Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has recently joined or has been reading my story all along - I appreciate the company :) And I'm really excited because this is the first chapter where I am introducing MY plot! Hope you enjoy

~The Past Has a Way~

Silently, Drea glanced at the advisors around the table - Seneschal Varel, Mistress Woolsey, and Captain Garavel. It had been three weeks since the guard had shouted the horrible news that the city was under attack, and they were only just at the point where they could again sit in the same room. Clearing her throat, she started, "So again we find ourselves in the position of having to rebuild."

"With funds from a treasury that wasn't full the first time and hasn't been replenished since," Mistress Woolsey snipped in frustration.

"In fairness, Mistress Woolsey," Seneschal Varel rose his hand, "The damage from this attack was far less than from the attack when the Commander arrived, both to people and property." The woman could not argue, and pursed her lips together as the seneschal turned to Drea, "There was one minor wall collapse and a handful of small breaches - all of which were contained quickly. It was a full week we spent under siege from the darkspawn and we did not fall…truly it's the stuff legends are made of. Frankly, I think Voldrik deserves a medal for the wall he built around the Vigil."

"I agree," Drea quickly responded, "He does deserve special recognition. Unfortunately, the damage to Amaranthine was more extensive, especially to the population. As with the first attack on the Vigil, they came into the city through a couple of cellars that they dug into from the Deep Roads. Structurally, there is not much damage to the city walls nor to most of the buildings. But with what repairs are needed, even with the way to Denerim open, it will take a long time. The only way to hurry the repairs is to encourage trade through the port - which had already begun with the temporary halting of trade through Pilgrim's Path. Once we have seen ourselves through this tragedy, we can secure our economy in a way this arling has never seen before if the people embrace foreign trade."

Mistress Woolsey nodded as she glanced at the others. "I completely agree. We are a more convenient port for the other countries than Denerim is, so if during and after this we can prove to be a port worth selling at, we will see more of the profit stay in the arling."

Captain Garavel spoke up, "This is all well and good, but is the arling even safe? The attacks have gone from bad to utterly catastrophic. Before we can even think about trying to become an ambassador city, we have to be sure we aren't just one big death trap."

Slowly, everyone turned to Drea, looking to the Commander of the Grey for answers. With her elbows on the table, she clasped her hands together and thoughtfully replied, "I believe we are safe. We have destroyed the Mother."

"Pardon my saying Commander, but that's not too reassuring. The Mother? Who even is she?" the captain asked bluntly.

"It, Captain Garavel, was the more aggressive of the two darkspawn leaders," Drea replied in a cold tone. Looking at the blank expressions staring back at her, she knew she had to explain herself. With a sigh, she started, fully knowing it sounded insane, "As you already know some darkspawn talk and can think for themselves. They had split into two warring factions. One group is led by the Architect who was the first darkspawn to gain this conscious awareness and found a way to share this with its kin. The other was led by the Mother who was upset at this conscious thought because it is only achieved through severing the mental connection with the remaining archdemons. The attacks on the farms, the city, and the Vigil were orchestrated by the Mother in an attempt to enrage us into coming down on the Architect's head, knowing it was only the Architect's existence we were aware of. While the Architect was responsible for the initial attack on the Vigil and the trouble on Pilgrim's Path, it was to specifically target Wardens. It seems the key to their sentient awareness somehow lies in our blood although I'm not too clear on that...But it is aware that we know its plans and has been driven underground. I am confident that if there are any further attacks, it will not be from the Architect, or any other sentient darkspawn."

Although neither spoke, it was obvious that the men of the room were taken aback by the rush of bizarre information. However, Mistress Woolsey did not bat an eye at the impossible sounding story, which was more a comment on her experiences than confidence in Drea as she pressed, "And how exactly did you find out about the Mother? Is that why you do not plan on going after the Architect? "

Stiffly, Drea answered, "As you suspect, it was through the Architect that we learned of the Mother. But, with all due respect, I will be sending a full report back to Weisshaupt and the First Warden can decide and pursue the best course of action. I will not waste what few resources I have on a hunt through the Deep Roads - a place where even a semi-intelligent creature cannot be found if it does not wish to. You can trust me when I say that I am not pleased in the least to have any of these self aware darkspawn still living. But if the Architect is even still in Ferelden, the only way I will see it again is if it presents itself to me which it knows would be suicide."

