A wild Glader appears!

How ya doing everyone, I hope you all feel better then I do. A reminder kiddies; forty-eight hours without sleep and four hour classes do not mix, don't make the same mistake I did. Learn from my stupidity, I implore you. Any way here is the next chapter of Dragon Slayer; and I'll admit I'm not extremely proud of it. I wished I could have gotten finished this entire mini-arc in this chapter but if I did this one chapter would be extraordinarily long compared to the chapters that proceed it and I'mm not confident that I could keep up the precedent. This didn't end up being the chapter that I was looking forward to write, like I boasted in the last chapter's AN, but I'm positive that the next chapter will be. And I'll be working on it latter tonight after I get something to eat.

With that out of the way, enjoy!

Artorias

Much has changed since I last set foot in Castle Cousland. The walls are the same as when I left, but the people within are different.

An elf I have never met tends to the castle garden with a smile, a new pair of helmeted faces guard the front gate, less soldiers man the walls, and countless servants with names unknown to me scurry up and down the hall.

It still feels like home, even after all this time.

Streaks of grey now worm through his dark hair, and he has many more wrinkles lining his face. But like the castle wall some things about him are still the same; like his blue eyes that shined with love when he recognized me, and his purposeful stride despite his walk.

Father lead me quickly though the nostalgic stone passages towards the dinning room, where a feast was undoubtedly waiting for us, all the while sharing with me the current state of the realm. Of the Darkspawn threat rising in the south and Ferelden's army in Ostagar posed to stop it.

"Pup, if you had told Sir Gilmore or a servant that it was you; Fergus may have had a chance to see you before he had to march." Father chastised me lightly.

"And ruin the surprise?" I grin, looking down to catch my Father's eye and witness his chuckle. "Dad, I so rarely get to see you lose your composure, so I couldn't let the chance go to waist."

Father's response was an obviously fake 'humph' and a forced frown as he turned away from me to enter the dinning hall.

"This feast was to be dedicated to commemorate our soldiers who head off to protect us from evil." I hear his stable baritone initiate. "And it still is. However, this feast is now also a celebration; for my youngest son has returned from traveling abroad. Ladies and Gentlemen give a toast to Artorias Cousland, my youngest has returned!"

The dinning hall filled with noise as those inside cheered as I strode into the view of my countrymen and women. A blur crashed into my arms the second I entered the hall, and a pair of slender arms pulled me into a powerful hug as the hall's cheers became chortles. My mother's sea-green eyes dripped with clear tears as they stared into my similarly colored orbs.

Even Mother is different now.

Mother's once bright and free flowing blond hair was now grey and done up in perfectly formed braid buns. The skin around her eyes are marked with crows-feet, and small worry lines have etched themselves around her mouth.

Yet her arms are as strong as I remember; a sign that he still practices archery no doubt, and her sense of dress still manages to make everyone else in the room pale in comparison. And Mother's voice still manages to make me feel safe and supported.

"My dear darling boy." She whispers, tears falling from her eyes and causing her makeup to run slightly. "Praise the Maker you have been returned to us."

With a sigh Mother releases me from her embrace, only to grab onto my armored arms and hold me at arm's length for a moment.

"Let me get a good look at you Artorias, hold still." She chides lightly as her eyes run up and down my form. "Hmm, a bit tanner and a lot taller, all filled out and as strong as an ox no doubt. Glad to see you managed to keep your teeth clean and white; but dear, what in Andraste's name happened to your hair?"

Chuckling at Mother's babying, I casually move us to our seats at the table while greeting the other figures joining us for dinner. Then as we take our seats I motion for one of the servants to pour some wine in my goblet with a thankful smile.

"Give me a moment to get comfortable Mother." I finally respond. "After I have a little to eat I'll regale everyone with a story or two of my time in Nevarra."

With Mother placated I turned my attention to the servant who had finished pouring my wine and was now moving a large slice of stuffed pig onto my plate. This woman is one of the new faces around the castle and looked to be around my age, and unlike the other elven help that worked her she stood out. Wavy strawberry-blond hair, almost pink in the candle light, was tied up in an elegant braid of elven fashion fell to the center of her back. Her hair complimented her deep blue eyes and fair skin, but also made her short stature, even for an elf, stand out more. She wore a plain servant's gown complete with a brown apron, yet the mundane cloths did little to hide the predator-like grace she moved with, or the subtle muscles were the dress did not cover.

She must have been some sort of fighter at some point.

"Thank you." I smiled crookedly as she finished stacking my plate, allowing my unnaturally sharp canines to show. "You must be new here miss. When I left I knew all the people that worked here by name and face, and they knew me from the chaos I caused with my Mabari, Chulainn, when we were younger. My name is Artorias, might I know yours."

Unbeknownst to the rest of the room, my faithful hound immediately halted his own feast at the sound of my voice calling his name, and shifted his focus solely on myself and the young elf I was speaking to. He stared intently at the young women for a few seconds before sniffing and turning back to his food, all before the woman in question could respond.

With a small curtsy, the women returned a small, hesitant smile that got a bit more natural as my crooked grin changed into a more relaxed smile. "Of course, my Lord. I am Halava Tabris, I started working here a few weeks ago. I met Lady Oriana in Denerim and she put in a good word for me with your lord father."

I bet there is more to the story then just that, but Oriana isn't a bad judge of character.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss. Tabris."

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Cousland."

With our introduction out of the way, the young women hurried over to help my sister-in-law who was fussing over my nephew Oren, and I focused on eating and making light conversation with Castle Cousland's guests. About halfway through my plate I could practically see Mother and Father's nervous energy in the air as their eyes kept focusing on my silvery-white hair. It was obvious that my parents were annoyed that I had yet to speak about the subject that was bothering, and by the grins of the other feast-goers that they could see it too.

