Author's Note: Thanks everyone for reviewing and adding the story to your favorites! Oghren is one of my favorite characters in Dragon Age... it really is a shame you can't romance him (or any of the dwarves, actually. I'm looking at you, Varric!)

Chapter 61 - Sheer Drunk Luck

What do you mean you can hear me?

"I can bloody hear you!" Serena exclaimed. "What other way is there to say that?"

"Serena? Are you okay?" Alistair exchanged quick glances with Zevran, who shrugged, confused. They were walking through the Diamond Quarter, which while less populated than the Commons, they were still attracting quite a bit of attention. "You're, uh... shouting." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Stop shouting, love."

Answer my questions, Morrigan pressed, ignoring Alistair completely. Her golden wolf eyes were intense, boring into Serena's own. What other shapes can I take that you know?

"Other than the wolf? Um, bear... I think I saw you change into a crow once?"

"What are you talking about Serena? Who are you-" Alistair looked at the wolf, then back at Serena. "Are you talking to her? Right now?"

"It's the gloves," Alim whispered excitedly to Alistair. "Can you imagine all the amazing things she can do now?"

"I shudder to think."

I know not what this means, but I will check my mother's grimoire when were turn to the palace. I read a mention of abilities like yours... There must be something more... Something I missed... Morrigan took a few steps and then quickly changed back into her human form, looking more than a little annoyed at Serena and the rest. Or perhaps she was just annoyed with herself; it was hard to tell with Morrigan.

"You should call it yours, really." Serena shrugged, flexing her fingers in her new gloves. She could feel the lyrium tickling her blood, like a feather being run against her insides. "I mean, it is yours now. She's dead, remember?"

"The woman will probably never be truly dead, Serena," the witch snapped. "One day, she will find a way back to her body, or perhaps possess a new one, and she will come after me." Morrigan's eyes stared straight ahead as she walked, the lines in her face were so harsh she could have been carved out of marble. "Make no mistake of that."

"You are wildly unsettling- anybody ever tell you that, Morrigan?" Alistair shook his head. "You're both kind of disturbing me, actually. You know we have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Sorry, love," Serena murmured. She leaned against him gently as they headed into the palace. Serena could sense Peanut nearby. These new... upgrades to her abilities were staggering. She didn't even have to focus to find her mabari now, she just knew when he was within range. "Keep in mind this is new to me, too."

A new voice piped up then. "Just to be clear... You cannot hear my thoughts, right?"

Serena grinned over at the assassin. "Worried, Zev?"

"I would not want to shock you, Serena. You have such delicate sensibilities."

"Rest assured, Zevran. I can't read your mind. I can't read Morrigan's either." Serena nodded at the witch's back, as she was now pointedly ignoring them all. "She was speaking, it was just... you guys don't speak wolf, I suppose."

"I knew something was missing from my Chantry education," said Alistair.

The Assembly vote did not sound like it was going well.

Alistair stood outside the massive metal doors, pacing back and forth for lack of anything better to do. Serena was inside, had been inside for over an hour now, representing the Grey Wardens, listening intently as each House casted their vote for the next King.

But it sounded like a bunch of shouting to Alistair. It made him nervous for the coming Landsmeet. Would the Bannorn accept him as a viable alternative to Loghain? Or would they choose Anora, perhaps? She was already queen and well-liked by many of the nobles…

"Alistair, perhaps you should sit down, hmm?" Leliana was leaning against the wall, her undersized nug, Mr. Schmooples, was sitting on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. "You are making me quite dizzy. I'm sure Serena is just fine in there."

"From the sound of it, she's probably deaf by now," Zevran said. He walked up to one of the doors and placed his ear to it, frowning. "Two more votes for Bhelen, one vote for Harrowmont... and another for Harrowmont..." He sighed, pushing away again. "I don't see why it matters one way or another. Are the two really so different?"

"They should measure them," Sten said. "Whichever is larger, make that one King."

"Is that how the Qunari decide things, Sten?" Alistair asked. "Whoever has the biggest horns get to be King?"

"No," the giant replied. "The Qunari have three leaders, a Triumvirate, as one leader cannot know all that a society needs in order to function properly."

"Oh." Alistair slumped against the wall beside Leliana, who patted him gently.

"Do not worry, Alistair. You will make a fine king. You are smart, and you have a sort of... awkward charm that endears people to you." The redhead's eyes scanned the hall, falling on Morrigan, who was hunched in a corner, reading intently. "Well, most people, anyway."

