Here's chapter 2! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Dragon Age or Bioware. This is just for my amusement.

Chapter 2

Gentle clinking echoed the Warden's footsteps as the gold amulet beat against the locket he wore lovingly around his neck. Bearing blood from the darkspawn during Leovin's initiation ritual, Duncan's gift had never left his person. The locket was something he kept close to his heart to remember the man whom had saved his life and attempted to do for his friend, Tamlen.

Leovin shook off the memories. They were too painful now to remember. Perhaps when he was back among the wild trees of Ferelden, he would meditate on the vast ache in his heart whenever he recalled the curious, brash elf that had been his soul-brother. For now the only pain he could deal with at the moment would be the broken crossbow bolt imbedded deeply in his right side. The dark grey of his cloak hid the blossoming blood stain, but it wouldn't matter soon if Leovin passed out on the street in front of the early morning merchants who were setting up their stalls in preparation for customers.

Leovin clutched his side as he waved off a man shouting at him in his native language whilst waving about an orange and the Warden barely contained a hiss of pain as his fingers brushed over the short shaft still in his side. A stupid mistake, he berated himself, never assume an enemy incapacitated unless they weren't breathing. His Hahren had taught him that when he was but a child of six summers. Leovin had been bending down to pick up his long knife forgotten in the elf's rage at the assassin when his body jerked forward and agony blazed near his hip. He had forgotten the bowman that he had knocked into the water. He was paying the price for his oversight now. Leovin could barely walk without a limp and he needed to put as much distance between him and the docks. The archer was pretty certain that other Crows would look after its flock and search out their wayward brothers; he couldn't survive merely on will alone.

The wall of the building barely caught him in time to prevent his head from crashing into the cobblestone street. Lungs heaving, vision blurry, Leovin knew that he wouldn't be able to make it back to the alienage where a couple of his kind brethren gave him room and board for a measly sum that Leovin made sure to double. Fighting against the strong urge to vomit, Leovin watched out of the corner of his eye as a woman dressed…colorfully practically pranced past him with feathers planted delicately around a wide-brimmed hat and what the elf could have sworn were also attached to bright blue heels that must have at least been six inches long. On the first day Leovin spent in the exotic Antiva City he was surprised at the fashion that seemed fanatical in Ferelden was commonplace here. He quickly got used to it as his fascinated stares at the distinctive dress of Antivans were met with sneers and upturned noses. Perhaps he should have listened closer to Leliana's ongoing speeches about dainty shoes and elegant dresses. However, at the time mending a rip in his undershirt was more interesting than pretty dangly things as Alistair had described. The Dalish raised elf just could not see how such flimsy fabric could help one blend into their surroundings or prevent an arrow from piercing a vital organ. Although Leovin's own armor hadn't helped him much in his current situation.

He absently watched the hues of colors dance gracefully as when light hits a fish's scales on the woman's dress. She lightly began cooling herself with a fan made of the same type of feathers that were decorating her outfit and she bent over a stall to admire jeweled brooches. Leovin could finally relate. Antiva was very different from Ferelden. Antiva was obviously located much closer to the sun. It was the only way to explain the intense heat that radiated throughout the day. He learned to not even bothering going outside when the sun was at its peak in the sky; his cloak was used more and more to shield his light skin from the harsh sun rather than conceal his identity. Elgar'nan take the sun from the sky as he had in the beginning of the world! And the rain! Even the sporadic rain had warmth and provided no respite from the heat.

His nausea began to subside and his breath came easy enough for Leovin to finally move on without collapsing. He began to step out of the shadow of the alleyway but as his right foot supported his weight Leovin had to clutch at the wall again. Pain arched from his side to his stomach and Leovin hurriedly pushed his hood back to purge his belly of the meager breakfast he had this morning. A stray breeze brushed across his exposed pointed ears and played lightly with his braided black hair that tumbled down past his shoulders. It seemed his injury would not let him get safely away before being treated. Gritting his teeth, Leovin used the wall as a crutch as he hobbled further into the alley to flee from any curious eyes.

He collapsed on the driest part he could find and carefully pulled back his cloak. With trembling fingers, Leovin unlaced his dragonskin armor that Wade had meticulously crafted in Denerim and peeled it back as far as the shaft would allow him. Just his luck. The only open place in his armor to allow mobility and da shem boraen in bor'assan! Leovin let out a long breath through his nose to calm himself down. Slim fingers prodded at the wound and found that the bolt had not gone through the other side. The metal tip of it had been pushed near his pelvic bone by his run earlier which would explain his leg's reluctance to bear his weight. Further investigation gave the elf good news. The bolt most likely did not have barbs on the tip to tear open the wound if he pulled it out. These bolts were meant to cause a quick death and not pain.

