Warning: NSFW

"South of the fortress is where the main battles have been fought and where the bulk of the hoard lies. The Grey Wardens' encampment is in the lower wing of the fortress. You'll join them once you're officially part of the Order." Raviathan was listening to Duncan but couldn't help look up and about at the old fortress. It was possibly the largest structure he had ever seen up close. It was like they were rats crawling through a human's house as they entered the wide entrance from the Imperial Highway. Massive arches, some broken with age, rose overhead, casting long shadows into the keep. The land was slowly retaking the fortress with the speed of a glacier. Enough earth had swept up from the valley below that vegetation and even trees had found a home for their roots. The trees were over a century old, and as they grew unchecked, their roots would gradually pull the stone of the fortress apart.

The sharp sound of steel horse shoes on stone clattered from further inside the fortress wing as a small band of warriors rode towards them. Duncan was clearly surprised to see the familiar fair face approach them just as they got to the entrance at Fort Ostagar. The lead human's heavy golden armor clanked as he rode with careless enthusiasm to meet them. "Ho there, Duncan," the pale blonde man said, swinging down easily from his heavily armored destrier. One of the mounted guards dismounted so he could hold the reigns of the king's horse.

"King Cailan," Duncan said recovering himself, and Raviathan thought he heard a note of discomfort. "I hope all has been going well in my absence."

"You've been gone for months now. I almost suspected you were skipping out on the blight." The king's voice sounded like champagne, light and fine yet essentially frivolous. It made him sound younger than his years and was at odds with his large heavy plate armor and imposing stature.

"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty," Duncan replied with solemn dignity. Raviathan wasn't sure, but it seemed that Duncan sounded sad. What had caused that?

"Good that you arrived when you did," the king continued blithely. "We've won every battle against the darkspawn since you've been gone, four in all, and expect another attack shortly. This will be a glorious battle with a full horde, and if you're right about the archdemon, the first blight to touch Fereldan soil. We'll show all the rest of Thedas our might when we put an end to the darkspawn in such record time." The king immediately set to posing with Duncan as if for an audience. Cailan cut an impressive figure with his long golden hair matching his armor. He was quite handsome too, pale with a shadow of dark stubble and clear blue eyes, but Raviathan got the distinct impression of an eager puppy rather than a king. "The other Wardens told me you found a promising new recruit, and from an alienage no less. I take it this is he?"

Duncan's dark if weary voice seemed impressive, as if it had more gravity, next to Cailan's light tenor. It set their ages apart quickly and made the king sound more like a boy than ever. What had caused this change in Duncan? Wasn't he looking forward to meeting with the King again? It was and honor after all, but then maybe he was use to it. "Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty."

"There's no need to be so formal, Duncan," the king replied lightly. "We're to be comrades in arms after all. Your name… let's see, what was it? Riv- something? Rivtan. Yes, that's it."

Raviathan averted his gaze down in deference. The king's presence hadn't been a problem as long as they discussed other things, but when he became the king's focus, he felt a wash of nerves. He wished he could keep his defiance and say something withering like, 'I am no friend of yours, human lord', but this was a king. An actual king. The king. Nobles took no notice of elves as rightful people, never bothered with names, and this was the king. The whole thing was far too strange. If a dragon fell out of the sky Raviathan would have felt more normal. "Thank you. Yes, Your Majesty. Um, everyone calls me Rav." Oh Maker, had he just thanked the king for not knowing his name? Stupid, stupid, stupid. If Shianni could see him, she'd laugh her… and then Raviathan remembered that her laughter was gone.

The king had an easy chuckle which did nothing for Raviathan's nerves. "From where do you hail, Rav?"

Everything about this seemed terribly awkward. "The Denerim alienage."

"Tell me," Cailan said with innocence pouring out of his guileless blue eyes, "what is it like? My guards all but forbid me from going there."

Raviathan's cheeks warmed. King or no, this man was a shem, and shems didn't care about his kind. As a king, he should know the state of his people, and all he did was play at war. Raviathan knew there was no reason for the man to lie, but that he could have such an easy disregard for the troubles and injustices of elves reminded him of everything he hated about shems. He should know how bad it is when his own guards, the men who supposedly took orders from him, would not allow him to set foot inside the high walls. As if he truly wanted to go. They're all hypocrites. Except for Duncan. "My people eat rats to keep from a slow, starving death. As a child I watched guards kill my kin, defenseless women and babes, with impunity."

"I… Maker's breath. I had no idea." The king's astonishment was a vitriolic victory for Raviathan. Let the shem pose some more when he couldn't hide from the accusation.

