A/N: This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a descent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

Warning: This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

Gathering Heroes

Chapter Three: The Second Son

Castle Highever has stood since the Divine Age, when it was not an independent bannorn, but merely an outpost of the growing Bannorn of Amaranthine...Today, Highever is one of only two remaining teyrnirs, making the Cousland family second in rank only to the king.

Michael ducked under his enemy's sword, lashing out with a blow of his own that sent them reeling. His body was screaming, burning with stress, sweat pouring down his brow, but he continued nevertheless. Gripping his sword tighter, he darted to the side, moving around the other man's strike. As the weapon passed through empty air, Michael lashed out with the hilt of the dagger in his off hand, slamming it down in the crook of his enemy's elbow.

With a cry of pain, the other man dropped his blade, and Michael pressed his sword against his throat. "Give up yet?" He panted, crooking a brow at his defeated foe.

Also gasping for air, Ser Gilmore nodded his head. "Yes, I surrender. I see you have been training." Michael lowered his sword, and he and Ser Gilmore both moved over to place the practice swords back where they belonged.

"Think I can take on Fergus yet?" He grinned at the knight, but Gilmore shook his head.

"With all due respect, you wouldn't stand a chance." He grinned, but Michael scowled. He had been trying to beat Fergus ever since he started his martial training, but so far he had no luck. He had quickly realized that he would never be able to overpower his brother, and had turned to combat styles that relied more on speed. His parents had each wished for him to adopt their combat style, which were very different. His mother was a master with a bow, while his father fought well with a sword and shield.

When Fergus had adopted his father's brand of fighting, his mother had desperately hoped to get an archer with Michael, but was disappointed when he revealed his atrocious aim. Michael had actually tried his hand at sword and shield combat, and had picked it up fairly well, but competition with Fergus had driven him away from it. Fergus was always the stronger brother, and even handled a greatsword with quite a bit of skill. Michael realized that if he took to combat styles relied on strength, Fergus would always best him.

That led to where he was now, fighting with a sword and dagger, operating with a mix of speed and powerful finesse. He was also training with a pair of longswords, but he still had some practicing to do.

He and Ser Gilmore were in the practice yard as frequently as they could, with Michael honing his skills to eventually best his brother and Gilmore being one of the few knights that didn't hold back because of Michael's status. They had been practicing for almost an hour now, and Michael was exhausted, sweaty, and covered in dirt. If his mother were to see him now, she would have the guards throw him in the sea.

"Well, I think it's about time to get cleaned up. Maker save us if Mother finds me looking like this." Gilmore gave a simple smile, careful not say anything that might sound disrespectful if overheard. Michael heard that Gilmore's commander didn't allow the Cousland's relative leniency let their subordinates forget their place. It was a trait that Michael respected about Ser Gilmore. He remembered his station without being a prude about it.

The two of them left the practice yard and went their separate ways, Ser Gilmore heading to the barracks and Michael heading up to his quarters. Highever Castle had a separate wing for the Cousland's and their close guests, and this was where he headed, stopping along the way to alert a servant that he needed a bath prepared.

When he arrived at his room, a pair of elves already waited for him, and while one prepared the bath, her companion removed his leathers. As she worked, he did what he usually did with the female servants, which consisted of joking, but utterly shameless flirting. When her companion returned and his leathers were removed and ready to be cleaned, he dismissed them both with a parting wink, and moved into the bath.

Sinking into the water, he let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing Michael loved more than relaxing in a cool bath after a day of training. Any other time, and he would want his bath steaming, but after hard days like today, cool baths felt divine. He laid there for a while, before finally forcing himself to scrub the sweat and grime from his body.

When he emerged, he exited the bathing area and returned to his bedroom, heading towards the wardrobe in the far corner. Reaching into it, he pulled out a navy blue tunic, a dark pair of breeches, and a pair of nice boots. Once he was dressed, he headed out and decided to hunt down his father. He would be leaving to join the King in the south soon, and Michael hadn't spoken to him yet today.

He found his father in the main hall, and he was with company, unfortunately. Speaking to his father was Arl Howe, possible the slimiest man Michael had ever seen. How his father put up with that man when half the nation despised him always escaped Michael.

