Explanations:

Blah thought

/blah/ Zarieth speaking

Night of the Moon – midnight hour

Candlelight - one hour

Major thanks to my faithful followers: Aki and YoshisSupport. Not many, I know, but hopefully others will join u in time! You guys are awesome! If by any chance, this story garners at least 50 reviews, I'll write any one-shot story of your favourite pairing just for you two. How does that sound, ne?

Thanks to new reviewers: a and slashguy,

Thanks to all old and new readers as well! Enjoy the chappie! :D

Chapter 12: Cloak and Dagger

-o0o-

I will be arriving today. Have everything ready. Eian's eyes shuttered closed at the memory of reading that fateful letter. He had received it only yesterday and already Howe was planning on coming back.

The news of the Blight, fours years following the Tournament, had circulated first from the villages close to Kacori Wilds and then it eventually reached Denerim and the King's seat.

The response was prompt and swift. Hundreds, thousands of men had lined up to voluntarily join the King's Army over the past few weeks. Food and supplies were rationed into carts that were to be carried off south, towards Ostagar while the need for new weapons and equipment kept the blacksmith forges going all night for weeks on end.

To meet the dangers of the Blight, King Cailan had even ordered for the Templars to stand aside and allow the Magi to assist the King in his fight against the Darkspawn Horde that was brewing in the southern plains.

The Chantry was of course not happy but their protests had proven weak when compared with the possibilities of the Chantry being overwhelmed by the Taint, the punishment of the Maker himself.

Eian Gilmore wished for his own son to flee to the Free Marches. Instead, Lloyd had insisted on staying with his liege and Eian's heart broke when the boy would learn of his plans. No! I will send my wife and even him to the North, to safety!

He had already given Howe the details of the Cousland Castle, where all the exits would be and even the secret passageways that could be taken advantage of. He even knew of the rotations and the guards involved; Howe would be most pleased with him and hopefully this would be the last favour his Lord would ever ask of him. He had a feeling that he was going to pay for this, one way or another.

-o0o-

Seeing the King again at the end of the Tournament should have brought closure to Hadrian, but Hadrian's loss still lingered quite painfully in his heart. Every time he saw or even heard mention of either the King or the Prince, his body would stiffen in response and he would hasten to complete the tasks that was set for him in that particular location of gossip or place of the King's mentions. He socialized with others when he wasn't going through his grueling weapons forms and if one didn't know any better, he wouldn't have thought Hadrian to still be in mourning.

Lloyd caught sight of the silver-haired Cousland stumbling over in exhaustion and strove to help his Lord to his feet. Hadrian at first flinched from the contact of his officer, but Lloyd made sure to be gentle with the noble, handling him the way a horse trainer would handle a skittish and wild horse.

"Milord? Are you ok?"

"Yes. I'm quite fine. Thank you for your assistance."

He politely pulled away from the other nobleman's grasp and straightened himself, albeit with some effort on his part. Lloyd did not like the flushed look on his lord's face and he yearned to comfort the man, to soothe his aches and worries. Gossip about the two brothers were rare but he managed to hear of it from a drunkard bodyguard whose tongue got too loose from imbuing the strongest of ale. He had wanted to shut the guy's mouth himself but the guy held a rank over him. Such an offense to a superior would only incur a punishment like a week's worth of duty without any breaks or whatnot. The drunk started talking about how Hadrian had seduced the Prince and provoked the ire of the King himself. Of course, those were only rumours and Lloyd could tell it was the other way around, that the Prince had set out after Hadrian's affections. Luckily for Hadrian, his other personal guards truly liked their lord and one of them snapped at the drunkard,

"Shut yer mouth! Don't speak so callously of our lords!"

"Oh wot? You gonna gut me? Hehad it -!"

The drunkard's sentence ended with a loud snap and blood splattered all over his front. The poor bodyguard fell senselessly to the ground but no one else even bothered to come forth and help him up.

"Get this drunkard out of my sight! You lot! Not a word about Hadrian. Ever!"

The person who struck the drunkard was the highest in their ranks, a Captain of his platoon. The other guests in the Guards' Dining Area nodded numbly and they continued on with their drinking and conversations. The Captain gave the room a swift sweep with his eyes and seemingly satisfied that there would be no further gossips about Hadrian's affair, at least not tonight, returned to talking with the tavern keeper.