"Why should you? How can you know what you never see? We live in poverty and despair, and no one cares." He still couldn't look at the king. Duncan shot Raviathan a warning look. He was overstepping his bounds badly by instigating with the king. Rage flared in Raviathan's sea storm eyes for an instant. Looking at his mentor, Raviathan relented, pursing his lips and looking away. He respected Duncan enough to let this battle go, but he was glad to feel his spine again.

Duncan turned to the king. "Your Majesty, we should discuss events at Highever."

Cailan shook his head, his lips pressed together. "We received word a fortnight ago. Howe thinks he can get away with this because of a blight. He'll know the King's justice soon as we are able."

"Only a fortnight?" Duncan mouth opened in shock. "This happened months ago. Surely someone would have spoken of it."

"One would think," replied Cailan, the shadow of distrust marking an otherwise innocent face. "The messengers we have received were from the lords taking in refugees but not a word from Highever. It's as if the whole of the teyrnir has disappeared into the Fade. Howe is biding time, but for what purpose, I cannot say. He must know his actions cannot stand and is delaying the inevitable."

"Then you do not know of the fate of the Couslands?"

"Did Howe not take them as hostages?"

"All the Couslands at Highever were killed." Duncan frowned, putting a hand to his lips as he thought.

"What? You know this?" Cailan's eyes went wide. "Even Fergus' wife and son?"

"I was there, Your Majesty. Howe's soldiers committed the most barbarous actions."

Cailan walked to the ledge of the fortress to view the wide, fog shrouded valley below. Behind him, the guards glanced at each other nervously. "Fergus made it here a month ago, one of the first to answer our call to arms. He has been scouting in the Wilds for weeks now, and we haven't heard back from him. I've no way to get news to him." He turned back to Duncan. "Are you sure all were killed?"

"Your Majesty, I saw this with my own eyes. Bryce and Eleanor was killed in front of me by Howe's men. I had to make my escape before I could confirm Aedan Cousland, but he had sustained mortal wounds when we were separated. The rest were killed in their beds."

"At least one is still alive, and let's hope for their youngest." Cailan shook his head regretfully. "I don't see how Rendon plans to get away with this. Unless he suspects we will be too weakened from fighting with the darkspawn. He will be in for a great surprise then."

"Is Urien Kendells in the camp?"

"Kendells?" Puzzlement at the question caused a slight frown to form between the king's smooth brow. "He died in the first battle. We sent a messenger to Denerim to have Vaughan come in his place, but apparently there are bandits or some other problem keeping them from getting through as well."

"His son Vaughan is dead, Your Majesty."

The king looked at him for a stunned second. "I go to war and suddenly the whole country goes mad. Pity about Vaughan. A little rough in my estimation but loyal." Cailan waved a hand. "Appointing a new arl is something for Anora to deal with. I will hear more about this matter later, but for now we have a war to attend to."

'A little rough'? Raviathan watched the king carefully. Cailan had already moved on from the news of Highever and Denerim. Raviathan wasn't sure if this was a good measure of the man or not. It could be that Cailan focused the task at hand, but the attack on Highever was a major event that he was disregarding. Two months and little word meant the plot probably reached to this camp, that the king had enemies who were keeping him in ignorance. How could he not care? Did he even realize the implications or that? Of course, there was little Cailan could do about the Couslands here. It made sense to keep his mind on the coming battles, but a whole teyrn family had been killed. That would have a huge impact on a good portion of the country. Perhaps the king had more depth than he let on. So far childish and thoughtless were the main adjectives Raviathan applied to him. Fear and uncertainty tightened Raviathan's shoulders. Well intentioned or not, he would not trust this fool.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent," Cailan said. "After being in the company of the Wardens all morning, Loghain is probably a hair's breadth away from sending out a search party. Likely he means to bore me with more of his maps and figures. The man's fascination with them is endless."

Duncan said with impatience starting to enter his voice, "Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week. He believes the attacks from the Avvars near an end."

"Ha!" Cailan replied with a smirk turning his face hard. "Eamon just wants in on the glory."

The stern look Duncan was giving Cailan spoke more of his frustration than his voice. "Eamon has never been one to seek glory, Your Majesty."

"He has to do something," Cailan said. "The Bannorn thinks well of him, if they think of him at all. But come the spring's Landsmeet he won't have the persuasive powers he needs to raise more men for the Avvar attacks unless he proves he has some military might. The barbarians have apparently not warmed up to his endless compromises after all these years. And for that, he needs to make a name for himself here."

Before he could talk himself out of it, Raviathan blurted out, "Was Howe expected to bring forces here?"

Cailan turned to him in surprise, but Raviathan read only interest in his face and not the derision he was used to from humans. "Well, yes. They were due a month ago, but we thought they had been delayed because of bad weather. Though with the coup at Highever, there shall be no trace of Howe or his forces here."

"And you're planning of disposing him?"