Alistair smirked. "Yes, I'm never winning that battle... but that's why I keep Serena around. She soothes the savage beast. I wish I could make her king," Alistair muttered. "She'd be great at it. She just has this ability to make people... follow her. Listen to her."

"Well, you could make her your queen," Leliana whispered to him from behind her hand. "Assuming you win the Landsmeet."

"I do believe I'm ahead of you on that front." The nug on Leliana's shoulder squeaked and Alistair smiled elusively at the bard, tapping his empty ring finger with a knowing smile. He put a finger quickly to his lips. "Shhh, though."

"Oh, I..." Leliana clapped a hand over her mouth in excitement. "Really?" she mumbled through the hand, her blue eyes huge. "Really, really?"

"Yes, but shhh."

"We have to have a party... I can't believe she didn't tell me..."

"I can't imagine why," Alistair replied, rolling his eyes. "What is it with girls and parties?"

Suddenly the massive double doors opened and Alistair and the others snapped to their feet, looking for Serena among the horde of dwarves that were now exiting the Assembly chamber. Easily a whole head and shoulders taller than the rest of the men leaving, Serena was now stepping out with what had to be Bhelen and Vartag beside her. She nodded to Alistair, still deep in talks with the dwarven prince.

"So that's our only…" Serena shook her head, frowning. "Honestly your highness, I was not expecting Harrowmont to pull that."

"It was unexpected, certainly," Bhelen replied, an angry set to his mouth. "I didn't think the old snake had it in him, but here we are."

Alistair looked from Serena to Bhelen. "So what's the verdict? We didn't lose, did we?"

Serena shook her head again, her eyebrows knitting together. "No, we won, barely, but Harrowmont contested the outcome. There's to be another vote in three days time, but..." Alistair felt his stomach drop out. After dealing with the elves, he hated the word 'but' with a vengeance.

"But we are afraid it will simply come to the same conclusion," the prince concluded. "There is, however, something else we can do that that old nug-humper can't stop."

"And that is?" Alistair asked.

"We need to find a Paragon," Serena said. "She's... supposedly in the Deep Roads."

"Two years ago, a Paragon named Branka took her entire house into the Deep Roads on a mad quest to uncover ancient secrets for the smiths. No one's heard from her since." Bhelen exchanged glances with Serena, almost in apology it seemed for asking such an outrageous request. "But as a living Paragon, were she to return and endorse someone for the throne, the Assembly would be honor-bound to accept her wishes."

"My men traced Branka's disappearance to an ancient crossroads known as Caridin's Cross." Bhelen sighed, his beard twitching. "It is, of course, quite a bit deeper than where we normally venture, but here is a map to lead you there." He gestured to Vartag, who handed Serena a rolled-up parchment. "You can enter the Deep Roads through the mines."

"We'll try our best to find Branka, your highness," Serena said, dipping a slight curtsy.

"May the ancestors guide you, my friends. I will try my best to stall the vote as long as possible." Bhelen smiled curtly and exited the Assembly with Vartag in toe, both of them already deep in conversation.

Zevran watched the prince leave before turning a skeptical eye on Serena. "The Deep Roads? This is where all the darkspawn live, no?"

"Well, oddly enough, they're supposed to be safer to travel during a Blight. The majority of the fiends seem to be topside, ravaging our homes." Alistair shrugged. "We don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"Do we ever?" Serena replied. "Going into the Deep Roads for a bloody woman... Maker forbid these damn people go look for her two years ago..."

"It will be good chance to survey what the darkspawn may have planned," Sten added.

"You're right, I hadn't thought of that. Well, let's get a move on. Bhelen said it would take at least half a day to reach Caradin's Cross."

Prince Bhelen had apparently handed them a permission note to go into the mines as well, as they were normally off limits due to the frequent darkspawn attacks. Alistair looked it over as they headed towards the entrance to the Deep Roads.

"News of the Hour! Grey Wardens present in Orzammar... search for Paragon Branka to begin!"

Alistair glanced at the town crier. "How do you suppose he knows that?"

"Bhelen and Harrowmont employ them to slander the other, I imagine," Serena replied, not even bothering to give the dwarf the time of day. "Helps sway public opinion." She grinned at Alistair. "Too bad we couldn't do that in Denerim, hmm?"

A group of guards stood nearby, arguing with the same ginger dwarf from the day before. Alistair nudged Serena, pointing his head towards the dispute. "Didn't he mention a Branka yesterday?"

"...I'm the only one who even bothers to look for her, you sodding-"

"Oghren, you know the rules," one of the miners persisted. "You can't get past the front lines without permission from a deshyr."

