Hola!

There'll be a burst of chapters in the beginning, and then I'll start getting writer's block every few pages and then there'll be spontaneous bursts of activity. 'Tis the way of the artist, don't you think?

So here we are, chapter 3, with not-very-much Sten-stuff and more Zevran. But don't you worry your pretty heads: lotsa Sten stuff coming up. As I said in the first chapter, I'm trying lots of new things here, from seriously serious epic character development to capturing life. And, of course, I always try and spend at least two chapters introducing everyone before I get into my main characters.

TADAA~!

Disclaimer: Why does everyone seem to hate Sten on their first playthrough? I loved him, especially when he called me Kadan. :D *heart*

x.X.x

She opened her eyes to the sunrise and was awake, with no memory of the nightmares but very aware that she had somehow slept on her wrist the entire night. Standing moodily and rubbing the heel of her hand, Ara folded her blankets and stuffed them in the backpack that had been provided for her before joining the others for breakfast. Leliana, apparently, always slept a bit late-as did Zevran. Wynne called it an incurable case of lethargy, but at least Ara was not the last to wake.

"So, to Redcliffe?" Alistair asked Nesiria as Ara sat down, his mouth full with cheeks bulging. The Warden rolled her eyes.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Alistair. It's impolite." She put on an exaggerated air of motherhood, looking down on him. He made a great effort to swallow, nearly choking, and nodded.

"Right. So sorry," the Templar intoned when he had recovered. "We are beginning the journey to Redcliffe today, though, right?"

"Yes, we are. Is there anything anyone else needs from Denerim?" At this she raised her voice, addressing everyone-including bleary-eyed Leliana who was just padding out of her tent. Assuming that there would be merchants on the way where she could purchase some knives when she had the gold, Ara remained silent.

"Okay. Start packing up, someone get Bear to wake Zevran, and then we'll be off." At the last command, Alistair grinned and gleefully urged the Mabari over to Zevran's tent. The huge dog, elated at an invitation, charged into it and was rewarded with a cry of surprise and then a muttered, "I would have killed you, dog, if I slept with my knives."

Ara suppressed a smile, grateful that she had only blankets and so she needed only to roll them up, and idly wondered if she should find something else to do. Before she could convince herself to move, though, everyone was done.

It was amazingly quick, as if they had done this a million times before, and Nesiria nodded as if she expected no less. "All right, then. We're off." She led them to the Drakon River, and then they followed it, as they would on the entire journey across Ferelden.

"Ara!" Zevran's accent gave gilded edges to all of his words, but her name especially. He had a way of rolling the "r" that made her wonder if he was actually addressing her. She glanced up, and did not catch the coin he threw. But as she knelt to pick the sovereign up, another hit her ear.

"Hey!" she snapped accusingly, surprised.

"What, you do not want the gold? It is not my fault you cannot catch it."

"Well, don't chuck it at my head," she muttered, dropping the two pieces into her coin pouch. Her brother, Isaac, had made it when she was younger-but that rarely crossed her mind. Of more interest was the two-now four-coins gleaming dully in the leather's shadows, only two sovereigns away from being able to buy a good pair of knives. She pulled the drawstring, letting the pouch drop and swing from her belt before walking after the group. They had had a few battles consisting of higher ranks of Hurlock that made Ara shudder but that Wynne looked almost happy to fight, and Zevran had pick pocketed whatever gold the smaller ranks had before they were even dead. Nesiria looted the rest, but Ara got Zevran's gold-assuming she could catch it, of course. It was nearly noon, and they had been following the river since sunrise, but they still had a very long way to go.

The elf glared up at the sun, wiping her brow and calling, "If you haven't had lunch yet, I would recommend it." Ara was surprised, realizing that she was starving but unaware that they were even going to have lunch. Still, she told herself in a self-pitying tone, I've gone without lunch and dinner and breakfast for awhile. I'm used to it. Idly she wondered if it was too late for the pitiful, poor prostitute guise that might cover for her past blunders-namely neglecting to take her knives and having to steal some of the group's gold for it. Eventually she decided against it, and reached into her pack for an apple and a few chunks of heavily seasoned meat, eating quickly and then resisting the temptation for more. A few hours rolled by of listless walking, interrupted only by a few hills and sparse forests.

"Darkspawn!" Nesiria's cry rang out suddenly from the front, as well as the earth-shaking bass tremble of a Stonefist spell as it was shot from her staff, melting into the earth as it shattered at the chest of a Hurlock. Ara jumped.