The king cocked his head at the elf. "In all likelihood. I certainly cannot allow this sort of treasonous action to go without reprimand." Raviathan forced himself to not squirm under the king's scrutiny. "Why do you ask?"

"I…" don't lose your courage now, "I know little enough of these matters, Your Majesty. It just seems that he has given you a reason to take control of his army given that he has committed treason and unwarranted aggression. He's also a threat now as he controls the northern border and therefore most of Ferelden's trade. With his forces stretched between the arling and teyrnir, it shouldn't be hard to take him, especially if Highever's banns are resisting Howe. When the Orlesians arrive here, you could send a portion of your own force to take him. Once disposed, his army can fight the darkspawn here then to Arl Eamon's in the spring if he needs soldiers. You wouldn't have to return the soldiers until new rulers are settled in Amaranthine and Highever. Then you'll have Arl Eamon's gratitude without having to sacrifice your own men. If Fergus is alive, a powerful teyrn''s gratitude as well for restoring his lands."

The king watched him for a moment with his mouth parted in surprise. Raviathan kept his gaze focused on the strange demonic face in the king's golden armor wondering just how dumb he had sounded. Stupid, little elf around all these shems. What had he been thinking?

The king threw back his head and laughed. Raviathan looked down, mortified that he had spoken up to this man. Maker he was a stupid, little elf. He had a sudden desire to hide his ears and slink away. Why didn't he just hold his tongue?

He was surprised when the king clapped him on the back with enough force to sting him through his armor. Raviathan's rough armor didn't do much against plate gauntlets, but he stood his ground. Cailan's heavy hand remained on his shoulder, its weight adding to his shame. "Duncan, I should steal this one from you and make him my adviser." Thrown off by the response, Raviathan wasn't sure if he was being ridiculed or not. He kept his head down and decided his mouth should be kept firmly shut for a good year as penance. "You can spare him, can't you?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Duncan said with a respectful bow of his neck, "but I hold the Right of Conscription on this one."

"Tell me," Cailan said, returning his attention to the elf, "where did you study?"

Raviathan couldn't stop the impulse to cross his arms over his stomach though he had tried hard not to. So he was being ridiculed. The human's hand was still on his shoulder, and he wondered if this were to be the first time he'd have one of his ears pulled. The anticipation of such a sharp and intimate pain made him tight. This is why elves didn't fight back or even pull away in self defense. Humiliation held them still, and knowing he was too frozen to act made the humiliation that much worse. "I have not studied, Your Majesty."

"Ah-," Cailan started but cut off, watching the elf in keen interest. He smiled then. "Of course. You just said you were from an alienage. How did you learn of politics and tactics then?"

Raviathan bent his head down a little more wishing he could crawl away. Kings weren't suppose to be cruel, he thought. Why couldn't this one let the lesson go. Doesn't he have better things to do than draw out this punishment? "Duncan has been teaching me history on the way here, Your Majesty."

"The way here? Surely the journey has been less than a fortnight."

Raviathan was going to apologize hoping that would end this when Duncan spoke up. "Your Majesty, I'm afraid he must prepare for the ceremony to join our Order."

"Just as well," Cailan said with mirth still in his voice. "His pretty face would be far too much of a distraction for the court. Then you should make haste in making him an official member. Not only might I still try to steal him away, we have a battle to fight tonight."

"Tonight?" Duncan asked.

Cailan finally withdrew his hand. Raviathan felt the phantom weight of the golden gauntlet remain as if his own burning face weren't reminder enough of his stupid tongue. "Your second and a few of the scouts confirmed it this morning. You'll reconvene with them first, I'm sure, but then Loghain will want to discuss strategy. Considering what the Wardens have said, it's sure to be a glorious battle."

"You seem very confident of victory," Duncan said coolly.

Raviathan thought winning four battles sounded impressive, but Cailan's disregard for strategy made Raviathan nervous. The darkspawn were terrifying and not to be left to chance. That was the second time the man had spoken of glory. In Raviathan's brief experience, glory seekers got themselves in trouble. He hoped the king was an excellent fighter to make up for being foolhardy and incautious. But then perhaps this king was a good enough fighter that he didn't find the darkspawn as deeply unsettling as Raviathan did.

"Overconfident some would say," Cailan said blowing off any concerns with a smirk. "I'm not even sure if this is a true blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas. We see no sign of an archdemon."

"Disappointed, Your Majesty?" Raviathan knew he hadn't imagined Duncan's disapproval. The relationship between the king and Warden-Commander was a complex one. Joining or not, Raviathan wondered just how much Duncan would be willing to tell him.

"Blights are the makers of legends!" Cailan's blue eyes lit up, either not noticing Duncan's tone or ignoring it. "What would you not give to be the real life heroes of fables, your name forever spoken with reverence? The Grey Wardens fighting with a king against a tainted god. This is what people dream of their entire lives, and we may have that chance!"