With a loud cough to grab the room's attention, I placed my silverware down. "Well I think I have kept my parents in suspense long enough." A round of soft laughing follow my admittance.

"Almost everyone here knew me before I left for Nevarra four years ago, when I hair was dark as pitch. Well my new hair color is an unexpected result of my profession as a Dragon Hunter."

Gasps of surprise, and hushed whispers answer my bold statement, as everyone looks at me with wide eyes. Of the room's reactions, Oren's is by far the most prevalent. His wide eyes sparkled with joy and wonderment, and he looked at me with as much awe as I did when I first saw a High Dragon, all the while the man with a griffon symbol on chest plate stared at me with intense dark eyes.

My legs felt like lead, my arms shook, and my body trembled in pain. When my opponent's sword came rocketing at my chest it was all I could do to raise my shield and slap the blade away. With his attack foiled my opponent sluggishly put some distance between us, kicking up the lose sand with his armored boots as he did so.

His action put a smile on my face; for as tired and pained as I felt, I knew Marius Pentaghast was just as hurt and exhausted, perhaps even more so…After all that gash I put on his shield arm looked painful, and no doubt stung every time he needed to block.

While I didn't get a chance to speak with him before the match; Marius Pentaghast looked to be around my age, maybe a year or two older judging by the strength of his attacks, with a head of short cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and a freckled face hidden under his squire's helm. As the champion of four smaller tourneys Marius was diffidently considered the 'easy bet' compared to me: a foreigner with no notable wins to speak of, and yet as our match stretched on the faces in the crowd that bet on the 'Ferelden Underdog-lord' looked more and more hopeful.

And Marius, who had probably been told that this would be an easy win, looked like he was didn't mind at all. In fact, he seemed to be having a swell time, and to be fair my ear-to-ear grin probably said the same thing about me. After all it has been a long time since I faced a real challenge, but unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and this match's time had come a while ago.

Sucking in one more lungful of air, I went on the offensive. Feinting a cross slash at my opponent's right side, I waited until Marius had committed to his defense before stepping forward, pulling my sword out of its current arc, and slamming the edge of my shield into the bottom of his shield. This forced the bottom edge of his shield to violently collide with his rib cage, knocking the air from his lungs.

Not waiting for him to recover, I hastily side-stepped to his right ready to disarm him only to be met by his sword inches away from my face. Marius, despite being winded, had seen my movement coming and tried to score a win via a sword-to-neck surrender, but my resulting hasty dodge instead put the Nevarran's blade into my collar. But as blood flowed from my wound I saw my last chance at ending the match.

My sword lashed out faster than I thought I could swing it, and with a mighty ring of steel my sword collided with my opponent's cross guard, twisting his weapon from his grasp. Then he before he could react to his sword hitting the arena's sand covered floor I stepped forward again, this time my armored boot stepping on the earthbound blade, and brought my sword to rest against my opponent's neck. Marius' hands flew to the sides of his head immediately in surrender, and after a few seconds of stunned silence the announcer's voice echoed through the stadium.

"Our winner, Ladies and Gentlemen! Artorias Cousland of Ferelden!"

My head ached as the cheers of the crowd combined with my continuing blood loss resulted in a splitting headache, but after giving my opponent a bow and a handshake, I plastered a smile on my now helmetless face and waved to the crowd with my right hand. After obliging the crowd for a moment, I immediately dragged myself out of the arena and to the tourney infirmary; where a scowling Mortalitasi healer began repairing the left side of my collar with magic.

I must have fallen asleep at some point during my treatment, for when I woke up I was laid out on one of the infirmary cots; my collar sore and wrapped in bandages, but feeling much better than before and no longer leaking blood. As I eased my body into a sitting position I noticed that the grouchy old mage who had treated me before was gone, and sitting at his desk a young, pretty girl dressed in Circle of Magi robes, reading a leather-bound book. Forcing myself off the comfortable cot and onto my feet, I approached the mage girl, summoning up my most charming smile onto my face when she noticed me.

"Good day, my lady." I greeted and was rewarded with a small smile. "I am grateful for yours's and the elder mage's good work, I feel nearly as good before I started my last match, I am in your debt."

The woman blushed lightly at my praise, and an amused twinkle shone in her brown eyes. "You are welcome, my lord, but no thanks are necessary. I enjoy using my power to help people. My name is Alissa Bessren, and that 'elder mage' is Alvus Aren, and he would be hopping mad if he heard you refer to him as such."

She laughed lightly as I paled slightly, but at the same time a small genuine smile formed on my face.

"You and Mr. Aren have my thanks anyway, Miss Bessren. Do you know how much longer it will be until my final match? If I'm going to put up a good show, I'll need enough time to stretch and warm up."

Alissa's smile immediately fell, and she glanced at the medical tent's flap before sighing and focusing on me again.

"I'm sorry, I thought someone had informed you already." She responded. "Your injury was serious, my lord. Serious enough that, for your safety, Senior Enchanter Aren had to bar you from fighting I the finals. Your opponent for the final round has already been named the victor and given the prize, and now all the nobles and guests are attending the closing feast. Lord Morvaine had your formal cloths made ready and folded next to your bed. He asked that you make your way to the feast when you wake up."

My smile disappeared as I nodded numbly at the girl's words. Closing the privacy screen between us, stripped out of my armor and into a finely made pair of trousers and a fur-lined doublet. I gave Alissa one more strained smile that she returned with a sad smile before I left the infirmary for the city's main keep.

I failed. My dream, my ambition, my goal, my chance to become a Dragon Hunter ripped from my grasp and I didn't even get a chance to fight for it. I failed.