Incorruptible

by super ginger

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

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Uthreida stood in the courtyard of Sky Hold, watching the King and his envoy leave. He was smiling and waving to the crowd as he and the caravan lined up at the port cullus. Children were throwing him flowers as the citizens held their hands out to shake or touch his. He smiled to every one of his citizens as he passed. Even without a crown, he was noble and kind to his people. He wasn't afraid to show his love for them. She found herself smirking.

His words before departure were still in her ears. "Be good. And for the love of the Maker, don't kill anyone. That's not actively trying to kill you."

She had smiled at him. "Fear not, my King" she gave something akin to a bow, "I shall stay my blades for the Inquisition and only raise them towards our enemy."

His amber eyes looked her over quickly with hesitancy. "Well, good. I suppose." He had sighed hard then. His face turned somber as he looked over the people gathered. "We stand in a world that no longer makes sense. Even to us. Remember our bargain. They succeed, I will find your home."

She bowed again, letting his heavy words sink in. She knew he was going out on a limb. She knew he was risking a lot to do this. And he had her respect.

King Alistair gave a final wave to the crowd as the horses started to depart. She felt her heart grow heavy for this king. in hindsight, he looked so much like Ulfric. He was a war hero, a noble born, and his love for the people was genuine. But unlike Ulfric, Alistair was honest. He didn't want songs of his valor. Only the peace of his people.

She admired that. This was a King. Not whatever she crowned.

"Slayer." Bull called, grabbing her attention. She turned to face the large horned man as he approached.

She gave a smile. "Good morning, Iron Bull." She bowed her head to him as he grew closer.

He gave a deep breath as he placed his fists on his hips. "Excellent morning for training." He said with a slight growl of anticipation.

She looked him up and down quickly with wide eyes. She's training against him? She supposed it would prove valuable, but-

Bull gave a deep bellied laugh as he looked at her. "Not me, Slayer. Got my own men to train." He started to walk past her to the sparring rings in the back. "Nah, got someone else lined up and ready."

Uthreida turned to follow, but her eyes returned to the departing King for a moment. She took a deep breath for the fellow Dovahkin as he left. She offered a prayer to the Gods to watch over him, keep him safe, and on the true path.

"Come on." Bull called with a smirk as she faltered. Uthreida had to jog to catch up with his long gait. "How you like it here?" He asked passively.

She looked around, hearing the clatter of the clashing swords and shields, and the exhausted expressions on the recruit's faces. "It's familiar."

He led her past the open pits to the rear. "I thought the same thing when I got here. The familiar sounds of war and battle. It's comforting in a way."

She nodded as they came to a stop in the furthest ring. A single warrior was looking at the rack of training weapons. "Blackwall." Bull called, causing the warrior to turn around. He was wearing a chest plate, most of the arm and leggings missing as he hefted a training shield in his left. The warrior gave a nod from beneath their helm. "Slayer, Blackwall will be your sparring partner today."

The warrior gave a scoff. "You say that as though it's willing." He joked as he approached them. "Truth be told, me and Seeker Cassandra drew straws." He shrugged showing who the loser of the contest was.

She smirked at the comment. "Well, I'm not about to fight an unwilling combatant."

He gave a chuckle as he lowered the shield to the ground. "Never said I was UNwilling. Besides," he rolled his shoulder as he stretched. "Seeker says that it'll be a fair fight. One monster slayer to another."

She arched a brow. His voice was older, more graveled than expected. He was a veteran in a profession where they died young. This could be entertaining. She gave a nod to the man in a mutual understanding and respect.

"So, you two good?" Bull asked, crossing his arms. "Fantastic. Krem!" he yelled turning from them.

Uthreida shook her head as another warrior from a distance gave a groan at the Qunari and a wise comment. She looked at Blackwall again, sizing him up quickly before crossing the ropes to enter the ring. "May I" she pointed to the sparring rack and he opened his hand to peruse as she liked. As she moved, she undid the belts at her waist. Dropping her swords, axe, and tassts to the side. It seemed like a fair fight that way. There was a short hefted axe and one handed sword on the rack. She lifted the axe, and gave it a flip to check the weight. Catching the handle, she noticed the balance was off, but with no other options, and it being a training weapon, she turned to face her opponent. She placed on her Ebony helm, and stretched her back quickly.

The man allowed her the small opportunity to stretch as he did the same. Their sparring was to be a silent one then. She felt herself smirk. If it was training, he would already be calling out how her armor was ill fitted. He would be telling her that her weapon choice was all wrong. That her helmet was improper for the purpose. But he was silent as he ran through a few drills of sword and shield to get his blood pumping for the battle.

"You ready, Slayer?" He called from across the ring.

Uthreida rolled her neck slowly, letting the weight of the armor adjust, and letting the wind from the mountains fill her gambeson. She gave a nod, and kept her weapons low. The warrior took a defensive stance, his sword resting over his shield. Shield wall tactics. She felt her brow arch. They use the same tactics as Skyrim.

She kept her position natural as he slowly approached. Farkas and Isburn would be telling her to heft her weapons. But Branyolf and Astrid would tell her to take a less aggressive position. Lower their expectations, then strike. This is how she fought. Let the armor do its job and take out the man inside of it.

The warrior circled her slowly, looking for a weakness. She allowed him to find them. His rear foot ground in the dirt. So it begins.

He lept at her, driving his shield first. Uthreida dodge, using the hook of the axe redirect his swing of his sword. The two circled again. He attacked first. Shoving his shield into her and raised his sword arm. Uthreida dodged again and shoved her sword into the soft underside of his armpit. He groaned as he swung his arm down onto her, hitting the paldron on her shoulder. The weight of the swing reivberated her armor, as her other arm holding the axe hooked his shield down slightly and moved her sword to his throat. His lowered arm used the pommel to hit her on the inner thigh causing her to take a step back to recover from the attack. He moved forward. He approached behind his shield as his sword went for her midsection. She swung her blade to perry, and turned to the other side. He reacted by holding his shield to block her escape. She flipped the axe and went for the inner bicep that wasn't protected then back again for the throat with a back hand swipe. His sword arched, and she met it, catching his in the cross guard.

Uthreida stood her ground as the two squared off. And he did the one thing she hated. He used his brute strength to press her. She tucked a leg and fell, pulling him with her and flipped him off of her. She rolled out of her fall, and her blade met the back of his neck as he tried to stand. He paused as the cool steel met his skin.

She took a cooling breath and stepped back. The warrior stood, brushing the dirt off. Shaking his head. "You're a finesse fighter." He tilted his head quickly. "Heavy armor for a duelist?"

She felt herself smile at the playful comment. "It's not that heavy." He arched a brow in silence. Uthreida could feel the annoyed gaze from the man and she understood why. The fortify carry weight enchantment on her breast plate made her stronger, thus making the illusion to herself that her armor was lighter than it was. Between that and Farkas's master teachings, her armor was practically weightless to her. Chuckling she added, "When you wear it as long as I have, it's not that heavy."

The man gave a chuckle as he swung the sword for weight. "Right." He took a ready position. His shield was raised, but the sword held to the side of it, ready to his waist. The first strike will pierce.

Uthreida flipped the blade in her hand so it ran along the length of her arm.

The warrior saw her stance and moved his blade to the top of his shield. Uthreida met in kind, flipping the blade to the length of her leg. Her defensive axe dropped lower on the heft. Her stance clear, she wanted distance.

She heard him hum in appreciation and lowered his shield to his mid chest. She tilted her head at the odd change. She had half an idea but will have to see.

He charged. Uthreida stood her ground, spinning her blade back up her arm. She moved to avoid his shield but ran her shoulder into his stomach. The beard of her axe grabbed his ankle and pulled with everything. Pushing with her shoulder, the warrior fell, pulling her with him. Uthreida landed on top with her blade at his throat.

After he coughed, he chuckled. "Why does it have to end with me on my back?"

Uthreida moved her blade from his throat and stood, offering the handle of her axe for his assistance to stand. The warrior took it and pulled. His weight behind the pull caused her to buckle and step forward. Both gave a chuckle at her 'presumed' strength as she offered a hand this time, using his own feet as a means of leverage.

"I think I figured out your fighting style." He commented as he picked up his shield.

She gave an exaggerated shrug. "Drunken brawler?"

"Something like that." He smirked as he took another stance.

Uthreida pointed her sword this time, hefting her axe above her head to defend. He, in a quick movement, moved his sword to his shield hand and moved to pull something from his belt. Uthreida only had seconds to block her eyes from his attack when she heard a chain rattle. The pull that came with it sent her flying towards him. She was met with a shield and he pushed her off. Uthreida, barely of thought, was pushed away from him, but her wobbly feet, pushed her behind him. The axe had hooked on the lip of his shield. She had only a moment to move her sword around him. It was haphazard as she went to stab him in the leg and missed.

The warrior shoved the axe off and swung her back to his front causing the world to spin for a moment. Her feet knocked from under her and she found herself on her hands and knees, unable to breathe. She took gasps, but her lungs wouldn't fill. She fell into the dirt, rolling onto her back, forcing air to enter her lungs. Her gasps loud in her helm as her knees and legs tried to find purchase on the ground.

After what felt an eternity, she finally got her lungs full, and took a sweet breath of air. But after that, she could only get half a lung of air. She turned her head to see the warrior rotate his shoulder. His attention focused on himself and not her. She tried to breathe again and roll over to finish this fight. But she couldn't move. Her legs tried to roll her over, but only succeeded in raising to her chest, and nothing else.

The warrior finally looked at her, his sword low as he slowly approached. "You alright?"

"Fine." She choked with only one lung working.

He gave a hearty chuckle and moved next to her. "Here." He offered, undoing the strap of her helmet and removed it. Uthreida felt the air fill her lungs for the first time. "Better?"

She nodded, letting the cool air fill her lungs, and felt the full force of his shield against her ribs. Her hand went to the wound to apply pressure unconsciously. "One more?" she put on a brave face as she forced herself to sit up, still trying to remember how to breathe.

There was a pause to his response. Then a chuckle. "Makers balls, you damn near ripped my arm off. And almost got the bits." He added as he reached a hand to help her stand. He was slow to make sure her head was right before lifting too quickly. Uthreida felt her stomach lurch for a moment, but hanging onto his arm gave her some stability.

After a second, she took a full breath, and felt herself laugh at the idea of the fearfulness that came without air. Without wind. Without her voice. What would happen if this was a dragon? The idea of it made her shudder in fear that all she could do was laugh. She looked at him through the eye slits of his helm and wanted to see if he saw the same fear she did.

