This is a day 'late' (according to my own weekly schedule that I want to try and keep), but whatever. We're back to Mora!

She won.

Usually, she kept a tight hold over her emotions while on the job. No matter what she had to do, if she didn't appear to be the deadly enforcer that Beraht wanted, things could get bad for her.

But now she had a helmet on, and it covered her whole head. No one could see anything except possibly her eyes, and even those were shadowed more often than not.

Looking down at the unconscious body in front of her, Mora let loose a wild grin.

Her victory (as Everd, of course) was declared, and she walked out of the arena back to 'her' room. Awaiting her inside were Everd, still passed out, and Leske. As she closed the door behind her, Leske spoke.

"Wow," he laughed. "That was damn impressive! And with someone else's weapon and armor, no less."

Mora removed her helmet, the mask returning to cover up her grin. "He didn't seem poisoned."

Leske winced.

"Look, I tried, okay? But he didn't want some casteless slumming it near his room, and he didn't leave the damn place until his fight. Not even to see the prince fight!" He threw up his arms in disgust. "I don't know what he was doing in there, but I didn't have any chance to get in there. You did well enough anyway."

She let a small smirk out. "A shield instead of a dagger made it tough, and all this armor weighs me down. But I told you before, I'm better."

Leske rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. But just remember, you've still got two matches left. Your next match is almost definitely gonna be Adalbo. Last year's Journeyman Division champion, no way he's losing in the first round. Then it's the finals, and who knows what opponent you'll get there."

"With my luck, the prince." Leske paled.

"Don't even joke about that, Mora," he told her. "If you go up against the prince, we're screwed whether you win or lose!"

"Then if it comes to it, I might as well win."

Leske just sighed. "Let's… just hope it doesn't come to that, okay?"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It came to that, was all Mora could think as she walked into the arena for the final match.

Across from her was Prince Daren Aeducan.

"You've put on a great show, Everd," the prince told her. She forced herself not to react. As long as he didn't act on whatever suspicions he might have, she might be able to escape.

The Proving Master's voice rang out. "The final match! Prince Daren Aeducan, Orzammar's soon-to-be commander, versus Everd, an up-and-coming warrior who has shown great promise today!" Pausing to let the crowd's cheers die down, the man continued. "For the honor of Prince Daren, and for the warriors who have fought to prove themselves worthy of the Grey Wardens… Let the match begin!"

Mora carefully advanced. Normally, she would've shot forward as fast as she was capable of, but with heavy armor and a shield, that wasn't an option. Instead, she held her shield in front of her, moving towards her opponent one step at a time.

Prince Daren wasn't moving at all. He simply stood there, waiting for Mora to reach him. She barely held back a snarl. He was taunting her, and she couldn't let him get to her. Even if Everd would have fallen for it.

He hadn't said anything, but Daren knew. Mora had no proof that he did, but it was obvious in the way he was acting. The way the prince had said Everd's name, the pointed looks at the dagger she held, and even in the way he just stood there.

He knew.

But hell if she wasn't going to at least win before she died.

Finally, she got close enough, and Prince Daren finally moved. Both fighters started circling each other, holding their shields up to hide their movements. The crowd had fallen silent, or at least so it seemed to Mora. For all she knew, all the dwarves were screaming their heads off, but her focus was on herself and her opponent, nothing more and nothing less.

There!

She moved, barely making it out of the way of a sword strike (the armor made her so slow), and her attempt to counter was easily parried.

Backing off, Mora noticed that Daren didn't even attempt to come after her, obviously taking a defensive position and letting her attack instead.

At least he was taking her seriously.

Finally letting out an angered growl (what did it matter, he already knew), Mora charged him. By the widening of his eyes, he hadn't expected her to make a move like this. But she could already see him calming, ready to react and counter her blow.

She grinned underneath the helmet, keeping her shield in front of her as she ran. Just as she reached him, she tensed as if she was going to leap forward at him – he responded in kind, raising his own shield to ward her off and create an opening for a decisive blow –

– and Mora dove past him, lashing out with her dagger and slicing Daren along the hip where there was a gap in his armor.

The crowd roared in rage. Mora knew exactly what they were thinking – dishonorable, underhanded, using tricks to win – but to them, it was terrible because it was Everd, the underdog warrior caste who was pulling these moves.

