Author's Note: Hurray, I got my first comment! :D They light up my life, can you tell? haha You may notice from here on in that what I take from the game might either be word for word or very loosely paraphrased at best. I'm happy with how it's turned out, but hopefully it's not too distracting. Anyhow...enjoy :)

~All the Teyrn's Horses and All the Teyrn's Men~

"What is this I see? Planning to sneak away are you?" A voice came from behind her. Drea stiffened slightly, pausing as she strapped the saddle bags to the horse in front of her. Instantly she recognized his voice, but it never ceased to amaze her that she was unable to hear him approach.

Looking over at him, squinting in the morning sun, she offered a small half smile. "Not at all," she assured him.

"So were you not planning to give me enough time to pack?" Zevran asked lightly. Drea shook her head in reply. "I see," he commented.

"Your oath has been fulfilled," she replied with confidence she wasn't sure she had at the moment. He cocked his head to the side, giving her a measuring look. "You were right," she added, "now that the business with the archdemon is over, I no longer have the need for an assassin."

The golden haired elf thoughtfully crossed his arms and drummed his fingers along the taut muscles of his bicep. His face had grown serious, regretful that this day had finally come. "Then let it not be said that Zevran Arainai stays where he is no longer wanted," he said quietly. He attempted to say those words lightheartedly, but his disappointed tone betrayed him.

Drea quickly secured the strap she still held and turned to the assassin. She rested her hand in the centre of his crossed arms and shook her head, "Unwanted? To say it's been an honour to fight beside you would not even begin to describe how grateful I am that you were there. But the reality is I am on my way to help restore Highever before making my way to Amaranthine, where I will be residing. Given your current relationship with the Crows, I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea for you to be stationary at a port city like that."

"Ah, of course," Zevran quickly understood. He had hoped that word of his survival and Taliesin's death would be slow to reach Antiva, but with his name quickly getting attached to the Hero of Ferelden, it was a dim hope. "My dear Warden, they also remain as a threat to you. With Loghain dead, they may be intentionally slow at carrying the contract out but truly, there is only one way to ensure your safety."

Drawing her lips together in a thin line, Drea folded her arms over her chest. Antivan politics were difficult for an outsider to fully grasp, but he had explained enough for her to understand the basics surrounding contracts. Finally, she replied, "The House must fall."

Grimly Zevran nodded, keeping his eyes glued to her. "This, I believe, gives me much to think about. Never before have I been completely free to make my own choices, but as I see it, the choice here is obvious."

"Why do I feel like I need to warn you against doing something stupid?" Drea asked with a smile playing on her lips.

Quickly, he replied, "Worry not my dear, it is merely talk at the moment."

"Even so," Drea added, "Keep in mind the King has the same contract on his head…so if you were to decide to do something stupid, it would be worth talking to him first."

"This is true," Zevran agreed. "Then it is decided…if I choose to be stupid, I will consult the King."

His double meaning was not lost on Drea and she had to stifle a laugh. When the smiles died down, they held one another's gaze for several moments, both fighting off the feeling of awkwardness. After everything they had been through, to suddenly part ways did not feel right, but rather than voice any of it, Drea simply nodded, "Then I guess this is goodbye."

Bowing deeply as he backed away into the shadow of the alcove, Zevran replied, "Until our paths cross again my dear Grey Warden." She watched him move into the blackness, virtually disappearing before her eyes. And, if it was at all possible, she was left feeling a little emptier.

The rest of the trip had been relatively uneventful. Although there had been word of small roaming groups of unorganized darkspawn, their party encountered nothing. Drea found herself disappointed as it gave her no distractions from what lie ahead. Try as she might, she knew no amount of bracing herself would prepare her for returning to Highever.

And she was correct - as soon as road became familiar, her skin began to crawl. While Fergus knew of the horror that occurred, he did not see it with his own eyes - he did not have the memories of it to haunt him. As they neared the castle, the subtle changes in her were obvious. Drea said nothing to him, but secretly Fergus began to worry that bringing her home was not a good idea. She lapsed into silence when the castle came into view, and no amount of prodding could pull her from her grim state. To her credit, she did not fall apart.

