Trust had never come easily to Dorian. Growing up in a noble household in the Imperial Marches tends to do that to a person. As Leliana led them to their accommodations, he couldn't help but ponder how easily this whole situation could go bad quickly. Willingly following an unknown woman—who was very clearly some sort of spy, how no one else seemed to be picking up on that was truly beyond him—through an unknown castle full of twists and turns that were practically made for discrete assassination, seemed like the single most foolish decision of his life. And if that wasn't enough, the whole story was suspicious to say the least.

King Cailan—the last political ally the Wardens had—is suddenly dead. By some mysterious, unknown assassin. Such a devastating tragedy—but oh no, it's fine. The White Divine is ever so graciously sparing no expense to aide and accommodate them. It was all so convenient it practically spelled out "We-have-you-poor-bastards-right-where-we-want-you". If this were Tevinter they'd all be dead by now…or worse. His money (if he actually still had anything left to his name) was on this lovely little spy right here. The merciful White Divine probably ordered her to off the King when he didn't bend to the Chantry's whim. Seemed the most likely scenario, given the circumstance.

He was truly expecting a dagger in the back with every step they took through those immaculate, marble laid halls. Dorian shot a quick glance back at his companions. Alistair and Solona only added to his stress; neither of them seemed suspicious at all. Totally oblivious to the obvious machinations afoot. Their private conversation back at that abandoned hotel clearly had had a positive effect, seeing as how they were acting like a couple of love-sick teenagers. Alistair carried Ayden on his back while keeping Solona tucked into his side. Really, it was so cute it bordered on sickening. To his credit, Ayden seemed rather unnerved. But really, what could he expect the boy to about any of this? Well, if they were oblivious or ineffectual, then it simply fell on him to look out for them too. Wonderful.

Salem, at least, seemed to be keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings. He briefly pondered just how utterly fucked it was that his only reliable companion was a damned barbarian. Well, considering her stunt last night with the shrieks, he figured she'd be more than capable of handling a few would-be assassins. He could at least take a small amount of comfort in knowing that he wouldn't be fighting alone.

Leliana finally brought them to a large wooden door, decorated with white paint and gold accents. As she let the door swing open, Dorian's suspicions only grew. He hadn't seen such luxury since he'd been exiled. Everything from floor to ceiling was top-of-the-line. He pushed past their shady guide, demanding a better look at the place. He recognized much of the technology, although just as the furniture, it seemed to operate completely opposite his homeland. Where things should be black, they were white. Doors swung from the right not the left. Even the television remote seemed to have been manufactured backwards. A testament to Ferelden ingenuity, he mused bitterly.

The central room seemed to be meant to function as a common room. On either side of him were separate bedrooms, outfitted with fine, silky sheets and fluffy pillows. He gazed further into the room on his left and noticed a pristine, fully equipped bathroom. The proximity of these promises of comfort was just so damned…distracting…tempting, even. He's only vaguely aware of Leliana speaking with Salem. Well, more like speaking at her. The barbarian woman wasn't really one for conversation.

Hadn't he been praying for a moment to cleanse himself of the filth from the southern woods? Hadn't he earned a reprieve? Surely, he could take a few moments to trim that ridiculous beard…and what he wouldn't give to sleep in a proper bed again…He forcefully snapped himself out of his daydream. This was no time to relax. He hadn't cleared the room yet. He didn't know if they were safe yet…if safe was even truly possible anymore.

He carefully scanned the room once again, and that's when he spotted it. It was only a tiny, barely noticeable glint in the light. But Dorian knew what it was well enough. The old spymaster of House Pavus had employed similar little devices to watch their unsuspecting enemies. It was how he became convinced that he could actually trust Ashley, coincidentally enough. The enemy of his enemy was a wonderful place to start a friendship, it seemed.

A pair of shocked gasps came from behind him as Dorian tossed an expertly aimed fireball at the device, sending the tiny menace tumbling to the floor in a fit of sparks. He adopted an overconfident attitude, smirking as he rested his hands on his hips.

"You'll have to do better than that…" His attitude faded when he realized that his only audience consisted of a very annoyed Salem and an awe-struck Ayden.

"The liar-woman left, Pavus."

Dorian cleared his throat, trying desperately to keep the façade that he had everything under control. "Ah, yes, of course."

Ayden giggled, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Can you do that again?"

Dorian scoffed playfully. "Well of course I can, I'm all kinds of impressive."

"Amell asked us to watch over the boy. She wants to lay with her lover."

"Right." Dorian cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering if he was going to have to distract Ayden so he wouldn't foolishly ask what Salem meant by that. Thankfully, the boy seemed to be more interested in messing with the device in his hands at the moment. "I knew that."