Lloyd was happy to see such blatant loyalty to their lords, as it should be. However, there will always be some bad apples, like the drunken bodyguard. Apparently, he wasn't the only drunken person and his Lord swayed dangerously on his feet again, his hands clinging to his breastplate for support. He took in the flushed expression and even he had to appreciate the beauty of his Lord's body, despite his preference leaning strictly towards the females.

"Perhaps...I am not ok..." Hadrian mumbled quietly and the heavy weight of the warrior suddenly became a dead weight in his arms. The officer had to juggle the awkward limbs of his lord before just resigning himself to carry Hadrian in his arms. Fortunately, there were other officers available and a brunette rushed to Lloyd's side, offering a helping hand. Lloyd permitted the brunette to help them and both of them carried him to the Infirmary Wing again.

Fergus himself had come by not too long after his brother's sudden collapse and saw that Hadrian was already up and about, ignoring the warnings by their elven Mage, Arialla.

"Hadrian," Fergus started to stay but Hadrian's hand halted what he was about to say next.

"I know Howe's men are here and Father had requested for me to be there in one candlelight," Hadrian's voice sounded a little bit strained and Fergus' worry grew.

Ever since the pact made by Zarieth and Hadrian, the latter would experience bouts of dizziness and then exhibit strange behaviour when there would be a full moon next, just like now. Even now, there was a light sheen of sweat coating Hadrian's strong face and Fergus began to wonder if maybe this pact was a bad idea after all. Why did Zarieth renew it like that? And what did he mean when he mentioned that his father's death would not nullify it as it should?

The elder Cousland started to research the pact with this spirit of the Wolf in its aftermath. However, the only things he could find were brief summaries of what happened between the son of Sarim Cousland, the father to their line, and the Blue Wolf, a mysterious spiritual guardian thought to be born of the Fade. In one of the manuscripts, dated a few centuries before the execution of their line by King Arland, it read that the Blue Wolf was second in command to the High Lord of the Wolves, thought to be one of the older Gods before the Maker existed. How could that be though when the Maker Himself created the world, created the old Gods themselves? That was what the Chantry had been teaching humanity for all these decades. He couldn't find anything else to confirm or deny his suspicions about the Chantry possibly twisting historical events to better control the masses of man and elves.

"Fergus? Are you ok?" Hadrian asked of his brother, concerned by the unusual silence of his older sibling. Usually Fergus would have something smartass to say, like collapsing like that was only for the girls to do to garner attention. Fergus' head shook in answer and he straightened up to meet Hadrian's gaze.

"Yes, you had better take your leave, if you are feeling better now," Fergus was already making headway out of the Infirmary Wing, "I'll be seeing Oriana and my son should you need anything."

A few seconds later, both of them walked in opposite directions; the younger of the two walking towards the Antechamber, where their father and Arl Howe were waiting for him

-o0o-

Apparently the two men weren't the only ones waiting for the younger Cousland to arrive. Hadrian saw a stranger standing patiently before his father, his attire immediately telling the young Cousland that this was a Grey Warden somehow. He remembered seeing him at the Summeremere Tournament but then again, that was quite a while ago. Arl Howe was just telling his father that his men had somehow been delayed and that they won't be marching with the Knights of Highever in time for their departure when Hadrian Cousland arrived, his eyes subtly narrowing into blue slivers of ice at the tail end of the conversation. The Howes are never late to anything, not even a birthday! Hadrian had always thought there was something off with his father's best friend; the way he carried himself with those dangerous daggers that were tucked safely behind the Howe's back, how his words were said in that nasal tone of his. It wasn't like Isolde's aura that Hadrian felt a few years back, but something infinitely worse.

"Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be here as well," Howe said and Hadrian could clearly see that Howe was unpleased by this new development.

"Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not, your lordship," Howe replied smoothly, perhaps too smoothly in Hadrian's opinions. The young man thanked his mother for tutoring him in the ways of the court for he could tell that Howe clearly had a problem with this. The question is why? "But a guest of this stature demands a certain protocol. I am at a disadvantage."

"We rarely are visited by such a person, this is true. Pup, Brother Albous taught you the topic of the Grey Wardens are, I hope?" Bryce had turned to him and Hadrian was happy to announce that he indeed had learned something from Brother Albous about the Grey Wardens. His father beamed with pride at Hadrian's confirmation, but Howe only gave him a slight grimace.

