Fifty three, fifty four, fifty five. Raviathan sighed. Never before had he had so much money, and it was gone just as quickly. Working for Alarith had given him some experience with sums and handling coin, enough so he wasn't completely off-footed by holding the pouches of silver and few sovereigns. Instead, he hadn't felt like the coins were his, just holding it for another person. That had made it easy to spend on necessities like tents and food. The unfamiliarity with having money of his own bypassed his natural inclination to hoard for an emergency.

What they had left wasn't much, certainly not enough for travel. Raviathan nibbled at his lip as he piled the silver back into the pouch, fingering the last silver with trepidation. What did Wardens do for money, anyway? Duncan, like many humans, seemed to have a limitless supply.

They had needed the equipment, so the coin had to be spent. Raviathan didn't begrudge the elves or child he had given money to either. Those people had been in worse shape. Fifty silver to get to Denerim was impossible, but the elven family could probably scrounge jobs along the way by carrying some human's goods. The child, well, a child needed comfort, and Raviathan couldn't take the boy with him through the village. Still, what were they to do now?

Raviathan stared at the coin in his hand as if he could will more into existence.

"Um."

At Alistair's hesitant look, Raviathan raised a brow in question.

"I, well, I picked these up at the Chantry." He passed the papers to Raviathan. "I'm surprised the Chantry is still running the Board, but since they are…" Alistair trailed off with a shrug. The four of them sat around their camp, their seats of stones coated with morning dew. Morrigan leaned back on her arms, face turned to the sky in boredom. Leliana leaned forward with her arms braced on her thighs, eager to be a part of the conversation. The leather armor she had obtained squeaked as she shifted.

"What are they?" Raviathan asked. The Board?

"You know. The Chantry Board."

Raviathan looked at him blankly.

"The Chantry has a board up that people can post jobs to," Leliana said. "Either work for the Chantry itself or for people in the town. In some cases the Chantry pays for the work, but they also facilitate notices for anyone in need."

The Chantry had notices for jobs? Maker, why hadn't he known that? Not one of the elves talked about a jobs' board. Raviathan wondered what kind of work he could have done back in Denerim had he known. Perhaps he could have earned enough to get Nesiara a real gift for their wedding and not that ridiculous, half formed song.

His chest tightened at the thought of her, a physical pain as if he had a fist clenching his heart. Was she safe? Was she still in Denerim or had she moved on? That necklace he had stolen from the Arl's estate would have secured her any match she wanted in all of Ferelden, maybe further, beyond the borders where she could be safe from the Blight. Had she gone to her parents instead, to be with her family? She might have, using the money from the necklace to give her family a second chance.

What he knew was that he missed her, enough that there were times he couldn't breathe with the weight of want. He wanted to bury his face in the silk of her hair, breathe in her sent and feel her willowy body in his arms. He wanted to forget the world for a few moments while he held her as he used to, her presence enough to shield them from all the pain that existed beyond their embrace.

"What do you think?"

Raviathan blinked back to the present at Alistair's question. He shuffled through the papers. "Well. There are bears that are troubling the outlying farmers."

Morrigan snorted at that.

"More problems with bandits. Maybe that's the rest of the crew from the entrance." Those bandits hadn't been so hard to deal with. Could they take that job on? Raviathan's gut twisted at the idea of killing more men. The bandits on the highway had been one thing, a moment of passion when they were being attacked. This though, hunting down men was a cold blooded act that screamed murder in his mind. Raviathan nibbled the inside of his lip. What chance did the refugees have when these bands waited in ambush for them? Leaving the highwaymen alone would cause more death, more pain. The whole situation made him sick. "There's something about a missing woman."

"Missing woman?" Leliana asked.

Raviathan shook his head. "I don't even know where to start with that. She's presumed dead according to this. They just want confirmation of her body and maybe something for the family to remember her by."

"How do they know she's dead?"