Raviathan wanted nothing more than to get away from this man. Cailan was scaring him, and Raviathan had to fight the urge to slink behind Duncan. This was the leader of his nation? As if the ground had suddenly shifted under him, Raviathan realized how tenuous his place in the world was, how fragile his nation to the whims of men. Laws and nobility had always seemed like bars of iron, immutable and enduring. He and his mother slipped between the bars of law on occasion, but their solidity gave form and structure to his life. Had the establishments of his society truly been an illusion all these years? Like the violation of the alienage, the stone walls that made up Raviathan's world cracked.

The heat left Cailan's face when he turned back to his horse. "Ah well. If there is not blight, this will have to do. Now I must go before Loghain grinds his teeth away. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

Following Duncan's lead, Raviathan crossed his arms over his chest and gave a small bow in salute. Cailan remounted with no assistance even though he was in heavy plate armor. He expertly twisted the large beast around and raced away at a full gallop followed by his guards. Heavy muscle and armor added to the horse's mass, the movement making Raviathan's stomach clench in sudden panic. Again he was reminded how small and frail he was.

Glad to be alone again, Raviathan said quietly, "He said this wasn't a true blight. If an archdemon hasn't appeared, how do you know?"

Now that they were here and Raviathan was still firmly set on becoming a Grey Warden, Duncan let him know more than he had ever told a recruit. "Part of being a Grey Warden means that we receive portents of such things."

Duncan indicated with a gentlemanly wave of his hand for Raviathan to continue down the path. They walked together into the first courtyard of the fortress. It was outdoors with trees about. Platforms to the left overlooked the mountains and hazy Korcari Wilds far below. A great tower with flying buttresses stood high and lonely to the right. Raviathan wondered about the purpose of such a tower. It was less stable than ground buildings. The Tevinters had built this place a thousand years ago, and if it was still standing, it only served to remind Raviathan his own ignorance.

"Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn hoard grows larger with each passing day. We are quickly becoming outnumbered. I know there is an archdemon behind this, as do all the Grey. But I can only warn the king. It is up to him to act with wisdom."

Raviathan shook his head. "I will not say this to another," he said quietly, "but the king seems a fool."

"Beware that you do not speak ill of the king," Duncan whispered back. "We were only just allowed back into Ferelden after a two century exile. Fool or not, we need his support, and you can never be completely certain whose ears are around."

"Of course, Duncan. What about the other Wardens though? Shouldn't they be sending in reinforcements?"

"The Wardens of Orlais promised the wolf's share of their numbers, but they have long to travel to reach us. They should be at the boarder soon. Until then, and we must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain's army to make up the rest."

There was that name again. Loghain. Raviathan's father would probably know who this man was while he had a few day of history lessons to catch up. Raviathan wanted to get the measure this general to see if there was at least some intelligent influence to make up for the king's foolishness. Maker please don't let him be another glory hound.

"What about the Wardens of other nations?"

Duncan murmured deep in his throat. "They know of the danger but have shown little willingness to help us thus far. As I have told you of the previous four blights, they take decades to defeat and have decimated nations. Our other closest allies, Nevarra and the Free Marches, are both strengthening their numbers for what they think will be the inevitable invasion north."

"Why wouldn't they help us? If the blight is stopped here, then their lands might go completely unharmed."

"The movements of an archdemon lead horde are difficult to predict. As the darkspawn move underground, they can strike anywhere. Unlike a regular army, their movements are next to impossible to track. The Warden-Commanders of Nevarra and the Free Marches fear for their nation's safety if they are left without their Wardens' protection."

"Sounds like they're abandoning us," Raviathan said sourly. "I thought Wardens believed themselves separate from the nations in which they're stationed."

"They do and they don't. Unfortunately, these decisions are almost never black and white. Though we are supposed to remain neutral, we are not immune from the influence of politics. In truth, they may think this nation is already doomed due to our low number of Wardens. I am not entirely certain of their motives, but I believe they think it a waste of resources to travel here when they can fortify their positions with more ease."

"So they leave us to die in what maybe a hopeless battle." That might be good strategy, but Raviathan thought those Wardens were showing unconscionable cowardliness.

"Well, I'm not giving up so easily." Raviathan smiled, resisting the urge to take Duncan's hand. Human lands, human rules. "We have the king's support along with the remaining teyrn and many arls. Do not be so quick to judge the other Wardens. Long range views, Rav."

Raviathan was tired from the long journey. Though he was more than half Duncan's age, the human seemed to be so much stronger than he. The journey hadn't fazed him at all. Raviathan knew his own tiredness was part of the reason for his bad judgment. He had been brash with the king and without cause. The king, for all his glory mongering, had shown at least a passing interest in his people. Perhaps his judgments had been a little too harsh, and Duncan had told him to be patient. Raviathan nodded in understanding.