"Yes, so you were paying attention to those history lessons, after all," Bryce smirked at his younger son, who had the manners not to say anything else. History was not exactly Hadrian's strongpoint and the young man was notorious for falling asleep in his history classes. There were occasions where his own father would give him a head slap to wake him up and have him listen to Albrous' monotonous voice drone on and on about the history of Thedas. "I hear that Duncan has been looking for a recruit and that Ser Gilmore is a potential candidate."

"If I may be so bold, your Lordship, to mention that your son is another potential candidate for the Grey Wardens."

Hadrian's eyes widened in shock at Duncan's clear want in recruiting him. Join the Grey Wardens? But that was akin to a death sentence. There was a saying about the Wardens that they were like the walking dead, killing Darkspawn until the Taint would claim them or Death. At least that's what Brother Albous had taught him. Before he could reject the Grey Warden, his father beat him to it, stepping in front of him and blocking his view of the bearded man.

"Honor though that may be, this is one of my sons we're talking about. I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription."

His father was challenging the Grey Warden and even Arl Howe had a look of awe on his face when Duncan backed down from it, trying to reassure that Ser Gilmore was his intended target, not Hadrian. It was merely a suggestion. Somehow Hadrian figured that Duncan was serious in recruiting him and that the Warden Commander was just biding his time, but for what? Bryce's stance relaxed and he stepped to the side, allowing Hadrian to fully scrutinize the Grey Warden standing before him.

Duncan, like Howe, had two weapons on his back but there weren't two daggers. Instead, a longsword was slung comfortably over his right shoulder and Hadrian could see that it was made from the finest crafting materials, such as dragonbone, like his own armor set won from the Summeremere Tournament. The Warden's armor was rather mundane in comparison to his weapons. His breastplate seemed rusty and uneven in some places while the symbol of the gryphon was barely seen underneath all that grime and dirt. What was the Grey Warden doing before he came here? It looked as if he was fighting to get here or something. Before he could ask Duncan for an explanation, his father requested something of him:

"Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are met with while Fergus and I are gone?"

"Yes, father."

"Now, then, I wish to have a private word with both Duncan and Rendon Howe. Find Fergus and tell him to get a head start in the morning. I shall meet him at Ostagar not too long after."

Hadrian bowed and he exited the room.

-o0o-

He was on his way to see Fergus when he bumped into one of his friends, Lloyd Gilmore. The redhead was out of breath and Hadrian waited for him to compose himself.

"I was just looking for you, milord! Nan said your Mabari got into the larder, again. She threatened that either you come and punish him or she'll have him skinned and flayed!"

"What? She wouldn't dare!" Hadrian became furious at the news.

"By the way, did you see that man? I heard he was looking for recruits, in particular, for me! Is this true?" Hope shone in his friend's green eyes and Hadrian chuckled at his friend's eagerness in wanting to join that doomed Order.

"Yes, but he made no mention of when your audition will commence," Hadrian said truthfully. Should I tell him that a Grey Warden has no life? That he would be living on borrowed time?

"I see. Well, hopefully I'll have time to practice before then. In the meantime, we should probably go to the larder and see to Nan before your Mabari gets it."

Nodding in agreement, Hadrian and Lloyd headed out to the larder. When they arrived, it was to the scene of an angry female yelling rather uncouthly at the elven servants, who were too busy shrinking from her than heeding the arrival of their superiors.

"What's going on, Nan?" Hadrian said in a calm tone, walking into the kitchen. "Why are you yelling at them?"

The young man had always been partial to the elven servants and he hated when other people mistreated them. Nan was one of those who had no tolerance for them and it was evidenced by her easy provocation to anger at a simple mishap by an elf, such as forgetting to clean a dish or sweeping the kitchen floor.

"Your dog is in that bloody larder and one of these damn elves accidentally locked him in there!"

"Easy, Nan. I'll get the mutt out, just go easy on the servants. It's not their fault, after all." Hadrian appeased the impatient cook and his soothing tone calmed her down. She sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. Ser Gilmore, having seen Hadrian mollify the ever-irascible cook multiple times, was not astonished to see this scene unraveling before him. The elves were feeling calmer too and the look of fear on their faces eased away.