"Well, don't start without me!" Morrigan retaliated, falling into her spider form and constricting the Genlocks with a thread of silk so that Nesiria's Tempest could take them out. Alistair and Zevran stayed close to one another, Alistair taking the brunt of the attacks while the assassin slipped in and out. Ara watched, half-awed and half-irritated as each Darkspawn fell at once. Only when they were gone and laying prone on the dirt, tiny puncture wounds in the backs of their necks or ribs, did she catch a glimpse of the Crow's blond hair whipping to the next one. Alistair both weakened and distracted them, and so the two held their own quite well.

Sten, she noticed, fought alone. Despite the obvious training behind his sword, discipline Ara was sure she would be hard-pressed to achieve, he looked slightly uncomfortable at every strike. Every time he swung, though there was an enormous amount of power behind it, he looked almost like he was reorienting himself, as if his sword was not as long as he thought it was or it swung slower than he anticipated. It took her a long time of watching him to realize it, eventually concentrating absolutely on his every strike and then realizing she was staring. Not before, however, she saw the expression on his face every time the blade connected: uncomfortable, and even a little annoyed.

Morrigan fought alone as well, switching quickly between her forms to both use the animals' abilities and her own magic. She still seemed a little clumsy in her bear form, but with the spider she looked far too lethal for Ara's liking.

Wynne and Nesiria were partnered as well, taking turns healing and covering the other's back while their staffs rejuvenated their magic. They had virtually the same skills in their arsenal, though Wynne was much more accomplished in healing and Nesiria had an array of elemental spells at her disposal. Together they took on two, sometimes three or four enemies at a time, and every now and then Nesiria sent out a quick Winter's Grasp or Cone of Cold to make sure they weren't overwhelmed.

Leliana, of course, stayed back and shot a continuous stream of arrows into the fray where the Darkspawn were gathered the thickest. She may have been overly careful not to hit her allies, Ara thought, but perhaps she had good reason.

Bear did a good job of distracting them, but his teeth and claws weren't much of a match for armor. Mostly he ran in circles.

Ara stayed back, away from Leliana and away from the fight. Weaponless and feeling horribly useless-with no small degree of frustration and anger at this fact-she watched the fight carefully and resisted the temptation to sit down and doze. She didn't know anyone here particularly well-while it would not be a joy to her if they died, she was never one to ignore humanity, and watched their movements to try and learn from them.

The fight took a minute or two, nothing but a flurry of movement and whirling staffs and swords to Ara, though she tried to follow it as best she could. The last Darkspawn had a sword run through its chest, fell, and for a moment they relaxed. Leliana lowered her bow, but it was too soon.

Ara heard the breathing as if the creature were right behind her, and then a throaty, rumbling, purring growl. It was strange, as if the sound itself vibrated, and then came the rapid thudding of huge footsteps. Her eyes widened in dread, looking up from under a heavy brow, as an Ogre thundered up the hillside and over the horizon like some misshapen mountain rising out of the earth.

"Petrify it if you can." Wynne's low voice carried easily, and Nesiria glanced back with panic rapidly disappearing in her gaze as she nodded and closed her eyes. The Ogre kept coming, and behind it was a league of Hurlocks and Genlocks alike, the almost turtle-like bodies of the latter forming a waist-high barrier between their superiors and the Warden.

Ara only remembered them getting closer, and then they were upon Nesiria, who stood at the front with Alistair and Morrigan. In a wave they surged over to Zevran and Sten, and then to Wynne and Bear, and now they were heading fast for Leliana. She picked them off where she could and Ara's backtracking became faster and faster, but the Orlesian shook her head and stowed her bow quickly, snapping a knife out of its sheath and beginning a lethal dance around the Darkspawn.

"Don't run!" she called. "They'll follow you!" At this she spun another short, stout dagger toward Ara, who let it fall to the ground and then bent to pick it up. Leliana's cry had turned the attention of a Hurlock to her, though, and it broke off and started for the weaponless bystander. She swallowed, waiting to see what it would do and hoping her instincts would keep her alive from there, but when the creature swung a huge sword she screamed and fell out of the way.

Zevran's advice to stay on her feet made sense now as she scrambled back up only to hit the deck again, trying to avoid the sword and at the same time attempting to gain purchase in the Hurlock's armor-or, really, just getting her blade within a foot of its torso would have been nice as well.

Finally she rolled far enough away that she could pop up and gain her bearings back, though she was by no means nimble on her feet. The Hurlock swung again and Ara skittered backwards as well as she could, trying not to stumble as she circled in order to get in at its back. The Darkspawn, however, could pivot in one place far quicker than she could make an entire revolution around it, and the entire endeavor seemed rather hopeless, She saw her chances every time it swung, and if she had more confidence in her skill she might have ducked in around its guard and plunged the blade into the Hurlock's throat as the creature's sword went down. Surely a slab of steel that heavy could not be moved as fast as Ara could, momentum or not. But this, she knew well enough, was an amateur tactic-and whether or not it worked against this kind of enemy was a chance she wasn't sure she was willing to take.