Raviathan shrugged. "Doesn't say much let alone where to find her. The rest though… Leliana, you know this area best. According to the templars, they think the bandits are north of the town. Do you have any idea of where they could be?"

"I almost never left the Chantry," she said, a pout pulling at her lips in a rather sweet display. "I could talk to the templars, perhaps. They might know a bit more."

The sour expression on Morrigan's face told them all what she thought of that. "Well, they certainly are good at not protecting the citizenry here, either."

Leliana blinked in surprise. "It's not their job to go after bandits. The arl should have taken care of that."

"But he took his militia with him," Alistair muttered.

Morrigan let out another derisive snort. "Shocking. When you put your protection in another's hands, how easily they forget their duty. Instead, this arl jumped like a dog when another lord snapped his fingers, and left all these poor, sad souls to weep and moan their fate." Leliana leaned back as if to distance herself from Morrigan's sarcasm.

Raviathan's jaw tightened. "Morrigan. That doesn't help."

"Well then, this might." She stood, brushing off her clothes and picking here and there to rearrange them to her satisfaction. "While you make your way north, I shall turn into a bird and scout. These bandits should be easy to spot from the sky. Does that suit the purpose of this errand well enough?"

"Yes, and thank you."

Her smile held a mix of superiority and contempt though Raviathan didn't think it was directed at them so much as the mission and people of the town. She strode to the other side of the mound where the rest of the refugees would not see her. Raviathan watched carefully as her form shifted in a swirl of black smoke, her rags shining like ink the instant before taking on the solid contour of feathers. In the space of two heart beats the woman was gone as a raven beat her wings frantically to gain altitude. As she rose, her wings slowed to graceful strokes to take her far above the town.

Fascinating. Would he be able to do that? The prospect sparked a hundred possibilities in Raviathan's mind.

Leliana grasped at Raviathan's arm, one hand over her open mouth in astonishment as she stared at the retreating bird.

Aside from the sister, Raviathan was immediately concerned with the way Alistair watched Morrigan's transformation. What the human's expression meant, he couldn't tell, but there was a focus to Alistair's gaze that made him nervous. While Alistair had kept his word to preserve the apostate's secret, why did he watch Morrigan like that? Considering how the two verbally sparred, that couldn't be a good sign. Maybe Alistair wasn't as assured to silence as Raviathan had thought.

Raviathan put a hand over Leliana's, the tilt of his head an inquiry. Alistair had at least made a promise, but what about this sister? As much as Morrigan's independent perception of herself would decry his help, he had given an oath to protect her.

Startled, Leliana let go of his arm as if he were a hot pan and backed away. "I'm sorry."

A strange reaction. "It's fine. Are you alright?"

"I… yes."

He kept a level gaze on her, waiting.

In response, Leliana gave him a nervous smile. "You said she was an apostate. I've never seen magic like that."

That was another odd statement. Few people in Thedas had seen magic at all since any person found to have mage talent was locked up in one of the Mage Circles each nation maintained. Tevinter was the only exception, the lords having retained their magical authority. Had she lived in Tevinter at some point? Or had she some experience with apostates?

"We need her, Leliana."

"What? Oh," she said, tearing away her attention from the distant black speck that was Morrigan. "Of course." She giggled, a reaction that took Raviathan by surprise. "The Wardens have always taken what help they could, and she is no different. A comrade in arms." Her smile was confident and calm now that she was over her startlement. "Shall we go? Clearly 'as the crow flies' has been coined with a reason."

The three made their way through town with Venger trotting at Raviathan's heels.

"So, you were a lay sister?" Alistair asked. Raviathan listened to the conversation behind him with interest.

"Indeed."

"For how long?"

"I came to the Lothering Chantry two years ago. What about you, Alistair? What were you before you became a Grey Warden?"