He began to chuckle as well. "Well fought." He began to remove his helm but winced as his off hand lifted.

Uthreida steadied her nerves and called forth ice to her hand. She had a good size chunk before her magicka was severed. She unstrapped his paldron, and shoved the ice between the folds of his gambeson. With pressure, she called forth basic healing that didn't need as much magic to try and heal the minor sprain of his shoulder.

With his main hand, he removed his helmet as he watched her work. "You're a mage, too?"

She looked up to meet his eyes for a proper conversation. But when she looked, she saw the corn blue of his eyes highlighted by his dark hair, deep set eyes, and thick beard. His hooked nose looked broken at one point. The face of a true warrior. She looked away as soon as she realized she was staring. Heat crept up her neck and cheeks as a guilty smile scrawled over her face. "I've been getting that a lot recently." She tapped his shoulder when her magicka was finally drained. "You should get a proper healer to look at that." Her hand went to her own wound on her ribs and breathed. "Shores bones, that was one hell of a bout." She canted a hip trying to hide her pain. "When you're ready."

He was silent for a moment. His main hand holding the ice in place on his shoulder. "If you don't mind my saying, and I'm sure you've heard this already, that accent." His brows furrowed for a moment as he spoke. "Where are you from?"

She turned to look at him again. Catching the sweat on his brow from the low sun and the wind moving some of his hair with it. She was staring again. She looked to her feet for a moment to clear her mind. "I'll tell you what, if you can name my home in three guesses, I'll give you one hundred pieces of gold."

His eyes went wide at the idea, then lowered his head as if there was a loophole to this plan. "You'll give me a hundred royals, if I can guess your homeland?"

Uthreida thought about it. It did seem like a novel way to find out who knew of Skyrim on this continent. As a 'monster slayer' he should be well traveled. Her mind caught on the transaction though. "Aye, one hundred gold coins for a proper guess."

He seemed to seriously consider the prospect before following her. "I might need more to go off of, if you don't mind, Slayer."

She gave a laugh as she reached the water trough for the soldiers to fill their skins. "Of course. Ah," she looked around for a topic of conversation when something caught her attention. "What's that on your breastplate?"

He looked at his chest with a hand covering it instinctually. "A griffon?" he said confused. "Well, I guess that means you're not Anders."

She bent at the waist, and realized with the bruising on her ribs, it was an arduous task. She had to squat to reach the trough. "What's a griffon?"

He arched a brow. "Half lion, half eagle? It's the sigil of the Grey Wardens."

"You're a Grey Warden?" She asked in wonderment. Even if it was an order she had only heard from the King.

"I am." He said, dropping his head as he did.

"The King spoke of the Grey Wardens and how they stopped the blight ten years ago. He said they stood against Dark Spawn. Is that true?"

"It is." He said, stepping closer and placing his training weapons on the rack. "We are the vigil guard against the Dark Spawn and the Blight."

"Ah." She spoke with amazement at him. "I don't know why, but when he said Grey Warden, I was thinking of Grey Beards." She chuckled at herself. "I don't know why."

He gave a laugh at the idea. "No, in the Wardens, there can only be one." He jutted his chin at her to display his beard. She laughed at the joke with him. "So, if you could describe your land, what is it like?"

She smirked. He was still trying to get her coin. "Well, it's full of mountains, forests, and by the sea."

He looked away in thought. "Cold where you're from?"

"Aye."

"What is your pastime?"

"Drinking."

He laughed at the quick response. "Well, alright. Last question, why is the Commander glaring at you?"

Uthreida turned to follow his gaze to the blonde man with fur capped shoulders as he slowly turned from them, keeping his eyes on overseeing the training. He was watching. Something he'll use to his advantage, she was sure. "So," she cupped her hands into the water with her back to the warrior, "Three guesses; three clues. Are you ready?'' She took a drink of the water and let the coolness slide down her throat and down the front of her coat.

He arched a skeptical brow. "And you'll be honest?"

"By Talos's hammer, may he strike me down." She held up a hand in honorable servitude.

He squinted for a moment, then leaned forward. "Has to be southern." He said to himself as he looked her over. His eyes taking in her hair, eyes, skin, then armor. He averted his eyes as if thinking of their fight. "You wouldn't be a Marcher, would you?"

She smirked. "Marcher?"

"Free Marches." She shook her head. "To the north."

"Is that your guess?"

He sighed heavily knowing he had lost it. "It was."

She smirked. "Sorry."

The warrior was silent again as he thought. He looked her up and down, then smirked. "You're Avvarr aren't you? You don't have a specific home."

She furrowed her brows but couldn't hold the smile. "I don't know who or what that is. So, that's two."

He 'hmm' again, looked at her armor again, then sighed with a shake of his head. "Sunless Lands?" He gave a shrug in resignation.

Uthreida paused as she considered it. Atamora was said to be without sun for three months then with nothing but sun for three months. She scrunched her face to try and make a connection, but there wasn't one. She shook her head slowly at him. "Sorry."

He shrugged. Nothing was lost but nothing was gained either. "Names Blackwall, by the way."

"Uthreida Storm Blade."

He gave a polite nod indicating that her name would be a mouthful. "Slayer."

"Grey Warden." She said playfully with a frown and tone to match his.

He arched a comical brow. "Just Warden."

"Just Warden." She mocked again causing him to smirk. He had a pained smile that seemed like it was something he was unaccustomed to.

His blue eyes met her with the same mirth in her own. "Dragon."

She gave a smile at the new title, and bowed once again to him. "Again?"

He gave a heavy sigh but nodded. Placing his helmet on his head and grabbing his training weapons. They circled again. Uthreida learned that his shield is sensitive, and took full advantage. Using her axe to keep his one side up, and then slicing his chest when she lowered her axe.

XxXxXxXx

Well, this is awkward. Uthreida thought, as she mounted Ragnar and headed out the Port Cullus to Red Cliff with the Inquisitor and most of his inner circle. Blackwall was riding behind her on a dapple horse, staring daggers at her back. She should probably apologize for her dirty tactics in the ring.

The Inquisitor and the Bosmer named Sera, that was very talkative when they met, were leading, Seeker Cassandra, who barely said two words to her since their introduction, and the Commander. Before her was the Redguard Mage, Vivienne and the Falmer Solas. She was riding alone with Blackwall and Varric behind her. Behind them was Bull and the Commander's small party.

It was a silent trip down the mountainside. About a two hour ride. When the party hit level ground is when they started to talk to one another. She enjoyed overhearing their conversations and banters that she had assumed they would be friends. By about the fourth hour into riding, the party had moved their locations on their mounts to either engage in more riveting conversation or get away from another.

Uthreida stayed quiet, listening and learning from those around her.

She learned from the conversations between Lady Iron and Solas that mages are collected at an early age and whisked away to towers to learn their magic rather than allow it to scare the general populace. Because of this isolation, a rebellion started. A stance that the Redguard was against whereas Solas wanted more integrated magical teachings with the people. Uthreida had to agree that his plans were the same ones used back home.

She learned from Sera and Blackwall that Sera is insane. And from Sera's conversations with Varric and Solas that her 'thieves guild' could stand to do better. Branyolf and Grey Fox would be rolling if they heard, or even understood how it worked. But perhaps it was for the best. If she didn't know what she was doing, then her targets certainly didn't.

She learned from Cassandra and Varric that they are only aligned by their mutual understanding of the book, The Champion, if she was following correctly. She would have to see if Varric had a copy to understand better. And that the explosion of the Conclave sealed both of their fates.

She learned that Blackwall had spent the last few years alone scouting new recruits for his order and that the Qun is similar to Altimer philosophy. To a degree. Mostly less. But it was Iron Bulls tone how he spoke. Almost as if he wasn't completely sold on the idea. He held a respectable skepticism even of his own people and government.

She learned from Cassandra and Vivine that this Chantry was destroyed and needed a new leader. This, Divine, blasphemous as it was to her, was apparently their single religious leader. The last was apparently kind, and according to the Redguard, was too kind to mages. She let the mages believe the fallacy that they are beloved by the Chantry and would be allowed to open riot. This oversight allowed the rebellion and deaths of countless mages in Thedas.

She learned from Blackwall and his conversations with Vivienne that he despised nobles and she scoffed at his order as outdated even as King Alistair was proud of it.

She heard that Sera didn't care for her elven heritage that Solas was trying to instill. A heritage that was apparently lost to the world. She couldn't help but drop her eyes to the sentiment. How much was lost due to war, genocide, and fear. Wait, what would a Bosmer care for Falmer philosophies? Or vice versa. Is there only one race of elves here? Or, is he recruiting into his own clan?

She learned from Sera that Vivienne was a bitch. Utherida was inclined to agree, but even Sybil was respected as a Court Wizard and feared. Grant it, the vampire had her faults, and terrible habits of feasting on the condemned prisoners, but had the decency to care for the general good of the people. Wait. Uthreida squinted at the Mage before her. Her skin wasn't smoking and she didn't seem at all perturbed to be in the sun. Uthreida looked away. Just because people are assholes doesn't make them possessed or packed with Deadra. Maven Black Briar was a bitch, but certainly wasn't a vampire. That she knew of.

Blackwall and Cassandra had a Soldiers commardrie. She saw that Blackwall and the Commander shared mutual silence while Vivienne poked the Commander playfully to get him to lighten up. She only received polite grunts from the furred man. Cassandra and he spoke of the loss at Haven. And their mountains of paperwork.

At the eighth or ninth hour of riding, she noticed that the Falmer was mostly riding by himself. He didn't seem to mind the company, but preferred to be alone in his own thoughts. She also noticed that Blackwall was the same. Riding alone, or at her side as she didn't speak to anyone during the ride. Acknowledging them as they passed, but no words stated.

It was around that time they decided to break for camp. They were a day away from the outskirts of Redcliff, meaning, according to some of the conversations, they would be able to stay at the Tavern in Redcliffe tomorrow. The idea was promptly cut down by the Inquisitor that they had plenty of tents and out posts in the Hinterlands that boarding wasn't necessary. The people needed the tavern, they didn't. Then followed by a few groans.

Camp was made and tents were erected. Uthreida spent her evening in silence as she watched the Inquisitor and the Soldiers work and mend their own. Carry on, and enjoy themselves as they like. But even as she watched, she felt outside. Even as they offered her bowls of what passed for stew and watered down wine all with a smile. She felt no different than she did back home. Tolerated until the menace was dealt with. Too much power in one small form.

