, once combat was entered, blind chance always had a role to play. And then there were wolves, and darkspawn. Records brought by the Orlesian Wardens to rebuild the library of the Fereldan order suggested that the Thaw could take a decade or more before the last remnants of the hoard summoned by the Archdemon would fully subside into the Deep Roads. Even then, there would be breakthroughs.

"Just give me a few days," she sighed, resigning herself to another voyage by sea. "Maybe it'll get better." She had loved swimming as a child, but nearly drowning in the Deep Roads after being knocked into an underground river in full plate armor had left its mark. The gut-clenching terror of the first few days had faded, but just being near a river or lake while in her armor made her uneasy, and despite the advance of summer in Ferelden, she had felt no urge to go swimming.

"It will," Leliana promised her. "It just takes time, my love." A knowing smile touched the full lips as she added, "I may have an idea to help things along."

"Oh?" Intrigue and anticipation curled pleasantly beneath Talia's ribs, but her bard would say no more, turning instead to the sailors who were carrying their baggage down the gangplank.

"Please deliver them to The Golden Chalice," she instructed them, giving the one in the lead the note that would secure their lodgings at the Hightown inn for the next few days and the coin to pay for it, along with a generous tip.

Accepting that her lover would reveal her plans when she was ready and quite willing to be surprised, Talia turned her attention to their surroundings. It was her first time outside of Ferelden, and she was curious about this city that had been centuries-old when Calenhad united the Alamarri clans. The cliffs that shielded the harbor were formidable and the twin statues flanking the channel impressive; she'd barely noticed them on the way in, her focus narrowed down to the water all around.

She turned her attention to the fortress they had sailed past on their way to the docks. It was well-positioned to act as the next line of defense if invaders made it past the massive chain net that could be raised between the statues and the lighthouse and through the narrow channel.

"The Gallows." Leliana stood beside her, staring out at the structure, her expression uncharacteristically grim. "Kirkwall was the center of the slave trade in ancient Tevinter, and the Gallows was the center of the slave trade in Kirkwall. Countless slaves were killed there as punishment for disobedience, their bodies hung on display as a warning to others. The courtyard is said to be lined with statues of slaves being tortured."

Talia frowned at this. "Still?" The images of the old Tevinter gods that had been carved into the cliff faces had shown extensive signs of attempts to obliterate them; statues could be pulled down far more easily.

Her lover nodded. "At first, it was likely so that the evil done there would never be forgotten, but now I suspect there is another purpose." Her lips thinned. "The Gallows houses Kirkwall's Circle of Magi and the templars."

"To warn the mages what could happen to them if they get out of line?" Talia looked to her in astonishment, then back to the Gallows, frown deepening to a scowl. "Or to tell them they are no better than slaves?" Either seemed a good way to incite a rebellion similar to the one that Uldred had caused at Kinloch Hold. On the other hand, the demons and abominations that had been unleashed then were a sobering reminder of what could happen if mages lost control of their magic. "What would Wynne think, do you suppose?"

"She would not approve," Leliana said without hesitation, then sighed. "But it is not an easy question to answer, is it? We saw that in Ferelden's circle."

"I know." The knowledge still did not sit well with Talia, but there was nothing they could do about it, nor had it been the reason for their journey. She turned away from the fortress, rolling her shoulders to adjust the sword that lay across her back. The pommel jutted well above the top of her head, while the tip of the worn but well-maintained leather scabbard nearly brushed the ground.

Asala had still been in Sten's grasp when his body had been found, or so Talia had been told. She had lain unconscious then and had not roused until after he had been placed upon a pyre separate from the scores of others killed in that final battle. When she had recovered, she ventured into the quarters that he had been assigned in the palace and found two missives on the desk: one several pages, folded neatly and sealed with wax; the other addressed to her, a single page, the script upon it small and precise.

Kadan,

If I die in the upcoming battle, do not trouble yourself with my body. It is not the way of the Qunari to waste ceremony upon an empty shell.

Two charges I give you: return Asala to my people and deliver my report to the Arishok, that the mission I was given may be completed.