Howe's troops had apparently been delayed, and would not be leaving with Fergus and Bryce in the afternoon as planned, instead arriving tomorrow morning. In response, Michael's father would instead send Fergus out on schedule and leave in the morning with Howe's troops. Michael was hardly surprised that Howe's troops were ill-supplied, seeing who it was that was in charge of them.

Upon noticing his entrance, his father turned to face him with a smile. "Ah, here is my youngest. Howe, you remember my son, Michael?" The question was a polite one, although Michael didn't see a reason the Arl wouldn't remember who he was.

Howe nodded. "Yes, and I see he has grown into a fine young man. It is a pleasure to see you again, lad." It would have been a compliment from anyone else, but coming from Howe's mouth it only made him uncomfortable.

However, Michael only smiled politely and responded with a simple "The pleasure is mine, Arl Howe." He was about to turn to his father, but it seemed the Arl wasn't quite finished yet.

"My daughter Delilah asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her with me next time." The Arl gave what he must have thought looked like a charming smile, but to Michael it reminded him of a grimace. He would enjoy a good tumble with Delilah, as she managed to come from this man without looking like him. The problem, however, was that for some reason Delilah hated him with a passion, and wasn't exactly worth the effort it would take to bed her.

Michael didn't allow his thoughts to surface, and simply smiled again responded diplomatically. "Yes, I think I would enjoy that."

His father and Howe chatted back and forth for a few moments, and Michael was forced to stand there uncomfortably until his father finally spoke to him again. "It's nice that you showed up, Pup, I needed to speak with you. I need you to be in charge of the castle while you brother and I are away."

Michael was taken aback at the revelation that his father was leaving him in charge. He had been trained to command, as was fitting of the son of a Teryn, but he had been under the assumption that his father would his mother in charge, as she was the ruling Teryna. His father seemed to have other ideas.

"Also, there is someone I would like for you to meet." He turned to a guard standing nearby. "Call for Duncan, please." The guard gave a salute, and then left the room to hunt down this Duncan. After a few moments, he returned with a grizzly looking Rivaini man, one that was armed to the teeth. Michael crossed his arms at the disrespect for a stranger to enter a Teryn's presence while armed, especially armed this heavily.

The man, who he assumed was Duncan, bowed his head in the Teryn's direction. "It is an honor to be a guest in your halls, Teryn Cousland." Duncan's voice was just as rough as he appeared, though he at least had enough courtesy to address Bryce with the respect that was deserved.

"Your Lordship, you didn't mention a Grey Warden would be present!" Howe seemed unusually alarmed, suddenly shifting back and forth with obvious discomfort. Bryce turned and gave the Arl a curious look.

"Duncan only just arrived earlier today, unannounced. Is there a problem?" He quirked a brow, waiting for Howe to respond. Howe spluttered, caught in what was apparently an awkward situation, though Michael couldn't imagine why.

"Of course not." He said, trying to recover from his unusual reaction. "But a guest of such stature requires certain protocols. I am...at a disadvantage." The Arl's lip curled slightly in distaste, but of course Bryce didn't notice it. He somehow managed not to notice many of the slimy things Howe did.

"Yes, we rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person." He turned to Michael. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught about the Grey Wardens, I hope."

Michael nodded his head. "Yes, Father. They are an order of great warriors, who fight against the darkspawn." His father nodded, and Duncan cut in to comment.

"Yes, and our fight continues still." Michael turned his attention to the Grey Warden. The man could only be designed as grizzled, his bearded face hard-lined and weathered, his dark eyes staring out at the room with a stoic calm.

"How long do you think the fight in the south will last?" He asked, raising a brow at Duncan. Michael hoped the war wouldn't go on for too long. The longer it went, the longer he was stuck in north, mother worrying and him anxious for news.

Duncan gave him a firm look. "However long it takes to stop this menace. A Blight is not something that can be stopped within a few battles."

Michael kept his face neutral, but on the inside he was already beginning to dislike this Grey Warden. Duncan's order existed outside of the political sphere, but as a guest in Cousland halls he owed Michael respect. Duncan, however, seemed to think treating Michael like an ignorant child was appropriate.

Michael turned his attention away from the warden. "Father, how long until you and Fergus will be leaving?" He asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too soon. He was not looking forward to his father and brother being at war with monsters, and he and mother being stuck far in the north, unable to hear any news. From what he had learned of darkspawn, they were horrible monsters, and their very existence corrupted the land around them.