A commotion caught Raviathan's attention. A tired looking templar listened impatiently to a man in rough spun clothing yelling at a Chasind. What kind of fool would provoke one of the swamp warriors like that? The Chasind remained impassive in the face of the smaller man's accusations as if the farmer was nothing more than a chattering squirrel.

An unexpected sensation of pity welled in Raviathan. The swamp warriors didn't belong here. They were just as foreign in these lands as Raviathan was. The barbarian's muted green armor and hanging fox tails marked the man as an outsider as much as his tattered hair and facial designs. The Chasind stood out in their odd stillnesses and the way they swayed when they walked as if they were trees flowing with the wind. They didn't have the mannerisms of normal men who gestured with quick hands or crossed their arms over their chests in discomfort. They didn't belong here, and Raviathan knew how hard it was going to be for them outside of their forests unused to these rules of behavior and laws.

For a moment Raviathan wondered about all the people who would be hurt by the Blight. He had never known the Chasind existed before. How many more were like them, the hidden people and tribes that wouldn't even be counted among the casualties?

As they left the outskirts of the town, a deep voice rumbled out strange syllables in a language Raviathan had never heard. Granted, he didn't know much beyond his mother tongue and the Tevinter's Arcanum, but he did recognize the languages from the different nations, especially after his time at the docks.

Raviathan stopped, Alistair nearly crashing into him, when he spied the giant in a cage. He had seen one of those people in Denerim! Those two men who had stopped him in the streets with their dog. Intrigued, Raviathan walked over, studying the man's face. Lavender eyes were all the more striking against bronze skin. The giant's white hair was carefully plaited in close braids against his scalp.

Glancing at Leliana, Raviathan asked, "What sort of person is he?"

"A criminal, from what I understand," she said, but her voice held no reproach for the caged man.

"Do I amuse you, elf?"

Raviathan looked back at the giant. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak of you like you couldn't answer."

The lavender eyes blazed as if lit by their own fire. The eyes were rimmed in red, probably from exhaustion if he had been caged for a time. His eyes weren't as large or bright compared to elves, but with his size and odd coloring, he was exotic.

The giant leaned forward in his cage, his arms resting on the bars. "Manners, or do you mock me?"

"No mocking. I have seen one of your kind before. He had horns that looked like they had been cut."

A scowl deepened the lines in the giant's face. "Do not call one of those beasts kin of mine."

Raviathan's brows raised at the giant's anger. Had the cage not separated them, he would be backing away. "What are you then?"

"Qunari," Leliana said when the giant remained silently staring. "He murdered a whole family, including the children."

Murdered children? Disgusted, Raviathan left.

"So he's left there?" asked Alistair.

"It was the Mother's decision. I can't help but think it is a cruel fate. To die slowly of starvation or be left to the darkspawn. Nobody deserves that. At least make it a clean death."

Raviathan shot her a dark look over his shoulder. "Is he guilty?"

"That's the strange part. He said yes, but he didn't fight when the templars came for him. He was sitting there, waiting for them. He never once resisted."

"He murdered children," Raviathan said. "Let him be ripped apart." Strip by meaty strip.

He didn't miss Leliana's startled glance to Alistair who shrugged in response. Was that worry in her eyes? Why? He was still so bad at reading human expressions.

On to work.

~o~O~o~

Another arrow sng through the air. Raviathan nocked an arrow as Leliana let her third fly. Panic made his hands tremble. The nock stubbornly refused to line up with his bow string. Maker help them!

The bear roared as he stood up on his hind legs. The thing was huge! They were going to be killed right here. The bear lunged forward, the muscles and thick layers of fat bouncing as the animal charged forward.

"Can't you cast a spell yet?" Alistair yelled at Morrigan. He gripped his sword and shield tighter to his chest, his own panic stretching his face into a grimace.

"I told you before! It is out of range." Morrigan's face showed pale in the forest shadows, the whites around her yellow irises visible.

Venger gave three harsh barks that bounced off the hills. He danced back and forth unsure of what to do.