Leovin sacrificed the bottom hem of his cloak as a makeshift bandage and quickly pressed it against his side as he yanked the shaft out with a harsh elvhen oath. Blood seeped rapidly through the material and Leovin was forced to use his teeth to tear off another strip of his cloak to tie around his waist. The hearty cries of merchants bribing their wares on potential customers drowned the elf's harsh breathing. He was never leaving without his bow again. Mythal, his chosen god of the pantheon and her symbol emblazoned on his body, protect him if he could go nowhere without coming into life or death situations.

The relative coolness of the shade combined with the heat of the stone against his back comforted the injured Warden like nothing had in a long while. His unoccupied fingers delved into a petite pouch clipped to his belt. They quested for a bit until he drew them out with small bits of a dark leaf pinched between them. Gingerly, he placed the flora on his tongue and proceeded to then mash them into a thin paste that would serve as a salve. Not an ideal curative, but it would prevent infection. The Elfroot had a taste of mint but the deceptive taste was dangerous if swallowed; only when steeped in boiling water and diluted heavily were the plant's properties safe to consume like in a potion.

He spat out the bits of leaves and somewhat formed paste onto his hand. A deep breath was taken before he quickly exposed his wound and smeared the Elfroot salve on irritated flesh. Immediately he could feel the cool sensation of the herb rush through his blood and soothe the irritated bone that the tip of the bolt had rubbed against.

Leovin leant his head against the stone to sigh in relief. Tired green eyes closed. Just a short rest, he thought. He would move again after he regained some of his strength.

Tattered cloak, ashen face, dust-caked skin, and curled into a dirty alleyway, Leovin managed to blend in with the poor city elves almost perfectly. The only thing that marred the image of just another broken elf hidden in the human dominated Antiva City was the iron grip on the blade he held to his side.

"Mister Leo! Mister Leo, you're back! Mamae says you've arrived just in time for supper," the little elvhen girl giggled as she twirled a lock of her blonde hair around a tiny finger. She smiled widely at the older elf and skipped over to his side with her hand extended.

Leovin grinned slightly at his enthusiastic greeting and took the girl's invitation after closing the door to the small apartment. "Well, thank goodness for that, huh?" His side twinged unhappily as the child pulled at him to walk faster to the decrepit dinner table where her little brother sat along with her mother.

"Welcome back, ser Leovin. I hope your day went well," said Narwa as she spooned mashed apples into her baby's mouth. Little Aidan gurgled and gestured for more with a chubby fist. "Seran! Leave ser Leovin alone, he probably doesn't appreciate you pulling on his arm like that," she reproached her oldest.

Seran sighed but listened to her mother and stopped hanging off Leovin's arm like she was climbing a tree. The elvhen girl skipped to her chair and patted the open spot next to her. He took her hint. Slowly, the injured Warden sat but gave no indication to the family he was staying with that anything was wrong. He gave his thanks to Narwa who paused to pass a bowl of spiced meats and vegetables that were a bit too spicy for his palette. Leovin ate them anyway to soothe the ache in his belly although he was sure that it would burn a hole through his intestines. Just because it hadn't happened yet, didn't mean it wouldn't. Did everything Antivans eat have to have thirty-two different seasonings that served to only set his tongue on fire? Leovin swallowed a wilted carrot and felt the familiar burn in his mouth. He took a long drink of water and stuck his tongue out at Seran who giggled at his inability to acclimatize himself to Antivan cuisine.

"Oh!" Seran suddenly exclaimed and dug around the deep pockets in her homemade dress. "Here Mister Leo," she said and handed him a slightly bent envelope she had procured. "I did exactly what you told me and took the long way back home. I'm sure no one followed me."

Leovin turned the envelope over to see the seal unbroken, and the griffin embedded in the red wax wasn't deformed which would tell of tampering. No one had read the contents, he assured.

"Thank you, da'len. You did a great job," Leovin praised and Seran's smile grew even wider at his words.

Her mother chuckled at her daughter's besotted figure as she batted her eyelashes at the oblivious Warden who flipped the unopened letter between his fingers.

"So what's that thing?"

"Hmm?" Leovin hummed in question.

Seran pointed. "That thing in the wax. What is it?"

Leovin flipped the letter over. Reared on hind legs with beak open and wings flared out stood the symbol of his order. "Oh, that is a griffin. Long ago Grey Wardens rode these proud beasts into battle against the darkspawn during a Blight. Head of an eagle and the body of a lion, they were legendary creatures that were indeed something to behold."

"Have you seen one, Mister Leo?"

The Dalish elf chuckled. "No, Seran. They have long gone extinct."

"Awww," she pouted. "I bet you would've looked really neat riding one."

"I like my feet planted firmly on the ground. If elves were meant to fly then we would be born with wings."