Mora wondered if they'd be angrier or not if they knew it was a casteless who was attacking this way. Probably angrier. After all, then it would be a casteless assaulting their Prince with an underhanded attack.

But Prince Daren already knew she wasn't Everd, so why should she bother fighting like him anymore?

The prince twisted away, adjusting for the wound but barely showing that he'd gotten hurt. Mora raised her dagger and shield again, this time wielding the shield almost like another weapon. Both fighters tensed, readying themselves to clash again.

"I- I'm ready for my fight!" Despite the crowd, this statement was more than audible to the two combatants, and was followed by a loud hiccup.

Mora went cold. Slowly craning her neck to look at whoever spoke, her fears were confirmed, and her life crashed down around her ears.

It was Everd. Still drunk, stumbling around half-dressed, but it was Everd. The person she was supposed to be right now.

Shit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Daren glanced up at Everd, and then focused back on the imposter he'd been fighting.

The imposter's slash at his hip had been clever, albeit dishonorable. He'd faced dirtier tricks from the darkspawn, though. Being the disgusting creatures they were, darkspawn had no sense of honor, and would attack any way they could. But the attack from the fighter pretending to be Everd had proven to Daren, without a doubt, that they were someone else.

Not that he'd needed the proof at that point, but it was more evidence for him to confront the unknown warrior.

The real Everd appearing, drunk and half-dressed, revealed the imposter to everyone in the arena and forced Daren's hand.

"Reveal yourself, imposter." He'd rather have confronted them in private, but the audience was in an uproar at the idea that someone had tried to steal Everd's identity for the Proving.

The imposter lowered their head. Daren could only assume they were realizing the futility of their situation. But then they raised their head and Everd's helmet stared directly at Daren. Slowly, they raised their hands and removed the helmet to reveal the face of a young woman. Ragged locks of brown hair fell down as the helmet came off, brown eyes were revealed…

…and the brand of a casteless was blatantly stamped on the woman's left cheek.

Dimly, Daren was aware that the arena had fallen deathly silent. The Proving Master and Gorim had risen from their seats up in the balcony, as had many in the crowd. Others were collapsed into their seats.

His own thoughts were torn.

On one hand, this casteless had sullied the Proving. Snuck her way into a tournament meant only for warriors and nobles, dishonored the Dwarven Ancestors by participating in a Proving. The warriors that participated in Provings honored their Ancestors by doing so, honored the dwarves of ages past, and a casteless fighting in the Provings was a disgrace to them.

However… this casteless had beaten two skilled warriors before him. Mainar and Adalbo were strong, and to defeat them – with what was likely a disadvantage, Daren absently noted, given the woman's discomfort with using a shield – was no small feat of ability. Not only that, but in the short amount of time they had fought, she had landed the only blow of the bout on him, once again despite her disadvantage.

A fighter of that skill, with the adaptability and talent required for that…

To sentence them to death seemed a waste.

But regardless of what he would have chosen, the choice was removed from Daren's hands.

"Seize her!" The Proving Master bellowed. "Arrest the brand for disgracing the Provings!"

The roar of approval from the guards was accompanied by their surge towards the woman who had been impersonating Everd.

She simply stood there, expressionless as she had been since she'd removed her helmet. Then, her expression began to change.

Her lips twisted upwards, and she laughed maniacally with a wild grin on her face. When the guards hesitated, surprised by the unusual response, she struck.

Throwing her shield at a guard, she ran at another and slashed at the backs of his knees. He crumpled to the ground, and the other guard stumbled backwards as the shield slammed into his helmet. The rest of the guards surged forwards, and the woman fought them with reckless abandon, taking blows on her armor in order to land her own attacks.

She took four guards out of the fight before the woman was finally subdued and knocked unconscious.

As she was dragged off, Daren continued to watch from his spot on the arena floor. He hadn't moved since the helmet had been removed.

"My lord?" The prince almost flinched from the sudden voice. He turned to see Gorim behind him, staring at him with worry.

"…Come, Gorim. We've likely kept my father waiting." Without another word, he strode out of the arena, Gorim trailing after him.

Daren paid no attention to the wound on his hip slowly leaking blood until Gorim forced him to stop and bandage it before they entered court.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mora's return to consciousness was accompanied by aching pain.

Strained muscles, countless bruises, especially on her stomach, a few scratches, and one blinding headache. Her eyes opened and, ignoring the increased pain from her headache at the light, Mora took in her surroundings.