Mistress Woolsey was not happy to be rebuffed, but held her tongue. Noticing Garavel and Varel had fallen silent too, Drea turned to address them, "I do realize I have dropped quite an incredible story on you all today. I have seen this with my own eyes, but even so, it still sounds far fetched when I speak it out loud. Unfortunately I cannot give you time to digest it right now as I do have another group I need to speak with today. I must insist that we continue with the specific damage reports we have to date."

Her words snapped them back into the conversation and their disciplined minds pushed her disclosure to the side. There was little doubt, however, that her story would be the prime topic of discussion in the evening. The rest of the meeting was mundane, filled with the bits of information they had on the state of the arling. As it drew to a close and everyone was dismissed, Seneschal Varel held back to have a moment alone with the Commander. "Now, it may be nothing but…" he started in a hushed voice, forcing Drea to lean in to catch all his words, "But I thought you should know…that minstrel you hired? Miss Ashlyn? It seems she's more interested in combat than you'd expect from a musician. I did not see it myself, but a few of Captain Garavel's men reported that during one of the small breaches, they witnessed her taking up arms. They claim there was no mistaking the fact that she has had some strict formal training. It may be true and there may be nothing suspicious about it - the roads can be a dangerous place. But like I said…I just thought you should be aware."

Folding her arms tightly across her chest, she sighed and gave a slow nod. "Thank you, I will look into that further. However…right now I need to speak with Anders and Ambassador Cera. Could you please have them sent to my study?"

Seneschal Varel nodded as he gave a bow and left the room. By the time her and Arkon made it to the study, they did not have long to wait before the two mages arrived. Part of Drea wished she had longer between meetings, but was also relieved - she was already nervous and did not need extra time to work herself up. With very little preamble, they were directed to spots at the round table in the centre of the room. Coming over from the desk by the far wall, Drea carried some covered contents that she set on the table before them. Not yet taking a seat, Drea started, "I want you both to know that I trust you each with my life. But it is important for you to understand that I consider what is beneath these cloths to be even more valuable than that. At some point, I may tell the others what is discussed here, but for now, there is not to even be a whisper of this meeting, understood?" Turning her glare directly to Anders, she added, "If I so much as suspect you've talked to the bard…"

"Then I would expect you to kill me for that betrayal," he quickly supplied before she could finish, not even trying to crack a joke. It was evident that the events of the past few weeks had done much to tame his boyish sense of humour. The very grim tone of the meeting was set, and the gravity of her words was reflected on the faces of the mages.

Pulling the cloth from the first item, she saw a spark of recognition in Anders' eyes. "The staff from the mines at Pilgrim's Path," she agreed with his silent assessment as she took her seat. "I am clearly not a mage, and not educated in the least with such things. I think I might recognize it, but I don't know how likely that is. What I want to know is would something like this be from the Circle Tower?"

"Not bloody likely," Anders breathed, staring at the gnarled, menacing looking staff.

Darting her eyes to Anders and back to Drea, Cera quickly spoke up, "Unless perhaps it was in the relics room, no, this would not be something from the Circle Tower." Seeing the quizzical expression on Drea's face, Cera continued, "You see, the staves in use among the Circle of Magi are created by infusing lyrium in light pieces of metal that are forged to look alike. Along with our similar robes, it helps create a sense of unity among the mages. It also helps easily distinguish the level of study a mage is at - apprentices wear different robes and use different staves than a senior mage would. And, I'm not sure if it's one of the purposes, but it does help to identify a fellow Circle mage when outside of the Tower."