There was a freedom in being alone. But there was also comfort in people. Judging from the lack of conversation, she knew she didn't make a good first impression. She began to count and realized that the three man tents they brought wouldn't be enough room for all of them.

Uthreida and her pack went to the outlines of the camp and found a small tree near where the horses were being kept. Within sight of the camp, but enough away to let them live without her presence. Using her axe and an oil skinned hide, she made a quick tent. Her vail hides furs for a bedding. After making a small fire, she began the process of cleaning her armor and weapons as the sun was setting over the beautiful landscape. She found herself humming as she worked. It was an old song that she had forgotten the words to long ago. But it brought comfort as she worked.

"Slayer." She looked up to see the Commander approach with a scowl. "What are you doing?"

She lifted the rag in her hand and looked at the mail in her lap. "Cleaning?"

He rolled his eyes as he approached. "Camps over there. Why are you over here?"

"There's not enough room."

He stopped when he was within speaking distance. "Three of my men will be pulling rotational patrol during the night. You can sleep with the Soldiers."

Her eyes drifted to the red tents and the memories of sleeping in blue ones. The voices, the screams. "I'm fine."

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. He finally looked over at her as she cleaned her armor. He took two steps closer and knelt down to her level. "I understand making friends can be difficult." Uthreida slowly turned her head to him with half lidded eyes of annoyance of the man. "Go socialize."

She arched a brow. "I can't." she stated defiantly.

He released a hard breath as if this a conversation he's had multiple times before. "Because-" he waved a hand to start a long story.

"I have yet to prove myself." He pursed his lips at the comment. "I heard you speaking on the trip."

"Eavesdropping? I'd like to say that's below you, but" he gave a halfhearted shrug then cocked a smirk.

"And" she steered the conversation with a cutting tone, "I know you lost a lot of men at Haven." She looked at the main camp. "They are afraid to get close to someone who will die before tomorrow's moons." She returned to the rings on her shirt. "So leave it be."

The Commander looked at the main camp, then back at her in a moment of silence. "Isolation breeds contempt."

"Many things breed contempt, Commander." She arched a brow as she continued to work. "Forcing alliances neither creates nor binds them."

He took a breath, his lips moving as if to offer a solemn prayer for himself. "Fine." He said sternly. "But I will not have my men widen the perimeter to include your isolation."

"That's fair. I expect they'll run if I scream."

She could hear him bite back his anger. "Well," he stood to his full height, "If you do feel the need for such theatrics, do try to keep it down."

"Will do."

"Lovely." He bit as he turned on his heel. Uthreida kept her eyes on her work until he was far enough away. She kept her face down as she looked towards where he went. She saw the Commander speaking to the Inquisitor, waving a hand in her direction with a flick that implied arrogance or annoyance. She smirked at his folly.

She felt their eyes for the rest of the night, watching her from a distance. None chose to close in though. Each taking turns watching her clean her armor, sharpen her weapons, feed the fire, and finish 'Twin Secrets.' When she shut the book and looked up, three sets of eyes turned away from her. One guard, the Bosomer Sera, and the Seeker Cassandra. Uthreida noted her curiosity, then turned her gaze to the heavens. The stars were shining at that point. Though, none of the constellations made sense to her. She gave a heavy sigh. This still wasn't her land. No matter the time, the stars should have remained. Pulling her symbol of Talos from her black gambeson, she thumbed the iron hammer in thought. Pulling against the leather cord that attached it to her throat. She heard the clink from the metal ring on the same cord.

She stared into the fire before her in thought. Tomorrow, she was to face a dragon. Fine. However, if it's got all of these warriors on edge, maybe the dragon was larger or fiercer than she was accustomed to. This dragon could be older. Wiser than her present company. It could have the answers she sought.

Her eyes darted to the camp. She doubted that any of them could understand what she was no more than the King could. She doubted that her stopping and having a conversation with a dragon was something they were not used to seeing. She doubted that they even understood what dragons were. Or why. All they knew was that they were big, scary, and unafraid. Like she once did.

Pulling the cord again, she looked into the fire with a deep breath. She needed to calculate her movements if she wanted to live. Not only against the dragon, but also against these people. Seeing the power of the Yol scared the king. Seeing the raw power of the elements may have the same effect. She has already shown the Inquisitor Fus. But he didn't make a notion of understanding or even seeing the Disarm Thu'um. Her more powerful spells would have to be hidden. To keep herself safe.

They edged her now. How long until they learn she can make it rain, and drown their enemies. How long until they learn she can clear the skies and force their enemies into famine. How long until they learn she can make them turn on one another. How long until she forces their enemies into supplication with the spell of Kynes Peace. How long until she was another tool to the army.

Her eyes flicked to find the Commander. A position she was sure he would gladly hold the leash to.

She turned the symbol until she held the hammer between her lips in thought. She tasted the iron of the enchanted necklace. Looking to the stars again, she wondered what her place here was.

To learn from her mistakes. To help? Or to hinder. To try and understand the will of the Gods is a fool's tasking. But the wondering gave some direction.

She breathed the smell of the fire through her nose. One truth remains. She would fight a dragon tomorrow. For good or ill, she would fight a dragon. She dropped the necklace from her lips and held her ebony axe in her hand, looking at the sharpened edge it held. She took a deep breath. "Talos," she whispered to herself. "Guide me upon the journey in which I find myself. Kayne, may your winds carry me through my troubles. Shore, may my sorrow forge honor in your eyes. To all I pray, guide me to victory by will and sweat of this world."

She noticed that the wind picked up, stoking the flame next to her. Uthreida smirked at the fire knowing her prayer was heard. "Gods be good to us." She said to the stars. "I will earn my place at your table, Shore. This I swear."

XxXxXxXxXx

After a short night and a long ride that took most of the day, Uthreida felt the temperature rise in the air. There was a fire in the wind. She was surrounded by a cut cliff of grey rock. And the Inquisitor came to a stop. Looking ahead, she saw more of the tents that they had used the night before. It was mid afternoon, and the rest of the party dismounted from their horses. Uthreida followed suit as the others stretched after such a ride. Aching and bitching at the pain.

The Inquisitor spoke to the Soldiers as they stood their guards. Gaining more information from them. They nodded as he spoke and offered information. The Commander glanced at her as he passed, watching her feed Ragnar bits of an apple. He met with the Inquisitor. The Soldiers stood taller at the Commanders presence. Their responses were curt when he spoke.

She gave Ragnar's muzzle a sweeping pet as she calmed the horse after the ride.

"Are you ready, M'lady?" Uthreida turned to see Blackwall standing behind her. He had a look of pity. He didn't believe she would live.

She gave a slow nod. "Aye." With a breath, she offered Ragnar the last of the apple bits, and turned to face him. She was silent as she moved her single braid into a knotted bun that would allow her helmet to fit snug. Tying it off with a string to the top of her head. She grabbed her helmet from the pommel of her long sword. She unsheathed the sword. The enchantment was still strong with it. It would need to be refilled after this. She looked at the dark man, the Warden, and smirked. "Let me see this thing that frightens your people." She gave a confident smile that seemed to ease him slightly.

He gave half of a chuckle and escorted her to the Inquisitor. He led her through the inner circle, past the watching eyes, and tongue click from Bull, to the Inquisitor and the Commander. The Inquisitor turned at the sound of their foot falling to see her. He gave a patient smile where the Commander looked at her with amusement. He took a deep breath and met her gaze. "Are you ready, Slayer?"

"Ready as one can." She was aiming for aloof, but even to her it sounded unsure.

He smiled wider at her tone. He took another deep breath, and looked to his men, his circle, his Commander, and nodded. "This way then." He held up a hand for her to follow. Uthreida followed him into a cave of the same cut rocks. It supinated, and the ceiling was missing in a few places. She saw that the cave opened.

The Inquisitor stood at the opening but still obscured by the shadows of the rock, turning to look at her as she approached. When her eyes adjusted, she looked at the valley below her. And the behemoth of a dragon that sat in the middle atop a small hill. "The Frost Back Dragon." He said with a mix of awe and fear. Her eyes were wide at the yellow and orange dragon with black stripes. Its rack spread to an impressive length. This dragon was much larger than what she had ever seen before. It was older. She smiled at the idea before her. "That's frightening." He commented with a look of concern on his face.

She gave a rueful smirk. "Sorry. How old is it?"

"Don't know."

"What's it's name?"

"Don't know."

She looked at him in annoyance. All great dragons had names. She looked at the valley again at the sleeping dragon. She noticed some black quadapedle creatures with long tails approach it. One nipped at the dragons forepaw. The large dragon tilted it's head at it, but didn't move to scare it off. Uthreida furrowed her brows. "Dovahlan." She whispered softly. Dragonlings. She had never seen these before. Dragons are supposed to be asexual. Or, without sex. How is she a mother? She felt another smile take her. How is this possible? Wait, does this mean all dragons back home are male? What if they had females? What if she's never seen one? In all her studies, though lackluster given the time and wars had destroyed most of the ancient tomes of dragons, there was never a mention of females. Her people thought them extinct or a myth. And yet, to see one, this massive female, was…Uthreida had no words to describe what this means. Not only to her people but for her as well. As a female Dragonborn. As a dragon. Uthreida felt herself smile as she watched this massive dragon licked at the dragonling that nipped her. Another nipped at her tail.

The yellow dragon jumped up and moved to defend against the little one. It gave a roar. Not one she had ever heard before. It was a Thu'um, but somewhere between a war cry and a song. The ground quaked slightly, but Uthreida couldn't pull her eyes from the dragon. The dragon snorted at the cowering child. The snort was filled with smoke.

Fire Dragon.

It's tail was weak. Or sensitive.

Her eyes traveled back to its massive gaping maw as it stood finally. Its wings were folded to its sides as it gently pushed the little ones from under its steps and retreated further into the valley.

Uthreida felt her heart hammer in her ribs. The slight lightheadedness that came from seeing this new dragon.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

"Whenever you're ready." The Inquisitor stated quietly.

Right, she was here to kill it. She looked at him quickly, then back at the dragon. She was to be watched. Monitored as she approached. She couldn't have a conversation with it. If it even wanted one. She needed answers. Where was she? Why was she here? How are there female dragons here? So many questions circled, but only one thing was constant as the Inquisitor's brown eyes watched her. She had to slay this dragon.