Stone walls and floor. Some broken pieces of wood in a corner. Bars along one wall. The painful light was from a torch on the other side of the bars.

Mora knew a jail cell when she saw one, and with that realization came the memories from before she had been knocked out. The Proving, the fight against the prince, Everd appearing and forcing her to reveal herself.

"Oy, salroka!" Her head turned toward the hoarse whisper. Right next to her cell was a matching set of bars. The other cell was dark, but she was able to make out a familiar figure hunched over on the floor.

"Leske." Mora's throat was painfully dry, and her voice came out as a rasp. "Caught?"

"Yeah, they found me right after they got you. Burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this." He waited a moment before continuing. "And then Beraht got to them."

Mora felt a chill run through her body.

"Where-?" She broke into painful coughing before she could finish her question. Likely due to the combination of the Proving, the fight with the guards, and whatever abuse the guards put her through while she was unconscious. Mora also suddenly noticed that she was in the thin clothing she wore underneath her armor – the guards had likely stripped her of Everd's armor.

In the darkness of the other cell, she heard Leske take a breath to answer her, but the sound of footsteps approaching the cells silenced his response.

Jarvia stepped into view, and her presence confirmed Mora's suspicions of where they were. The Carta's jail, hidden and not known for housing prisoners for very long.

"Good, you're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that." Jarvia glared at Mora.

"You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation." The dark-haired woman smirked. "You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you." She paused, as if waiting for Mora to respond.

Instead, Leske spoke up. "Look, let us talk to him. We can explain-!"

"All he needs to know is that she exposed him before the entire Warrior caste." Jarvia sneered, gesturing to Mora. "Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you're a threat."

With a sharp grin, she continued. "Enjoy your last night together. Sorry we had to put you in separate cells, or I'd suggest you have a last tumble." Mora glared at the woman. Jarvia had never liked her, and the situation made the woman's mocking all the more infuriating.

"Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence." Jarvia turned around and walked away. Replacing her was a burly thug, obviously meant to guard them.

At least until Beraht showed up to kill them.

Jarvia's footsteps slowly faded away. Mora and Leske traded glances – even with a guard posted, this was their best chance to escape.

Abruptly, Mora clutched at her stomach with her cuffed hands, hunching over near the bars. She even let out a moan, her face scrunched up in a pained expression.

When the guard looked over, Leske spoke up. "What are you doing? You think Beraht wants to arrive and see one of his victims already dead and rotting with some type of plague? I doubt he'll be happy that you let some sodding sickness rob him of killing her personally!"

The Carta thug looked skeptical, but walked up to Mora's cell to get a better look at her. "Look, unless she's gonna die in the next few hours, I doubt Beraht will-"

Mora's hands shot out, her arms just thin enough to slip through the bars side-by-side, and gripped the guard's throat as tightly as she could. He immediately began to struggle, but Mora yanked him forward to slam into the cell door. The thug's head struck the bars once – twice – three times, then he stopped moving.

Dropping the unconscious – or possibly dead – man, Mora crouched down and reached through the bars near the floor. She quickly found and took the keys on the guard's belt, and used them to unlock both her cuffs and the door to her cell. Once she was out, Mora tossed the keys into Leske's cell.

"Nice work, salroka," he told her, rubbing at his wrists. "Any plan beyond getting outta this sodding place?"

"Not yet." Mora was already at a nearby chest, opening it. In it were Leske's armor and weapons. She beckoned him over, and he equipped himself as quickly as possible.

Once he was done, Leske looked over at Mora and frowned. "You gonna be okay?"

"Toss me your dagger." He did, and Mora took a moment to test its balance. "Alright, let's go."

"Without any armor?"

Mora stared at him blankly. "Only armor is that guy's," she said, pointing to the thug laying outside of her cell, "and it wouldn't fit. We come across someone my size, and I'll take theirs."

He shook his head, but Leske stopped arguing and the pair moved away from the jail cells.

They took their time moving through the Carta hideout. Neither of them had spent much time in the winding tunnels, and there were a large number of other Carta between them and the exit. Thankfully, most of them weren't exactly observant, and Mora and Leske were able to take them down before the thugs even knew they were there. The rest, they were able to sneak past. Early on, they had found a thug close enough to Mora's size, and so by the time they found an exit, Mora was wearing a decent suit of leather armor.