No signature. No words of farewell. But the trust implicit in the request that he had made, without a hint of doubt that she would fulfill it, spoke as eloquently as the words not written. It was folded up in her belt pouch now alongside the missive for the Arishok. Initially, the prospect of the long voyage to Seheron had meant a wait of several months, until word had come from traders out of the Free Marches of the storm that had sunk a Qunari ship, stranding a contingent of their warriors – including the Arishok – in Kirkwall.

Glancing around, Talia spotted a guard wearing the city's livery and approached. "Greetings," she offered, bowing slightly. "I have business with the Qunari; are they still in Kirkwall?"

"They are … Warden," he answered, eyes flicking curiously to the griffons on her breastplate before returning to her face, the displeasure in his expression not directed at her. "They're there." He jerked his chin to an odd-looking structure in the center of the docks. "The Viscount gave 'em that space to keep 'em from takin' over the sodding city."

"Are they hostile, then?" Talia asked, startled and worried. Sten had spoken of Qunari conquest of the south as inevitable, but not imminent. So soon after the Blight, Ferelden would make easy pickings, but the guardsman shook his head.

"Nay, they've not raised hand or blade, but that don't stop 'em from walkin' about the city like they own it, comin' and goin' where they like without s'much as a by-your-leave." He turned his head and spat on the weathered boards.

"What is their purpose here?" Leliana asked, getting a mirthless chuckle in response.

"Well now, that is something they haven't seen fit to share with anyone," he grunted. "Or if they have, it hasn't been shared with the rank and file. Whatever it is, looks like they're plannin' on stayin' a while. Didn't even try t'fix their ship. Jus' took it apart and used the pieces t'build up their compound. Say they're waitin' on another ship, but they don't seem to be lookin' for it."

Talia puzzled over it as she and Leliana made their way across the docks, found her steps slowing as they approached the compound. No ships were tied up near it, and the bustling activity that dominated the rest of the docks gave this area a wide berth. The two guards at the entrance regarded them impassively. Talia had seen horns on the Tal-Vashoth mercenaries they had encountered during the Blight, knew that Sten's lack of them was unusual, but these looked like nothing she had ever seen. As tall and powerfully built as Sten had been, they seemed even bigger: bare-chested, their skin decorated with the armoring paint called vitaar (Sten had lost his supply and been forced to utilize normal armor), their horns adding another foot to their height and changing the shapes of their skulls into something alien and forbidding.

"Greetings." She came to a stop before them. She didn't bow; Sten had never seemed to care for such customs."I am Warden-Commander Talia Cousland of Ferelden. I have business with your Arishok, if he is available."

Sten's eyes had been violet; the eyes of the Qunari on the left were the crimson of half-dried blood, while those of the one on the right were a vivid gold. Both sets of eyes looked down at her, giving no hint of acknowledgment that she had even spoken, and she had to tamp down the impulse to step protectively in front of Leliana.

After several moments, one of them turned silently, jerking his head in what Talia took as an indication that they should follow.

"Did you want to wait here?" The unease prickling at the back of her neck demanded that Talia ask the question, but she was not overly surprised when Leliana gave her a mildly exasperated look and shook her head. Willing herself not to touch Starfang's hilt, Talia fell into step behind the guard, acutely aware that the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. She had grown accustomed to Sten's size over the months they had traveled, had stopped considering it unusual.

Now, as they moved into the compound, they were surrounded by giants, all of them armed and armored, all of them male, all of them busy. Ten … twenty … thirty … Talia stopped counting at fifty. Some worked at a makeshift forge, repairing weapons and armor. Some sparred or practiced forms in a small open area. Some were cooking over a large iron stove. Some were building what looked to be a storehouse from pieces of wooden planking. All of them labored in a near silence that was even more unnerving than their size. No idle talk, jokes or laughter, as would have been the case with almost any other group of soldiers. A few glanced up as they passed, the disinterest in their expressions little different than someone watching a bug crawling on a windowsill. The prickle of unease intensified, but there was nothing to be done but keep following.