She gave an internal groan at the loss of invaluable information for the sake of face. Apparently, having conversations with these beasts was just as foreign to them as it was her own people, judging from the looks of the guards at Dragons Reach.

She quirked a brow at the little dragonlings as they walked and, that was the cutest pounce, in the meadow. It felt wrong to kill the little ones. They needed their future. But knew they could be just as deadly as the elder. Her eyes drifted further into the valley beyond where the larger dragon was going.

"Getting cold feet?" The Inquisitor stated with a smirk. His eyes had glazed slightly as if he was ready to kill if he needed to. She looked at him, her brows furrowing at his implied statement. She had no choice. Kill that beast, or fall to his blade. She looked him over. He could try. But he was also kind of necessary. Probably best to let him live if she wanted to see her home again. King Alistair would probably get mad if he ended up dead. By her. Fine.

Uthreida bit her cheek, knowing her next sentence could damage her standing. But if they have an informant on the ground, their word would be taken higher than her own. But that person would also need to be distracted for short times. Her eyes turned to the Dovahlan. "I'll admit. That dragon is bigger than what we have back home. I have an idea. But I'll need some help." The Inquisitor arched a board brow, waiting on her next sentence. "Don't suppose any of your friends want to assist?"

Royoc smirked. "I think I know a guy." He chuckled as he moved back out of the cave towards the camp again. Uthreida took one last peaceful look at the valley as the children frolicked in their peace. "Come on," Royoc said over his shoulder as he led. Uthreida followed out of the cave and back to the group.

Sera pfft. "That was quick."

Royoc only smirked at the elf. "Bull." The Qunari turned at the sound of his name. "It would appear that our Dragon Slayer needs a partner."

Half of the eyes turned annoyed, while the other half looked at Bull with pity then back at her with suspicion. Only Bull gave a fist pump and offered a "Fuck Yea" with a smile plastered across his face. Uthreida looked at him with a comical smirk. Bull barreled his way across the camp to them, hefting his two-handed sword from his back. He winked, she guessed from the head tilt at her, and smiled. "Ready when you are."

Uthreida held her hands up to stop him. "Hang on. Do you have any enchantments against dragons?"

"No." He smiled widely as he spoke.

"Enhancement against fire?"

"Nope."

"Resistance to anything the dragon may have?"

He groaned. "Stop thinking about it and let's just do it. Come on."

He tried to walk past her but she stopped him again. She crossed the camp and rifled through the saddlebags of Ragnar to find three fire resistance potions and passed them off to Bull. Following the way through the cave. "So, I'm sure I don't need to tell you to watch out for its head. And claws. And mind their wings. And tails."

"Yea yea."

"Bull," She stood before him before they reached the clearing. "Listen. Dragons do best in chaos and disorder. So, to make this quick, I need you to take out the little ones. Keep them off of me as I go for the larger." He seemed to drop his shoulders and pout for a second. "Once they are dealt with," she sighed as she folded for the horned man, "you can join me." He perked up again with a wide smile. "The potions I gave you will make you resistant to the fire. Drink one before you enter the fight." She turned and finished their journey to the clearing. "Dragons mouths and underbelly are their weakest spots. However, their joints are just as fragile as mortals. Strike three to five times, then move."

"Got it."

"But you need to randomize where you're going to attack." He threw his head back because of the tactics she had to learn the hard way. "Bull." She warned.

"It's a Dragon." His tone was edging on disrespect and annoyance. At who she didn't know. He was undermining their tenacity and prowess. His hand waved to the entrance of the cave. "Hold your own, and you got my blade. Got a question?" She clicked her jaw shut at the larger man. "Let's go."

He was going to get himself killed. And this is why she works alone. Uthreida looked over the valley and took a deep breath. She placed her helm over her head. The visor blocking most of the light of the sun from her eyes. "Ready?" she asked, hearing the footsteps approach from the rear.

"Yep." He said, rotating his shoulders, his sword hefted onto his right as he rolled his neck for the battle.

"Small ones first, then the larger." Taking a moment, she closed her eyes and chanted to herself: Earn your mead, earn your seat. Victory or Sovenguard. Unsheathing Dragons Bane and her axe, she stepped into the light of the valley.

They hugged the side of the mountain as they made their way across. Keeping to the undergrowth of the trees, and darting when needed. The small dragons noticed a new member in their midst as she jogged past them, swiping with her axe at those who got too close to her and made a line for the great dragon. A few headshots into the fight, and Bull savage war cry made them scurry off, only to return again for more blood.

Uthreida ran past them, to the other side of the valley and into the lowlands. She stood on the hill that divided the two areas. With a sucking of air, she sprinted towards the dragon. It reared up and slammed its feet into the ground causing the ground to quake below her. Uthreida stopped to catch herself as the Dragon watched her approach.

She watched this dragon lock eyes with her, its gaping maw slightly ajar as it snarled at her.

"Drem Yol Lok'' She shouted with her arms wide as if to imitate wings. "Zu'u Dovakin Uthrehdah." Uthreida shouted at the beast. At that moment, it paused. Its head tilted slightly at her as if it recognized.

She saw the scales around its mouth move slightly revealing its teeth. "Daar tinvaak zu'u ni hon ko lingrah tiid." It growled back at her in its native tongue. Its voice sounded as if it was damaged from the fire and lack of speaking.

Uthreida felt her arms grow heavy with those words. She hasn't heard that title in a long time. It understood. These are the same dragons of her home. These are the same dragons. "Los daar golt?" she asked, wanting to know where she was.

One of the dovahlan screeched from behind her. She heard the heavy footfalls of the Qunari behind her as he approached. The dragon looked at her as its teeth started to shine beneath its snarling mouth. Uthreida had to dash all hopes from her mind as she took the defensive stance against the dragon. As Bull approached, she set off for it. The dragon watched in comical amusement as the mortals ran headlong into their own deaths. "Liz Slen Nus" She shouted, aiming for the dragon's front left leg. Its leg began to form ice crystals along its scales. This dragon was taller than its counterparts. Uthreida ran, dropping her leg and slid as her sword and axe slid across the soft scales of the dragon's underside. Her axe hooking on its lower ribs as it gave a cry out in pain. Uthreida pulled on her axe to stand and release it from the rib. Her damage only caused a superficial wound to the beast. Utherida stood and used her axe to break the ligament of the dragon's hind leg. Keeping her eye out for movement. Bull seemed to offset her by striking the front leg, shattering the ice with his mighty blows. She wanted to call out to him to move, as he was getting frenzied at killing a dragon. But it did it for her as it moved to snap at him. Bull dodged, seeing the shadow of the head. Uthreida bit down, and thrust her sword into the ball joint of the dragon's hind leg. The dragon gave a screech that grew louder as she pulled the blade down, severing as much skin with it as she could.

She knew an artitary lived there. But given the amount of blood that was pooling, she had missed it. The dragon's forepaw moved to knock her back. Uthreida dodged under the dragon's leg and placed herself in more danger. Taking the opportunity, she used the hook of her axe to dig into the wound on its leg, and pulled to the rear of the dragon, tearing its flesh.

This time, the dragon poured blood down as it buckled under its own weight. Uthreida ran away from it, knowing it was going to use its weight to land on her. The dragon's great wings flapped hard, pulling her back to it. Uthreida tried to get away, running and realizing she wasn't going to escape. She was right where the dragon wanted her.

She took her sword and slashed at the Dragon's tail. It gave a shriek and tried to run off. Uthreida caught up, and slashed at the tail again.

The dragon took flight. Uthreida looked at Bull who had a new scar on his shoulder harness that had a trickle of blood. "Get ready." She yelled at the man. He gave a single nod and looked to the sky. Uthreida spotted it. "Zoor Jah Frul." She shouted at the dragon. A white mist encircled it. Its soul fighting the idea of mortality as it circled again, and landed on an elevated area next to where they were. The ground shook when it landed causing both to falter in their approach. It let out a shout. It's Thu'um reverberated off her helmet causing only a loud ringing in her ears. Utherida threw it to the ground as she ran, noticing Bull being dismayed. She ran her shoulder into him as she ran past him. She ran across the field towards her target. The dragon waited, for them. She could hear its whimpering or growling in pain. Or it was the growls of more dovahlin making their approach to them? Bull was quickly approaching her as she climbed the rocks to reach the dragon. She pointed to the smaller ones calling his name to look at them. He looked at the smaller ones approaching, then tilted his head at her as if she was next. He roared his frustrations as he abandoned his position, to go after the smaller dragons.

Uthreida kept trying to reach the top of the hill that it was stationed on. The sheer cliffs and cut rock made it difficult to reach the dragon.

Finally, she found a foothold. Pulling herself up with everything, she looked at this marvelous beast. When it came into view, she noticed the Dragon Rend had dissipated. And, it was taking a deep breath. Uthreida cursed and dropped her place as the fireball sailed past her as she slid back down the rocks and into the patch with Iron Bull and the Dovahlan. Uthreida spun, slamming her axe head into the young dragon's back and hearing the snap of the bones. She pulled Bull back next to the cliffside. The dragon inhaled. Uthreida shoved Bull to the cliff, just in time, only to be bitten in the leg by the little dragon. In a fury of pain, she jumped on the little one, and shoved her sword through its skull. Giving a backhanded slice to the other as it approached, cutting its throat deep.

She looked up at the dragon again. "Nu Het." She shouted at the dragon with her arms wide in a challenge. Her voice growled at the beast. The orange dragon only snorted its smoke and took flight once more. She watched it circle. Bull pulled himself off the wall, his one eye watching it closely. "Now would be a good time to drink that potion."

Bull, seeming to realize what was happening, pulled the small flask from his person, and drank the vile. Uthreida started to head off and not remain a standing target. The dragon noticed them. Uthreida stood her ground as the dragon took a breath. "Fus Ro Dah." The dragon spun it's head, as it's spell was canceled by her thu'um. "Move." She shouted to the Qunari.

The Dragon circled again. Its movement was slow and lazy, trying to tire them out. Uthreida shook her head at it. "Zoor Jah Frul." She shouted again. The white mist shut its wings and it was forced to land on the other hill. Across the field from it. Uthreida groaned inwardly at the work, and pissed that it was too close to use the whirlwind thu'um again. She ran for the hillside. Up the side that curved to the landing at the top.