Acting on a strange impulse, Ara decided to stop. Her feet halted, and she stood quite still for a moment. The Hurlock paused as well, and Ara began to move the opposite direction before it could raise its sword. She had a feeling that she was faster, not as burdened by armor and weapons and with far lighter boots, and was beginning to realize that she, in essence, controlled the creature. She stopped again and reversed direction, and the Hurlock copied her movements to keep her at its front. Ara could turn him whichever way she liked, though it was a rather deadly game she had created.

In retrospect, and as she might realize later, the Hurlock was probably far more tactfully adept than the girl, and was only waiting for her to make a move so that it could defend, find an opening, and attack. It read her every move, trained for every kind of situation, and was not really being controlled by her-their roles could easily have been switched, though Ara had the advantage because she was the one trying to get to its back. It had to defend as well as attack, while she really had nothing to defend and no means by which to do so.

As it was, luck was also on her side.

Ara began switching directions faster, hoping the Hurlock hadn't realized what she was doing-though, also in retrospect, it was not very subtle-and at the moment she moved in Morrigan dealt a killing blow to the Ogre.

Its rolling growl died off, choked quite suddenly, and every Darkspawn felt its presence sink into the earth. The Hurlock, believing-as all Hurlocks do-that their leader had been immortal, let its concentration on Ara waver for a few moments as it tried to figure out what had happened.

It never regained said concentration, for at that moment she pivoted her feet and darted around to his open side, springing up on her toes to plunge her spike-dagger into the creature's jugular and stumbling out of the way as it gurgled and swayed, lurching forward for a last few swings at her head. Ara had scooted well out of the way, eyes wide, and stood slowly when the creature's twitching subsided. With bloody hands she walked over to Leliana and offered the dagger back, but the Orlesian shook her head.

"Your first kill, right?" she asked in her delicately accented voice. Ara nodded. "Then you must keep the weapon!" A smile broke out on Leliana's face, and she pushed the dagger back. "You will treasure it someday."

"If I survive," Ara muttered, but felt a few stirrings of elation. She had killed a Hurlock, really killed it, all on her own. It was its own fault that it had been distracted, she told herself. I can hold my own.

"Ah, so my lessons did come in handy, did they not?" Zevran's voice was a little behind her, and Ara turned.

"Oh, garbage," Leliana said immediately. "She did not use your fighting style at all, blackbird. You do not play mind games."

"We are Crows, not blackbirds," the elf answered stiffly.

"I see no difference."

"Crows are sometimes brown."'

"Oh, sorry. Then I shall alternate between calling you brownbird and blackbird, shall I? Don't be ridiculous, Zevran." At this Ara had to laugh, happy to get out a little of her resentment at his little teaching lesson the night before. His eyes narrowed.

"Fine." Before he could walk away, Nesiria's voice carried over to them.

"Everyone all right?" she asked, and glanced at the fallen Hurlock corpse a few meters away from where they stood, blood slowly congealing around its throat.

"Fine," Ara answered, and Nesiria nodded at the felled Darkspawn that was so far away from the main fight.

"Your kill?" she asked, and Ara dipped her head.

"With what? Your bare hands?"

The girl's lips twitched, and Leliana laughed.

"I lent her my dagger, but it is hers now," the Orlesian explained, and Nesiria nodded with a grin.

"Perfect. So you have a weapon now, though I might suggest getting another for the sake of it. That one is a little short-range." Ara found herself laughing.

"I have to agree with you," she said, giving a genuine smile for the first time in awhile. The dagger was, in essence, a spike on a hilt, and she might prefer having a mid-length weapon. Alistair walked over and clapped her on the back.

"Welcome to the nightmare committee," he said. "Now you get to dream about the things you've killed instead of the innocent dreams of your past."

"Fun," Ara answered dryly. "I'm honored."

The Templar laughed and then asked Nesiria, "Shall we keep going, since no one seems dead yet?"

"Good idea," she agreed. "Ara, you want to see what you can find by way of weapons or gold on that Hurlock?"

The girl nodded and walked over, kneeling by its side and rifling through the armor and pouches on his belt until she found a leather bag with a sovereign and a few silvers inside. She transferred these to her own wallet and stood, walking back to the others.

"All right," Nesiria said cheerfully. "Let's go."

They kept walking, and Ara now found Leliana keeping pace with her instead of letting the girl trek moodily in the back of the group. The bard was welcome company, telling stories and singing a little as well as making Ara tell her everything about what she thought of their group-though Leliana was careful not to probe too deeply into her situation before they had met her. It was appreciated, and she did get a few words out here and there.