For the first several days, she merely wandered aimlessly through the castle as Arkon solemnly trailed behind her. Fergus ordered his staff not to disturb her for their own safety as much as out of respect. Slowly, Drea moved from room to room, silently watching the betrayal of the Howes unfold as the ghosts in her mind replayed the scenes over and over again.

Although the bodies had long since been removed, she stared at the lifeless form of Aldous, her tutor, as the blood pooled out from under him, soiling the library floor. Mother Mallol was missing…would they be so despicable as to kill a sister of the Chantry? Even now, Drea had no answer for that, or for what became of her beloved Nan, whose body was also missing. These were people she had known since childhood - extended family, not servants…

It was days before Drea could bring herself to look in Fergus' old room where they had found his wife and son. Finally forcing herself to confront it, she could clearly see, in her mind's eye, Oriana and little Oren sprawled out on the bedroom floor, heartlessly slaughtered. She had to furiously blink away the tears as she stood in the doorway. They were both so peaceful…they must have been so frightened…her stomach retched at the thought of their last, horrifying moments.

She turned from the room and stood in the hall. "I don't know if I can do this boy," she murmured to Arkon who loudly whined in reply. With all her heart, she wished Leliana was with her. She was possibly the only person that could help her face down the past. Looking up, she realized it was here that her and her mother tried to piece together what was happening.

"Did you see their shields?" her mother asked, hardly believing what she was about to say, "Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"

They stood with their weapons in hand, their minds scrambling to make sense of the sudden chaos. Numbly, Drea replied, "He's betrayed father! He attacks us while our troops are gone…"

"You don't suppose Howe's troops were delayed on purpose do you?" her mother asked, unsure. Finally, it was undeniable, and this realization infuriated the Teyrna, "That lying bastard! I'll cut his throat myself"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she quickly wiped away the few tears that formed. She realized there was a drink in her hand. There always seemed to be a drink in her hand. She swallowed down several mouthfuls, waiting for it to numb her senses, but it was never enough. She could still see it all too clearly - her finals words with Ser Gilmore where he begged her to go to the servant's entrance with her Father…looking for Nan and finding nothing…discovering her father bleeding out on the pantry floor…

"Come with us Father! They haven't found this entrance, we can drag you out with us," she begged, her eyes quickly filling with tears as her mother fell into silence.

"Only if you're willing to leave pieces of me behind pup," he rasped. Up until then, the carnage had not truly bothered her - she was so focused on fighting and surviving that her brain hadn't had a chance to process any of gruesome sights. Now, staring at her pale father while he struggled for each breath, it began to sink in. The hopelessness settled in around her, and her body began to shake.

Even now, she resented Duncan for pulling her away. She resented him, even knowing she would be dead now too, had he not been there to force her away.

"I won't be leaving with you darling," her mother quietly informed her.

Drea blinked in astonishment, "I…I won't let you sacrifice yourself."

Her mother reached over and grabbed her hand as tears welled in her eyes, "My place is with your father, by his side in death and whatever lies beyond." Drea shook her head against her mother's words and the Teyrna tightened her grip on her hand. The tears finally rolled down her cheeks as she finished, "We've had a good life, and we did all we could. It's up to you now…" Her voice did not crack, but her words finally got caught in her throat.

True to his word Fergus always make sure there was alcohol on hand, and made no judgments against her. Part of her knew she needed to grieve, simply grieve. But after many days of wallowing in the pain, even with the drink to dull it, it was too much. As her form of escape, Drea threw herself into the castle restoration, labouring to return each room to their initial purpose. All of the burnt items and soot had been purged from the castle, likely by the occupants Howe had assigned to live at Highever. But many of the rooms had been changed from their original function and most had been polluted with the Howe family crest.

Anything with a Howe crest on it was taken to the back of the castle to be burnt, and any salvageable furniture was stripped and refinished to be used again. Most of the furniture that had been in use at the time of the attack was destroyed during the burning of the castle, but there were old items in the bowels of the basement. Under her supervision, these pieces were brought up to be used again to furnish various rooms. Fergus would still have to eventually invest in new items, but there was enough to have the castle satisfactorily functioning.

For many months, Drea fell into a simple routine. Although she was rarely seen without a drink in her hand, she spent long days working hard to reclaim the estate. Her evenings were spent training. Even with her copious amounts of drinking, her body did not grow soft. More than one training dummy had been destroyed under her barrage of attacks, and it was obvious to most that her nightly exercises had little to do with training and more to do with savagely beating something. Despite her being relatively polite, almost all of the servants gave Drea a wide berth. They told themselves it was out respect, but the truth was, it was out of fear.