Duncan continued distractedly, "I need to meet with the other Wardens first. Get a meal and explore the camp as you will. Jory and Daveth should be around somewhere. I'll send someone for you when it's time."

It was odd seeing Duncan like this. After so many days travelling together, this was another side of the man, the Warden-Commander and leader of men. Raviathan supposed it was inevitable, and the last thing he wanted to do was add to his mentor's burdens when he was clearly pressed. "Alright, Duncan," Raviathan said injecting more spirit into his voice than he felt.

Perhaps the tone sounded too false, but for whatever reason it caught Duncan's attention. Duncan paused before the wide bridge that linked the east wing to the west to clap a hand on Raviathan's shoulder. "It'll be alright, Rav."

Struck anew with the knowledge that he no longer had to hide from Duncan, Raviathan grabbed the old warrior's hand and pulled him into a sheltered alcove. Raviathan reached up to his puzzled mentor, focused the light of magic inside him, and let that heat penetrate deep into Duncan's neck. Duncan's eyes became heavy lidded—his lips parted slightly—as heat and healing loosened the strained muscles of his neck.

Next, Raviathan took one of Duncan's hands in both of his, setting energy to snap through them. Duncan winced. "What is this?"

"I know it feels strange. Just another moment."

When finished, Raviathan began on Duncan's other hand. The old warrior gazed at his electrified hand, flexing it in wonder. His knuckles no longer bulged with arthritis.

Even when Raviathan had made a fool of himself in front of the king, Duncan had rescued him. You're a good man, Duncan. Whatever you need, I'll do for you. "I'll be ready when you need me." Duncan gave his shoulder a final squeeze, the strength of the old warrior a comfort, then left across the bridge. Raviathan watched his mentor's broad back for a moment before turning his attention to the fortress.

Alone for the first time in over a week, Raviathan looked over the fortress trying to take it all in. Even the bridge was massive. It spanned the deep gorge with only a few marks of age. One large hunk had been taken out of a section, but the rest seemed solid. Though he knew the bridge had been there for ages, the idea of crossing it made him dizzy. He had no great fear of heights, but the sheer plunge to the rocks far below added to the queasy tightness of his stomach. The highest he had been was the alienage wall at night with tall buildings on either side. Most buildings in Denerim were no more than three stories. This was a vast plunge of over a hundred feet.

Deciding to tackle that obstacle later, Raviathan walked about the overgrown courtyard. He gathered a few bunches of wild elfroot on reflex then preceded to a platform. Taking a long, steadying breath, he looked over the side. He wrapped his arms over his stomach as he gazed over the valley below.

What a change his life had taken. He had rarely left Denerim and then only a few miles out, and now all this. Aside from the Highway, the fortress was his first taste of Tevinter craftsmanship. On impulse, his hand traced over the stone of the low wall separating him from the steep cliff and valley below. It was rough and weathered, its texture grainy as the softer particles of stone wore away. This stone had been here for a millennium, from before Andraste was born. The weight of all those years, the numerous winters and summers, the harsh wind constantly beating at it, the freezes constricting the stone, the endless years of rain, and yet here it stood. The glacial southern wind gushed up, blowing his hair back. He squinted, unmoved by the force of it and thought of his mother and aunt. They had been slaves in Tevinter and had escaped. The nation capable of building this eternal construct could not hold them. He smiled at that. Like the elfroot, they found a way to thrive in the harshest of environments. They had been tough women, made of iron.

The moment's reprieve had calmed him, and he moved back to the interior. Spying a half buried chest abandoned behind a low wall, he picked the lock. He hadn't worked at locks in years and found the practice useful. Nothing much inside though. A few coins he pocketed. The guards took no notice of him as he explored. He chatted up one guarding the tower and learned a bit about the history of the fortress. There was nothing special going on. Some clearing out of the basement levels. Probably rats and the like.

Feeling a little more normal after the conversation, Raviathan made his way to the bridge and slowly walked across it, staying in the very middle. He kept his eyes focused on the stone. The bridge vibrated slightly in the strong southern wind. Solid ground it was not, and his stomach fluttered with each gust of wind. He was feeling very small around all these humans and the large fortress that seemed to block out the sky. He eyed the large chunk of stone taken out as he passed. The missing chunk was the size of the king's horse. If fortresses could talk.

A guard with a kind voice greeted him when he reached the other side. Raviathan felt awkward when the guard recognized him as Duncan's recruit, making him wonder what Duncan had written about him. The guard didn't give a fig that Raviathan was an elf, and, despite his dislike of humans, Raviathan found the man easy to talk to. The discussion of Ostagar's history was a relief after the bridge and isolation he felt. He hadn't realized how attached he had become to the weathered human until that moment. Aside from a few trips around the city, Raviathan had rarely been on his own before.