Fear filled her as Bull was trying to charge ahead of her. Uthreida jumped, grabbed him by the horn, and pulled him down to the ground as the full force of its 'Yol' passed above them and landed behind them on the ground. Uthreida was the first to rise. "Wuld Nah Kest" She was on the dragon for a moment. Her sudden appearance made it pull back for a moment, if only to ready its teeth to her throat. Uthreida spun her axe. The dragon lunged towards her. Uthreida moved closer to it, resting her back against its chest as she slammed the head of her axe into the front right leg. She moved, slicing her sword into the same joint as before. Then used the hook of her axe to open the wound further. Bull gave a war cry, and slashed with everything he had at her right rear leg. The sickening snap of its tendon severed. The dragon fell to one side.

Uthreida moved to the front of the dragon. Its head reared and she heard it take a breath. Uthreida hooked the axe on the wing before it lifted. Bull saw what she was doing and held the axe with her, pulling it down to provide cover from the attack. The Dragons 'Yol' hit its own wing as it gave a cry in pain. Uthreida, nodding quickly at Bull in appreciation, unhooked the axe as Bull used his two hands to break the wing. Utherida moved, and used her sword to cut the soft underbelly. The smell of blood filled her nose as the slickness of the abdominal sack now coated the ground. She moved to its front, needing the clear shot to its heart. The dragon raised its head to look at her. It opened its mouth to fire on her again. "Fus Roh" She shouted, silencing the dragon where it laid. Its head now down, and slowly dragging away. Uthreida grit her teeth, and stabbed her sword through its eye. The breaking of the skull as she felt the soft fatty tissue of its brain. Uthreida gave a violent jerk of her blade. Wrenching it free, and causing as much damage as she could to its brain.

Uthreida stood still, waiting on the last breath of the dragon to escape, the last ruse of an ancient creature. When the last breath left its lungs, Utherida heard her say her name. "Lovaas-Kros" Then the orange light of the dragon soul surrounded her. Her eyes closed as she took the life from the dragon. Her name. Her name meant Sad Song or Sorrow Music in her tongue. Uthreida breathed, placing a hand over her heart as she felt the sadness of the dragon fill her own soul. Filling her with a deeper understanding of the words.

Utherida looked at the dragon. As she was about to place her hand on the skull she heard Bull shout "Pleasure with respect." She turned to see him thrusting his sword into the air in victory with a smile on his face. Covered in the blood of the dragon, and the sweat of the battle. She smirked as he looked exactly as he thought he would when battling such a beast.

His smile slowly faded as he looked at her. Where there was once a smirk of victory, was now a smile of dominance. Uthreida was sheathing her blades, but kept one hand on the pommel of her sword. He approached, dropping his weapon with a loud clang. And in three quick steps, he picked her up from her middle and hoisted her into a hug. Then a savage kiss to her lips. Forced to abandon her sword, she arched her back and pulled the knife from her boot. She held the blade to his throat. The warm metal forced him to pull back slightly, looking at it, then looking at her.

Uthreida held her gaze, even as the blood was starting to irritate her eyes. "Put. Me. Down." Her tone was as sharp as the blade. He only gave a one-sided smirk, but did as she asked. When her feet were on the ground, she backed away, but only found the side of the cliff. Bull kept his distance, his hands up in surrender, as she backed away.

"Tell me something." He called with a smile. "Was it good for you too?"

Uthreida rolled her eyes and turned. Almost slipping off the side of the cliff from the blood-soaked ground. On the crest of the hill stood the others with the Inquisitor. Each saw the fight and victory the two had over the dragon. Uthreida made her way down the cliff as she approached them. The Redguard, the Seeker, and the Commander all looked unimpressed at the feat. The others were either smiling at the idea of a little girl killing that thing, or looked horrified at the idea of that little girl killing that thing. Uthreida walked to the Inquisitor. She waved a hand behind her to the site and slightly out of breath said "One dragon. As requested."

The man looked down at her from his spot on the hill, his eyes roving over her bloodied armor and chuffed. "So it seems." He gave her a nod, his eyes going back to the dragon in question, then her again. "Welcome to the Inquisition."

Uthreida arched a brow. In his eyes was the shining hope of winning whatever war he was on. His eyes taking in the body that laid behind her that symbolized raw power. She exhaled hard silently. He has his tool to victory. And she has nowhere to run. How familiar.

XxXxXxXx

Cullen exited his tent, stretching his back as he reviewed the note he was reading. After the slain dragon, redistribution of foods to the locals and necessary supplies that were rebranded from the King, the Inquisition had seventeen new recruits from the area. Not a bad day.

He walked to where he had left some water to boil and poured it into his tankard. The tea leaves at the bottom floated for a moment as he swirled the liquid. Looking up, He noticed that Blackwall, Sera, and Bull were smiling by the campfire. Sera's cackling of laughter heard over the camp. And Bull was getting drunk. Solas was reading quietly by his tent. Cullen arched a brow. Royoc had taken a few with him to close a Rift that had gone unnoticed the first time.

A soldier's movement caught his eye and he noticed another small camp fire off by itself. Uthreida sat behind it. Her red hair had been pulled from it's single braid. Her hair was wet as it soaked the linen shirt and twill breeches from the droplets. Her eyes focused on whatever was in her hands. Cullen looked at the group again, and then at the Slayer's distance from them.

She was isolating herself still. He knew that she could be approachable. He looked at Bull again. It seemed odd that he would part from her side. She needed someone to trust in the Inquisition. Someone she could talk to. And possibly reveal her intentions with. He looked at his drink, then the papers in his hand. With a roll of his eyes, he decided to approach and let them see that she could be spoken to. That she can be friendly. Sometimes.

Cullen approached. Her blue eyes flicked to see his movement. In a second, he swore her ice eyes reflected the flames of the fire, the fear she could wield increased when poised against her scarred eye. She looked down at her work again, her face unchanging. With lowered brows, he stood above her, passing his tankard down to her. "Here." He offered.

She looked at it, then him. "What is it?"

"Tea."

"Tea?" She tried the word, as she gently took the tankard from his hands. She took a sip. Then looked at him with malice. Cullen realized that he passed her a boiling cup of water. Rubbing his neck sheepishly, he muttered a soft apology. With an annoyed brow, she floated her hand above it. Cullen felt her pull magic into the cup and judging from the lack of steam, she was cooling it down. She took another, deeper drink. Utherida gave an appreciative hum as he looked at the tankard. "Thank you." Her voice sounded graveled as she spoke. Either by lack of sleep or from the shouts yesterday. She passed the tankard back, and went back to her work.

Cullen saw the bloodied rags that sat next to her and the bits of her armor in her lap. She was cleaning her armor thoroughly. Looking at her small tent, her gambeson was left to hang out to dry as well as wide dark trousers. Cullen looked at the camp again, and noticed that Sera had averted her gaze from him while Blackwall drank deeper from his mug. They needed to see a friendly conversation.

Cullen sat on the ground with the Slayer, giving a grunt as he sat. He picked up the closest piece of her armor, her helmet, and inspected it. He looked at the black metal, the detailing, the narrow visor, and the lack of breathing capabilities. The side guards extended longer than necessary giving the helmet an Elven look. The netting inside was mostly leather with a few rivets to keep from touching the top of her head. "May I?" he asked. She looked at him a moment, then the helmet he was holding up for her approval. She gave a nod and went back to work using oils to clean the blood and rust.

Cullen placed the helmet over his head and felt the soreness from the day's ride dissipate from his being. This had to be the strongest restoration enchantment he's ever felt. The aches and pain of war and age seemed to fade as he looked through the helmet at the woman next to him. The thin visor did allow a full field of vision. However, it was difficult to breathe. Like trying to breathe through a thick cloth in smoke. "How do you fight in this?" he asked with a smirk as he held his hands out to gauge the limited vision.

"You learn." She smirked as she spoke.

"I mean, how do you breathe in this thing?"

She smiled again. "It forces you to control your breathing. To take a controlled stance in the battle."

Cullen moved his arm and noticed that he couldn't see his hand until it was at shoulder level. "Doesn't it limit your vision?"

"You fight your opponent. Not their weapons." She kept working even as she spoke. "If you can't see what their attack is going to be, you deserve your death." She tilted her head as if an afterthought came to her. "That's why I wear armor. I don't have to block every attack, I just have to live through the fight."

"That's…one way of looking at it." Cullen cleared his throat as he assumed how much money she must spend on repair of her arms and armament. He removed the helm and placed it back in the dirt where he found it. All the weight of his life came rushing back to him he wanted to put the helmet back on. He looked at her other armor. The boots she wore gave off a slight sheen of white. Her breastplate was faintly glowing red. Her gloves had an aura of green. He lowered his brows as he looked at her helm. It was a light white as well. "Is all of your armor enchanted?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"To…better…protect?" she stated as if the question was as unnecessary as the answer.

"From?"

She looked at him with a bored look, then arched a brow with a smirk. Tilting her head as if realizing something. "Can you see the enchantments?" It was Cullen's turn to look board. "I ask because most can't. You're either assuming or you can see it."

Cullen felt a smirk pull at the corners of his lips. "As a Templar, it's helpful to know what you're going up against. Our enchantments are more obvious where yours are like a-" he paused, unsure of the proper word. "Like a light sheen. A wisp of magic."

She nodded in understanding but frowned. "I'm sorry. Um, Templar?"

Cullen smiled at her in confusion. "You're joking?" She slowly shook her head. Cullen wanted to walk away, only to be reminded that she's not from this land. And probably didn't know. Even if she was faking it, best to play along with her to give a false sense of security. "Templars are, were, the Divines military organization. We are to find Maleficarum and kill them for the safety of the people." Her brows furrowed at one word. "Maleficarum. Mages who practice forbidden magic or outside of the institutional circles." She nodded again and let him finish. "Templars use their abilities to nullify magic so we can subdue dangerous mages. They also protect mages from the dangers of magic. Should one become possessed and turn into an abomination, we" she frowned again. "An abomination is when a demon possesses a mortal."

"And demons come from the same plane as the Fade?" She looked at her hands in thought.

"Yes."

"Demons reside with spirits?"

"Yes."

"So" she paused, looking beyond the skyline to piece it all together. "The spirits are content in the Fade where the Demons are trying to get out?"

"That's correct." His mind had fun trying to figure out how she was able to speak as she softly rolled each and every single 'r' in her speech.

"And," She gave a chuff as she thought of something. "Templars fight against the demons that are trying to escape by protecting the people from those who are notorious for letting them escape or praying to them. Should they escape, the Templar's will be there to kill the one who freed them." She side-eyed with a smirk on her lips as if it was a story she had heard before.