In the center of the compound, a platform had been constructed, atop which sat a bench built from two massive beams carved into stylized dragon heads, perhaps rams from the lost ship. Seated on the bench, flanked by two guards, was the largest Qunari that Talia had yet seen. Powerfully built and broad-shouldered, he sported massive black horns, and a heavy brow overhung deep-set silver eyes. With his grey skin, he might have been mistaken for a statue, so motionless he sat, massive forearms propped on his knees, craggy features set into an expression as unyielding as stone, and his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

His posture shifted almost imperceptibly as they approached, his eyes flicking to their escort, who mounted the platform and bent to speak to him in low tones, then back to them as the guard stepped back and took up a post to their rear. He sat up straight – even sitting, he would have been nearly as tall as Leliana - and remained silent for a long moment, his focus moving from the breastplate of her armor to her face. In her memory, Talia could hear Sten's voice:

"I don't understand. You look like a woman."

Trying to be conciliatory had never worked with Sten. Only when she stood her ground and pushed back had he seemed to respect her. She met the Arishok's eyes without flinching, readying herself for an argument and weighing just how hard she could push back when they were very much outnumbered.

"Shanedan, Grey Warden," he intoned at last. "We have heard the reports of how your order ended the Blight. It was a worthy accomplishment."

Not what she had been expecting, and Talia quickly reworked her response. "One of your own was instrumental in that victory," she replied. "Sten of the Beresaad. He alone survived an attack by the darkspawn on the expedition that you sent to Ferelden. He became a companion to the Grey Wardens and helped us kill the Archdemon." She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. "We wouldn't have done it without him. He died in the fight."

She lifted the baldric over her head and held Asala out to the Arishok. "He asked that I return his weapon to his people."

He took the weapon and looked it over without changing expression. "It is our custom to pay the people of these lands for the return of the weapons of our fallen. What price do you seek?"

Talia frowned and shook her head. "He was my friend," she declared firmly. "I owe him my life many times over. This was his last request of me; I need no payment."

A flicker of something – respect, perhaps? - in the grey eyes in the moment before the Arishok turned to hand off the greatsword to one of the two guards. They handled the sheathed blade with solemn respect, but no real appearance of reverence, nor had any of them displayed any emotion at the news of the deaths of their vanguard forces.

Returning the sword had only been one of Sten's tasks for her, and Talia withdrew the sealed letter from her belt. "Sten also asked that I deliver this to you."

He accepted the missive, broke the wax seal, and read the contents in silence. Around them, those who were working had never paused in their labor, and they did not now. The pair that flanked the bench showed no curiosity about what their commander was reading. Their gazes never left Talia and Leliana, and while they were not overtly hostile, the attention was unsettling. What was their function? Were they simply an honor-guard, or were they assigned to protect the Arishok, who looked more than capable of defending himself?

She chanced a glance at Leliana; her bard's expression was as impassive as any of the Qunari, but the blue eyes were intent, shifting subtly here and there, taking in every detail. Her manner was relaxed, but Talia knew from experience that it masked a readiness to spring into action if needed. Hopefully it wouldn't be needed; Talia did not believe that Sten would have put anything into his letter to harm her deliberately, but what if the Arishok interpreted it differently?

Minutes ticked by as the Arishok finished one page and shifted it to the bottom before reading the next page, then the next, then the next. Four pages, in the same small, precise script that had been in the letter to Talia. What had he written? It was warmer this far north, and the towering walls of the compound blocked any sea breezes; Talia could feel the sweat trickling over her skin as the heat built beneath her armor.

After what seemed an eternity, he lowered the parchment and lifted his gaze to them once more. "The Beresaad were sent to Ferelden to answer a question: 'What is the Blight?'," he intoned. "With your aid, the Sten has provided the answer to that question." The grey eyes focused on Talia. "You are basalit-an: one worthy of respect."

