Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Dog Lord

In the morning Seanna made porridge and coffee on the breakfast fire and she and the dwarves spoke of inconsequentials while Loghain and Elilia went about their own morning business carefully uncommunicative. Elilia steeped several flowers of Andraste's Grace in her tin mug without comment, secure in the knowledge that few were aware of the contraceptive properties of the little white flower. She had no idea whether she was able to become pregnant or not, but she was taking no chances on a child born out of wedlock or scandalously early. In truth she didn't particularly like the idea of becoming a mother at all, but with Fergus seemingly resolved to remain in mourning for the rest of his life she knew that it might now be her duty to provide an heir to the Highever teyrnir if she could.

Loghain came back from washing up at the nearby brook and accepted with muttered thanks the mug of coffee Seanna handed him. He sat down cross-legged next to Elilia and briefly touched the careless tail of her hair, far more affection than she would have expected him to demonstrate in the open, or even just in front of Seanna. Varric saw and smirked knowingly.

"It's odd, how close Ferelden is to Kirkwall and yet how very different everything is here," he said, innocently. "Even the animals are different. I heard some odd bird calls last night, and I was wondering if you could help me identify them. They sounded like this: " And he replicated rather too convincingly the cries of a woman in orgasm. Elilia's face reddened and Laz elbowed Varric in the ribs hard enough to knock him over.

She said, "So they had a tumble, so what? I'd roll the big guy myself if he wasn't spoken for." Loghain choked on his coffee and Seanna had to slap him hard on the back. Varric picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his coat with no apparent rancor.

"Hey, I'm sorry - I'm just a born tease, is all. Actually I think the two of 'em make kind of a cute couple, and evidently something they're doing is working. They've got that whole matched-opposites thing going on, like night and day or beauty and the beast."

Elilia made a face at him. "Are you calling me ugly?" Varric burst out laughing.

"My lady, a man would have to be stone-blind as well as stupid to imply anything of the kind." He gestured to Laz. "Let's clean up, Spunky, and get our gear packed away. I'm sure they'll want to get underway soon, and I don't want to hold them up seeing as how they've been so kind as to let us join them." The dwarves sprang into action and began to strike their part of camp. Varric whispered an aside to Laz pitched just loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"Besides, I need to start making good before the Bull charges."

Elilia shot a look at Loghain and he did actually seem to be just short of snorting and pawing the earth.

Loghain tossed a handful of dried beef bits to Champion and said, tightly, "Let's get moving."

Elilia began packing and Seanna choked out the fire with an icy blast of winter's grasp. As the strongest of them, Loghain was the one with the dubious honor of being weighted down heaviest with cookpot and tent poles. At least Elilia claimed he was the strongest. As he shifted the straps of his pack until the small cast-iron pot didn't dig quite so painfully into his kidneys he sized her up and thought she had to be at least as strong as he was, but when he pointed that fact out to her she batted her eyelashes and played female, which made him grin despite himself. As long as he still had easy access to his sword and shield he supposed he didn't honestly mind if she made him carry the whole camp outfit.

"I'll take point and keep an eye out for traps in our path," Laz offered. Paragon barked. "Me and Paragon will, I mean."

"Me and Bianca will hang back with Birdie and keep an eye rearward," he said, with an affectionate pat for the stock of his crossbow. Loghain didn't actually like the idea of keeping his back to the man, but at the rear was where he would usually put archers and mages so it was hard to argue the point. Seanna - "Birdie," evidently, since the man seemed unable to call anyone but his weapon by their proper name - would be there to keep an eye on him and Loghain whispered to her a warning that she accepted with a nod. She didn't believe for a moment that the funny dwarf meant them any harm, but if he tried anything foolish she knew a few spells that would change his mind pretty quickly, naturally resistant or not. A crushing prison of telekinetic magic would knock the blocks out from under him in a heartbeat.