"You didn't. You were lost in your head." Salem kneeled down to examine the digital fireplace, looking over it with disgust. "Your demons will win a battle you won't fight."

His immediate reaction was to throw out a quip about the conversational skill the barbarian possessed. But before he could say anything, he suddenly realized what she meant. She was telling him to deal with the thoughts that plagued his mind. For someone raised in the wild, she was remarkably observant. For a fleeting moment, he mused over what it would be like to put her in the midst of the magisterium for a session. Now that would be a sight to behold.

"You say weird things." Ayden complained, keeping his eyes glued to the gaming device in his hand.

Dorian couldn't help but chuckle at the boy. He had seemingly made himself right at home. His shoes were kicked off and tucked beneath the couch. He was stretched out over the cushions, using one of the throw pillows to prop up his head. Dorian eyed the gaming device curiously. "Where'd you get that?"

"The liar-woman gave it to me."

Dorian snickered. His mother would surely love to know that her son was being slowly indoctrinated into avaar ways. "Is that so?"

Ayden suddenly looked up at his with deadly seriousness in his eyes. "You are not going to blow it up."

He couldn't help but smirk. "I wouldn't dream of it." Noticing a blanket draped over the back of the couch, he gently pulled it over Ayden. "Get some sleep, kid."

"I don't wanna sleep!" Ayden shot upright quickly. For a moment, Dorian was convinced he was about to run out of the room.

The sudden fear in the kid's eyes made Dorian's heart sink. He recognized that kind of fright. He had it for a long time after he encountered his first abomination. Those damned shrieks probably scarred Ayden for life. Dorian searched his mind desperately for something to say, some special phrase or sentiment to comfort him with. But he truly didn't know what to tell him. No one had ever offered him warmth or compassionate words, and especially not for something like this. He had always dealt with it on his own, silently. Ashley was the first friend he had that actually knew anything about him, the real him that is. Not the witty, careless persona he often hid behind.

Salem suddenly snapped him back to reality once more when he noticed her hand guiding Ayden to lay back down. Dorian expected him to fight it but he didn't. The fear in Ayden's eyes even faded a bit. "Then don't sleep, child. Just rest yourself. You need it."

Ayden seemed to have relaxed but his expression still seemed worried. Salem knelt down beside him, pulling the blanket up to his chest. "Do you know why you're afraid?"

"Because…it could have killed me."

"Then why didn't it?"

"Well…because Dorian and Alistair killed them first."

She offered him a warm, encouraging smile. "You've still got Dorian, and I'm here too. Your mother and Alistair are right down that passage. Every one of us will protect you until our last breath."

"Last breath?"

"The dead don't breathe, child."

Ayden looked disturbed, perhaps even a little scared but Salem was undeterred. She gripped one of his hands, prompting him to look at her again.

"Do you remember the ogre, child?"

He nodded.

"Who fought it first?"

"You did…"

"I did. But what happened to me?"

"…The ogre hurt you."

"It did. But I'm still here. Why is that?"

He looked up at Dorian for a moment, but didn't say a word.

"Because I had help." Salem reached beneath her vestment, and pulled out a black rope necklace, decorated with a lion-shaped pendant, seemingly carved from red wood. "This was made with materials the Gods' provided. This lion here was crafted from the bark of our sacred tree. Do you know what it means to wear it?"

Ayden shook his head but kept his gaze fixed on her.

"It means that I when I wear this pendant, I carry with me the strength of my Hold and my Gods. It means that I am never alone because they are always with me." Ayden's eyes lit up as she took it off and fastened it around his neck. "And now, you will never have to be alone either. You can carry the strength of Red-Lion with you."

"But…don't you need it?"

"I know how to carry their strength with me, regardless of the pendant. And one day, when you're big and strong, you'll learn it too. And then, you can give it to your little one. Until they learn it too." She pulled the blanket up further on his chest and handed him the device. "Relax child, you're safe now."

Ayden actually seemed to listen, much to Dorian's shock. The boy smiled brightly at her but became engrossed in his game quickly. Dorian couldn't help but stare at Salem for a moment. He was nearly beside himself.

She returned his stare with her usual icy cold gaze. "You have a problem, lowlander?"

Dorian laughed off her offense, hoping to counter the mood. "It's just surprising to discover that the avaar aren't actually the ruthless barbarians I thought they were."

"Your history paints us as betrayers, savages, barbarians." She shook her head disapprovingly at him, a clear sense of disgust decorated her features. "You know nothing of the avaar."