"Fine, just get rid of him!" Nan huffed and she stomped off into the pantry, the elven servants following in her wake but not before gifting their superior with grateful expressions. Both men just stared at the departing woman and Hadrian exhaled, glad that the woman was finally going away. Maker's breath, no wonder the elves are so afraid of her! She screams too damn often and at the little things!

"I'll just wait here, ser," Lloyd said and Hadrian went into the larder alone, ready to smack the mutt on the rear with the flat part of his blade as he so often did in the past.

Several moments later, both Hadrian and Regus came out; Lloyd was startled to see blood covering the Mabari's snout and Hadrian's sword.

"Ser? There's blood..."

The Cousland youngest seemed to notice the blood covering the tip of his sword and he grabbed a towel to wipe it off.

"Rats in the larder. Looks like Regus was doing his job in protecting our food." Hadrian knelt down next to Regus and patted him on the head. The Mabari growled affectionately and rubbed his head against the side of Hadrian's face. Ser Gilmore grimaced as the blood of the rats smeared on his lord's cheek but Hadrian didn't seem to mind it one bit. He just wiped it off with the clean side of the towel. "Well, tell Nan that there were rats in the larder and Regus was doing his job in 'cleaning' house. I'm off to see Fergus and my nephew."

-o0o-

Night of the Moon (akin to midnight)

Hadrian's rage in response to Nan's threat of sending the dog away paled in comparison when he found the mutilated corpses of his brother's family. Regus' whimper echoed his own loss as he turned over his nephew and his fingers shook when they trailed down cold, pale cheeks of Oren. Just moments ago, Oren's cheeks were flustered when his father had to explain what a 'wench' was to him and Oriana had hit Fergus lightly on the shoulder, scolding his brother that their son was too young to learn about that. Just moments ago, he left his brother's family, the trio huddled close in saying their farewells to Fergus. If only he had known about Howe's betrayal. He should have listened to his instincts that screamed at him as soon as he laid eyes on Howe earlier that day, when he announced his men's delay.

His mother let out a shriek of denial when she came up behind him and she knelt beside him, gathering her only grandson in her arms.

"No, not my beautiful Oren! And Oriana! Dear Maker, what did they do to them?" She cried out, clutching at her murdered grandson.

Hadrian's eyes unwillingly drifted to the body of his sister-in-law and they widened when they landed on a trail of blood that originated from her lower half. Her clothes were tattered and torn into pieces, as if she was fighting off a pack of hungry wolves, except Hadrian knew that it wasn't wolves which attacked her in that way but men.

"Oh Maker! Oriana! Why are her clothes like that? No!" His mother's face paled and she almost looked like a corpse, her skin blue in the silver moonlight that drifted through the opening of the bedroom. Hadrian's arms wrapped around her and he gently guided her face into his shoulder, to see if he could spare his mother the ghastly sight of a woman having been violated in a most heinous manner. She screamed and sobbed into his right shoulder, her tears wetting the armor he wore.

They didn't have long to mourn their relatives' deaths for shouts of men hollered in the hallways followed by clashes of fighting and screams. The fire raged on outside the room, licking hungrily at the stoned walls and the blood that congealed in cooling bodies of the dead. He ordered his mother to stand watch as he arranged the bodies properly on Oriana's bedroom, to where any onlooker would think of them as merely slumbering, despite the blood. Hadrian took the Tears of the Maker, a necklace Fergus gave to her for their wedding day, from Oriana. He knew that if he left it there, it would be sullied if not by Howe's men but by a thief's hand.

The pair left the room, feared being trapped by Howe's men, and made their way into the heart of the chaos, where they wished they hadn't met Arl Howe after all.

-o0o-

Bryce couldn't believe what he was seeing and he cursed at his helplessness. He shouldn't have sent all of his forces to Ostagar all at once but the King's Call to Arms was not to be denied. When he woke up to blistering heat, he found himself almost being caught on fire and he had to rush out of his study only to be accosted by one of his most loyal vassals.

"Eian? What's happening? What's going on?" He saw something shift out of the corner of his eye and then agony ripped through his side. He gave a pained yelp and his hands flew to the source of it, to clutch at the dagger that was embedded in his gut.

"I'm sorry, milord but I owe Howe a debt that could only be repaid with your life."