Raviathan's arrow hit the bear's chest, a solid shot that did nothing. The arrows they kept lining up has all the effect of pebbles thrown at a fortress wall. Leliana's shot stuck out of the bear's shoulder, the shaft quivering as the bear continued his charge. The yellow teeth gleamed against dark brown fur. They were going to be ripped apart.

"Maker," Alistair breathed in a low prayer. He charged out, holding his sword too tight to be effective.

No! Though their arrows had little effect, they couldn't shoot at all now for fear of hitting the templar. The bear twisted his head to follow the templar. The fool doesn't have a chance, Raviathan thought. Why?

Before reaching the bear, Alistair backpedaled to the right, the bear following him. The great thing reared, the wicked claws catching the afternoon light and reflecting red. The bear struck out, his massive claw brushing aside Alistair's raised sword with ease. Alistair stumbled with the force, caught his footing and kept moving around.

Both archers renewed their efforts now that the bear was a clear target. Arrows landed but only elicited a grunt. The bear bellowed rage.

"Morrigan! Get in range if you have to!" Maker's ass, they were going to watch Alistair get mauled in front of them. The bear made another swipe. Alistair dodged, a backwards leap to the ground. The bear clawed at empty air, a hair's breadth away from Alistair's breastplate. He's going to die. The bear lunged forward. Alistair rolled to the side then scrambled to his feet. He faced the bear, his arms out wide and legs splayed as he tried to get his balance back.

He was going to be lucky only so many times.

Morrigan's lips trembled. Her eyes darted at all of them, quick fearful movements. After two hesitant steps, she ran forward. At the halfway point, she threw her arms wide, the cold swirls visible around her staff before exploding out.

A second later, ice sheathed the bear.

The bear whipped around, eyes fixed on the mage. Horror speared throw Raviathan. The spell hadn't worked. Instead, the bear fur had turned in an armor of ice. Morrigan let out a cry as the bear started for her. Maker, no! Raviathan didn't have any thought for what he was doing. He was beside Morrigan, pushing her back, his own fear clawing at his throat. He waved his bow stave at the bear to distract it. The thing was over him, a lumbering mass of muscle. Claws as long as his fingers beckoned his death.

Raviathan dove to the side, his bow forgotten as he scrambled in a mad dash out of the bear's range. For a frozen second, the bear stood high above him, his mouth open to let out a roar that reverberated through Raviathan's bones. In the blast of that sound, Raviathan didn't feel his body anymore. Thought left his mind. He was only fear and the vibration of that animal's thunder.

A flash of silver at the bear's side. Alistair's sword bounced off the ice coating the bear's fur. An arrow ricocheted as harmless as a tossed twig. The bear had been bad enough before. Now it had a full armor to protect it.

The bear's eyes, mad with rage, focused on Raviathan. The great maw opened to take him.

A flash of brown raced across his vision.

Venger's jaws clamped around the bear's maw, twisting it with the full weight of the dog's airborne body. Red coated Venger's mouth, dripped from the bear's face, as the thing swung to meet his new opponent. Venger bounced back and forth, feigned charges, his sharp barks never ceasing. Fearless.

Raviathan jumped to his feet, unsure of what to do but adrenaline burning his nerves to do something. "Morrigan! Again!"

His sword out, Raviathan charged, pushed with all his weight to bury the metal inside the hot flesh encased in ice. The sword sunk in a few inches before bending, useless. The bear turned with an impossible speed for his size, and Raviathan flew fifteen paces to land in a skid on his back. As shoulders and spine bounced against gnarled roots, Raviathan bit back a curse. His torso throbbed from the battering. Maker! What power the animal had! His sword stuck out of the bear's side, blood dripping like rain down the blade before the twisted metal fell to the ground.

Bright pain flared as Raviathan got to his feet, ribs and tissues bruised, but he could ignore it in the adrenaline of battle. The pain's beat faded slowly as his healing magic flowed into crushed tissues. All he had left were daggers. What could he do now?