Serena stepped forward, the note from Bhelen in her hand. "Excuse me, ser, we have permission. This man could... come with us?"

"Ha! Here we go now!" The ginger dwarf did a funny little jig before straightening his shoulders importantly. "Hear that, Ganden? We have permission." He turned to Serena. "Good on you, stranger. Let's get going if we're going, Branka isn't going to sodding find herself." He attempted striding past the mining commander, who grabbed him by the scruff of his armor and held him there while he examined the note from Bhelen.

"A human, eh? See you got some elves here, too, and a..." Gandan peered at Sten curiously. "Whatever that is." He turned to one of his fellows. "We make these tunnels tall enough for that?"

"Sten is a kossith," Serena said.

"Oh, good to know," the dwarf replied sarcastically. "Sure that'll be one of the questions at Tapsters' trivia night this evening. What's the tall bronze skinned fellow walking around with the little girl?"

Serena scoffed. "You're calling me little?"

"Open your sodding eyes, man!" the ginger dwarf cut in, shaking the commander's hand off him. "These are the Grey Wardens! We're on a quest to find your Paragon! Do I have to take your stinking head off?"

"Friendly lot," Alistair mumbled, fighting the urge to grin. Serena glanced at him sidelong before turning back to the mining commander, her hands on her hips.

"Shut it, Oghren," Ganden growled. "Heard right about enough out of you this morning already. Wardens, you may pass, and if you wish to take this-" he indicated the ginger dwarf with a jerk of his thumb, "I suppose I can't stop you. Best of luck with your quest. Orzammar needs a Paragon now more than ever."

"Thank you, ser. Ah, Oghren, is it?" At the dwarf's grunt, she continued, walking quickly to keep up with the marching dwarf. "I'm Serena, it's a... pleasure to meet you."

"Aye, whatever you say, Legs."

Behind them, Zevran was laughing loudly. "Oh, this will be fun."

They had been walking for four hours so far and the dwarf, Oghren, hadn't slowed his pace at all. He also hadn't stopped drinking. What it was Alistair had no idea, but if the smell of the alcohol was any indication, it was something of the dwarf's own design. It certainly stunk like nothing Alistair had ever imbibed.

"So, how do you know Branka? That man yesterday said you were in her House?"

"Better than that." The dwarf took a drag on his waterskin, which Alistair was beginning to suspect held more than just water, and belched loudly. "I'm her sodding husband."

Alistair hadn't been expecting that. "You and Branka are married? Really? You're married to a Paragon?"

Oghren glanced over at Alistair, his gaze cool, as if he was calculating how easily he could take him down to the ground and beat him to death. "Tell you what, boy: you ever been married?"

Alistair flushed. "I... No, not... no. I haven't. Why?"

"Thank the hardest stone you can fine, then." The ginger-haired dwarf kicked at a rock with his large metal boot. "Marriage is for suckers."

"Ah... so... no pitter-patter of little Oghren feet running around the home cave, I take it?"

The dwarf snorted. "All I ever got out of that moss-licker was a headache, a deaf ear, a scratched-up back and that rash it took three different ointments to get rid of."

"And here I thought marriage was meant to be this idyllic situation," Alistair sighed. "All breakfasts in bed and snuggling. Alas."

"You plan on marrying a dwarf? Because she'll snuggle you right into an early grave, boy. The women have bigger beards than the men, if you catch my drift."

"Yes, well, good thing I hadn't planned on marrying a dwarf, then."

"You'd do better with a nice girl," Oghren observed sagely. "Take Legs over there."

"I'll assume you mean Serena." Alistair looked around, making sure the woman in question wasn't within earshot of their conversation. Her laughter would probably cause him to flush red down to his belt buckle.

"If you're looking for something to tap, I'd say Legs would do just fine," the dwarf continued. "She certainly looks flexible enough, aye? Bit tall for me, of course, but you're a hearty sort."

"Oh, our dear Alistair already has a lady waiting for him at home, don't you? A simple country girl for a simple Chantry boy." Alistair shot Zevran a look, but Zevran simply ignored him, instead choosing to stick his hand out to the dwarf. "Hello my stocky little friend. I do not believe I have had the pleasure yet. I'm Zevran Arainai, assassin extraordinaire."

Oghren belched loudly. "Huh. You got small breasts for a gal."

Zevran raised an eyebrow in reply. "If you wanted to bed me, you have only to ask."

"Nice try, elf. I'm not that drunk yet." He turned back to Alistair. "So you got a gal waiting for you? Good on you, boy. I would have pegged you for a virgin."