"Yes."

"hmm." She kept scrubbing her breastplate. "But the Templars are a recognized, militaristic organization?"

Cullen's brow lowered at the term 'recognized.' "Yes."

She 'hmm' again. "And Templars are organized by the religion? Um, the Maker, right?"

"The phrase is Andrastian, but yes. You're catching on."

"Can only mages be possessed or turned into…umm" she snapped three times slowly to silently ask for his help.

"Abominations." She gave a thankful smirk. Cullen thought of it, and his mind went back to Kirkwall. "Not necessarily. They usually choose individuals who have magic, power, or access to either."

She smiled as she cleaned. A silent moment passed until she looked at him with mirth. "So familiar. What else do Templars do? Wait, you said they nullify magic? How?"

He wanted to tell her it's part mental fortitude and lyrium, but as he looked at the foreigner, he clicked his jaw shut. "It's part of the training."

She queried a brow at the statement but smirked. "Magical nullification is rare. Thought to be forgotten. But seeing as how you don't want to talk about it-" she gave a shrug and cleaned again with a clean rag. "It'd be interesting to learn the old ways. Or, rather, the newest ways."

Cullen pursed his lips at the obvious invitation. He was intrigued at her statement but saw the conversation was only going to go as far as he would allow. Licking his lips, he took a drink from the tankard. His eyes went to the fire where the others were. Sera was smirking openly at him now. Cullen looked over and saw that her hands were red and black from her work. Only, the black was like soot. No, the lines were clean. Tattoos? On her hands? "Didn't that hurt?" She looked at him with wide eyes. The scar on her left eye seemed to pucker with it. He pointed to the back of his own hands that were gloved. "The tattoos."

She smirked, her eyes drifting to the scar on his lip. Her smirk turning into a wily smile. Cullen saw where her mind was going, but rolled his eyes at her obvious next statement. Seeming to notice his actions, she dropped the rag and opened her hands for him to see. On her left hand held three triangles that were all interwoven as if one line or one triangle. Her right hand held lines that seemed reminiscent of a war hammer with tribal swirls on the two heads. On her fingers were a series of lines and dots. "The three triangles symbolize the universe. Whether it's the nine divines. The nine races. The nine towers. The nine planes. Or the Nine lands. The entirety of Mundus is in these nine points. This is Talos's hammer. The hammer that was used to unite the lands and the people of Tamriel and brought peace to the realm."

She looked at him expecting him to say something. However, everything she said was foreign. "Ah" was all Cullen could muster for the sake of conversation. She gave a closed-lip smile as if appreciative of his attempt. Cullen watched her as she set the breastplate aside and moved to her greaves. He had watched her slay the dragon. He had watched in astonishment as she killed it so quickly. But most of all, he watched as she shouted at the thing. The magic in her voice and the power within it was nothing like he had ever seen before. Cassandra had to pop him in the jaw to make him realize he was openly agape at her prowess.

He watched the woman work. Giving detailed eyes to her armor. "Your armor is interesting." He stated lowly. She looked at him quickly but resumed her work. "What kind of armor is that?"

"Ebony." She stated quickly. "It's the third strongest armor in Tamriel. And" she smiled, "The better looking."

He smiled at what was the deciding factor of her armor. "What are the other two?"

"Dragon Bone and Deadric."

He laughed softly to himself. "I'm surprised you don't wear dragon bone."

"It's ugly." the look on her face of disgust made him smile more. His eyes turned back to her breastplate. The golden filgery against the ebony metal. His eyes went to the helmet and the false golden eyes on the visor. He could admit that it certainly held a beauty even if her pauldrons were longer than Thedoian.

"So you chose this armor because it's...pretty?"

She laughed softly at his inference. "That and, it's believed that Ebony is infused with the blood of the gods. That the remnants of the magic from Lorkans heart gives divine protection to the wearer."

He had no idea what she just said. His head swam with the idea of an actual conversation that would allow dialog but still uncertain of her intentions or plans of the Inquisition. Perhaps, it was best for another day. "I'll leave you to do your work." He stated between grunts as he pulled himself off the ground.

"Good evening, Commander." She said. Her accent gave a light roll to the end of his title and set his stomach alight with something. He furrowed his brow at his body's involuntary action, then turned on his heel.

"Inky" Sera shouted from her fire. Cullen turned to follow her line of sight as Royoc, Cassandra, Varric, and Vivienne looking exhausted but wearing it well. Royoc smiled kindly at the elf, patting her on the back, and strode to walk to Cullen. Each looking exhausted, but wearing it well. Royoc smirked at the female elf as he patted her on the back once and passed her. His eyes shifted to Cullen.

"A moment." He asked cordially, then spun slightly looking for something. "Slayer." Utherida looked up from her work to see who had called her. Royoc tilted his head towards the tent.

Cullen watched as she was confused and taken aback slightly at the invitation. She slowly dropped what she was working on and approached with caution. Cullen turned and followed Royoc to the tent. He had ordered the other Soldiers out who were reviewing reports. They moved quickly as Utherida pushed the flap aside for her own entrance.

Royoc took a seat in a chair and began to unbuckle his armor from his legs. "Brilliant work yesterday." He started with a smirk at her.

She cocked a brow. "Thank you?"

Royoc smirk turned into a smile, standing to remove the tassets. He looked about the field post and tilted his head behind him. "Care for a drink?" Uthreida only kept her brow arched at the man who seemed aloof and not giving any indication as to why she was here. "Commander, do you mind setting the table?" Cullen drew his brows a second, but slowly grabbed the bottle of wine from behind the Inquisitor and three glasses, setting them on the table. Royoc spun a tight circle trying to reach a buckle on his breastplate. Cullen stifled a smirk as the man gave a slight groan. "Do you mind?" He asked politely, vaguely waving at the buckle.

Cullen let the smirk show though as he stepped forward. Royocs gaze moved to Uthreida. "I'm not going to lie. I've lost a bit of weight." He gave a bashful smirk to the woman. "It needs to be refitted."

Cullen loosened the buckle for the man, and took a step back. His arms crossed over his chest and standing like the Slayer, waiting on an invitation into understanding what this was about.

With the breastplate loosened, he moved to the shoulder pauldrons, his other hand waving at the table. "Please." Royoc motioned quickly with a smile at the woman. His look was inviting, but she didn't budge.

Cullen took a deep breath at the annoyance of the woman. He pulled a chair from the makeshift table before them and took a seat. Once he had relaxed, Uthreida stepped forward to the chair, but didn't take her seat.

Finally free of the metal, Royoc lifted the armor over his head and proceeded to remove his coat. Just how undressed is he going to get? Cullen averted his eyes, reading the label of the wine, and noticed that Uthreida was reading the man for any weaknesses, though a slight pink showed from the scar on her cheek. Is she blushing?

The thought made him smirk as Royoc placed his coat on the back of his chair as he was down to a sweat-stained tunic and breeches. "With that done'' Royoc gave a sigh as he sat in the chair with his legs spread widely and leaned back as if it was the first time he could relax all day. His brown eyes flitted to the other two to read the room, then leaned forward for the bottle. "Lady Uthreida, I truly want to thank you for what you did yesterday." He smiled as he filled her glass. "The people of Redcliff send their regards as well."

Her stoic expression turned to either mild annoyance or mild misunderstanding.

Royoc finished pouring Cullen's glass. "As you may have guessed, yesterday was a test to see if you could, in fact, slay dragons." She was silent as he paused for her retort. Royoc poured his glass in awkward silence. "So, with that out of the way," he leaned back in his chair, his hand aerating the wine in the glass, "let's discuss what you're actually going to be doing for the Inquisition."

The woman took a deep breath, and finally reached for the chair. "You have already told me what I'm going to be doing."

"I mean, slaying dragons is obvious, but-"

"But, there is a dragon, in particular, you want me to slay." She stated factually with boredom in her tone as she sat down. "Is that not why I am here?"

Royoc drilled his fingertips into the arm of his chair once. "It is."

She shrugged indifferently. "So, tell me about this dragon."

"Big, black, frightening," Royoc stated without hesitation or shame.

Her smirk shifted into a smile but paused for a moment as she read his words deeper. "Such as they are. Same size as the one yesterday?"

"Larger."

She nodded. "Of course. And what did this dragon do?"

Royoc took a deep breath, looking into his glass. "What" he asked slowly "do you know of the Old Gods?"

Uthreida sat up straighter, a slight smirk on her lips, then lowered her brows in confusion. "I'm sure my 'Old Gods' are different than yours."

Royoc sat his glass on the table and folded his hands on the wood. "Would you believe me if I told you that, once, dragons in this land were venerated as gods?"

"Yes." She said without hesitation.

The quickness of her response made Cullen look at her in question. Royoc took another breath. "It's said that the High Priests of the dragons" he paused as if to look for the word "they entered the Golden Halls of the Maker. But when the Maker saw their hubris, he tainted them, and cast them out of his halls. They returned as Dark Spawn." She looked confused at the string of words but was listening to him speak. "Dark Spawn now spend their lives looking for dragons that are buried under the earth to corrupt and lead them into another blight. These untainted dragons are called the Old Gods. When they become tainted, they are called Arch Demons."

Uthreida drilled her fingers onto the wood top a few times in thought. "So, you believe this dragon to be a… archdemon?"

Royoc shook his head quickly. "No. According to King Alistair, this isn't a blight, and that dragon isn't an archdemon."

"Then why are you telling me this?" she asked cautiously.

Royoc licked his lips as he looked at his wine glass again. "Because we don't know what it is."

Uthreida nodded slowly as she leaned back in her chair. "King Alistair has told me a few stories that involved him and the blight. He portrayed them as villainous, disgusting creatures. That were thought was lacking, they made up in numbers. That is was a fruitless war. That the Grey Wardens are the only ones to stand against them with any hope of a chance."

Royoc clicked his tongue. "He would know." He muttered as he drank from his glass. "Right." Royoc leaned forward to engage with her. "So, if you kill the dragon, I can go after the Master." Her whole body stiffed at the last sentence. "Deal?" Cullen noticed her lips thinned as her eyes dropped to the table before them. Cullen felt something in his instincts tell him she either knew of this Corypheus, or was hesitant.

She opened her mouth slowly to speak. "This Master. What are they a master of?"

"The dragon."

She clenched her jaw. "What does he look like?" her tone edged as she spoke as her eyes were adverted to the table. Cullen matched her breathing. She was taking shallow but slow breaths to calm herself. His hand clenched as he watched her listening.