Venger leapt at the bear, his growls and barks making the great creature back up. The dog's ugly snarls gave Raviathan chills.

The ice melted in a slow wash. This time a brown mist settled around the bear. The animal gave a low moan as it staggered back, seeming to grow smaller with the weight of the spell. Alistair pierced the beast's side with his sword, but it was Venger that kept the animal in check.

A full bodied thrust from the templar sent the sword deep into the bear's neck. More blood flowed as the animal backed up. Wet death sounds made Raviathan shiver in sympathy pain as the bear finally fell.

Knees weak, Raviathan sat, feeling as if all the bones of his body had disappeared. Venger trotted up to him, his doggy grin turning into a concerned whine. Raviathan's outstretched arm was the only invitation the dog needed to cuddle in close. Raviathan whispered into the dog's neck, "That was really good, Venger. Thank you."

For that moment, he needed Venger's solid body to cling to. Short fur and solid muscles that radiated heat made Raviathan feel real again. "Good dog."

He let out a shaking breath. "Good dog."

Shouting dragged Raviathan's attention back to the rest. Maker love a duck. Alistair and Morrigan at it again.

"You made the thing impenetrable!"

"I've never bespelled a creature with such mass! If you hadn't run out like a fool, I could have calculated better."

Leliana glanced between the two, worry marking the lines that would be permanent in the decades to come. With an effort to calm his shaking limbs, Raviathan stood. "Stop!"

He hadn't meant for his voice to carry as it did. He could hear it echo off the near hills. As his heartbeat slowed to normal, Raviathan felt a bone deep exhaustion descend. Adrenaline. His medical training ticked off the signs in dispassionate detail as his magic worked to subtly shift his body's chemistry. How could the two fight like that after the battle they just had?

Shems.

"The fight's over. Let's figure out what to do." Raviathan fetched his sword, stepping on the blade in an attempt to bend it back into a somewhat straight shape. Blasted, cheap thing. While the grey iron served him well enough against the darkspawn thus far, the blade's limits were near.

Alistair flopped on his back with a groan, his arms spread wide. Raviathan kept the smile from his face as he watched the templar succumb to exhaustion. Morrigan crouched on her haunches. Fingers combed into her hair, she seemed just as fatigued now that they could relax.

"The Chantry will want proof," Leliana said. "We could take a paw."

"What about meat," Alistair asked. "We could at least eat for the night."

"You would eat a whole bear, Alistair?" Leliana sounded amused.

To be honest, Raviathan found the idea of a bear steak rather appealing. Was the starvation from their journey in the Wilds catching up to him? Protein had been scarce lately. "Bear meat has a lot of fat. That's not going to be so useful for us on the road, but I'm sure we could get decent coin from a butcher who can sell it off."

"Bear fat?" Alistair's forehead scrunched as he looked up at Raviathan.

Raviathan held back a sneer. "You've never worked in a kitchen. Or had to oil cloaks for the winter." Or a host of other basic necessities, like light lamps, make soap, create salves for the injured, or anything else useful, you mage hunter. All you needed to learn in life is how to imprison children or kill people like me.

"Considering how in need the villagers are, they'll want this for the journey north, especially considering it's winter," Raviathan said. "Meat, fur, bones for tools. That can bring us extra coin, help them in the process, and perhaps earn us a bit of good will."

"Sooo, how are we to get that thing back?" Alistair asked. "Not to state the obvious, but it's not going to carry itself."

"Morrigan? Do you know how to make a stretcher? We could drag it."

"T'would be a great deal of work, but if you are set on this course, it is possible."

"Let's get to work."

~o~O~o~

Night had fallen by the time an elf, two humans, and a dog dragged the three bear carcasses to the outskirts of the village. While they pulled, a slender woman kept the splints balanced during the long journey.