After she exhausted herself in the training room, she would wander out to the back of the castle to burn another Howe branded item. Fergus begged her to let his staff take care of it, but she refused. There was something morbidly satisfying about watching the Howe crest burn. Most of the items were banners, and they burned quickly, but thoroughly. At first, the flames would merely lick up from the logs, lightly caressing the banner fabric. But before long, the fire would take hold in the material and it would burst into flame. Sitting by the fire pit, drinking her mead deeply, she would watch the fire consume the Howe crest until it was unrecognizable. Soon, all that would remain was ash as it crumbled on itself. Like everything else around her, it too was dust.

Fergus was wracked with conflicting emotions. With all the losses he had endured, watching his sister's torture was a fresh sting. He knew this was something she had to do, face the demons of her past. But actually having to watch her pain was worse than he expected and had he not been so tied up with the Banns, he might have stepped in. The Oath of Fealty was due in a couple days, and since it had been delayed due to the restoration of the castle, the Banns were more demanding than ever. As distracted as Fergus was, he could see that her focus on the restoration was nothing short of unnerving and it was enough of a distraction to stop her from truly grieving. She needed to relax, and accept the feelings as they come. Instead, she was refusing to fall, refusing to accept her pain, and just stretching out her suffering. Coming from an honour and duty driven family, focusing on feelings was a difficult task.

It was almost midday when Drea found herself in the courtyard although the sun had not been able to break through the overcast sky. A light drizzle started as she strode across the grounds, but it did not deter her as she made her way to the woodcrafter's area. She was anxious to see what progress they had made on refurbishing some of the furniture. Faithfully, Arkon plodded along beside her, huffing loudly to remind her that he didn't want to be in the rain. His gestures went unnoticed, and in fact Drea was almost surprised when Fergus appeared to intercept her before she reached the area set aside for the crafters. He had openly walked from the side of the court, but her mind had been elsewhere.

"Drea," he called, finally getting her attention. Quickening his pace, he easily caught up to her, "My dear sister, I'm glad I caught you. I was hoping you'd come inside with me for a while,"

"No," she replied without hesitation, "I was on my way to check in with the woodcrafters."

Fergus followed her gaze to the two men working at a table set up under an overhang at the edge of the courtyard. The light rainfall had muffled the sound of their tools as they worked, but their hands were steadily in motion. "I am amazed at what you've gotten out of the servants, I must admit. I counted them as almost a hopeless cause myself."

Drea turned her attention to her brother, "You're too hard on them Fergus. Most of the…former staff…had been here since before either of us was born. They knew the internal workings of the estate better than we ever would. But all these people are completely new and everything is starting from scratch. They just need a little direction and patience."

"I suppose you're right," he admitted. "And since they are making such good progress, you can take some time off to visit with your brother can't you?" The doubtful look on her face was his answer. Without giving her a chance to counter, he continued, "Besides, they don't need you looking over their shoulders and making them nervous."

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, clearly surprised by his choice of words. "Nervous?"

"Nervous," he repeated. Slowly letting out a long breath of air, he finally added, "Look…the truth is, you make a lot of people nervous. My attendant confessed to me that most of the servants are almost afraid to be around you. They see you as rope that's drawing too much weight and is clearly ready to snap at any moment. No one wants to be around when that happens. Honestly Dre, if you were to scream, cry, and throw things you'd make them less nervous. You'd be more…human…"

Although she remained collected, Drea was at a loss for words. As far as she could see, she had treated the servants with nothing but respect, giving them no cause to fear her. Part of her realized these were words of concern, but another part felt slightly betrayed. Cutting through her thoughts, Fergus added, "Look, the Banns are preparing to swear their oaths and I was wondering…"

"If that's what this is about, I do plan on swearing an Oath of Fealty," Drea interrupted, misunderstanding his intent. A puzzled look crossed Fergus's features so Drea continued, "Obviously I cannot swear the Wardens, but I will be swearing on behalf of the Arling of Amaranthine."

"But…that's never been a formal oath?"