"Maker…curse…you…" Bryce stumbled away and it felt as if he was on fire this time. His hand trembled as it tried to reach for the dirk strapped at his ankle. Eian sensed his intention though and before Bryce could throw the dirk at him, he made a move to throw his dagger at him only to stop in mid-movement. Bryce saw the point of a longsword thrusting through his assassin's chest and Eian gasped, eyes held in disbelief that someone had managed to sneak up on him. He made a gurgling sound and then fell forward, revealing the person Bryce was truly happy to see.

"Your lordship," Duncan's voice rumbled and the Grey Warden stooped down to his level, his hands hovering over the mortal wound. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it in time."

"Eleanor…my son…" Bryce groaned as pain flared and the question of their well being got stuck in his throat.

"I've seen no signs of them, however, we must get you to safety. Howe's men are looking for you." Duncan slung one of Bryce's arms over his shoulders and he slowly got to his feet, all too aware of the blood that just seemed to flow even more heavily with the movement. There was a grunt from the Cousland Head but Bryce knew that the Warden could be able to carry him better and faster if he was conscious. His body protested violently as blood expelled from his throat and mouth only to land on the stones.

The Warden noticed that the nearest spot he could hide the wounded was in the servants' quarter. Hearing and seeing the man vomit prompted him to not waste time in transporting the nobleman and the Maker seemed to watch out for them as they arrived in the quarters without any confrontations. He carefully deposited Bryce in a little alcove tucked away in the back corner, where it was too dark to see from the entrance.

"Why would Howe do this? Why?" Bryce's eyes scrunched closed as another jolt of agony.

"I don't know, but I will try to find them. Stay here and stay quiet," Duncan departed the room too quickly for Bryce to rebut his request. He made to go after him and only managed to fall on his uninjured side, stifling a moan that threatened to leave clenched teeth. If Howe's men were near and heard him, he would meet his end before seeing his beloved ones. Slowly, he inched his way towards the opening and just when he thought he made progress in keeping silent, footsteps pounded in the hallway that would lead to this hiding place. He stilled and begged the Maker that it wasn't Howe and his men.

When he saw his wife and son enter the room, their heads frantically going from side to side, he released a pained gasp of relief. They were just about to leave, fear on their face, when he managed to call out of them in a hoarse whisper that sounded like a scream to him.

"Bryce! What happened?" Eleanor rushed to his side, her hands cool against his cheeks. Hadrian's eyes smoldered dangerously at him and his fists clenched at his sides.

"I…Howe's men got to me first…" Bryce explained and he closed his eyes as another bout of agony washed through his body. He could feel himself losing consciousness but he had to stay awake, he had to see his family to safety with Duncan.

"It's true," another voice interrupted them and Hadrian immediately stood in front of his parents, his family's sword already in his hand, waiting for the first enemy to fall unto its blade. His caution was not needed though and Hadrian saw a familiar figure walking forth in long strides, its telltale grey armour glinting in the torchlight.

"Duncan? That's your name, right?" Eleanor asked him, but her attention was riveted to her husband, his form slumped against her chest. The tall, bearded man nodded in agreement, his hands sheathing his daggers at his back.

"Howe's men have not yet discovered this place, but it's only a matter of time before they do."

"Take them, Warden…get them out of here!" Bryce coughed and more blood appeared around his lips.

"I will, your Grace, but I need one thing from you," Duncan said and Hadrian tensed, knowing what the Warden was going to ask of his father. How could he ask for that from a dying man? Was it because it was easier to wring any answer from a dead man? His own father knew what Duncan was up to but instead of refusing like Hadrian would have done, he agreed to it.

"What? Father! I won't leave you! Noo! Absolutely bloody not! We can get you of here!"

"I'm…afraid…that you may…be leaving…pieces of me…behind, pup." It was true. His father did not look well and his face took on a pallor best suited for a corpse.

Hadrian glanced over his father's wound and knew that the wound was poisoned as well. Whoever had done this was a skilled Assassin for the poison was fast-acting and his father would be dead before they could find any available healer. He suddenly wished that he were a mage, just like his friend, Loren. He could have healed him just like that and they would all be running together, wounded from the betrayal but at least alive.

"Duncan, take my son out of here," Eleanor said in a determined voice. When Bryce protested, she hushed him, her fingers caressing his brow. "I have always been at your side, love, and I'm not leaving you!"

"Mother, please. I-I can't just leave you like that!" Frustration tore through Hadrian and he wanted to scream at his parents' stubbornness, at Howe's betrayal.