Anders couldn't hide his scowl as Cera spoke of the Circle, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Turning to Anders, Drea asked, "And so how does it work with apostates then? I don't imagine there's a need for a sense of unity…"

"Definitely not," he agreed. "The Circle make them sound like some holy artifact but truthfully, they aren't even a necessity; they just help to focus and enhance our own natural talents. Although I admit, when someone casts as often as I do, they're pretty important. Outside of the Circle it is difficult to obtain a full metal staff without drawing attention so, like this one, most apostates will attach lyruim-infused metal to the top of a wooden staff. The metal can be almost anything as can the wood, although lightweight driftwood is common. With these two pieces being made up of random things, the chances of coming across two similar apostate staves are incredibly unlikely. Commander…if you think you recognize this, I would say it's a good bet that you do."

Drea's heart sank with Anders' assessment. She was not surprised, but it was not what she was hoping to hear. "And…can you tell me if this is actually a staff used for magic or did I get confused by an elaborate walking stick or something?"

"Oh, it's for magic," Cera replied without hesitation.

"Coward," Anders snorted at Cera as he reached for the staff. Carefully, he picked it up off the table and held it in both his hands. He quietly gasped as a visible shudder ran down his body. With a look of irritation, he gently laid the staff back onto the table. "Well that's…cold. Not cold but…" he struggled for the words as he drew his hands back. "Chilling…it almost feels like it's trying to pull the life right out of my bones. That's no walking stick Commander and to be honest, I'd hate the meet the person that would actually choose to cast with that."

"Very well then," Drea said as she tried to ignore the sinking feeling that took over her entire chest. Pulling the second cloth off the table she revealed a leather-bound tome and a pile of ragged looking runes. "These were recovered from the underground lair of the Mother - one of the talking darkspawn," she explained to Cera. "The lair itself struck me as odd. Both Oghren and Sigrun agreed it was not of dwarven make, but it appeared to be very old - ancient even. I found the book, opened to this page, in what looked like some sort of shrine, and it was half buried in rubble. It had caught my eye because it was the only thing free of the cobwebs that covered everything else. When I looked closer, I saw the debris was made up of these smashed runes and digging through, I found some stone runes in tact - all with similar, if not identical, symbols…Do these items mean anything to either of you?"

"I'm sorry Commander," Anders apologized, "I didn't recognize these even when we were in the lair. I can only agree that the structure was very old and the shrine appeared to be used recently."

Cera's attention seemed to be drawn to the book and slowly she pulled it towards her. Sharply she asked, "Why did this book catch your eye?"

"Something about it seemed familiar," Drea kept her answer vague, knowing Cera was about to tell her more things she didn't want to hear.

"It seems familiar to me too," Cera confirmed, "It reminds me of a tome that First Enchanter Irving had in his office." Carefully examining the page it was opened to, she added, "It's even encrypted the same."

Anders kept looking between the two women, but neither of them offered him an explanation. Sitting forward in her chair, Drea asked, "Can you translate it?"

Still looking at the page, Cera slowly shook her head. "I never got much time with the other tome. I…think I can possibly make out this one word though," Cera offered as she pointed to the word in question. Drea peered at it from across the table, waiting for her to continue. "It's uh…damage, or destroy…destruction maybe? It's hard to know exactly without knowing the rest but…"

"But I think that explains what happened to the runes," Drea finished as she looked from the book back to pile of stones. "It just gets better and better," she muttered as she picked one up, gently flipping it over in her palm. "And do they mean anything at all to you?"

Tearing her focus from the tome, Cera looked to the rune that Drea was pushing towards her. "I'm sorry Commander, they do not. They look very old and nothing like I've ever seen before."

Lost in thought, Drea leaned back in her chair and gently tapped her finger to her lip. Anders crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably, frustrated he was unable to offer more while Cera returned to studying the book. Finally Drea broke the silence as she reached over and placed a rune in the centre of the tome, "Cera, I want you to take this with you and take some time to look through it. See if there is anything else you can translate from any of the pages. And see if, in any of your other books, you can find anything on these symbols. If there is still nothing, you have my permission to ask Velanna if she can shed any light. Thank you both for seeing me, I appreciate your help."