MEANWHILE, IN DENERIM

The ship Our Lady Grace pulled into port after a round-trip journey of a month and four days. She sailed in from Kirkwall, where she'd stopped to gather Ferelden repatriates and new immigrants alike. Grateful to leave the cramped and odoriferous interior of the ship, the exhausted and in many cases dreadfully seasick passengers pushed and shoved through the gangway with a complete and utter disregard for order. The last two passengers were more decorous, and disembarked with the straight spines and stalwart pride of soldiers or well-disciplined city guards. The woman eyed the quays with interest, noting the changes since the last time she'd been in Ferelden's capital. The rickety and rather random docks of days past were long gone, replaced by solid construction and a good sense of organization. She wondered if the rest of the city had benefited similarly in its reconstruction.

She looked at her husband, who was eyeing his new home with some reservation. "Having second thoughts?" she asked. He looked back at her and smiled.

"As long as my mother and sisters live in the Free Marches I'll always have thoughts of them and Kirkwall as well, but my home is with you, my love."

Her green eyes laughed at him as she smiled back with every ounce of the love he beamed at her. "I'm glad. Ferelden isn't what you're used to, but it is a fine land. I spend a good long time kicking myself for leaving it, but I can't regret it any longer. I am glad to be back, though. A chance to help protect her now as penance for deserting her during the Blight."

Donnic squeezed her hand. "It will be well, love. The criers all say that with the Hero of Ferelden bringing in allies and Loghain himself leading the army the Orlesians got their asses handed to them at Sulcher."

Aveline's smile faltered and she shook her head. "I hope it was enough, but though I'm happy for the victory I can hardly believe they'd ever trust Loghain Mac Tir with Ferelden's well-being again."

Donnic brushed back a stray lock of her carrot-orange hair. "Maybe this is his penance, love. Whatever he did and whatever his reasons, he followed the Warden into battle against the Archdemon. I don't think he must have meant to turn against his own country."

She tried for a smile but failed. "It wasn't the horror of the Darkspawn that drove me to desert, you know. It was that abandonment, knowing that our own general turned his back on us and left us to die. I was cut adrift completely, like I'd imagine someone would feel at the end of the bloody world. If Loghain wouldn't stand for us and see us through, it seemed to me Ferelden was doomed. Perhaps it was foolish and weak of me to succumb to such feelings, but once Wesley was gone I had nothing else at all to cling to."

"This is a different situation, love. The Darkspawn were an Enemy Unknown, and it is unfortunate but your strategies simply weren't effective against them. Loghain must have hoped to save what he could, not knowing that a Blight truly could not be defeated without Grey Wardens. Once he understood that, he stood with them. If they had been more forthcoming with him from the beginning, instead of pandering to the late King, perhaps much would have been altered. Now the enemy are not monsters but men, and I'm sure Loghain is well prepared to defend the nation against them. And our blades will play their part as well. We'll settle the Orlesians, and then we'll make this place our home."

Loghain didn't know who had asked, but Laz Brosca was detailing the story of her escape from Orzammar, which he was somewhat surprised to realize actually had been an escape, and rather a narrow one.

"So Leske says to me, 'You've been telling me for years that you're the baddest thing with a blade…well, Everd's armor is right over there, and you're just about the same size.' Oh, I was tempted. You can't believe how tempted I was - and not for bloody Beraht, neither, but just to see the look on all their noble nug-humping faces when a brand took down their best men. But I was too scared for what might happen to Rica - that's my sister, my I-can-prove-it sister - so I scarpered. I figured the best way to make sure we were all safe was to slice Beraht into little tiny pieces, so I broke into his house and killed him. Rica turned out okay, I guess - she ended up in the Royal Palace, with a bellyful of King Behlen's son, so she and ma are well taken care of. Leske though, I don't know what happened to that poor duster. Before I slipped out the front gates for good I found out that he got his pal Darran to stand as Everd, and they got caught. If the guards didn't kill him, I guess Jarvia probably did."