Ara was the first to spot the merchant wagon, parked next to a grassy knoll that was rimmed by a dilapidated fence. Nesiria gestured for her to stop, and Ara quickly purchased a long, almost short-sword-like dagger that was slung across her back. She tried to unsheathe and sheathe it a few times, but felt quite sure she would never be able to do so as quick as she would need to in a fight. Even so, it was a very useful weapon paired with her little spike-dagger-provided she could get it out in time.

They kept walking, and as night was falling another attack was upon them. Bolstered by her earlier victory and the fact that she now had more than her fingernails to fight with, Ara jumped into the battle.

She was quickly overwhelmed: fighting Darkspawn on all sides was nothing like strategizing against one. She had no time to think, and-in fact-quickly realized that she had had virtually no training whatsoever. So she swung her weapon blind, not knowing what to do and thanking the Maker every time the blade connected with Darkspawn hide. She lost all sense of direction, and couldn't back out of the battle because she didn't know where she even was.

Then a blade blocked hers and she lashed out the other way on instinct, thinking it was a Hurlock's weapon. But Sten was there instead, back turned to her and one hand catching the hilt of her dagger until her battle-fervor wore away. He stepped back, still defending at his front, and forced Ara backwards until she stood at the rim of the fight again.

"Stay back," the Qunari commanded in a low voice, and though she saw his logic it did nothing to soften her anger.

"I can take care of myself," she snapped, almost involuntarily. He did not look at her, or respond, but the set of his shoulders was almost protective-though not protective of Ara, at least not in the way she might have liked. He was protecting the others from her, or her from herself. She sighed angrily, feeling her teeth grit as she glowered up at Sten from under her brow, and took a few leaden steps back. He nodded without turning to look, but as the Qunari began to step back into battle he turned and met her gaze, as if silently taking the thunderstorm there, and then disappeared back into the fray.

The rest of them made it look quite easy, and Zevran even looked like he was having fun. Ara sulked on the outer rim, feeling conflicted. She wanted to prove that she could fight, but every time she tried she only proved the opposite. Still, she would never prove it if she never fought, but she hated the thought of practicing with Zevran every night with no chance to show anyone else her skills until one was given.

The battle ended as Ara knew it would have, with the utter defeat of the unsuspecting Darkspawn, and Nesiria did a quick check for injuries before they started up again.

"Start looking for a place to camp," she called, glancing at the fiery horizon. "We should turn in soon."

Wynne found one, nestled in a grove of trees that preceded a larger forest up ahead like a warning. Nesiria nodded, bushwhacking for a little while until she found a relatively large clearing and began to set up tents and start the fire. As soon as everything was set up and night had cloaked the sky completely, they ate a quick dinner and then Ara reluctantly followed Zevran to a canopy of shadows where they could practice in muted voices. At least he was giving her some degree of privacy, she sighed. It could be worse.

"All right," he began, unsheathing his weapons. "You have a blade now, so you have no excuses. What did you learn last night?"

Ara tracked her thoughts to the previous day, glancing up at the trees. "Don't let my hand hang limp," she said, remembering slicing the back of her palm open on his knife. He nodded.

"I thought you might think of that first. Is there anything else?"

"Stay on your feet."

"Yes!" Zevran smiled, though it took on a slightly conceited air. "Then we are ready to begin." He swung an experimental strike to the top of her head, and Ara just barely scraped her own blade against it in time. Zevran gave a brief nod and jabbed another knife at her ribs, and she yanked her single long dagger down to block that one as well. He clucked. "Your head has just been cleaved open, sweet."

"I can hardly block with my other dagger," Ara muttered, though she realized what she probably should have done a moment later.

"You don't have to stay so close," Zevran answered, confirming her thoughts. "Avoid my blades when you can."

She nodded and backed up again, and this time when Zevran attacked she blocked it from the side and kept her knife where it was while she retreated as far as possible to evade his second strike. He nodded, taking the first blocked blade out of the way and going for her other side so that, for a moment, she was sandwiched between them and Zevran's arms had crossed to form an X in front of his protégé. On an impulse, Ara shoved the left dagger farther left, taking its empty space to avoid the right and backing up even farther. Zevran nodded again.

"You think well," he told her. "But you are far too slow. You think too much, which slows your movements enough for me, moving instinctively, to match you."

"So what would I do about that, then?" Ara asked. "Practice?"

"I learned to turn my mind off." Zevran shrugged helplessly. "Perhaps you could do the same. It is not, however...something I could teach you." His shoulders rolled again. "I do not know how I was taught, either."

"Okay...so what now?"

"We keep practicing until your speed improves. I think you may be able to learn simply by learning your movements well." And with that, the lesson continued.

x.X.x

DAYUM.

Zevran is SO ANNOYING TO KEEP IN-CHARACTER. I can imagine him talking, but I can't translate that properly into my writing. Suggestions are welcome, and believe me, I'm trying. XD

WOOO~!