"Want to get rid of us, do you?" His father laughed, giving Michael a warm smile. His father was fond of not taking things very seriously. Michael would have laughed, but Duncan and Howe were making sure that didn't happen. Instead, he forced a small smile on his face, and shook his head.

"Of course not, Father. I just want to know how long I will have to deal with Mother worrying herself to death." He managed to have a small laugh at his father's reaction. Bryce's eyes went wide, and he pressed a finger to his lips, shushing Michael in mock fright.

"Be careful what you say, Pup! She has ears everywhere! Nothing gets past dear Eleanor, something I thought you of all people would have figured out." Bryce laughed loudly, and wrapped an arm around Michael's shoulder. "And even if something did get past her, old Lady would be on you in a heartbeat."

Lady was castle Highever's oldest hound, practically a part of the castle. She had been around since before Michael was born, and had practically been his second nanny. Whenever Nan was busy, or was too frustrated to deal with him, his mother would have Lady keep an eye on him, and she was excellent at the job. As a giant hound, she could halt his shenanigans in their tracks, and hunt him down anytime he tried to hide. Since mabari are magically bred, they lived over double the lifespan of other large, pure-blooded hounds, easily long enough to grow up alongside Michael, and learn all of his tricks.

Old Lady was also good at keeping the other kennel residents in line. His own hound, Shera, had quickly learned how to behave like a proper hound. This meant she learned how to appear calm and docile, but really be a master manipulator, at the level that only dogs can reach. Shera was a master at getting what she wanted, and not even Michael could resist her. While other hounds would break into the larder when no one was watching, Shera would walk right up to Nan and give the old cook a perfected begging face, and get anything she desired.

"Oh, I know she would. Speaking of which Father, where is Lady?" Michael hadn't seen the hound yet today, a strange occurrence. She normally dropped by to check on him during her daily rounds of the castle. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen much of Shera either.

"Oh, the old girl has been following Duncan's recruit around since they arrived. They are quite taken with each other." Bryce chuckled, but Michael was confused. Duncan had a recruit? More importantly, Duncan had a recruit that Lady like enough to follow around? That was something he had to see.

"Duncan, I heard you were looking for recruits here too." His father said to Duncan conversationally.

The Grey Warden nodded his head in response. "I am, Your Grace. I hope to gather as many recruits as I can before I head back to Ostagar." Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Duncan had a grand total of one recruit. As many as needed, my ass. "If I might be so bold, your son holds quite a bit of promise, my Lord."

The two of them continued on for a short time, chatting back and forth about things that Michael paid little attention to. At the first polite opportunity, he slipped away from the room, heading out to see what his hound was up to.

Once he was out in the main hall, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled as loudly as he could, the sound ringing across the stone. After a moment of waiting, an answering bark reached his ears, and after that he heard the steadily increasing sound of clawed feet hitting the ground.

Shera came skidding around a corner, bounding up to him. Coming to a sliding halt directly in front of him, she gazed up at him with her warm eyes, mouth agape as she panted and her stubby tail wagging.

"There you are, big girl." Michael reached a hand forward, gently scratching around her ears. "I haven't seen much of you today." At his accusatory tone, she whined and pressed her head against his palm, giving him an apologetic look, ceasing her tail's wagging.

"So, I hear old Lady found herself a friend. Is it true?" Shera gave a bark of conformation, her tail wagging again. Michael felt a grin tugging at his lips at her canine happiness, giving her another scratch.

"Do you want to take me to them?" Shera barked happily, and walked away at a brisk pace, forcing him to hurry after her.

She led him up and around the hall to the left, then cut into the garden courtyard. It was located in the center of the castle, just behind the main hall. There was another, much larger garden outside of the chapel, but this was one his mother personally tended to.

Shera leapt ahead of him with a bark, and a voice greeted her. "Oh, your back! Did you finish whatever you had to do?" The speaker was female, a female with a voice that spoke of a pretty face. It was high and clear, with the cultured accent of someone with a good education, and was spoken to the hound in a kind, gentle tone. He entered the garden, and the woman looked up to him from her seat on a bench, which was also occupied by Lady. "Oh, you brought a friend."

