Each chapter is becoming harder and harder to write, because it's mostly not my plot and that means its more boring. Forgive me if the chapters are choppy and short; I can't help it.

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Daylen

Something is different about Morrigan. He can tell.

The look she has about her reminds him of when she discovered how Flemeth achieved immortality. Disturbed. Pale. Almost... afraid.

Very few things can scare a woman like Morrigan.

He's not afraid to admit that he's kind of afraid of whatever it is that Morrigan is afraid of.

... And he feels as though Oghren might be rubbing off on him.

And speaking of Oghren, Daylen has to admit he's a fantastic warrior, even though he's always drunk off his arse. That is an incredible feat in Daylen's opinion at least; he can't swing an axe properly when he's sober.

He's a good man. His wife, on the other hand...

When they first meet Branka, the Paragon everyone has been looking for, Daylen must admit he's disappointed.

For one, she's mad. Absolutely and totally off her rocker. Lost her marbles. Stark raving mad.

Sodding Anvil of the Void.

Another thing, she prefers the ladies. Not that Daylen judges; at least, until they're married to a man.

He makes a mental note to buy Oghren a drink later. Perhaps that'll lift the old chap's spirits.

But it's not only the fact that she's clearly insane that makes him think twice about giving her the accursed thing. But the fact that Shale fought to destroy it in her unknown past, trusted this former Paragon Caridin, also stops him.

He groans mentally. Really, he almost wishes he could go back to not caring. Crazy or not, Branka's dangerous.

But he can't bring himself to argue with what he knows is the right thing to do.

Beside him, Oghren pleads with him to give it to her, so that maybe she'll calm down and see sense. Daylen only shakes his head; that is never a good idea.

No matter how hurt Oghren is, Branka must be stopped.

He does not feel guilty as he stands over her corpse, her face still frozen in her fury.

Daylen sighs, wiping a hand over his eyes. He just spent... what? Three days in the Deep Roads? For what?

He spent all that time tracking her down... to kill her.

Maybe he'll order himself a drink along with Oghren's.

At least Caridin is good enough to forge a golden crown for them. A crown fit for a king; the future king of Orzammar.

Anyway, it's time to return. He's got a crown, and he's not afraid to use it.

Avina

She jolts awake, still hearing the roar of the dragon in her ears as her heart pounds.

Arms wrap protectively around her, and for a moment, she's startled, until she realizes it's only Alistair.

"You awake," he breathes. "Did you... did you feel it too? It was like the archdemon saw us. Saw us! What does that mean?"

"I think-" she starts. Alistair shushes her.

"Did you hear that?"

The pair burst out of the tent just in time for Zevran to call out a warning, and for Sten to give a battle cry.

The camp is surrounded.

Avina only has time to be grateful that one doesn't need a sword to cast magic.

Daylen

Daylen is beyond relieved to be back out of the Deep Roads. So happy, he doesn't go straight to the Council Chamber, instead taking the party straight to the pub.

Only long enough to down his second drink, however; he doesn't want to stumble in drunk.

He walks into the assembly like he's above it; and to be fair, he is most of the time. Oghren and the others follow behind him, giving him a more intimidating presence in the room.

He interrupts their argument, but a quick flash of the golden crown Caridin created stuns any protesters into silence.

"He told me to give it to whomever I chose," he tells them. "And I choose Prince Bhelen."

Orzammar finally has a king. His work here is done.

"Grey Warden, you have impressed the best of us."

Daylen stops to regard Kardol.

"If I'd heard it second hand, I'd have called it a sodding lie," the dwarf admits. "Warden, we've got a king because of you. The ret, impressive, but the Legion is grateful most for restored leadership. It frees us to fight to the darkspawn properly."

Daylen flashes him a smile. "Can I count on seeing you on the surface, to fight this Blight by my side?"

Kardol shakes his head. "Nay, our place is down here. When you break the Blight, and you've got the skill, we'll make sure they have nowhere to retreat. You'll have us indirectly. That's more than any surface can say."

"Come on, Kardol!" Daylen persuades. "We need you topside! Show the world your skill!"

Kardol chuckles. "You alone have the skill to back up your words. Each of the Legion owes our homeland a death, but if our lives are better shed on the surface, so be it! Back to Orzammar when we win, though. I'll not stay topside to lose my stone sense."

"We can't have that!"

Daylen figured Oghren'd have a hard time leaving his home. So when they finally leave, the doors shutting behind them, and Oghren stops, he's not surprised.

Oghren looks up at the sky with a sigh. "Give me a moment."

"Take your time."

"By the Stone," Oghren breathes. "I feel like I'm about to fall of the world with al that sky up there."

If he's being perfectly honest, Orzammar made Daylen a bit claustrophobic. "Is it really that strange to you?"

"Strange?" Oghren gives a huff. "Strange is your wife turning out to prefer the ladies. Not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling. Well, let's get moving. We're losing... whatchacallit? Daylight."

Daylen laughs, clapping Oghren on the back. "Alright, then."

But among the camps of the merchants camped outside Orzammar's entrance, he sees a set of familiar tents, with a few familiar figures wandering around.

"Well, it's about damned time you showed up."

He turns to see Avina's playful face. "We were about to head on in after you!" She tells him.

She pulls him into a hug, and for a moment he's so surprised he doesn't react.

Then, with a grin, he enthusiastically returns the embrace, lifting her off the ground. "Miss me that much, Freckles?"

She wheezes, pretending to be dying. "Hardly, Prat!"

Tel'abelas.

Next Chapter: What Remains