I own nothing save for Adela (well, maybe her stylized halla figurine). Bioware has my eternal gratitude for creating this world and letting me play in their sandbox.

I'm still not going canon with the game or the books - just some twists to make things fit to my story.

This chapter would have had more, but then it would have been too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. I hope the ending on this one makes sense. It's bugging me.

As always, thank you all for the reviews. mutive, Windchime68, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Gaspode. Every word is a great boost to my ego and momentum! And the alerts and favs - always a great boost!

DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn

Chapter 14

Teryn Howe surveyed the room, a cruel, viper smile spreading across his face. There stood the throne, it's heavy wood elaborately curved, gilded in gold. Empty.

Of course empty, he thought with a harsh chuckle slipping from between his thin lips. He stepped forward, almost reverently, running a hand along one of the gilded armrests. Loghain lay above in his chambers in a stupor, watched over carefully by Cauthrien. Howe frowned. Lately Loghain had to be restrained more than before, somehow managing to fight against the darkness that was overwhelming him. The latest news, that Wardens had actually survived Ostagar, had set him off and he had been extremely difficult to control. Thank the Maker for Arawn, he thought.

Anora was locked in her chambers to keep her from mischief. The Teryn's eyes narrowed. The Queen was proving to be as much a handful as her father, and just as uncooperative. His smile acquired a leering quality as his thoughts turned toward the lovely woman. Once he was certain of his power base, he would have to…break the young woman of that most unfortunate quality.

Soon, he thought, resisting the temptation to sit upon the majestic fixture.

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind him, and Howe turned carefully, his narrowed eyes meeting those that looked at him from across the room. The elf's eyes, tawny in color, reflected a hint of amusement as he watched the human step down from the dais and walk over to him.

"The Antivan Crows send their regards," the elf spoke in a smooth, heavily accented voice, bending into a graceful bow.

"I trust all is prepared?" Howe questioned the elf as he moved to stand before him, looking down at the smaller elf as he straightened.

This elf, however, would not be intimidated by this or any other human. An assassin by trade, a member of the highly sought after and elite Antivan Crows, he knew that there were others far more capable for him to fear. This Fereldan nobleman would have to do more than just look at him from a greater height to instill trepidation.

The elf bowed yet again, a slight smirk gracing his handsome, tanned features, "All is in the ready, my lord," he replied, rising. "The Crows merely await your word to proceed."

Howe nodded. "Very good." He gestured the elf away, "Just make certain that the Wardens die."

Chuckling, the elf bowed again, then turned and left the room. This time, Howe walked up to the throne, turned, and slowly lowered himself to the padded seat. Very soon.

DA:O

Leliana frowned as she stood beside Adela and Alistair, staring up toward Castle Highever. Something was wrong. She knew it. All of her experience screamed it at her. A glance to the Wardens told her that they, too, felt something was amiss.

"Adela and I should scout around the castle," Leliana offered as the trio stepped back off the road and into the forest. "Circumnavigate the immediate area around the castle, and return here to report what we find."

The elf nodded her agreement, and after a moment, Alistair did as well. Then, moving as quietly as shadows, the two women melted into the shadows, and vanished from sight.

Leliana circled around the western boundaries of the castle while Adela took off on the eastern side. The Orlesian was amazed by the grace and ability the artisan displayed. She had seen the elf in battle against darkspawn, and she admitted to a bit of jealousy by how well Adela handled the bow. Almost like she was born with it in her hands, the red head thought. But, she did offer to teach the younger woman a thing or two about using her daggers. While she was good, she did not have the same confidence with hand to hand combat as she did with her archery.

But, her stealth skills…Leliana was absolutely impressed. And could not help but wonder where the craftswoman, one who befriends royalty and nobles alike, would learn such skills.

She paused, listening. Now mid-autumn, there were no chirping crickets or frogs in the background. There was, however, a near constant drizzle from the gray skies, which were now darkening toward nightfall. Of course, they were on the coast now, and rain was a near constant occurrence. She sighed, sniffing. Maybe it was due to the constant rains that Fereldan always seemed to smell of wet dog.