The girl was quite the sight, her pale skin almost glowing amongst the dark reds and greens of the roses. Thick blonde waves cascaded around a beautiful face with high cheekbones, full lips, and a set of stunningly vivid blue eyes. Her youthful, innocent features seemed crafted to bear a wide, joyful smile. Michael was definitely interested, and he knew how to get a girl he was interested in. It didn't hurt matters that his charm was enhanced by Maker-blessed good looks. Thick black hair, smoldering green eyes, a strong jaw, excellent bone structure, all put together in a face that helped him become quite the ladies' man around Highever.

"Why, yes she did bring a friend, her very best." He smiled, and she smiled back, and ran her fingers through Lady's thick fur. "Well, I was her best friend, until you decided to steal her away from me."

The girl grinned. "I didn't mean to, she just started following me." She turned back to Shera, reaching her hands forward and scratching behind her ears. "And I am so glad you did, you are so cute!" Shera gave a happy bark, and Michael barely kept his jaw closed. Shera hadn't allowed anyone to refer to her as 'cute' in years. Who was this girl? As she focused on petting Shera and Lady, he looked her over again.

She was obviously no farmer's daughter, judging by her educated speech, and the fact that it didn't look as though she ever lifted anything heavier than a book in her life. She could possibly be some form of nobility, but most noblewomen wore dresses. The robe she wore was more like a member of the Chantry, except it wasn't the red he normally saw. Instead, they were a rich blue, and adorned with some unfamiliar symbol, a symbol that was also present on a ring adorning one of the slender fingers of her right hand.

He had known she was pale, but he somehow hadn't quite noticed just how pale. She was deathly white, as though she and the sun hadn't gotten along in a long time. He had seen pale women, women who spent most of their waking moments indoors, but this was different. She was paler than prisoners who hadn't seen anything other than the cell walls for months. The only sign that she had been out in the daytime was a faint redness to her cheeks, so hard to notice as to approach invisible.

The most puzzling fact was that all of these features, while confusing on their own, were absolutely dumbfounding when coupled with the fact that she was a Grey Warden recruit. She looked as if battle was a foreign concept to her, and the Wardens were warriors who spent their whole lives fighting darkspawn.

"So, what brings you to Highever?" He asked, already knowing the answer but hoping to get her to talk. As he spoke, he moved forward and sat on a bench beside the one on which she and Lady rested upon, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs, smiling warmly at her.

She ran her fingers through the dogs' fur, both content with her touch. "I'm here with the Grey Warden, Duncan. I'm his new recruit." Something he already knew, but the window for a compliment was open.

"You, a Grey Warden? I thought you had to be scarred up old men to join their order, not pretty little ladies." She smiled, and he notched himself up one small victory.

"Oh stop, before you make me blush." She smiled, flashing a set of nice teeth. Getting this girl was going to be so easy.

"I'm sorry, but I always tell a woman how beautiful she is." He grinned at her, placing just the right amount of innocent nonchalance into his voice. An unusual expression flashed across her face, and then she smiled and gave him a look that meant she wasn't fooled.

"Well, thank you." She turned to look at Lady and Shera, giving them each a good scratch. "So, are these your hounds?" A change in the conversation, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"More like I'm their human." Ugh, not the best thing to say, but it got her to laugh, so perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought. "Shera there owns me, and Lady owns this whole castle." He pointed to each dog respectively, and the both gave woofs of confirmation.

The girl laughed, giving the mabari a fond look. "Well, they seem like good companions." He couldn't help but notice she didn't say pet, and the hounds seemed happy with her word choice as well.

"They are the very best. They only take to the best kind of people." That one wasn't very subtle, but the girl didn't seem to notice. "They both appear quite fond of you."

Another unusual look, followed this time by a wide grin. Michael was on a roll with this one. She turned back to him, cheeks dimpled in amusement, and he was certain that with a little bit more, this girl would be wrapped around his finger. She was quite the looker, deathly pale or not, and he was going to make sure he caught her.

"You're very charming." She intoned, and that wonderful smile was still on her face. "Do you treat every girl you meet like this?"

"Only the ones I like." He was laying it on a tad thick, but this girl seemed to enjoy it. Despite how pale and delicate she was, she was still very pretty. Those eyes, peeking out from underneath their long lashes, were dazzling, and that smile was wonderful.

