A/N: With thanks to juri for proofing!

Things you should know for this part:Sylvanna's original intent upon finding Morrigan was to kill both her and the infant. The two responded to this hostility as best as they could. Sylvanna's mabari, Thetus, disappeared before the confrontation.

.

.

.

9:34 Dragon

Sylvanna had to catch the child in the act before she could be absolutely sure.

Morrigan's daughter had just passed her second summer, and she was a terrible handful and a half. It was not so much the endless questions - Sylvanna rather liked answering those, even if they often disagreed on certain points (mostly the same points on which she and Morrigan disagreed) - it was the climbing around and getting into things that a child of her age really ought not to.

And then there was the shape-shifting.

Morrigan had began her daughter's magical education early; far too early than was either practical or safe, in Sylvanna's considered opinion. The skills at manipulation that the child had shown as a baby were constantly being tested, boundaries pushed and rules distorted, until both her mothers became thoroughly exasperated with her.

The end result was that on this day, a day like any other, Sylvanna watched with growing horror as her daughter burned a defenceless mouse alive.

It wasn't only the cruelty that disturbed her, although that played a part. It was the absolute lack of malice. The child treated the animal with curiosity, even a hint of affection, and then simply…

Let us reverse a few steps.

It happened in this manner: Sylvanna turned her back on the child for a moment, in their house in the middle of the woods. Seeing a squirming pink tail from out of the corner of her eye, the child clapped her hands together with delight, beckoning to the creature. "Here," she cajoled, with her perfect command over the king's tongue, "come here."

With her glamour overcoming its natural resistance, the mouse twitched its nose, its whiskers quivering, and crept closer, its body pressed low to the ground.

"That's right," the child encouraged, as it clambered onto her hand, the pin-prickle of tiny feet tickling her palm. "I shall feed you nuts and berries, and all things delightful. Would you like that, little mouse?"

In response, the creature wiped its face with its hands, looking up at her with its liquid black eyes.

"But first, I require of you a boon," crooned the child. "Do you know what a boon is, little mouse? A boon is a favour, freely given." She placed her hand carefully down on the floor, and the mouse stepped off.

"Go on," the child encouraged, with a beatific smile. "Go, and I shall grant you all that you desire."

The mouse skittered swiftly across the stone floor, all pointed feet and pale, pink tail, and then threw itself onto the fire before Sylvanna could intervene.

"Dear Maker!" Sylvanna exclaimed, as the little body writhed in agony upon the flames. To add to her disquiet, the mouse did not even try to pull itself out of the hearth, its limbs twitching uselessly as it withered and blackened.

"Are you not going to praise me?" the child asked, her eyes wide. They had turned golden some time during the previous summer, and in that moment she looked more alike her mother than ever, all fey beauty and dark promises.

"Why should I praise you?" Sylvanna asked, trying not to let her voice shake. She eyed the remains in the hearth; it was most definitely dead now, to her great relief.

"I eliminated a pest. Its little feet were making tracks in the larder. Mother would have been most pleased with me."

"You do not think that was a terrible way to die? That it felt great pain and suffering?"

The child's face contorted with the effort to comprehend the connection between this question and the act that had just transpired. "Does it matter?"

It's my fault. My fault that she has not the slightest trace of empathy in her heart. "Do you recall the first being you led to its death?" Sylvanna asked.

The child tilted her head to the side, her eyes bright. Her lips moved silently, as she sifted through her memories of her brief time in this body - warmth and the sound of her mother's heartbeat, the sensation of floating; blind terror at her confinement, a yearning to be free; knowledge of a threat, the scent of the taint that pursued them...

"A dog," she said finally. "Was it a dog?"

"Not just any dog," Sylvanna corrected. She sat down next to the child, and adjusted her skirts around her. "He was the bravest, brightest, most loyal dog in all of Ferelden..."

.

.

.

The Loyal Mabari

He was a good dog.

Deep down, he knew that this was true. He had heard his master say it often, usually accompanied with a pat on the neck, or if he was very good, with a piece of dried meat.

He was a good dog, but now he was alone, his master slain and gored by their tainted enemies, his pack mates having suffered a similar fate.

Dog did not like being alone.

The tainted ones had departed swiftly after the battle that had claimed his former master. It was easy enough to follow their stench on the air, as their heavy footsteps had left churned mud and the smell of death in their wake.

Dog was unsure as to what to do. Vague feelings of revenge and hunger spurred him onwards, following the tainted ones to a fork in the road, opening up to the vast world before him.

It was there that he met the others - the female elf, the blonde man in armour, and a new companion, a human woman whose scent was curiously distorted and intriguing. He called out to them in greeting, but at that moment, he smelled the taint again, thick and heavy on the air.