Dorian shrugged dismissively. "Utter nonsense. Imperial scholars are the best in Thedas—well, what's left of it, that is."

"Scholars. You mean scoundrels." She nearly groans as she rolls her eyes. "Always an inconvenient truth to be erased with enough of your blood-soaked currency. Your people would disown the sun if it chose to shine improperly."

He snickered; He couldn't help it. She wasn't wrong by any means, but it was still humorous to hear such a blatant insult on his homeland from someone outside the Marches. Salem seemed to take further offense to his reaction. He spoke quickly, in hopes of diffusing her anger. "I had only meant that it was a good thing you did for the boy there."

It had worked, it seemed. The offense in her features flattened out. She gave him an acknowledging nod, accompanied with what appeared to be her attempt at a polite smile. Sensing an awkward silence approaching, Dorian decided to try and lighten the mood once again. "I've seen you fight. If you do that with your Gods' strength, I might just be converting."

Salem's smile brightened considerably, but she shook her at him again. "We're not ox-men, we don't take converts. But if you intend to forsake your whore-bride, I certainly won't stop you."

"The…what?" Dorian found himself at an utter loss for a moment. He wasn't married? No, she spoke of religion…his religion…? "Andraste?!"

She shrugged as she set herself in front of the digital fireplace. "She was already married when she promised herself to your Maker. We call her the whore-bride, because that's what she is."

Dorian was never a truly religious person. Sure, he knew the chant, he'd sing at the services he'd have to attend to keep up appearances. But even he took a small amount of offense to her…observation. Still, some of the best comedians he'd known were highly offensive themselves. And what did her outlook really change about how he worships Andraste, if he even actually chose to? If he was going to continue this conversation, he knew he'd rather be drunk to do it. Thankfully the room came with a fully stocked mini-bar.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear you say that in front of our generous benefactors." He picked out a finer wine, taking the whole bottle with him as he sat on the couch opposite Ayden. "Their sacred little heads might just explode."

As he popped off the cork, he mused about the quality of everything in the room. He absently wondered if the toilet paper were golden as well. If they truly weren't in any real danger here, maybe it would be advantageous to make use of the shower…

Salem scoffed, bringing his attention back to her. "The Liar-Woman said I should 'refrain from espousing the traditional Avaarian beliefs whilst I remain a guest'. Fucking lowlanders."

"Liar-Woman." He repeated with a chuckle. "Your people have such a simple way with words, it's fascinating."

Her head cocked to the side slightly, her gaze fixated on the fake fire. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual. "You say that because your world is always chaos, controlled or otherwise. Simple is a luxury you were never afforded."

A sudden heat of embarrassment flooded over him. He felt naked; he wondered if she could peer straight into his soul. Perhaps it wasn't the White Divine he should have been concerned about. If she were a fellow Magister, he'd be all but obligated to dance around the subject, give some non-committal, empty response. But Salem was no magister. She had no political agenda hidden behind her accusations. To deny her observations would be foolish and unnecessary at his point. "How could you possibly know that?"

"The spirits say so." She looked back up at him, seemingly trying to encourage him to relax with a friendly nod. "They never lie."

"The…spirits?"

Salem shrugged. "They're quieter now, though. It feels like magic itself is dampened here, it's odd."

"Well, that would make sense, actually. The sheer number of Templars in the vicinity would likely be reason enough."

"Templars? The Whore-Warriors?"

Dorian chuckles uncontrollably. "I highly doubt they're all racing to the whore house. Have you ever heard how they speak to women? I get second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it."

"You people actually house your whores? For what purpose?"

"My dear Salem, what possible use might a professional whore have?"

When she responds with muttering a curse in the old Tevene tongue, Dorian is nearly beside himself in shock. How could a barbarian possibly know that? "Where did you learn that? Is there some sort of remote school of Avaar scholars down there in the mountains?"

Her gaze darkens as she looks away from him. Her entire demeanor was brought down, she spoke almost monotonal. "An auger is honored to learn the language of the Gods. Your spirit guide teaches you all there is to know about magic. It's a tradition…but you're meant to let them go once you've learned all you can. Once I was rid of my spirit guide…I would have been a proper auger myself."

"It was too difficult to let go?"

"Difficult either way." She clarified. "If I were to let him go, I'd lose my only friend…but the longer I kept him…the more I put my Hold at risk."

"Well glad to hear your people aren't completely ignorant of the dangers of magic and spirits."

"We're well aware, in fact. We believe the best way to learn magic is straight from the source…I was nearly ready to let him go…until the darkspawn came…"

"I see. You lost a privilege then? A right of passage of some kind?"