Alistair sighed again. This dwarf was as bad as Morrigan, it seemed. "Why does everyone say that? I've had sex. I've had lots of sex."

"Your hand doesn't count, boy," Oghren replied.

"Oh, no, I can vouch for him," Zevran said. "He has had lots of sex. Very loud, very enthusiastic sex."

"Aye, so you two..." The dwarf looked between the two of them before nodding knowingly. "Not my mug of ale, of course, but to each his own."

Alistair groaned. "No, no, I'm not having sex with him. Andraste's flaming… is this a nightmare? Someone tell me I'm in the Fade and this is just a bad dream." Beside him Zevran grinned, pleased at the chaos he had sown. "I hate you, by the way."

"Lovers quarrel, I get'cha," Oghren said. "Don't let me interrupt."

"Hey Oghren, are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" Serena had come up now, and Alistair felt his face flush uncontrollably, just as he had predicted. Of course, she would choose right now. Maker, he was cursed, he just knew it.

"I've been checking the map, and we should be coming up on Caridin's Cross soon, but I can't even tell which way we're going down here... Is this south?"

"West," the dwarf replied. "Well, southwest, so you're half right. Let me see that sodding map." Serena handed the parchment over before turning to Alistair.

"Hey, you're all red. Everything okay?"

"Fine. Everything is good," Alistair said stiffly. Real convincing there, Alistair, he thought. "Just, uh, headache. Darkspawn, you know."

"You're all red," she repeated, obviously unconvinced. Serena's eyes slipped to Zevran, suspicion reading clearly on her face. "What did you do?"

"Ha! Why do you always assume it was me?" the elf replied, grinning. "Granted, it was me this time, but I am curious why you always assume it to be so."

"Because nine times out of ten, it is you." Serena stuck her tongue out at the elf. "Be nice to my boy, Zev. He's the only one I have." She ran a quick hand through Alistair's hair, smiling gently before she moved away to speak with Oghren again, presumably about the map. Both men watched her walk away.

"Deadly sex goddess," Zevran murmured. "You are a lucky man, Alistair. You know this, I hope?"

Alistair shook his head. "I keep wondering how I stumbled upon this, you know? Like... why me? Her brother told me she's had lots of suitors. She wouldn't allow any of them to court her. But from the moment I met her I… I just knew."

"Well, you are handsome, despite that hair, and you are good with a sword. Perhaps more than one kind of sword?" Zevran gave him an appraising look that made Alistair blush slightly. "Then there is the prince thing... that must help, no?"

"You'd think so, but she actually... freaked out, when I finally told her. She's obviously okay with it all now, but at the time, I'm pretty sure she wanted to smack me in the face..." Alistair shrugged, losing his train of thought as his eyes drifted to Serena's back, to the curve of her neck as it dipped down to the light leather armor she wore... Hmm...

He could hear Zevran's voice again and shook his head. "Sorry, you were saying something?"

"It is nothing, my friend." The assassin winked. "Enjoy your gazing."

"So, how's a leggy skirt like you end up with a group like that?" The stocky dwarf turned to Serena, his eyes taking in the motley group of people following her. "And working for Bhelen."

"You want the long version or the short version?" Serena asked.

"Long, I s'pose, I got the time."

"Hmm, well. I'm from Highever, originally. But a rival noble house murdered my family, and I was the only one who survived... Well, my brother did, too, but he wasn't at the castle at the time..." She paused, frowning. "Are you sure you want to hear the long version?"

Oghren considered. "Eh, maybe the shorter long version."

"Right, so I was saved by a man named Duncan, and became a Grey Warden. I went with him down to Ostagar, and that's where I met Alistair-"

"He the virgin?" Oghren interrupted. "The big blonde one, aye?"

"Uh, yes. But he isn't a virigin."

"Because he's stubbing the elf, right?"

"What?" Serena blinked. "Who...? Who said that?"

"The elf."

She glanced back and glared at the blonde assassin. "He would say that." Rolling her eyes, Serena continued. "Alistair is not having sex with Zevran... He's not- he's... well..." She could feel a deep blush color her cheeks at the thought of her next words. "He's having sex with me."

"Ah, good to hear he took my advice then."

Serena opened her mouth to protest then closed it again, thinking better of it. She didn't know what advice this dwarf had dolled out to Alistair, but she was certain he hadn't taken any of it. Not yet. "Anyway, Ostagar... happened, and then it was just Alistair and I-"

"And I suppose that's when you lot started going at it like a couple of wild stallions, eh? Eh."