Realizing they had suddenly been dismissed, both mages rose from their chairs and Cera carefully gathered the tome in her arms. Leading the way, she was the first out of the room, anxious to spend more time with the book. Anders, however, hesitated in the doorway and let the door shut behind Cera. Turning back to Drea, he bluntly asked, "Why aren't you telling me everything? Have I done something to make you think I'm not trustworthy? Are you worried I'll talk to Ashlyn? Because I swear to you that wouldn't happen - even with my feelings for her, I understand the significance of Warden business…"

Waving him into silence, Drea shook her head. "Oh Anders," she sighed as she got to her feet, "I respect you…quite a lot, to be honest. I actually might even like you. You've proven yourself time and time again especially in these last difficult weeks. But," she paused for a moment as she looked into his eyes, trying to stress her sincerity, "It saddens me because I can already see the toll it's taking on your heart. You're getting this hardness to you…and you've only just started. I know it's inevitable…but..."

"Huh," Anders replied as a quiet spark of realization showed on his face. "You carry yourself with such severity…you've even got a cold glint permanently trapped in your eye. Despite what you want people to believe though, I'm starting to think that it's not the mark of the heartless. It's the mark of the haunted…isn't it?"

Drea held his gaze for a moment before turning away, slowly pacing from the table. "Since I was first drawn into these events I have seen things…learned things…done things that still keep me up at night. Believe me when I say that if I choose not to share things with you, it's not out of mistrust. Ignorance is bliss, Anders." She paused as she turned back to face him, offering a regretful smile, "Unfortunately, the full wisdom of that statement is only understood after it is too late."

Anders slowly cast his eyes downward, her words ringing in his ears. With a nod, he finally stood and left the room.

As the door clicked closed behind him, Drea sank into her chair while keeping an eye on the staff. "I'm starting to think the joke is on us that we thought things were bad. The Architect, the Mother, the damned talking creatures…it's all nothing. We don't even know what trouble is yet, do we boy?" she sighed deeply, turning her attention back to Arkon who crossed the room and stood at her feet. Resting his head on her lap, he sighed with her.

"What I want to know is," she added as she gently pressed her tightly balled fist against her temple, "If this is indeed the same staff, how could it end up here…from the Wilds…after I killed its owner?" Softly, Arkon whined in reply. "It could be looters," she suggested, "But then why would they have been in the mines or the lair? It just doesn't make sense."

She fell quiet for a moment as her mind raced in circles, getting nowhere. But even as none of the pieces fit, they all fell together. Since the end of the Blight, her days had been filled with forced, muddled steps, but suddenly her path was once again clearly laid out before her. The moment of clarity brought renewal and a sudden burst of energy. She pounded her fist against the table, loudly breaking the brief stillness. "But first things first," she said to Arkon as she abruptly stood up, "That bard has definitely been keeping things from us and I don't trust her one bit. We're going to be taking an extended trip, and I do not intent to leave my Vigil open to the likes of her. I just hope that Anders truly can understand the significance of Warden business…"

Quickly falling in line, Arkon easily kept up with her as she took long, confident strides down the hall towards the woman's room. Stopping at the partially opened door, it took only a quick glance to see Ashlyn was inside, with her back to the hallway. Drea's sharp eye narrowed in on the vials lined on up the table in front of her - vials that looked exactly like the poison Zevran had carried with him. Throwing the door open she demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Commander," Ashlyn gasped, as she spun to face Drea. Her eyes were wide with shock, and Drea noticed the dagger in the bard's hand. Instinctively, adrenaline rushed through her body as Ashlyn flicked her wrist. The blade moved too quickly for Drea's eyes to track, but she could see the subtle glint from the metal as it sliced through the air. She couldn't move in time.

As she heard Arkon suddenly begin to snarl viciously behind her, she felt the cold steel sink into her flesh. Lurching from the impact, she dropped onto her knees - the momentary shock stopping her from feeling the pain…