"In a way…I would have been apprenticed under our shaman." Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes but she brushed them away quickly. "It's all my mother ever wanted."

Dorian understands that look. Greif. He hadn't ever lost enough to mourn but he'd seen it often enough in Kirkwall. "You lost her, didn't you?"

She doesn't reply right away. She has a dark expression on her face that tells him it's far worse than that.

"Did anyone survive?" He asks carefully.

"Some. An elder. Some women and children…"

"Maker's breath, so your people are leaderless now? Homeless?"

"The mountain is our home…the survivors will seek shelter with our sister-clan now." She saw his questioning looks. He was probably too polite to voice it. She hadn't answered the other question. It was never a good idea to dishonor the dead by neglecting their memory. Painful or not, she had to speak it. "Thane Thorrin Wintersbreath stood his ground…so his Shaman-wife could escape…with their children…" She sucked in a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her. The tears overflowed uncontrollably now. "But only their youngest daughter…only I made it out. Lethendra Mahariel led the darkspawn away from us…many of the monsters fell before Seron gave her a merciful end…" She had to get through this. She was honor-bound now. Speaking their names, telling their stories would bring their spirits' rest…they deserved rest after what they had went through. It was a small comfort knowing that she was doing something to help them, but it didn't make the task any less painful. "Siobhan…she needed no merciful end. She fought until she was bathed in their black blood. She fought until they had no choice but to…kill her. Seron, he…" He fell to his own stupidity. The wound was still raw in her mind. She could still see the whole event so clearly when she closed her eyes. "He sacrificed himself to save a mother and her child. The monsters had them cornered. Seron…with his last words, he ordered me to get them to safety…and never look back. I was honor-bound to obey…but I didn't. I passed the mother and child off to the Elder's care. Elder wouldn't allow me to go back for Seron. Hopeless, he said. I had to help the survivors. There were still stragglers harassing them as they ran. I fought with everything I had left. My staff broke. I tore the last Hurlock open with my bare hands. When my task was done, I summoned my spirit. I begged for a solution. I begged for vengeance. He offered this…he promised I would serve as a hunter of these wretched monsters. I did not understand the price I'd pay but it didn't matter. The ritual's power commanded Hakkon's attention. Or god of Winter and War…He avenged my hold…my family…"

Dorian gave her a moment to compose herself. It was a horrible story, and to think she had to live through it…unimaginable. But she no longer seemed to be distraught. Her expression was hardened in anger now. "You're not done yet, are you? Avenging them wasn't enough, was it?"

"I vowed to fight these monsters until the Lady of the Skies brings me back to my family." She finally looked up to Dorian, her icy gaze held that bitter coldness once again. "I am not dead yet."

He had to admire her strength. If he had gone through something like that, he wasn't positive he would have even made it out alive in the first place. But to survive and have the strength to continue on without everyone you knew and loved? Perhaps he could learn a thing or two from her example. His problems seemed absolutely minuscule in comparison. "Do you regret it? The ritual?"

"I know now the consequences I blindly accepted. My blood is poisoned with their taint. I'll never settle anywhere ever again, I'll never bare a child. I'll never have family again…but none of that matters. If I can spend the rest of my days thinning their numbers, it's enough for me."

Dorian was silent for a while. Leaving his speechless was becoming a bit of a theme for her. He wordlessly offers his wine bottle towards her. She glances at the bottle and almost immediately bursts out laughing. He has no idea what the joke was but he laughs with her. "Seems my superior wit was wasted in the Marches."

After a moment, she calms herself enough to explain. "You offer fruit-piss as a comfort. Some friend you are."

"Fruit-piss?" He asks incredulously. "This is a vintage—"

"Fruit. Piss."

"I'm never going to un-hear that now."

She snickers as she eyes the mini bar. "If I'm to drown my sorrows, it should be with a real drink." She rummages around the cabinet, carelessly shoving bottles out of her way. She smirks as she pulls out a bottle of whiskey. She pops it open, sniffing it with a satisfied smile.

"Whiskey? Really? Here I thought we were drowning our sorrows, not putting extra hair on the chest."

"No, no, no, Moon-Juice, my friend." She takes a long a long drink, as if to emphasize her point. She laughs breathlessly. "A gift straight from the gods themselves."

Dorian snickers with her, patting the cushion next to him as an invitation. She accepted it with a slight shrug, flopping down harshly. The couch creaked under the pressure, causing them both to giggle. He rose his wine towards her whiskey. "To easing painful memories."

"And redeeming our mistakes." She clinked her bottle against his before taking another long drink.