"I found a dwarf in Jarvia's dungeons when I was cleaning out the Carta," Elilia said. "Two of them, actually, though only one was still alive. I let him out. He said something about being locked up because of a bet, but I don't know if he was your friend or not."

Laz sighed, then smiled brightly. "I would say it was too much to hope for, but I'm an optimistic duster so I choose to believe that it was. And I also choose to believe that he ran straight to the Diamond Quarter and Rica smuggled him into the palace as her 'cousin.' So now Leske's livin' the good life and drinkin' the good stuff."

"Excuse me, but do I understand you to say that you broke into this man Beraht's house and summarily murdered him?" Loghain asked.

"Damn straight, salroka. You surfacers have a phrase to describe it, I think you call it 'doing the world a favor.'"

"This Beraht, he was a smuggler, then?"

"More than that. If there was something dirty going on in Dust Town, Beraht was at the bottom of it. He was the Carta's boss before Jarvia. She was his right-hand woman, the hand that was down his pants. I'd a' been glad to kill her, too, but she wasn't there. You ever been to Orzammar?"

"Some years ago, on Wardens' business with Elilia. We didn't stay long, however. We had a Blight to attend to."

"And I suppose you never went to Dust Town?"

"No."

"Then maybe you don't know that the only 'honest' work for a duster like me is cleaning trash middens or panhandling, and those jobs pay absolutely dick. Your other options are to work as some type of whore or bust heads for the Carta - those jobs also pay absolutely dick, but you're less likely to starve to death or have your throat slit. My big sis was a high-end hooker - a noble hunter, same diff, 'cept the lucky ones end up moved to a caste if they manage to give some ass-wagon a son - and I was one of Beraht's meat-head musclemen."

"And your mother, I take it, was one of the 'unlucky' noble hunters?"

"That's what she says, but its actually pretty hard for me to imagine that she ever had the looks or the class to make it working the Diamond Quarter. But what do I know? Rica's looks had to come from somewhere, and ma could maybe be really classy when she's sober. I wouldn't know."

Loghain shook his head. "I oughtn't to say this, but I actually do feel rather badly for y - "

A sudden, sharp pain in his neck, a quick fading of consciousness. He heard Champion bark urgently and just had time for a single thought before he crumpled to the ground. I knew we shouldn't have trusted these damned dwarves.

Champion could have kicked herself, if she were capable of doing so. The Bad People were upon them before she knew they were even there, wielding blowguns that shot darts of smelly sleep-juice with unerring aim into the necks of her Master and his people. They'd covered their Human scent with the thick aroma of doe urine, and if she'd been half as smart as she'd thought herself she would have alerted to the unnatural level of deer smell in the air. There was no time to launch a counter-offensive. She had to think on her paws.

With a brief doggy prayer that her Master would understand what she was doing and forgive her, she barked a command at the others. Paragon, older, believing herself wiser than a pup like Champion, did not want to obey, but one of the Bad People kicked her very hard in the face, making her yelp. Dazed, she sat back on her haunches for a moment and Champion took the opportunity to bite her sharply on the shoulder. No longer in a position to hold out, Paragon followed the pups into the tree cover. Abandoning their Masters went against every instinct in their nature, but Champion hoped she was being Clever. Clever was good.

They watched from the bushes as the Bad People stripped their Humans of the weapons they carried and bound them up hand and foot. They also put a gag in the mouth of the little one with the Fade smell about her. Champion had to sit on Haakon and put her front legs across his muzzle to keep him from whining and barking and chasing after when the Bad People loaded his mistress into the back of a horse-drawn cart another group of them brought up from further down the road. She felt very much like doing those things herself when her own Man was piled in next to her, with much grunting and swearing from the Bad People who had to wrangle his bulk.

"Sacre merde," she heard one of the Bad People say. "This is a big sonofabitch, no?"

"The Queen's pere," another said. "Be careful with him, the Empress wants him alive - for now."