"Tall, very tall. Ugly. Sort of, uh, narcissist 'wants to take over the world and destroy it in the process', personality."

"Ugly how?" Her tone turned dark as her ice blue eyes locked with his.

Royoc caught her tone and leaned back slightly in his chair. "Half of his face is deformed." Cullen watched as she didn't move or revert her gaze from him. Her stillness solidified the fact that she knew the man in question, but her jutted jaw meant she wanted to kill him herself. "He has red lyrium sticking out of his chest."

She looked away, blinking at the wall, and took a deep breath. She gave a slow nod. "What's red lyrium?" her eyes turned to either one, and in that instant, her entire body language went from 'war' to 'not my problem.'

Royoc looked to Cullen who was looking at her, confused by her split personality and utter lack of knowledge of the world around her. "Well, uh," Royoc started, "it's lyrium, that's, uh, red."

She nodded slowly again. "And that's" she waved a hand for them to help her find the word.

"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered, running his hand across his face. "Bad" Cullen clarified. "It's bad."

Royoc looked away from Cullen and back to her. "I take it you know a man who fits that description."

She made a jut of a laugh and took her glass. "Close. But no. So, about this dragon. When was the last sighting?"

"Haven."

Uthreida looked at the two men in silence. Her own finger tapped on the wood table. "The same Haven" she asked cautiously, "that was lost two months ago?"

"The same." Royoc nodded slowly.

She licked her lips. "If it hasn't been said yet, I'm sorry for your loss." Her voice sounded as genuine as her words. "I know what it's like to lose people close to you in a dragon attack. To have it compounded with a military movement, it's," she paused as she lost her words. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Royoc said gently, to draw her back to him. "It's been a hard road, but we believe that recovery is possible." She gave a soft smile at his ideal of hope. Royoc cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "As I said, the dragon was last seen at Haven, and since no one has seen hide nor hair, or should I say, scale nor tooth, of it since. Which means that it must run aground. So, I don't suppose you have any experience or knowledge of, I don't know, cave-dwelling dragons. I guess."

She gave a smirk and looked away as if in thought, "I know one, two, fife, no, three stories that involve dragons in caves. But other than that." She gave a sheepish shrug.

Cullen lowered his brows in concern to Royoc. "Is that really a good idea?" Royoc arched a brow at his commander. Cullen leaned in closer as if it would help keep this secret. "If the dragon runs underground, it has to move within the Deep Roads. Those areas are sealed because of Dark Spawn. To send her down there would send her to her death. Grant you, we are looking for the Grey Wardens, but if Corypheus is the first Dark Spawn, it should stand to reason that he can control them."

Uthreida lowered his brows at the information he just gave. "Your villain is a dragon priest?" The two men looked at one another then at her. Their silence gave her an answer. Uthreida rubbed her eyes as if in disapproval or disappointment. She shook her head. She was disappointed. "An undead dragon priest?"

"You have dealings with Priests?"

"I do." She popped her knuckles as she pursed her lips. "And this priest now controls a dragon?" she smirked, looking at the tent walls and not the men. "To be honest, I didn't know what I was expecting. But, it's good to know that evil is the same no matter where you go." She sighed in disappointment. "Where is his temple?"

Royoc looked at Cullen again. "We don't know."

"Where is he from?"

"Teveinter?"

Uthreida blinked slowly at the lack of answers. "Well, alright then."

Cullen looked at her with an emotionless mask. "Inquisitor, if I may, she's a newly acquired asset that we can't just throw into the pit at our leisure. Let her work on the surface to let us gain a name. Someone will spot it, and when they do" he flicked his hand in her direction.

Royoc opened his mouth to argue. "He's right," Uthreida interrupted. "Maybe not for those reasons, but the Commander is right. Your dragons are…different from what I've encountered in the past. I will need time to train. To learn of this land. Let my name be heard. When someone spots it, or knows the location, I will be there. And at that time, they will know I can deliver."

"We don't have time-"

"Let me put it to you like this," Uthreida leaned back, "That dragon is no slave. If it is as big as you say it is, if it is as old as I think it is, it will remember when they were the Gods. It's attachment to Core…Cory…fe"

"Corypheus"

She nodded. "Korifus. Its attachment to Korifus is one that would not benefit the dragon. Only the man. Even if it is a slave, it would see this Master killed before its own death. Either way, that dragon, is no willing slave. That dragon, while a concern, is not a priority. A dragon is too valuable to send into the field at any given time. If no one is seeing it, it means the dragon goes back into solitude when not being called. If no one is saying that a black dragon is killing off villages or destroying crops, if it's not spotted, it's not a concern. It's a power play. But you know what the people do see?" She paused looking at Royoc, then leaned to Cullen. "What do the people see?" she whispered.

"Red Templars" Cullen stated.

"Red" she shouted then looked at the Commander. Then looked him up and down. "Ha?"

"Demons."

"Dea-ha?"

"Fade rifts. Demons pouring out of fade rifts." Her eyes grew wide at his statements as she looked to Royoc for confirmation. "Mages running amok. Grey Wardens disappearing. Holes in the sky." She blinked slowly at him. "Elves rebelling in the streets."

"Well, that's to be expec-well, mmm. I don't know how your mer are treat-"

"Imperial civil war." Uthreida looked at Royoc slowly. "The Vinitori. Leaders turning a blind eye to the Venatori. Venitori seeking their way with leaders."

Uthreida reached a hand across the table to Royoc. "I'm now concerned. Do you need help?" Royoc laughed at her honest request. "Tha…that's…that's a lot. So, uh, help me out. I thought I knew what the Inquisition was doing, but apparently, I don't. So, umm, uh. Start at the beginning. Please. I need to understand. If, if you have the time. Are you a Red Templar?"

Cullen pulled back from her in disgust. "I beg your - Maker, no."

"He's more of the 'blue' variety," Royoc smirked.

She leaned to Royoc, using a hand over her mouth to hide her whisper. "And everyone's okay with that?"

"No"

"Yes." Both men looked at one another to cement their varying differences.

Uthreida eyed Cullen suspiciously for a second, then looked back at Royoc. "So, help me fill in the blanks. According to King Alistair, there was a blight ten years ago with the Grey Wardens. Then two years ago, Mages rebelled in Kirkwall-"

"Exploding the Chantry," Cullen added dryly.

Uthreida took a deep breath and let it escape loudly in stress. "Then the…bigger…chantry, exploded?"

"Something like that." Cullen rolled his eyes.

"What is with you folks and fire?"

Royoc laughed at the two and took a deep breath. He explained what has happened with the Inquisition over the course of the last four months. He explained how the war started, explained why the mages wanted freedom. Cullen explained why it was a bad idea and the mentality of the Templar order. Royoc described his movement at Redcliff and watched her completely astonished as she referred to it as a 'dragon break'. Cullen explained Red Lyrium to the best of his capabilities. Royoc described the Breech and how the mages assisted in closing it. He told her of how the Elder One, and his army of Red Templars stormed Haven. How the Dragon attacked Haven. He told her of the orb. He watched her go from confused to a better understanding of the world around her and the situation she currently finds herself in.

At the end of the story, she sat quietly and reflected on all the information they just gave her. Her brows furrowed and her eyes slightly wider. "Okay." She finally said after minutes of silence.

"Okay?" Royoc confirmed with a slight laugh in his voice.

She nodded. "Okay." She sat silent again and nodded her head a few times. Her moment of realization of the danger she was now in. "I don't know how much use I'm going to be." She took a breath and looked at Royoc in earnest. "Point me in a direction, and I'll be where you need me."

"I need you to slay dragons," Royoc stated with a smirk.

"Just so you know, my second specialization is bandits. Just so we're clear. And undead."

"Noted." Royoc leaned back with his glass in hand. "So, any advice?"

Uthreida leaned back, folding her arms as she looked at the table. "Finish this quickly. The longer you take, the more lives are left at his banquet." Cullen rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. "Priests like this will often go to any lengths to prove their point. Their power. Whatever he did to cajole that dragon, he will do again."

Both of the men looked at her as she spoke with growing concern. "How do you mean?" Royoc asked slowly.

She shrugged. "If you have one piece of gold, why not two. If you can maintain one dragon, why not two."

The men exchanged glances. If one dragon could level Haven, and his plans were to bring back the Imperium, he would need to control six more dragons to make that end. "How would he do that?" Cullen asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

She shrugged again. "I don't know how he did it the first time, let alone how he's going to do it again."

Cullen clenched his jaw at the idea. He looked at Royoc and was calm as he gave a small smile. "Thank you, Lady Uthreida. Your insights into the dragon cults would prove to be most useful in our times to come. My hope is that we can bring an end to all of this. And, Maker willing, through our victory, you will be one step closer to home."

Cullen watched as a passing of fear crossed her eyes. She met Royocs smile. What was that? "While I would prefer not to jump into another war, it would appear as though I have little choice. It is the prerogative of all Nords to fight against evil no matter where we stand to give no rest to it. You have my blades." She said with a bow of her head. Cullen noted that her smile disappeared when she dipped her head. She's hiding something.

Royoc returned the bow. "Thank you, Lady Uthreida. I look forward to working with you"

She smiled kindly at him and stood slowly. "I'm sure you had an exhausting day." She gave a deeper bow as she stood. "Kyne's blessings to you, Inquisitor. Commander." She gave Cullen only a bow of her neck as she exited the tent.

Cullen leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows on the table, allowing the heaviness to hit him. "I never even considered-"

Royoc shushed him, waiting, listening for something. After a few moments, he sighed hard. "She's useless." He stated, standing to stretch his legs. He looked to see Cullen's confused expression at the obvious conjecture. The woman just killed a fully-grown dragon. She was of some use. "In terms of history or understanding. But she's in a dragon cult. Her psychosis will aid us in understanding Corypheus a little better."

Cullen tilted his head at the Inquisitor. His inference is not catching on. "How so?"

Royoc looked at the tent flap where he last saw her and thought. "She thinks dragons have higher intelligence. Capable of speech. Did you see the way she froze up when we were describing Corypheus? She knows priests. She knows Dragon Priests. She knows what they are capable of because, this may be on a limb, she can do it too."

"Based on."

"She's more trained than a common soldier. Dual wield, archery, and magic whilst wearing heavy armor. We saw that when she killed the dragon. More educated. She probably trained with them. " The man moved his hands to rub his palms in thought. "She's killed them before. Or so she says. She always spoke of the priests in the past tense. She knows them."

