She was dangerous.

Considering her station and occupation, the fact that even grown men shifted out of her way in the streets was no surprise. Whether this was out of alarm or awe, it was not obvious. She hardly seemed to notice the way the crowd parted as she made her way in the direction of Teyrn Loghain's estate. They all turned to look after her, watching the subtle sway of her hips and the rigid line of her shoulders, the midday sun reflecting on her dark hair and blanching her already pale skin of color.

When she finally reached the tall structure, she passed into it without a shared word with any of the guards. Her unflappable confidence gave the impression of purpose, and had they not been warned of her approach, they might have let her pass regardless. She was conducted into Loghain's study by a rather nervous servant, who chatted with her amiably at first. He became silent when he garnered no reply from the woman save for a chilly nod.

The servant knocked on the door twice before calling out, "The Orlesian has arrived, my lord." Looking towards the woman, he, as many men before, appraised her for what she was - a lovely weapon. His forced politeness to the woman betrayed the true feelings beneath his welcoming smile. It was his age that made him feel so. He'd lived through the Orlesian occupation, as had Loghain. The alliance in itself was confusing enough to corner him into obedience.

"Enter."

Opening the door for her, the man watched as she did as she was told, leaving him with nothing more than the spice of her perfume. While he wasn't one to mutter and complain about his employers choices, he shut the door behind her and went about his business, mumbling his criticisms to no one in particular.

The Orlesian made her way into the study to find Loghain with his back to her, staring out of one of the room's many tall windows down at the city. "I trust your journey was eventful," he said. His voice was quiet and lined with ice. The statement begged no answer, and she did not give him one. The road was paved with darkspawn from Val Royeaux to Denerim, many killed by her own blade. Placing herself down soundlessly in a chair opposite Loghain, she crossed one long leg over the other, the blue silk of her dress pooling in her lap.

She didn't intend on initiating conversation. She was called forth from her native Orlais for work, not banter with the Teyrn. He didn't seem the sort to engage in playfully barbed retorts as it was. While she didn't make a habit out of sarcasm, on some men it was attractive.

Loghain turned to her, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. He carved an imposing figure, but she was not phased. She'd brought men like him down more than once before. After nearly a decade, his sort bored her. Still, she was not the sort to attack unless provoked, even if it would be sporting surrounded by a troop of his own guards. As she sized him up, he did the same to her. While she was slight through the waist, she was hearty. And extremely feminine to have such a reputation.

"I trust you avoided them well enough on your journey into Denerim," Loghain sniffed, "They aren't exactly well hidden." Of course, Cailan wouldn't be the kind of man to disguise his company, would he? Pompous fool. Even his father had more sense when they'd first met. Upon hearing that Maric's son had survived the battle at Ostagar, Loghain retracted to his study and plans were built up from the ground. His former strategy was dashed on the rocks with the return of the golden king. What would the people believe? Who would they believe?

The Orlesian nodded. "Your letter said nothing of their numbers," she replied. "I expected a legion and was met with a joke." An unfunny one, at that. The darkspawn must have utterly destroyed their forces, something she'd both heard and expected.

"While their numbers are few, they have the last of the Grey Wardens with them, dragging Cailan along by his collar no doubt."

The woman lifted a brow. "I saw no Grey Wardens. Soldiers, yes, and a mage, but no Grey Wardens." She could tell a Grey Warden from a regular foot soldier. Having come into contact with many of them in her years, there was an obvious difference between them, a difference she could catch on to no matter how far away from the camp she was.

Loghain's eyes flashed with an emotion she could not recognize immediately. It was gone before she knew it, leaving only clear blue behind.

"That changes things," he murmured to himself, lifting a hand to stroke his chin. She observed him with level eyes. Watching a man think was an altogether interesting experience, especially considering that most didn't bother with it at all. But Loghain was different. He was a thinker. She could tell from the lines between his brows that he was a thinker. "You will have to set out earlier than I expected. There is not time for you to rest."

"There is no need for rest," she replied, standing from the chair. Her sudden movement would've startled a lesser man so absorbed in his thoughts, but Loghain remained collected.

He nodded to her and turned to his desk, shifting a few leafs of parchment before he found the note he'd written late into the night. Moving over to the fire, he tossed it into the flames, watching as it popped and sizzled and existed no more. Turning back to the Orlesian, he beckoned her forward, gesturing to the map lying across his desk. "You will not be playing the damsel this time."

She gave him a tight smile, stepping forward to look at the map. "And I am glad for it."


A/N: Fear not, this is not meant to be a full chapter! Haha. An introduction of a new character, yes, but not a full chapter. Expect one of those later tonight. I figured it would be best to let her have her own chapter, so she wouldn't get lost in the other scenes. Enjoy!