"Oh, so you like me now, do you?" She asked, her brow raised in curiosity. Michael grinned at her, giving her a wink.

"Why yes, I think I do." He said lowly, giving her a perfected smoldering look. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly, her body remaining still. He leaned in closer, placing a hand next to her thigh on the bench, his fingertips just brushing the edge of her robe.

"Really? So, what happens when you like them?" She asked in a quivering voice, her eyes wide. He leaned in even closer, and she did the same, until he could feel her quick breathing tickling his face.

"Why don't we find out?" Her eyes fluttered and closed, and her lips quivered, held slightly open. He leaned in to press his lips against hers, and was mere centimeters away when she burst into laughter. Michael couldn't have been more confused, as she fell back onto Lady, holding her sides as she laughed uproariously.

"By the Maker, I had you going!" She howled, tears welling in her eyes. "I'll admit, you had me in the beginning, but once I caught on I got you so good!" Michael had never been more confused. Every sign had pointed to this girl being innocent and most likely naive, and he had never, ever read any female this wrong. Maker, he even knew how to read the dogs! Calming into simple giggling, she leaned forward, giving him a smirk. "I've met boys like you before, and you aren't fooling me, Ser." With a final laugh, she rose and swept out of the room, Lady following after her.

Andraste's ass, who was that girl?

Michael settled into his seat in the dining room, watching as the last of the attendees slowly filed in. His family's table was perched at the head of the room, with his mother and father front and center. His mother had arranged an afternoon banquet to say farewell to his brother and, at least before Howe's news earlier, his father as well. Every important person in the castle was here, as well as those from the city below.

They were all gathered here to bid a sad farewell to their Teryn and his heir, as well as their troops, yet his mother refused to allow it to be depressing, pulling all the stops to make it an enjoyable occasion.

The servants had been working tirelessly to prepare a feast, and had called in a band of musicians who played a gentle tune from the center of the room. Those present spoke amongst themselves, a pleasant hum of chatter filling the room.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Michael wasn't feeling like himself. His encounter with that girl had left him uncomfortable, confused as to how he had misread her so spectacularly. Even more confusing, was who exactly she was to begin with. He knew she was a Grey Warden recruit, but that was all the information he had, and it simply added to the confusion.

How exactly had such a girl such as her and up as a recruit of an order of legendary warriors who fought corrupted monsters? She was, in every single way, the opposite of what he, and most likely everyone, imagined a warrior to be. Delicate, pale, slender, looking as if she had spent her whole life indoors reading books.

Even if she weren't a Warden recruit, she was still confusing. He had never seen someone like her, and he lived in a major port city, where one saw all kinds of people.

His thinking was interrupted when his father stood, and the chatter in the room hushed to near silence. "Greetings, my friends and loyal vassals. Today, we gather to bid farewell to my eldest, Fergus. His Majesty, King Cailan, has called upon the men and women of Ferelden to take up arms in the south, to combat the most horrific of enemies: the darkspawn." Whispers floated through the room, but his father continued his speech. "The darkspawn are a horror we thought forgotten. After all, the last time they rose up was 400 years ago, so long ago that many of us have let them slip from our minds. However, there are those who have remembered the threat they pose, even after all these years." His father gestured to his left, and Michael was shocked that he had missed Duncan sitting in the seat reserved for the most honored guest, the seat closest the Teryn and his family.

"Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, came to us with a warning: a Blight is upon us. He has come from the fortress of Ostagar in search of recruits, and has already has shown success. Inducted into his ranks is Selene Amell, a mage of the Circle, ready to use her magic to protect the people from this menace." Michael was floored by the revelation. A mage? Mages were foreign things, people kept away from the rest of society because of the danger they posed. The Chantry taught that the ancient Tevinter mages had brought the world to the edge of ruin, and had forced the Maker to turn his back on humanity. Demons were drawn to them, and because of this they risked becoming Abominations, mad beings that could unleash untold destruction.

That the girl that grasped his attention, Selene, was mage was shocking, to say the least. When he pictured mages, he pictured either weathered old men who spent their time reading dusty books, or dark, leering wretches who twisted the minds of those around them, not some pretty little thing who enjoyed petting dogs. However, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Mages were housed in a tower, kept there to study and learn to control their magic, all while under the vigilance of the Templars. This would account her paleness and frail build, as she would have spent her life indoors reading books. Still, he found the revelation unsettling.