Dorian took a small sip himself, but he wasn't sure exactly how to respond to that. He knew what she was talking about, of course. Well, it could have been any number of things, really. She seemed to understand completely, offering a knowing nod before turning back to the fake fireplace with a sigh.

They drank from their respective bottles in silence for a while. While Salem seemed to be more at peace now, Dorian couldn't help but wander towards his regretful thoughts. Sometimes his mind spiraled so quickly he wasn't even certain he could pinpoint when it had actually begun to happen. He was grateful he didn't have to elaborate for her. She had already seemed to know it all well enough, no need for the poking or prodding though the past. The things he did, the things he runs from, the things he woefully regrets.

Noticing Ayden again made him snap out of his thoughts momentarily. The boy was sleeping peacefully, still clutching his device. It brought a small measure of comfort to him, knowing that they'd helped him. "Well, at least we make pretty good babysitters."

Salem smiles warmly at Dorian, he could almost feel her intention to reassure him. "You have a good heart, Dorian."

"You can't possibly know that. Spirits or no."

"Good doesn't worry about being bad." She set her bottle down on the table, shifting to make herself comfortable on the couch next to him. She lays her head down and closes her eyes. "Get some rest, my friend. We'll need it."

Once again, she left him with a loss of words. He sat there for a long while, letting his mind run blank while he absently finished his bottle. He was amazed by just how relaxed he was, how safe he felt. It was most definitely the wine, he reasoned. But the more emotional part of him knew it was Salem. He never expected he would call her a friend, but after only a few hours he couldn't imagine it any other way. He'd never have to worry about her intentions. She was brutally honest and just as broken as he seemed to be at the moment. Neither had anything left to lose. It was a wonderful feeling thinking that he had a companion to walk with amongst the darkness.

Salem and her spirit friends would likely know if true danger were to arrive. He'd already found the spyware device. Ayden was soundly sleeping for the night. By all logic, he could relax properly. Setting his own emptied bottle on the table, he carried his weary body into the bathroom for a much-needed cleansing.

The room was fully stocked, just as he had assumed. All of the luxury and conveniences to set himself right. But when he looked at himself in the mirror…his mind wandered right back to that abyss where his doubts and fears lived, pulling everything to it like a black hole.

What was he even doing here? With everyone sleeping or likely, um, distracted at the moment he could just simply slip away. He could run…maybe he should run. He pondered leaving that castle right now, right in the dead of night. It wouldn't be easy, of course. But he was an intelligent man, despite his mistakes. He could figure a way out if he was truly motivated…but was he? He should be. He could be home in just a couple of days if he left now. But what would he even be coming home to? A father that hates him?

He could go to Ashely, then…assuming she didn't utterly hate him after he abandoned Fenris. But even if she took him in, what would he actually do? What purpose would his miserable little existence really serve? Would he just simply waste away in the pointless meetings in the magisterium? Assuming that Danarius didn't just lop his traitorous head off on sight.

His mother must be truly rolling in her crypt, knowing that her utter disappointment of a son had done nothing but bring dishonor to the family name after inheriting her title. He'd done nothing right since becoming a Magister.

Two magisters of House Pavus. It was always so prestigious, so rare, such a coveted status amongst the nobility. But he refused to carry on the tradition…he refused to marry. His first failure. He couldn't lie to himself, he reasoned. But the bitter part of him thought that it might have perhaps been better to be miserable than disappoint them all…was it worth it?

His parents taught him to be a good and moral person. But where was his father when Danarius began to crush them all with that iron fist? His father did nothing when their illustrious Archon murdered his mother. So, Dorian simply had to. But he failed.

He had to bring Fenris home. There was no helping Garrett, but he could at least get Fenris over the wall again. He deserved to be happy, to be with Ashley. Maybe that would be enough to redeem him…but he failed that too, despite the horrid things they did to survive out there.

It seemed like every single decision he made only ended in failure somehow. What was the point in going home if he would only fail again? What was the point of anything?

At least he'd brought Salem some comfort, he thought. His first success in a long time, it seemed. Perhaps with the Wardens it would be better. If he failed as a Warden, then perhaps he'd at least die a hero. Perhaps he'd at least do something worthy of being remembered for, something worthwhile…

The steam from the hot water soon covered the mirror. It was a simple, totally explainable thing but it felt so well-timed to him that he took it as a sign. It was time to stop looking back. That grizzled, disheveled looking man was gone for good. His guilt and failures were done for good. The Wardens didn't care who you were, you were all equals after that ritual. He'd fix himself tonight. But in the morning, he'd talk to Rainier. This change was what he needed. No sense in delaying it.