A third broke in. "You're not paid to talk! Allonz y!"

"What do we do with the dwarves and the elf girl?" one of them asked.

"Bring them along. As soft-hearted as the King is known to be, they may be of some value alive - and even if not, they would fetch a fine price from the Tevinters, the apostate especially."

"Should we track down the dogs?" a Bad Man said, sounding worried. "They might sound an alarm."

The loud-voiced leader laughed. "They ran. Mabari do not run from a fight. Evidently they were not properly bonded. We have what we came for - let us depart. I cannot shake the dirt of this place off my boots soon enough."

They finished piling up the fallen people and spread the hay that filled the cart over them carefully, so that it appeared to be just another farm wagon.

"We must hurry now, so that we can make camp before they awaken," the loud-voiced leader said. "We cannot be too cautious."

The dogs watched anxiously as the Bad People gave the order and the horse plodded on. Champion whined to Haakon, faster and stealthier than she or Paragon, and her brother wagged his stump of a tail in understanding. He raced off through the woods, keeping the cart in sight and making no noise, while Champion and Paragon followed at a more cautious distance. Eventually the Bad People turned off the well-traveled road for a rutted and overgrown track that saw little use. Some time later they stopped.

"Make camp. The drugs will wear off soon so they must be securely bound. Lash them to poles and make sure they're out of reach of each other. Give the mage another dose - we don't want her waking up and causing havoc."

Champion nearly forgot herself when her Master, looking so pale and lifeless that it frightened her, was unloaded from the wagon and tied to a sturdy wooden stake set into the earth. As one of the Bad People finished binding him he awoke - a scarce heartbeat between lolling dead and violently alive - and he strained against his bonds with some little effect. Startled, the Bad Man leapt back. If he had not been drugged he might have broken free, but the traces still in his system weakened him and the Master slumped back, exhausted. The Bad People laughed uproariously and Champion growled quietly to herself.

The dogs watched impatiently as the Bad People went about their business. Eventually they had their tents up and their fires lit, and Champion saw them break out several bottles. Her tail began to wag at the sight - she knew that when men drank deeply of such bottles they became slow and stupid. Luck was with them. The Bad People cooked themselves a heavy dinner - offering not so much as a scrap to the Master and his people, Champion was outraged to see - and drank a great deal of wine, and went to their bedrolls posting only a single guard already more than half asleep. Champion gave silent orders to the other pups and after Haakon had rolled in enough mud to hide his pale coat they bellied into the camp, keeping to the shadows as best they could. Haakon and Paragon crept to the wagon and burrowed through the hay to the cache of their people's weapons. Champion trusted in her dark coat to hide her well and stalked cautiously up behind the pole to which her Master was staked. She put her cold, wet nose in the palm of his hand momentarily and she felt his surprise, but he was Clever and made no sound. She applied her sharp teeth to his tough bonds and in a few moments his hands were free. Then she went to the wagon herself and returned to him with his sword clamped in her strong jaws. He did not take the time to praise her - he took the blade and sliced through the ropes at his ankles, then rolled quickly to his feet and cut the throat of the one sleepy guard before he could react. In moments he had the rest of his People freed, except for the little Fade-smelling one who was still heavily drugged and asleep. With their weapons and the element of surprise, Champion's pack rapidly overtook their foolishly complacent captors.

"Take one alive," the Master growled to his pack. "I want to know their plans."

"This one's alive," the Short Man said. "Out cold, but alive."

"Bind him, and someone see if you can find some sort of antidote for poor Seanna."

Haakon's mistress knelt down beside her dog and pointed out the mud caking his white fur. "I've never heard of anything like this. Do you think our mabari actually…formulated a strategy?" The Short Woman gave Paragon pats and much praise, but the Master knew who to thank for his rescue. He knelt down and scratched Champion's ears.

"Good girl, Champion," he said. "Clever dog."

Champion panted modestly, but she knew she deserved his praise. She was indeed a very Clever Dog.