"Thank you." From her discussions with Sten, Talia knew that it was as great an accolade as a non-Qunari could expect to receive. She waited, but he was silent once more, his focus returned to somewhere in the middle distance. After a few moments, she spoke up. "I am sorry that your ship was destroyed. If there is any aid that Ferelden can offer -"

"There is not."

Leliana tried. "Do you need a message sent to Seheron requesting another ship?"

"No."

It was so much like talking to Sten that Talia had to suppress a bittersweet smile; she wasn't certain how it would be received in present company. "Why were you so far south?" she asked. The key was in presenting questions that required more than monosyllabic answers.

The Arishok shifted slightly, his eyes focusing on them again. "We seek a relic that has been stolen from us. When we have recovered it, we will return."

Talia exchanged a cautious glance with Leliana. It was reassuring to hear that invasion was not their intent, but would the Arishok admit openly if it were? "What is the relic that you seek?" Leliana asked him. "Perhaps we could assist you in -"

"No." The Arishok had never raised his voice, but there was the thinnest edge of impatience in his last response that Talia thought it best not to test further.

"We take our leave of you, then," she told him, dipping a slight bow from habit.

"Maraas toh ebra-shok, Warden," the Arishok replied, then began to re-read Sten's report. Taking that as a dismissal, Talia turned to follow their escort back out of the compound. She did not relax fully until they were back out on the docks and well away.

"That was -" She glanced back and gave a rueful chuckle, shaking her head. "I'm not sure what I was expecting," she admitted. "He didn't even act as though he cared that Sten and the others were dead."

"They fulfilled their duty," Leliana observed. "That is what matters to the Qunari. Seeing them all, I better understand Sten, but I also have many more questions."

"So do I," Talia sighed, "and I don't expect we'll be getting any answers." She regarded her lover somberly. "Do you think he was being honest about why they were in the south?"

"A single ship is an unlikely invasion force," Leliana replied thoughtfully. "Their war with Tevinter has not abated; opening a second front so far away would be unwise, and they are known to be skilled strategists. I wonder what this relic they are looking for is."

"A sword, like Asala?" Talia suggested as they reached the bottom of a steep staircase that stretched upward, its end lost to sight. Sten's determination to recover his lost blade suggested just how doggedly his fellows would pursue an artifact of collective importance. "I wouldn't want to be the thief when they caught up with him."

"Indeed," Leliana agreed, glancing up, then to Talia. "Shall we explore Kirkwall?"

"Think I'd like to get out of this armor first," Talia replied. It was more than the heat or the weight; after a year of all but living in the plate, she could wear it as long as needed, but already, she was aware of the curious stares that the Grey Warden heraldry embossed on the breastplate were drawing. Even without the armor, her face was generally recognized in Denerim these days, but here, she could be anonymous, just another Fereldan wandering through the city, and that prospect appealed to her.

"The Golden Chalice, then," Leliana said, then gave her lover a sly smile. "I warn you, I may not stop at getting you out of your armor."

"You won't hear any objections from me," Talia responded with a laugh. They had a few days before they needed to leave to return to Ferelden. As long as the majority of that was spent in the company of her bard, she wasn't going to quibble over the details.

A.N. - This particular side trip has been planned for a while, ever since I realized that Sten was not going to survive the fight against the Archdemon. I was originally thinking of a trip to Seheron, but looking at the DAO/DA2 timelines, I realized that Kirkwall was the more practical choice. Sten's death obviously means that he won't be the new Arishok in the Silent Grove storyline, and since I'm not going to dive too deeply into that narrative, I wanted to let Talia see more Qunari through the lens of her experience with Sten

I wanted to touch on the lingering effects of Talia's near-death experience in the Deep Roads, and a ship in the middle of the ocean seemed as good a trigger as any. Leliana's suggestion of a way to help Talia get over her aversion to water will be a Stolen Moments chapter in the not-too-distant future.

One more Kirkwall chapter here to give Talia & Leliana the chance to run into some familiar faces & make a new friend or two. The events of Awakening haven't taken place yet, so Anders is still in Ferelden (the timeline in the games for him always seemed a bit dicey to me).