Cullen crossed his arms. "As much as I hate double advocate, especially for her, but seeing as how we want to pretend that she is a foreigner, could it possibly be cultural?"

Royoc took a deep breath, reviewing everything they discussed, rubbing his hand where the anchor was attached. "Watch her."

Cullen leaned back in his chair ready to correct the Inquisitor's error of his time management. "I do have other duties, Inquisitor. I can't sacrifice-"

"See that it's done."

Cullen popped his jaw as his mind filled with the image of the plate full of lamb logistics, carrots of correspondence, training tartar, peace potatoes, radish recruiting efforts, umble humaritan pie, swimming in the gravy of ineptitude. And now, a thick cut of rare Dragon Slayer steak was slapped onto the plate forcing the already growing mountain of food to spill off the sides. "I'll do what I can." He stood and exited the tent without a word.

His eyes finding Uthreida first as she was quickly becoming the bane of his existence. Bull had joined her near her tent. They sat on a log as her armor was left aside, abandoned as the two shared a tankard. Bull could keep an eye on her. Although, she would know something was up given the fact that she finds the Qunari abrasive. But his insight would be helpful. However, Bull also had other duties that needed attending as well. And he had a feeling that Bull wouldn't abandon the Chargers if he could help it.

With a grunt, he moved to the main campfire needing something to ease the tension in his shoulders. He decided on water, but Sera's cackling and tanker gave a much different idea. He approached the campfire to see Blackwall moving his tankard casually to his foot as if to try and hide it while Sera and Varric were laughing too loudly to see him approach. Cullen approached and smirked at Blackwall, his eyes dropping to the tankard at his foot to see the grizzled veteran give a guilty smirk in return.

Sera saw him. "Shite." She quickly moved the tankard behind herself and sat upright. "You alrigh, Commanda?" she asked casually with a gilded smile.

Cullen reset his face to show nothing as he approached the elf. "What have you got there?"

"Nothin." She said between fits of giggling.

He arched a single brow to see her fret for a second, then smirked. "You're not in trouble. I find myself having a hankering for 'nothing.'"

"Good." Blackwall said behind him, pulling another tanker from his stash, "Because it's Bulls." The Warden passed him a tankard and scooted over on his log to allow Cullen to sit. Cullen took a seat and sipped at the, Maker's breath, what is this? The smell and taste were putrid. That after taste, how are they drinking this? Blackwall chuckled at his physical reaction as he spat it out. "That one must be Bulls. Here, have mine." Blackwall took the tanker and traded it out. Cullen sniffed it suspiciously. It seemed fine. With a sip, thank the maker, it's normal ale.

"So, Curly," Varric called from across the fire.

Cullen groaned. "Curly? Really?"

Varric only laughed more. "Oh, I remember."

Cullen arched a brow at the horrific memories. "I remember your slander in your book." He gave a smile to show he was playful with the dwarf.

Varric held his hands up in surrender. "We've been over this, Curly. Every villain needs a henchman. You agreed on the boat, remember."

"If by agree you mean vomiting my guts out over the side of the ship, then yes. Like it was yesterday." He lifted the tankard only to have a wave of remembered nausea and dropped it again.

Sara laughed. "Commanda gets sea sick. Commanda gets seasick." She chimed.

He looked to Blackwall, the voice of reason for this lot. Blacwalls blue eyes looked to him and shrugged. "Perfectly natural." Cullen felt himself chuckle with the Warden.

"Seriously though, Curly." Varric tried again. "We were just discussing how you were going to spend your winnings from the dragon-slaying." Cullen dropped his eyes and let the sheepish smile across his face. "You know you won twenty-four hundred royals, right?"

Cullen had to pause as his eyes went wide. That's a years pay as a knight captain. He's never had that much money at one time. Sure, he was in charge of more to ensure payroll and duties of the Templars, but never his own. "Uh." He looked at Blackwall who seemed as curious as to what he was going to say. What does the Inquisition need? "Armory. I'm going to go with the armory."

Sera chuckled. "Thought you Templar lot weren't allowed to gamble, Commanda."

"I'm not a Templar." He waved it off as he took a drink. "Anymore."

"Yea? Might want to tell your armor that."

Cullen rolled his arm to see the flaming sword on his vembrace. The woman had a point. When he came back to Fereldan, he found as decent upper armor as he could trade for his templar plate. Most of his money went to that. The smith's vembraces were more than what the Templar armor was trading and, well, sacrifices were made. All eyes were on him though for an answer. His eyes turned to the Slayer who was swaying drunkenly with Bull. And the frustration she wielded came to ahead again. He can't say she betted because then all the bets would be called off, making the men lose morale. And it's obvious that Sera wasn't talking. So, he swallowed his pride. "Well, it's not really gambling if you know what the outcome is going to be."

"Your right," Varric said from across the fire. His features turned serious. "It's not." Cullen smiled into his tankard shamefully. "I should take you to nug races more often, Curly."

"I'd advise against it."

Blackwall laughed. "Bad experiences, I take it?" Cullen put his hands out to defend that it was the one time, he was half drunk, and didn't realize that the numbers on the nugs were not related to the numbers on the board and that, ugh, just, so stupid.

"Interesting family jewels you have," Varric said, producing Uthreida's bag. "Thought Templars were paid in prayers." Varric tossed the bag across the fire to him.

Cullen caught it in one hand. Moving the bag to feel the various sizes of the, Maker, that's huge. He chuckled. "Well,"

He was cut off by the ominous sound in the wind like a woman singing. All turned their heads to see Uthreida clapping as her voice was singing a sad dirge. Taking three choruses to start the words. Cullen's jaw went slack as she began to sing. He could only tilt his head at her actions. "She knows we're in camp, right?" he didn't ask anyone in particular. Blackwall arched a brow, shrugging. Listening to her voice. Like a siren to a sailor. "Bull told her of the danger, right?"

Her voice seemed to uplift as if it became a happy song somewhere along the way as she still clapped and sang boldly. Her song was like a throat song that was both eerie and uplifting.

"Commander." Cullen turned to the sound of Cassandra calling him out.

He shot her one finger telling her to hold on. He stood, passing the tankard back to Blackwall, as he stomped to her tent. Her voice went louder and fuller as she continued to chant her song. Cullen could feel the hairs rising on his body as she sang. Her sad song came to an end as Bull applauded and she gave a fake bow. Neither noticed his presence as he approached.

"That was impressive." Cullen could hear Bull's slight slur in his words. "Wha-What else you got?"

He watched Uthreida clap her hands a few times randomly only to find a beat somewhere in it.

"Friend, oh friend, do you see me?

Walking in the mist silently

Have you wondered as I have?

In the silent depth of death.

Have you wondered as I have?

walked through the mist so silently

Strayed from the beaten path

Near the mountain's edge of fate

Do you know this loneliness?" She sang. Cullen had to admit, she had a voice worth sharing, but the time and place were not the means. He approached quicker. She paused, then clapped twice with a deep breath to sing louder.

"Friend oh friend do you see me?

Do you know the secret ways?

Have you wondered as I have

In this endless uncertainty." Her chant cut short as he slammed his heel into the log they were sitting on. She turned to look at him. "Hello, Commander." She gave a wide smile, but he could tell she was on the dangerous side of drunk given the droop, red rim of her eyes behind her thick black kohl.

"Stop singing." He demanded between clenched teeth.

"Bu-" she sat up straighter. "I drink when I sin-" she paused, realizing she said it backward. She gave a high-pitched chuckle to herself. She motioned with her fingers to switch the words around.

"Then go to bed." He stated, pulling his boot back from the two. "And you," he pointed at Bull who only smirked at the puny human, "stop encouraging this."

"Aww," she chided. "Does the Commander want to hear a song too?"

"No."

She looked him over, and stood quickly, recovering her balance as quick as she lost it. "Ooooh"

"Stop."

"There once was a man named Ragnar the Red"

"Go to bed!" she gave a groan of disapproval. "Sleep it off, you drunken berserker."

"But Dad," Bull added his own salt.

"No," Cullen stated in a final tone. His eyes turning to Uthreida now with full anger in his voice. "Go to bed."

She slumped her shoulder. "Fine." She growled. "I just need to, armor." She said, looking around herself to pick up the pieces.

Bull stood from the log he was straddling. He leaned down to Cullen's ear. "Quit cock blocking."

Cullen arched an annoyed brow. "Not blocking. Protecting against sexual assault." He seethed back, his eyes looking the Qunari up and down.

The giant had the audacity to look offended. "I'm a perfect gentleman." He whispered with a smirk. "When requested." Cullen tried to fight the smile on his face but only shook his head. Bull stood tall and tilted his head at the view of the woman bent over to pick up her gloves. "Need some help?"

"Uh, I need, uh" Cullen watched as she was holding all of her armor over her helm like a veteran soldier instead of it fumbling out of her hands. "those." She pointed with the gloves in her hands. Bull scooped up her greaves and sabatons.

"Anything else?" he asked. Cullen could hear the silk in his voice when he talked to her. He almost gagged.

Bull placed the armor in her arms as she walked to him. Her eyes looked him up and down, then his hands. She shot a look at Cullen then smiled. "No, I think I got it. But you have a lovely evening and thank you for the drink. Sss" She gave a wide smile as she pushed herself into her tent with the loud crash of her dropping all of her armor, followed by a thump as she fell into her bed.

Cullen rolled his eyes looking at the tent. Bull put a hand on his shoulder. Cullen met his gaze and felt the force of Qunari's fingers as it dug in. Not enough to hurt, but enough to bend the metal around his shoulder. And Cullen understood the full meaning. Bull lifted a hand, showing a space between his forefinger and thumb. "This close."

Bull walked past him back to the main campfire. Cullen let out a deep sigh as he followed but veered off to see what Cassandra wanted. The dark-haired woman only had one brow raised, arms crossed as he made his approach. "Yes?" Cullen asked, washing the anger and frustration out of it.

She looked him over and nodded. "You took care of it well. Walk with me."

"I'd rather keep an eye on Bull." He said, looking over his shoulder.

She arched a brow, following his line of sight, then back to him. "Bull's fine. Come on."

Cullen took a deep breath knowing he was about to be interrogated about his lyrium withdrawals and stress from the job.

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AN: Song by Eivor – I Tokuni - has an English (Into the Mists) version that is a bit more on the nose than most Norse Eddas.