Mora and Leske froze when they heard Beraht speaking in the room ahead of them.

"I'm cutting the whore free," they heard the Carta leader's voice drawl. "If that freak of a sister of hers can't stay in her place, I don't need precious Rica, either."

The other two thugs made comments about wanting Rica for themselves, but Mora wasn't listening. She sprinted towards the room where Beraht was, ignoring the hissed curses coming from Leske.

"She's yours if you want her, boys! And let me tell you-!" Beraht cut himself off as Mora threw herself into the room. Swearing furiously, he and his two companions went to draw their weapons, but the casteless woman reached one of the thugs before he got his blade free of its sheath.

The first dagger ripped into the man's throat, while the second dagger – she had taken daggers along the way and returned Leske's dagger – went straight through the thug's eye and into his brain. Mora removed the blades and let the dead body collapse to the floor. Beraht and the other Carta member had their weapons out by the time Mora turned to face them.

"Don't you dare," Mora glared at Beraht with ice in her eyes, "talk about my sister like that."

"What are you doing out of your cage, whore?" Beraht growled at her. "Looks like you need to learn your lesson about how to treat your betters."

Mora gave a short, toneless laugh, and then rushed at Beraht. His underling moved to attack her, but had to dodge a dagger from Leske, who had followed Mora after her rush into the room.

While Leske and the Carta thug fought, Mora was viciously assaulting Beraht. The man had gotten to his position through violence, and he was a skilled fighter. But he was out of practice. Being head of the Carta meant Beraht wasn't getting into fights, not wanting to give anyone an opportunity to kill him.

Ironically, that meant that Mora now had the perfect opportunity to kill Beraht.

They continued to trade blows, but eventually Beraht slipped up. The Carta boss dodged one of Mora's daggers, only to literally dodge straight into the other blade. He tried to retreat, but the wound gave Mora the opening she needed.

Her daggers flashed, and Beraht fell to the floor, his throat bleeding from parallel slash wounds.

"Well ain't that sodding satisfying to see!" Mora almost jumped when Leske spoke up suddenly. "You've got to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht's dead and we're standing here. Hail to the sodding king!"

Mora scoffed. Leske was far too excited over Beraht's death. Ignoring whatever else the man was saying, Mora moved towards the exit.

As she made her way up the steep tunnel, Leske fell in step behind her. "So, where to now?"

"I'm going to make sure Rica's okay."

Her partner-in-crime grinned. "Well, from the way Beraht was talking, it sure sounded like it. But I wouldn't say no to going and taking a look," he added with a leer. Mora's glare had less of an effect on the expression than she would have liked.

"Hey, speaking of Rica… You mind telling her I was the one to off Beraht?" At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "It doesn't do you any good if she thinks you're the most virile warrior in all the Stone, but me…?"

This time, Mora's glare did a much better job of cowing him. "Let's just leave before the guards show up."

Leske winced. "Good idea. Although if Beraht's got them trained like he always boasted, it should be a good long time before they show up. If they even know about any of this, anyway." He had a fair point. The guards were likely searching for the two of them in force, but the Carta hideout was fairly well hidden. Even if the guards knew that the Carta was involved, there was a chance they might not find the hideout.

The pair reached the end of the tunnel, which led out into one of the shops in the Commons. By the way the shopkeeper reacted to Mora and Leske, he was one of Beraht's men, either through threats or greed. Mora ignored him; if the man told the guards they had passed through, he'd have to reveal that he had a tunnel into a Carta hideout hidden in his shop.

Exiting through the door, she realized that the shopkeeper might have already sold the Carta out.

A full complement of guards greeted Mora and Leske upon leaving the shop, along with the Proving Master from before, an armored human, and Prince Daren himself.

Leske summed up her thoughts rather aptly.

"Well, shit."

And there we go! Mora's story is essentially wrapped up here - the very last of her origin will get wrapped up in the next chapter, and then we get to wrap up Daren's story.

I intend to skip around and summarize a lot of stuff when I finish up Daren's story - there's a lot of various things to cover, and given that most people have played the game, I feel that having them briefly "thought about" or "remembered" and then moving on should work best. Hopefully that will still read well, and not turn into boring chunks of text.

See you next chapter! Drop a review if you have anything to say - it's always nice to hear what your opinion is, even if there's a lot of stuff you didn't like in a chapter.