Bidding goodbye to the guard, Raviathan continued into the much busier courtyards of the fortress. On a high platform to his right was a priestess giving the Chant of Light to a group of gathered soldiers below.

"All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands, From the lowest slaves, To the highest kings. Those who bring harm, Without provocation to the least of His children, Are hated and accursed by the Maker."

Feeling instant revulsion for words, Raviathan turned left past large tent pavilions. What did that woman know of harm or pain? She sat in a Chantry and studied, or at the most tended to another, but that wasn't her pain. She could go on all day with theories and pretty words, but she knew nothing, so her words were hollow. And the Maker. For all his 'accusing', for all his power, great harm was done to the lowest, the weakest and most powerless. When his people suffered for centuries, what good was the Maker's hatred? For all the Chantry's talk, they were also responsible for keeping his people down. He knew verses of Shartan and why they had been stricken. Hypocritical bitches.

He stopped to watch a lecture a haggard captain was giving to a round of soldiers. To his surprise, they were gathered around the corpse of a genlock. At least it looked like a genlock according to the description Duncan gave him. The creature wasn't rotting. There were no flies or insects, no smell of decay except for the sickly bile stench that had also accompanied the darkspawn from the other night. Raviathan edged in closer, getting a warning look from the captain.

Raviathan had time to study the face of a darkspawn as he hadn't before during the attack. The genlock was short, had pointed ears, and greenish brown skin like the sewage water left to sit for months in the alienage. Two rows of corrupt, pointed teeth jutted out from its death grimace. Maybe they looked that way alive too. There wasn't really a nose, just two slits. The rubbery looking skin hadn't rotted though. All the lines and creases, the bulbous jutting of its maw, aside from the cuts of a blade, was how it had looked in life. Were its eyes the milky white of cataracts from life or deterioration from death? Nothing else had decayed so it was more likely what they looked like alive.

Taint roiled off the corpse like a miasma. The monstrous appearance of the corpse counted for only part of Raviathan's nausea. Though not exactly painful, Raviathan felt like he was being twisted by the profound unnaturalness the darkspawn radiated. His blood stung as though mixed with acid. How could the other soldiers remain so impassive? Maybe they were used to the taint by now, or maybe they were more disciplined than he was. How had they fared in their first encounter?

The shriek had been much more terrifying in the darkness. It had been tall, gangly, moved like nightmares made real. It screamed like rusted hinges, high and piercing through his nerves. Last night, the darkness that lay at the core of all that was evil in this world had grown claws that reached for him, slashed at him, sought his heart. He had killed them.

This thing, as ugly as it was, was killable. Some of the fear that had been crawling inside Raviathan drained away. The more he looked at the creature, the calmer he became. Foulness radiated off it even in death. Raviathan felt disgusted by the black blood that had caked underneath the body. It was repellent, and he would remain cautious, but his fear was leaving.

The captain finished his lectures, and the guards started to break up into small groups to talk or go on to other business. A young, blonde woman stayed to stare at the corpse. Trying to be unobtrusive on the woman's meditation, Raviathan said, "Disgusting, isn't it."

She answered without turning. "Yeah. I've never seen one up close."

"I did last night. It was taller than this one. Had black skin." Her gaze was fixed on the monster. Raviathan took a moment to study her. She had a square face and thin lips but was not unattractive. If her straight hair were a little longer than the page boy style, it would soften her features. She was okay now, but hers was the kind of face that would grow more striking as she aged, when maturity would make her handsome. "Are you afraid?"

She didn't answer at first. "I… it is terrible. Isn't it?"

He tried to soothe her, talking to her in a voice he would use to lure out frightened kittens. "It's normal to be afraid. There's no shame in that."

"But we have to fight these things." She shifted her weight. "I can't be afraid."

His voice became lower, a bit more dark. "Feel your fear. Understand what it is. This thing is terrifying. You want to live, and that is not shameful." He let the words sink in. She stared at the corpse with more intensity, but she was listening. "Now look closer at it. It can die. You can stand up to something like this. Every time you cut one of these monsters down, you clean the world of that bit of evil. Bit by bit, we will rid Ferelden of these monsters. Feel your fear, and let it go. You are stronger."

He could see her gaze become more resolute as she let his words take hold. Finally she squared her shoulders and turn to look at him with a confident smile. The smile vanished in an 'oh' of surprise. He raised his eyebrows in question. She said, "I… I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were an elf."

He gave her a half grin. "I'm still the same person you were talking to a minute ago."

To his surprise, her smile returned. "Yes, of course."