"No! Maker's breath, you're nearly as bad as Zevran. The sex didn't start until later." Serena shook her head, flushing again. "Why am I even telling you this? I don't know you! I... I… anyway. We're the last Grey Wardens, and we just... picked up these people as we went along trying to fulfill the treaties." She sighed. "It's how we ended up working for Bhelen, and now we're looking for this Branka for him, too."

"Quite a story there, Legs."

"Yes... Yes, it sounds kind of stupid when I just... lay it all out like that." Serena looked at her boots miserably, pressing her hands to her cheeks. They felt burning hot still. "We're trying to fight the Blight, and for that, we need an army; we need your people as allies, so... this dispute over the throne... I don't know. I just hope Branka is still alive and can just say 'hey, I'd like this ponce of a prince to be king, the end!' You know?"

"Aye. I've been trying to get an army to come hunt for the old girl for years now." Oghren took a long drag on his waterskin. "Thought I'd have to march down here myself, 'til you lot came along."

"Well, we're very grateful for your... what did you call it? Stone-sense?"

"Aye," the dwarf nodded. "All dwarves got it, any dwarf born below the surface, anyway." Oghren stepped over to the wall, eyeing it carefully before nodding and moving ahead again. "You also got my firsthand knowledge of Branka. You should know that Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void, which was supposedly lost centuries ago."

"As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. It's supposed to be just past Caridin's Cross... Course, no one's seen that thaig for five hundred years."

"But we have a map, at least," Serena said.

"True enough," Oghren agreed. "And if I'm worth a spit, I'd say just 'round that bend and we ought to be there. 'Course what we find there is anyone's guess. Could be crawling with darkspawn."

"No, I'd sense them," Serena replied. She tapped her temple. "Just one of the perks of being a Grey Warden, we'll never be ambushed by those monsters at least. Not that there aren't any darkspawn, there are. But they're... further in."

They continued through the tunnel until it emptied out into an enormous chamber. Huge dwarven-made pillars shot up hundreds of feet in the air, the geometric designs interlocking for added stability. The road, while having obviously seen better days, was mostly intact. Large sconces marked the wall every hundred feet or so, although nearly half of the torches were missing.

Oghren let out a low whistle. "I still can't believe Bhelen tracked this place down. This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here... Including Ortan Thaig." He pointed to the ceiling. "Feel that? Fresh air. Vents bring it straight from the surface, all the way down here." Oghren smiled proudly. "Dwarven engineering is second to none."

Serena breathed deeply, the cooler air did incredible things towards making her feel better. She hadn't realized what a toll being underground was until they'd spent a whole day cycle without seeing the sun, or the stars.

"So, do you see any sign of Branka yet? You mentioned she used to mark the walls?"

"Not a one, but trust me, we will once we're on the path to the old Ortan Thaig. She told me she was heading for Caridin's home."

"This Caridin... he was also a Paragon, I assume?"

"Yep. Master smith, created the Anvil of the Void, which in turn, was used to create golems." Oghren gazed around the abandoned thaig, almost wistful. "With it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, with the golems protecting us from the darkspawn."

"But it was lost."

"Aye. Don't know much about that. Branka spent hours in the Shaperate, though, digging up whatever she could get her hands on." He flipped his back around, rooting around inside it. "Got some of her notes, in fact... Pretty sure we need to head down this tunnel, leads to Ortan Thaig."

Serena peered into the giant hole in the wall that was supposedly the route to Branka's last known whereabouts. "Ah, you don't think we shouldn't just... follow this road? This safe, little road?"

"Nah, definitely this way." Oghren rubbed the side of the tunnel. "See this? One of her marks."

Serena checked on the others. Everyone seemed in fine spirits. They hadn't run into anything more dangerous than a nug in some time now, though deeper... who knew what they would come across. She whistled to Peanut, who was dutifully keeping pace at her side.

"Hey boy, could you scout ahead for us?"

The mabari sniffed around the tunnel opening before barking once and disappearing inside.

"You ever... ride that thing?" Oghren's normally gruff voice was unexpectedly thoughtful.

She turned slowly towards the dwarf, her eyebrows in her hair. "You mean my warhound? Are you asking if I ever ride my warhound?"

At her look, the dwarf's beard twitched. "Sod it. Nevermind."

Serena chuckled at the thought of Oghren riding on the back of her mabari. "He's not a bloody horse."

"'Bout as big as one," Oghren insisted. "Just thinking... a little chariot or something..."

"Are you drunk?" She eyed his waterskin warily. "There's alcohol in that, isn't there?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, apparently," Serena said with a heavy sigh.