The road turned a corner, and then he could see the tainted ones, the points of their weapons glinting in the weak sunlight. He rushed into battle with a joyous howl, blood-lust in the forefront of his mind as he snapped with his teeth, rending flesh and laying bare white hints of glistening bone.

When the fight was over, he was very tired. He remembered that he had not eaten for some days now, and the faint smell of food from the elf's pack was beginning to make him salivate.

He trotted up to the elf and her companions, looking up at her with a hopeful whine. She had saved his life at the stone ruins, easing his pain from the corruption in his blood; surely their meeting again was not by chance.

The humans talked loudly around him, but it was her approval that he was waiting for.

She looked at him closely, her fingers clenched tightly around the smooth metal of her weapon.

"I really don't like dogs," she whispered. Dog wondered if she had already forgotten how she had saved his life, how she had stepped into his pen and soothed the fire in his veins. Surely an elf this scatterbrained would need his aid more than anything?

"He's not just any dog," the male reasoned. "He's a mabari! A purebred war hound! Think of the possibilities!"

"He did gore those darkspawn in an admirable manner," the other human sniffed. "And you are in desperate need of allies."

The elf cautiously held a hand out to him, and he trotted over to her, gently nudging her fingers with his nose. She smelled of tainted blood and magic, the latter setting off a tickling in his throat that resulted in a hearty sneeze that he was unable to suppress, releasing it right in her face. The elf made a shocked expression, and then began to laugh, and laugh, until water began trickling down her cheeks.

"Do you wish to alert all of the darkspawn here of our presence?" the human female grumbled.

The laughter stopped abruptly, and the elf looked at the woman with empty eyes. Dog bared his teeth at the human, who stared down her nose at him in disdain.

"Here," the elf said, running her hand over his neck and across his side, and Dog suddenly felt much better as his wounds sealed themselves, although he was still terribly hungry. His stomach announced this in an audible fashion.

"How far to Lothering?" asked the elf, as she slid her pack off her shoulder.

"Perhaps half a day," the woman responded.

Digging around in her satchel, the elf produced a whole handful of cured meat, holding it out to him. "Eat," she instructed, and Dog did not have to be told twice. When he was done, she patted him on the head, absently wiping off traces of his saliva onto his coat.

"Aren't you going to give him a name?" the male asked.

"I was just going to call him 'Dog'."

"How about Bone Cruncher? Or Dog of Death? We could call him 'Dod' for short? No, no wait - how about Barkspawn?"

The elf gave the human a sceptical look, before turning back to him. He gazed up at her with loving eyes, a grateful whine escaping his throat. It didn't matter what she chose to call him, as long as he was her dog. She placed her hand on the top of his head, and rubbed gently behind his ears as nudged upwards into her palm. It became clear to Dog that his elf was probably one puppy short of a litter, but he was confident that he could help her find whatever it was that she was looking for.

In any case, being lost together was much better than being lost on one's own.

"I'll call him Thetus," she said at last, and he barked happily to show his approval.

The human woman sighed. "And now we have a dog. And Alistair is still the stupidest member of the party."

"Hey!"

"Come on, Dog. I mean Thetus," his mistress said, and he gratefully fell in line with her.

He was truly the luckiest dog in the world.

.

.

.

"I see that you cared for him," the child said in a puzzled voice, "but what does this have to do with the mouse?"

Sylvanna smoothed out her skirt with her hands. "When you wield the power of life and death over others, you will need to choose carefully, as your choices may be permanent. You could have known Thetus as a companion - as a friend, but by virtue of your choices, that opportunity is now lost to you."

"I would have quite liked a puppy," the child said, her voice wistful.

"With your talent, you could have told the mouse to leave and never return," the warden continued. "You could have told him to tell his family to stay away from this house. That would have been more efficient than dealing with them one at a time."

"Perhaps," the child said doubtfully, her nose wrinkled up in consternation, "but it would not have been as much fun."

"Death is not a game!" Sylvanna snapped.

The child recoiled. Sylvanna pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed out deeply. "We will continue this some other time."

"I'm sorry, Mama," the child offered meekly, slipping her hand into the warden's, "for killing your dog."

Sylvanna sighed, and gathered the child in her arms. "You were only a baby," she murmured, stroking her tousled head, "and you were afraid." She sighed again, and released the girl.

"Next time," the child said, "I will do better."

Sylvanna smiled faintly, as she cupped the child's cheek with one hand. "Good girl," she said, and her daughter beamed with all the radiance of the sun.

.

.

.

A/N: The next part will be the child's story and will tie-in directly with 'Beauty Ascending'.