Seran pondered on that for a moment. She tapped a small finger to her chin a couple times in thought then laughed. "That's silly, Mister Leo!"

"Wings on an elf would be quite ridiculous," he agreed.

"What a funny idea, ser Leovin. You have quite the imagination," said Narwa. She turned to her daughter and pointed the wooden spoon in her hand at her. "Now off to bed with you, young lady."

"But Mamae, I wanted to hear what Mister Leo did today!"

"I'm sure some important Grey Warden business that has nothing to do with little elvhen girls who don't listen to their mother. Don't forget to wash your face before bed," Narwa added as Seran pouted but nonetheless listened and went into the next room. "That girl," she sighed. "I'm sorry for her, ser. She's got to stick her nose into everything."

The Warden waved the apology away. "I do not mind her inquisitive nature. It has actually been a while since I have had to fend off a child's endless questions. I am afraid I have gotten rusty."

"Have you been away long from your clan?"

Leovin looked down into his mug of water as if it held all the answers. "More than a year," he finally admitted.

"You have my sympathies. I've never met a Dalish before but we've all heard the stories. It must be very difficult to be parted from your family like that."

He nodded. They were silent for a while as Narwa finished feeding her youngest and cleaned his face with a damp cloth.

Leovin finally spoke again after his memories cleared. "I wanted to thank you again for letting me stay with you and your children. You did not have to open your home, but you did so anyway."

Narwa shook her head and picked Aidan up to perch him on her hip. She turned to Leovin with an upraised finger. "It is no trouble. My mother told me all the stories about the brave Grey Wardens and how they sacrifice everything so that we do not. You wonder why Seran follows you like a duckling does with its mother?" Narwa paused and locked her blue eyes with his own. "Know that it's an honor to have you here, Warden Leovin."

"…Ma serennas."

Narwa nodded firmly at his thanks. "Now you best be getting to bed too; you seem a little pale. Goodnight, ser."

Leovin whispered back similar sentiments but did not rise from the table. Instead he buried his head into his hands and sighed heavily. Narwa had been a blessing by Mythal herself when Leovin had wandered into the alienage looking for a place to stay over a week ago. Most of the inns in the city would not allow elves to rent rooms even if they had the coin and the ones that did were not hidden enough from curious eyes and nosy innkeepers; some didn't even bother to have locks on the doors. The alienage hadn't even been on his list of places to squat. He remembered the one in Denerim. No good memories there. Desperate faces, empty eyes, and the reluctant acceptance of their lot in life only added to Leovin's nightmares.

The Dalish did not consider their city cousins as elves. To live a life among humans was nonsensical as years spent among the shemlen quickened the elves' blood until the only difference between them was the ears. Days of old when elves held immortal life had long since passed. The Dalish remained closest to their ancient ties as they never spent time among humans unless absolutely necessary for trade. Keeper Marethari remained the oldest from his clan at a century and fifty years and all younger than her were considered children in her eyes. Leovin himself had reached thirty seven years but appeared no more than twenty and with the shortened life span of a Grey Warden he didn't expect to see his first century. Perhaps it was a blessing. He had seen so much already: pain, suffering, death…it hurt his heart to see the dark side of Thedas.

He sighed again and let his eyes drift to the still letter next to his elbow. Leovin picked it up but decided to open it in the spare room where Narwa usually slept but kindly gave to him. The door shut silently behind him as he roamed the room to make sure that it had been undisturbed. His quiver and bows still leaned against the wall. Leovin mentally reminded himself to never leave without them. What he wanted first, however, was the slim bag that held extra clothes, supplies, and most importantly already made health potions. He quickly located a vial filled with red liquid and downed it. Instantly he felt cool relief fill his veins and tingle around his wound. Leovin unlaced the ties of his armor and peeled off the bloody bandages to see unmarred skin. Always amazed at how potent the Elfroot was, he lightly ran his fingers over his pale hip that bore no mark of a nasty injury. It was as if it never happened. He mentally thanked Wynne for her healing magic that gave the poultice its extra potency.

Without any twinge of pain, the elf sat on the borrowed cot and broke the seal on the letter he was sure contained Alistair's sarcastic comments on his late response. There hadn't been time outside of hunting down a mage powerful enough to craft what he wanted to sit down and write that everything was fine and not to worry about him. Sure enough when Leovin pulled the parchment from the envelope, Alistair's familiar, heinous scrawl littered the page in uneven lines. Addressed to no one the letter began similar to one a relative would write to a brother who was away for a while.

Leovin grimaced.