Exhausted, Leliana left her burden to fetch the butcher, a man most likely to be drinking at the inn. Venger huffed and panted, his thick muscles quivering with strain from doing the main of the work.

By the time the group reached the village, two oxen had been brought to take the kills. Leliana and the butcher started negotiating as his children hitched the makeshift stretchers to the oxen. Raviathan saw to Venger, making sure the ropes had not cut into the dog's skin through the padding, while Alistair stretched his fatigued arms and back.

After negotiating a shocking sum, Leliana said, "From that, take ten sovereigns off if you promise to keep your prices reasonable for those in need."

"Aye, I can do that, miss. And I'll send word to the Chantry for your payment in the morning."

Raviathan boggled at the money. It would take near a year for a dock worker to make that sum. He ignored the butcher's children who cast glances at him, their voices low but carrying to his ears easily. Theirs was the same look he got everywhere, a mixture of coveting, distrust, and contempt, the kind of gaze usually reserved for exotic prostitutes. While they now whispered about the way his eyes glowed in the last light of dusk, the two boys would just as likely try to beat him if they caught Raviathan out alone. Beat him for no other reason than that he was an elf.

The alien cruelty of that brought to mind the bandit gangs they had hunted. As a bird, Morrigan had discovered their encampments easily along with the best advantage for an ambush. Between Raviathan and Leliana's arrows, and Venger's stealthy muscle, the bands were killed with minimal fuss.

Leliana and Morrigan were pleased by the outcome. Considering they had been outnumbered—a witch, two archers, and a dog—they proved formidable stealth skirmishers after taking out groups twice their size with only a few scratches on Venger's sleek coat.

Despite their success, Raviathan's mind kept repeating the seconds when the arc of blood spurted from one man's neck. The spring of an arrow, and the man Raviathan shot froze, his life's blood pouring out in a pulsing stream. Frost dimmed all the color from the world, making the still dawn pristine when they infiltrated the bandit's camp. That man's blood steamed in the frosty morning air. Bright red blossoming in winter's frozen garden.

He had never killed a person in cold blood before. He had killed to save his wife and family. He had killed soulless monsters or in rage. Never like this. Never hunted thinking men and women.

This would be their last night in the village. Raviathan left his band of companions to find his way back to the farmer girl. Venger trotted after him, but the others didn't notice his departure.

Raviathan felt sick. The stone in his stomach started turning over as his mood blackened. Not one of his companions had been bothered by the killing. He expected as much from that templar. They were killers after all. Morrigan, too. She didn't care a wit for a life beyond her own. Should he be surprised by Leliana? Raviathan didn't remember much of the Chant, but he thought there was something about 'one life' that meant killing others was wrong in the Maker's eyes. That couldn't be right though. The templars worked for the Chantry and they killed any mage outside those tower prisons. And didn't the Chantry order wars? He didn't remember what his father had said about that, either.

What was he becoming? Is this what Duncan would have wanted for them, the last Wardens? Turned to base killers? Is this what Grey Wardens did? Murder people because they needed coin?

Was life no longer held sacred because one authority sanctioned the spilling of blood?

As much as Raviathan held tight the memories of his mother, he knew she would have had no difficulty doing what he had done the last few days. The need for coin wouldn't even be a priority. She would have hunted those men because it would help others. The quieter part deep inside him knew the truth—she would have found the job more of an adventure than chore.

That small but powerful part of him that would allow no illusions kept ticking at his mind like water leaking through a roof, one incessant drop at a time. She would not feel remorse in their deaths or her part in them.

Solyn would have shrugged her shoulders, showing neither pleasure or pity. His father would not judge him for killing bandits, but if Cyrion had to do the task himself? He would feel regret that killing had to be done, but his father wouldn't have been bothered beyond that.