"I know, and look how well that served us," the bitterness crept into her tone. "The fact is what I do, what I am, does not lend itself to a long life. And so if I swear the oath for the arling that will put pressure on my successor to do the same."

"Stop. Stop talking like that, please," he replied, "The truth is Dre…if someone is going to betray Highever, they're going to do it - oath or not…" Fergus was quieted by the stern look Drea was shooting him. Clearing his throat he gently moved away from the topic, "But at any rate, this is not at all what I came to talk to you about. What I was trying to say was with the Banns busy, I actually have free time and I don't intend to waste it. I'd really like you to come and sit with me for a while." Gradually, Drea's gaze returned to the crafters at the edge of the courtyard. "No, they're doing fine. Come with me. Look, I can see you have a mug of…ale? Well I have the rest of the keg. Help me with it."

With a slow shrug of her shoulders, she conceded. "Excellent!" Fergus exclaimed. He reached over and put his arm around her, turning her back towards the castle. Arkon barked with excitement as he started towards the door. The rain had started falling harder now, and the smell of the dampened earth was wafting through the air. Almost at the entrance, the small group heard someone calling.

Drea turned towards the noise and saw a man running towards them from the gate as a Highever guard trailed after him. Spinning around, out of her brother's grasp, her hand dropped to her sword - the family sword. "Commander!" he kept shouting repeatedly as he raced towards them. As he neared, she could see he was dressed in peasant clothes and was in sore need of food and rest as the red eyes and pale skin told the tale of his weariness. Seeing he was clearly unarmed, she relaxed her stance.

Finally reaching them, the man doubled over and braced his hands against his knees, trying to catch his breath. Within a few strides, the guard caught up with an apologetic look on his face. Looking from the guard to the man, Drea finally spoke up, "Speak."

Through his noisy panting, the man produced a piece of paper from his pouch. "I…I was sent by the Seneschal of Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine." The man stopped to gasp for more air before forcefully continuing, "There has been a marked increase in darkspawn attack in the area since the end of the Blight. The entire arling is practically…under siege..."

She looked over at Fergus, who was returning her look of bewilderment. Almost in doubt that she heard correctly, Drea asked, "What?"

Finally able to stand, he lifted one arm above his head to relieve a stitch in his side, as he vigorously nodded, "It's true! Many farms have been attacked, and the Seneschal is very concerned. He is hoping you will decide to come to the Keep soon…"

Drea tightly pursed her lips together. The arling was to the north of Denerim, and with the horde being stopped there, Amaranthine was, for the most part, spared during the Blight. From earlier reports, the darkspawn had disbursed, likely driven back underground. An increase anywhere was alarming, but why further north than any of the progress the horde made during the Blight? There was not much else to consider, she had to go.

Looking at Fergus, she abruptly stated, "I must prepare for my trip, I'll be leaving in the morning. Gather what Banns you can to witness my oath this evening." Addressing the man she asked, "Will you be ready to travel by morning?"

The man blanched, turning even paler, "But…I…I was only sent as a messenger, to give you a chance to get your affairs in order. Mhairi, one of the recruits, is several days behind me to escort you back. I…I…don't want to go back. I can hardly believe I made it here in one piece…" The man was so afraid at the prospect of returning, he began to stutter through his words.

"Very well," She crisply replied, not arguing. Turning to Fergus she added, "I trust you will be able to provide for the messenger. In the morning, I will travel with Arkon."

"You can't be serious," Fergus argued instantly, "Wait and travel with this Mhairi. If what this man says is true, you'll never make it to the arling in one piece."

Drea couldn't help but smirk slightly, for a moment breaking her usually cold exterior. Gesturing to the man she pointed out, "Well he did. With my mabari, I will have far better odds and will be meeting this recruit on the road."

For the first time in the months he had been reunited with his sister, he saw a glimpse of the spark he had always known of her. She was always the fiery one, possessing the energy and determination to see things through to the end. In that small, subtle shift, he could see the glimmer of life in her eyes. And he also knew it meant there was no point in arguing. Somberly, he replied, "Well, I guess we know now why you couldn't truly fall. It seems you aren't finished being a hero yet."

Gradually, Drea's smirk spread into a knowing smile, accepting that reasoning. Looking over to the man, she plucked the note from his fingers, and replaced it with her mug of ale leaving him wide eyed and confused. Striding towards the entrance, she read the missive as she walked.