Shouts could be heard from the corridor and they were getting closer to where they were. Duncan's hand nudged at his hip, urging the young man to flee with him.

"Avenge us, pup, and tell Fergus…we love you both," his father's shout echoed eerily after them as the pair ran from the scene, just barely avoiding another surge of men with Howe's emblem carved into their shields. From a corner, Hadrian watched Arl Howe himself enter the premise and while he was tempted to head over there and gut the traitor, he knew he wouldn't get very far afterwards before being killed. Duncan had his recruit and Hadrian cursed that he was a dead man, now, with nothing left to lose.

-o0o-

/It is time/

Bryce heard the voice call out to him. Even Eleanor heard the Blue Wolf who appeared before them, looking beautiful as ever. Bryce felt shameful to be presented to him in a bloody manner. Zarieth's eyes pierced his own and suddenly, the Cousland Head understood why Zarieth had warned him. If only he knew about Howe and his treacherous deeds. Now his pups were left with nothing except an usurped House with a snake coiling deep within its bloody depths.

/I have warned you about this, and you have paid for it/

"There's nothing we can do now. Howe's men are coming and we will take them down with us."

Blood welled up from his stomach and into his mouth. He hacked sickly, the agony of the side wound causing him to almost lost consciousness.

/No matter. It was destined for it to happen. Know that your pups will avenge you both and bring honour back to both the Couslands and the Howes./

"Are we to die then? Underneath the blades of our once allies?" Eleanor shouted angrily at the entity.

/The High Lord cannot grant immortal life to creatures such as you. However, he will grant you death before the Howes find you. Know that this is a great gift./

"Wait! How will...how will the contract be renewed?"

"Bryce, of all the times to be asking about that!" Eleanor chided her husband, but there was no real venom behind it.

She clutched tightly at her dying husband and almost jumped when the door opened, Howe's men charging in with their swords with Arl Howe at the head of them. They apparently couldn't see Zarieth sitting in between them. Rendon Howe, a scowl on his gaunt face, came forward, a dagger in his hand.

"I'm so glad you stayed, old friend," Howe sneered at his downed enemy, unaware that Zarieth had stood up on his haunches. He raised his dagger that quickly sliced across Eleanor's delicate throat and earning a choked scream from Bryce. Before he could finish Bryce off, blue light suddenly flashed into being, enveloping both Bryce and Eleanor. He closed his eyes and his hands instinctively put out in front of him for protection. A wolf's howl could be heard echoing throughout the castle and the light vanished as quickly as it appeared.

When Howe opened his eyes, he found his vanquished enemies slumped helplessly on the floor, their eyes closed and there were sad smiles on their faces, frozen in death. He cautiously leaned forward over the bodies and pressed fingers against Bryce's throat.

"Dead. They're dead," Howe whispered almost to himself. He wasn't able to kill them himself and his anger increased when clearly something had thwarted his efforts in humiliating and then killing the Couslands.

"Milord? What shall we do with the rest of the guards?" A blonde man had asked the Howe, his voice trembling.

"Kill them. We take no prisoners." Howe responded coldly and he stood up, sheathing his dagger. His dagger will taste the blood of other Couslands, such as Fergus and that brat. Of that, he had no doubt.

"What about the Teryn and Teryna?"

"Take their heads; burn the corpses."

Howe could hear voices of dissent behind him and he whirled around, angry that his soldiers would voice their dislikes at such an order. As soon as he did, the soldiers straightened up, too terrified to disobey the Howe's orders. He strode out of the cellar and vowed that his rise to power would only be completed with the deaths of the Couslands and with their heads on display.

Half a candlelight later, two men watched from afar as the Cousland Castle burned, the flames towering high into the night sky. One of them watched the monstrous conflagration overtake his home as easily as if it was a paper mache. His blue eyes flashed angrily in the darkness and, with inconsolable rage in his heart, he vowed that his parents' murder will be avenged, that Howe will pay dearly for this.

-TBC-

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chappie for the next arc is about to begin and it's full of romance, humour, angst, and of course, a healthy dosage of smut with various pairings, both slash and het. Of course, since there are so many stories out there concerning the Blight and what not, I'm considering in cutting this story short and work on an Anders/M!Hawke story. I don't know...should I continue this?