Underneath the words was Alistair's true message and the elf winced as he was scolded profusely for not writing his fellow Grey Warden but besides that there wasn't anything new happening in Ferelden in the month he had been gone. The archer was tempted to reply about how Alistair had worried that Ferelden would burn to the ground and Anora would kill him with her endless harping without Leovin to play interference. Instead, he turned to the small oil lantern on a table near the bed and took off the upper portion to expose the open flame. Leovin let the letter be eaten away by the tickling flame until the only scrap left was a small –A that Alistair had signed as his name. Even written in code, Leovin took no chances.

He replaced the glass cover of the lantern after sweeping away the burned parchment. Leovin stood again to walk over to the clay bowl that Narwa had thoughtfully left out for him along with a cloth rag. He wetted the scrap and drew it across his face to remove the powder. Quickly the water turned murky as he continued to clean his face. Layer by layer was removed until his markings were fully revealed of his patron god, Mythal. Finally, his skin could breathe again he thought as the cold air in the room chilled him.

However another thought caused bumps to raise on his arms…it was finally time to find Morrigan. He had the magical amulet now and all that was left was the blood of the person they owner intended to seek. The Warden hadn't a drop of the apostate's, but he did have something would work just as well.

Again he went to his pack but fished through an entirely different compartment. He felt something cold touch the tip of his finger and he pulled out an object which was wrapped with one of Leliana's numerous scarves that Leovin had "borrowed" to prevent the delicate item from breaking. The delicate mauve material unwound and revealed a vial of magically chilled blood that nestled in silk. Alistair had no idea that his friend snitched one of the vials from the guarded vault that had been set aside as items meant to travel to Amaranthine, the new headquarters of the Grey Wardens. Magically enchanted to prevent from spoiling, the blood of the Archdemon looked innocent sitting in his palm. It was one of three ingredients needed to become a Grey Warden but that wasn't this vial's destiny.

Leovin drifted back to the night before the final battle of the Fifth Blight when Morrigan had snuck into his room with what had been at the moment the craziest proposition he ever heard. A ritual meant to save his life? To save Alistair? It sang of blood magic and it took a lot of convincing for him to see the merits of Morrigan's scheme. One night with Morrigan and their lives would be saved. It was just sex, the witch of the wilds said plainly, meaningless touching; there was no love involved in their deal. Once the Archdemon was killed its soul wouldn't destroy his own but instead be drawn into Morrigan's womb where a child had been made hours before. An apostate mage raised by a dragon would in turn foster a boy with the soul of an old god and the wild blood of the Dalish in his veins. His blood.

He picked up the vial from the scarf and took off the golden amulet to dangle from his fingers that the mage, Sandeep he reminded himself, had created and died for. Leovin dumped the dirty water from the bowl out the window he unlatched then locked again. He paused to take a deep breath. Morrigan wouldn't be able to hide forever. He would find her and…well he didn't know what would happen after finally seeing what became of their single night together but he knew that she couldn't be left alone. Morrigan had plans and what worried the Warden the most was that he hadn't a clue what those plans were.

Carefully, he uncorked the vial and poured a few drops of the dark blood into the now empty bowl. They collected innocently at the bottom. He put the stopper back in place and set it on the silk scarf on the bed. Leovin flicked his wrist to loosen the knife in his gauntlet and drew it from it's sheathe with one hand. Now to add his blood to the mixture. The combination of the Archdemon's and his blood should be unique enough to locate the child still in Morrigan's womb. The tip of the blade drew deeply across his palm. Leovin hissed at the pain and dropped the knife on the floor ,but nonetheless held his hand over the bowl and watched the drops fall to the bottom. He didn't bother to bandage it as he mixed the blood together with his knife. There, it should be enough.

There were no magic words for this ritual or items needed aside from blood. All the magic lied in the gold and sapphire of the pendant. His injured hand unwound the necklace from his other hand's fingers and dangled it over the bowl. Finally, Leovin would find Morrigan.

Without hesitation Leovin lowered the amulet until the entire sapphire was covered in the blood mixture as well as the surrounding gold to make sure that it would work. He lifted it up and held it before his eyes to wait for something to indicate his success. Long minutes passed. Nothing changed except for the drying of the blood that turned it a reddish-brown.

The ritual failed.

Leovin didn't understand. The mage insisted that his magic was flawless and would find the person no matter the distance. Perhaps it couldn't detect people that hadn't been born yet, but Leovin was sure the fetus had matured enough for the Archdemon's soul to settle permanently in its new vessel. Could he be wrong? Had it even survived the pregnancy. Could Morrigan have had a miscarriage? There had to be an explanation for-!

Leovin stilled. At the corner of the inset for the sapphire something dull caught his eye. He dropped the bowl on the bed and cradled the pendant in his hands. Scooping down to pick up his bloodied knife, Leovin placed the tip at the dull spot. The gold scraped away easily. To his horrified eyes more and more gold fell away from his scratching dagger until a sizeable spot of grey iron greeted his eyes.

The amulet was fake.