Michael drew himself from his thinking when he realized he had missed a chunk of his father's speech. "Today, Fergus, a son of Highever, will lead our forces south to join the King in Ostagar, and there, we will beat these monsters back into the ground where they belong!" Those present cheered and clapped, and Michael saw Selene smile and clap with everyone else. Shouting over the uproar, his father finished his speech. "Now, let's not let him leave on a dower note. Today, we celebrate!"

They roared again, and the party had begun. The band began playing an upbeat tune, and people began to swirl thorough the room, dancing or hunting for the ale. Amidst the chaotic mass of people, Michael spotted Selene maneuvering through the crowd, and exiting a back entrance that he knew lead to an expansive balcony. Without thinking, he abandoned his seat and skirted around the edges of the room, following her outside.

There she was, standing in the shade to avoid the afternoon sun, leaning on the stone railing and looking out over the city and sea below. Michael moved forward, leaning onto it beside her. "Quite the view, isn't it?" He asked, peering over at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes. I've never seen anything like this before. It's...different. You hear about the sea in stories and books, but nothing quite prepares you for when you see it with your own eyes." Her voice was soft, her eyes distant as she gazed out at the enormous expanse of blue water. A storm crackled far out over the water, darkening the horizon except for the occasional flashes of lightning. "I haven't seen it in so long, I almost forgot..." She trailed off, lowering her head.

"So..." He began slowly, careful to keep his voice completely neutral. "Is it true what my father said in there? Are you really a mage?" At the question, she let out a disturbingly defeated sigh.

"Yes, I am a mage." She answered, her voice filled with resignation. At the tone, he leaned in closer, placing a hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you?" At his touch she flinched, drawing herself just out of his arm's reach. Once out of his reach, she shook her head, still looking out over the city.

"No, you haven't offended me, my lord." She sighed, rubbing her arms uncomfortably. "It's just... never mind. I should head back to Duncan." She turned to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her back to face him.

"So, can you start fires with your mind, or something else magical?" Michael couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. This woman could perform feats with her mind that were beyond what Michael believed to be possible, yet she seemed upset about it.

At his childlike tone, Selene gave a small smile. "Yes, I can do magic. That is what it means to be a mage, after all."

"Can you show me?" He asked, gazing at her hopefully. Selene raised her arm, holding a clenched fist in the air between them. With a flourish, she extended her fingers and twisted her palm toward the sky, and flames leapt to life across her hand, dancing wildly and glowing brightly. Michael felt his breath leave him in a rush, and he raised a hand, holding his fingers near the dancing tongues of fire. Heat flushed across his fingertips, and he gazed at her in wonder.

Suddenly, the warm heat changed to biting cold, and he looked down to see her hand glowing an icy blue, cold mist curling around her palm. Slowly, the glow disappeared, and the chill vanished with it. He reached out, snatching her hand into his grasp. Stunned, he raised his gaze back to hers, meeting her wide eyes. "Your hands aren't even cold."

"Magical, isn't it?" She joked, giving him a nervous smile. Michael was absolutely amazed at the thought of someone being able to perform such feats. He simply stared at her for several moments, looking into those vivid eyes, attempting to grasp the fact that this beautiful, delicate woman could possess such power. She began to shift nervously, her eyes flitting down to their hands and back to his face. "Uhm, may I have my hand back?"

Startled, Michael released her hand, feeling foolish at how he was acting. "I apologize. I'm just a little...overwhelmed. What you can do is truly amazing." He expected her to be pleased at the compliment, but once again he judged her incorrectly. Instead, she turned away from him again crossing her arms and gazing out over the city.

"Simple tricks you find amazing. But when you see what we mages can really do, you won't think it's so amazing." There it was again, that disturbingly defeated tone of voice. Michael was about to question her on it when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Ah, there's my brother! Here I am, about to leave, and your hiding out here on the balcony." Michael turned to see Fergus and some of his lieutenants standing the doorway, beckoning him towards them. He turned back to Selene, but she was moving away, slipping back into inside through one of the smaller doorways. In a small way, he was glad she had left. Here he was, his brother about to leave to the south the battle monsters, his father soon to follow, and here he was losing his head over some stranger, however magical she was.

Smiling, he walked towards his brother, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back into the party.