Giving her a courteous nod, Raviathan left to explore the roofless hall that ran behind the various platforms and broken arbors facing the wilds. Had the dwarves worked for the Tevinter to create such a place? It was gradually becoming a ruin and would become so in next few centuries if there was no intervention. He didn't know much of fortresses or structures or the tactics employed to either defend or attack one. He was sure Ferelden didn't keep a regular contingent here. Why had the Chasind not taken it? He was again surprised when the blonde jogged to catch up to him.

"I didn't mean to be rude. I've just not seen many elves. You look like a fighter."

"I know a bit of swordplay."

One of the tall columns had fallen and was leaning against its fellow from the other side. Raviathan looked about. For all the dirt and vegetation, the ruins were holding up spectacularly well. Roots were able to break apart stone given enough years. It was amazing that these ruins had stood so long. They passed one large, rounded alcove where a woman in priest robes was bent on her knees, praying fervently to the hazy sun in the eastern sky. Other than that, they were completely alone in this secluded area. She said, "You really helped me out there."

"It was nothing." Raviathan watched her, saw the tight glances as her eyes constantly roamed over the fort. Despite her new found confidence she was trying to project, she was still terrified. "Have you seen much battle?"

"I have. A bit." She was young, but she did not look inexperienced. "I'm from Gwaren. One of Loghain's army."

The pathway curved around a low wall but broke off shortly after. Raviathan was saved from looking at the long drop by a rocky outcropping. "Really? What can you tell me about Loghain?"

Her eyes lit up. "The Teyrn? You know of course he's the Hero of River Dane." Raviathan didn't but let her go on anyway. It would be a simple enough thing to piece together Loghain's past from other sources not so enamored with the man. That he commanded such loyalty alone was a mark of his character. They sat on the low wall as she recounted the battles she had participated in against the Chasind to the south. Much to Raviathan's relief, the teyrn sounded like he was a brilliant tactician.

As she continued on recounting some of his more historical battles and the tactical plays behind them, Raviathan gave a mental prayer to keep Nesiara safe. He had so far abstained, in part due to the pace Duncan set as they travelled, but mostly in remembrance of his marriage. He wanted to stay chaste for a time to honor her, but as he watched the woman before him, he let that plan go. His wife was gone, and there was no getting her back. He could not make her a whore by trying to keep her but without the respectability of marriage. Ness had been wiser about that.

Battle was coming. Life was too short. He stood to get the woman's attention. For this woman it all started with the eyes. Let his intention show, the desire, and she would be his. She stopped, watching him with wide eyes. His fingertips caressed her jaw. When she didn't stop him, he leaned in to kiss the corner behind her jaw and let his lips brush down her neck.

"What…?"

"Say no if you will," Raviathan breathed the words against her neck. "We can part now, if you like." He kissed her neck, trailed his lips to the skin behind her ear. "Seems to me that you're interested. Let's let our fear go together."

The blonde warrior stuttered, "I… but someone might s-see us."

Calm emerald and azure eyes met her hazel ones. They were fine by human standards, and he was getting use to not seeing the flash or more brilliant coloration typical of elven eyes. He smiled, letting his voice turn intimate. "No one will see us. Just you and me."

"I…"

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "We are to battle soon. Let's take our pleasures. Let's have this moment. When you want to stop, we'll stop." He nuzzled her ear, so strange in its small roundness, and ran his fingers through her hair. He would go only this far. She had to be the one to make the next move. It had to be her choice.

She asked nervously, "Are…are you sure?"

"Yes," he said low into her ear. She slid down behind the wall to the stone below. Fear was driving her to seek release. It was easy to make her give in. Raviathan knelt in front of her and took off his poncho and leather skirting. It was too cold to bother with the rest of his leather armor. Apparently she could stand it better and had unfastened her scale armor plating, letting it fall with a clank on the stone. Raviathan helped her remove the padding and shirt underneath. Her breasts fell loose once freed from the constraints. There were pink impressions along her torso from the armor.

Not pausing to take in the differences, he took a large pale areola in his mouth. Her breasts were huge and weighty. Her whole body was. He had never been with a human before, and her thick body surprised him. She trailed her fingers through his hair as he teased and sucked her nipple. The nub had gone high in his mouth, like candy for his tongue. Her hands worked clumsily at the catches for the rest of her armor.

She was a warrior and in good shape, but he was use to the willowy bodies of elven women. She was proportional for a human, but her hips and breasts were larger than he expected. Would human bodies be similar enough to elves? Would he measure up? He released her breast to look down now that she was exposed to her knees. The armor shin guards were still in place, her pants pushed to her knees, but the rest of her was open. He stared at the patch of light brown hair over her sex. He didn't know what to make of it. "Is this normal?" He touched the thick, crinkly hair. "For humans?"