All his years, Raviathan worked to save lives. What he did now was an anathema to the principles he held at his core. Always, he lived in superiority to templars. Templars thought they meted out the Maker's justice, but before Raviathan could always take pride in the distinction that he saved lives while templars served to take them. What now? Was killing those men justified because of coin? Certainly not. Because their deaths meant safety for the refugees heading north? That's exactly the same justification the templars used to kill his kind, the safety of others should a mage become an abomination.

Disgusted, Raviathan let himself into Allison's cottage. She cast a nervous smile at him, still shy though she knew him well enough by now, then continued cooking the stew. Raviathan sat at the table, silent, watching her move.

Though sweet and simple, Allison had a hidden passion to her. That passion remained buried deep inside, unknown to even her. Raviathan took in the sway of her dress as she moved, the curve of hips, the fuller figure of a human woman, the dark birthmark on her neck that she covered with her hair.

She had no confidence in herself, not yet. If the time ever came when she could be honest with her real desires, she would want her man to be forceful. That would make her blood flow hot. What she wanted in those hidden parts of her psyche was a man who would come home, push her against the wall, lift her dress and nearly tear her small clothes off to get at her. She wanted to be entered forcefully. Pounded into.

Women often had fantasies that they didn't want in their real life. Some thought of strangers overpowering them, holding them down to fuck them. Those fantasies took away responsibility so that they could enjoy their pleasure without losing their virtue, but those secret desires horrified them in real life.

For Allison, she wanted to know she could be so desirable that the man she gave her heart to wouldn't be able to stop from needing her. To be wanted in return held a primal power for anyone, but that need grew stronger in her. Though Raviathan was not privy to her history, from what he gleaned, she felt like an outcast in her own family. Her purpose had been to work in the field, keep the house neat, care for her parents when they aged, but not because she as a child had been wanted. Sadly, for the rest of her life she would seek to feel cherished as she had not been by the people who should have loved her most.

Raviathan wondered if it was his connection to the Fade that gave glimpses into people's hearts. He never dared discuss the issue with Solyn, not when everyone in the alienage had tried desperately to ignore his behavior.

Did people with strong intuition carry a deeper connection to the Fade than others? Maybe not enough to cast spells, but enough to understand the suffused emotions others let bleed into the Fade? Mystics called that an aura, the presence of each person's emotional life that hovered around them in the Fade.

For whatever reason, he often felt flashes of intuition, sometimes fragments of images, sometimes instincts below the level of words, of what people held close to their hearts. Not always, but often enough to be a barely tolerated pariah in the alienage.

If only his own desires could be held in check. The guilt that left its dirty residue coating his insides always turned the few moments of pleasure into an ugly mass inside him that he could never be rid of.

That shame had been exorcised for a few short but glorious months. During that time, Nesiara had been blooming in her own right. A sad smile touched Raviathan's lips as he thought about her. From their first night and on, she had grown to enjoy her own sexuality. He loved her passion, seeing her awareness and the confidence it brought grow. Pale hair shining in pale moonlight. Maker, she was glorious.

If only.

Raviathan blinked back to the present. "I'm sorry. Mind wandering."

"I, um, I finished setting up the traps today. Thank you for getting them."

"It was no problem."

No going back.

Never again, but in his memories.

His eyes slid back to Allison, and his heart sank. Nothing wrong with her, not really. Nothing was her fault. He knew that. Maker, he knew that! Still, he couldn't help the aching feeling that kept resurging every time he looked at her. Nothing could replace his Ness. Cheap trinkets with globbed on paint instead of the jewels that showered rainbows in his eyes. Nothing could sparkle like her.

Gone.

Raviathan picked dried blood out of a nail then stared at his hands. Everything was broken. His wife, gone. The Wardens and all that promised, gone. Stuck with this mess, and everything falling apart.

"Allison." His voice was quiet, almost cracking as he tried to hold his emotions back. "If the darkspawn come, don't rely on the traps. Just run."

She turned back to him. "W-what's wrong. The traps… don't they work?"

Innocent questions from an innocent girl. "I've seen the horde. Run."