The woman was no whore despite how quickly she had taken to him. Abashed by the question, some of her desire left, and she started covering herself with her hands. "Yes. We all have that."

No strumpet either. Though obviously not a virgin, this sort of quick sex was not her regular behavior. She was afraid of the coming battle he reminded himself. Be gentle. She was actually quite sweet. He took the hand she used to cover her sex and lifted it to his lips. "Don't hide," he said low and soothing. "You're beautiful." He caressed the secretive hair then kissed her cheek. "Don't be ashamed," he whispered in her ear. He let her read his eyes as he said, "You are beautiful." He caressed her cheek. "Never doubt it." She was relaxing again, and he kissed her on the neck.

As unexpected as it was, the hair was interesting. He removed the arm covering her breasts and took the other nipple between his lips. Releasing her hand, he slid his fingers up and down her spine and continued to work the nipple. Soft skin puckered under his lips. She was heating up again. He placed his palm along her lower hair and slipped two fingers inside her flesh. She was hot and getting moist. He hoped humans and elves weren't that different, that she still had that nub would make her body peak. The hand caressing her spine lowered to cup a rounded buttock. He squeezed to pull the flesh of her legs apart, and… there it was. His fingers glided over the little nub causing her flesh to wetten, her body to sink and fully open for him.

Satisfied that she would find release with him, he shuffled behind her and unhitched his leggings. If he were very different, he didn't want to know. Not now at least. He pushed on her back, and she leaned against the low wall with her hands gripping the top. Her breasts hung as she was spread before him. He took his erection in hand and guided himself along the slightly pebbly texture of her sex. He kissed her back, thankful to have found such a willing woman, to feel again that heat between a woman's legs.

Using his hand to guide, he pushed until he found her entrance. He paused at the resistance of her flesh to savor the moment. She was hot and wet, murmuring low in her throat. He leaned his head back to concentrate on that glorious feeling before sliding in with a low groan. She constricted against him, wonderfully tight. He held her wide hips to brace as he started pumping. Maker, she felt good. Her larger body and curves were so different than anything he had known.

She was panting, breathy grunts greeting him, pushing against him eagerly. His hands explored the curves of her body. One hand cupped a quivering breast. He squeezed the hard nub of a nipple between two fingers as his other hand moved down so he could touch her hair again. Even in the cold morning she was warm to the touch. His fingers spread her open and she whimpered as the cool air caressed her sensitive skin. He loved the growing ache that kept building as he pushed into her again and again. He thrust harder, working her faster as he started to rub around that little nub of nerves teasing her. He pressed his fingers deeper, and her round ass pushed back, welcoming him. Her cries took on more urgency, and she bent down low, spreading herself wide so he could move faster. She moaned, "Oh please. Oh Maker please!"

At her cry he sped up. Let it last a little longer. Her voice was good. Her flesh was hot. He needed this release. All the fear and pain of the past weeks needed an exit. He looked down to see his cock, slick with her fluid, disappear inside her flesh. Shame tightened him, turning his desire into a burning ache. I'm sorry, Ness. You always deserved better. He groaned deep as he took the woman before him with a feral need. His mind wailed, you always deserved better.

The blonde warrior's body quivered and squirmed against him. He held on as she gasped and pushed back compulsively to take him. He thrust fast as his fingers worked that little knot of nerves pushing her orgasm hard. She writhed with harsh panting groans. Her hands were white knuckled as she clasped the wall as if she were going to fall off. Once she stilled with a last rough groan, he gripped her shoulders, in that moment not caring if he hurt her. Ness, I'm sorry. The woman whimpered and shivered again, her heat feeding his own burning ache. Ness. Raviathan closed his eyes at the tightening of his balls, his whole body feeling constricted before release. He pushed in hard a final time. Ness, I'm sorry.

For now he could let his pain go and was washed in relief. Too much travel, too many changes—it had all been wearing on him. He stayed in her, let the moment of release stay him. I'm sorry, Ness. You deserved better. He exited and stroked her back. Breathlessly he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Mmm," she mumbled as she slumped bonelessly on the stone floor.

He chuckled, kissing her broad back. "I hope that means good." He stroked her back again before lifting up and relacing his leggings. "Come on. You'll get cold." He gathered her armor and helped her back into it then rebelted his armor and weapons.

She sat back on the wall, watching him with languorous eyes. "I think I need a nap after that."

He smiled at her. She really was sweet. Thankful though he was, in his experience women didn't take gratitude well after sex. He kissed her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Do you feel alright?"

"Yes," she smiled dreamily.

He squeezed her hand then left to pick up the rest of his equipment. "Good luck in the coming battle."

"Maker watch over you," she replied.

"Maker watch over us all."