There, she was certain, was a noise to her right. Carefully and quietly unsheathing a dagger, the Orlesian carefully stepped closer to the castle, pressing her back against the cold, wet stone, blending in perfectly to the shadows. A guard passed within feet of her position, not taking any notice of her. Although she was not particularly familiar with the various coat of arms of Fereldan nobility, she was aware that the livery of the guard was not that of the Cousland family. She had had the pleasure of meeting the Teryn and his son at Court in Val Royeaux several years ago, and had been impressed with the simple green on black, large tear drop crossed with spears heraldry of the Teyrnir of Highever worn by the accompanying knights, while the family crest - a laurel leaf set upon a background of blue - had been worn proudly by Teryn Bryce Cousland and his handsome son. This coat of arms - a large bear standing before a white and gold shield - was one she did not recognize.

Frowning, the bard stepped away from the castle, and made her way back to the rendezvous point.

Adela arrived a few minutes after Leliana and, together with Alistair, the women went back to where the Sten and Morrigan stood waiting.

"I do not believe that it is the family Cousland who holds these lands any longer," the Orlesian reported, a small frown on her pretty face. Adela nodded her agreement.

"No, but I do recognize the heraldry of the guards around the battlements," the elf replied. Leliana tried not to let her surprise show. How would an elf know the heraldry when she, an Orlesian bard, did not? "That is the coat of arms for the Arl of Amaranthine," the elf continued, a deep frown on her face.

"I take it you've met the Arl?" Leliana inquired.

To which the elf nodded. "Oh, yes," a concerned look crossed her features as she tipped her head to look back toward the castle. The first time she had met Arl Howe had been shortly after a Landsmeet about a year ago, and she was waiting for Anora in the great entry way. The Arl had apparently thought she was a servant and had taken to treating her as such. He had not taken kindly to Loghain's telling him that Adela was an honored quest and close friend to the king and queen. The second time she had met him, he had made it clear what he thought of her being a 'friend' and so had propositioned her to 'visiting' him at his estate in Denerim. While she had been spared having to speak with him further on that subject (Anora had entered the room with the ever watchful Loghain), she could never shake the uneasy feeling she had gotten from the man. And, now to find his troops patrolling Highever's walls…. "I've had the displeasure." She stated simply, ignoring the looks her companions gave her.

"So, it would seem our journey here was a waste of time," the Sten put in, the tone of his voice betraying the irritation he felt. "Come. We must waste no more time."

"What?" Adela turned to the huge man, staring at him. "If you truly expect that we are going to just leave without finding out what happened, you are sadly mistaken."

Alistair joined the conversation. "Look," both elf and Qunari turned his way. "Duncan told me that the king had been expecting both the Highever forces and troops from Amaranthine to participate in the battle. That they did not arrive was confusing to everyone. Now we get here and find that it appears as though Arl Howe has taken over Highever." He shook his head. "Something is very wrong here and we need to find out what it is."

The Sten stepped forward, making a cutting motion in the air with one huge hand. "Pashaara!" he cursed. "What bearing does whatever happened here have with the darkspawn?" his lavender eyes narrowed as he tried to intimidate the smaller man. "You say you are a Grey Warden, prove it!"

Alistair blinked, but did not give ground. "I am a Grey Warden," he all but growled out. "And as part of that duty, Adela and I must find out what happened to the forces that had been promised to stop the darkspawn." The young man actually took a step forward, closer to the Sten. "You can help or you can leave."

The Sten stood, staring at the young human before him for many moments. Then, with a nod, he stepped back, awaiting further instruction.

Leliana blew out the breath she had been holding, convinced the two men would come to blows. She turned to Adela and watched as she chewed on her lower lip.

She gives away too much with that face, the bard thought. I'll have to teach her to conceal her emotions better.

"Alistair is correct," the elf stated after a few moments. "We need to find out what is going on. As Alistair said, we know that Cailan, Loghain and Duncan had been counting upon the forces of Highever and Amaranthine to assist in the battle at Ostagar." She tapped a finger on her chin. Leliana resisted the urge to pull it away from her face. "That Arl Howe's troops are here…well, I have to think that there's nothing good about that." Her hand moved from her face, and she looked back up at the castle's battlements. "We need answers, and I believe we will only find them within those walls."

Leliana nodded. "If he took over the Teyrnir, he would have needed the permission of the Throne to make it official and legal," she smiled as elven and human eyes turned her way. The Sten merely stood stoically keeping watchful eyes upon the surrounding wilderness, and Morrigan sat upon a nearby log, seeming to not be paying attention. "If this was a coup, then most likely he did so without permission, and it is not a legal take over. The Crown may well step in and confiscate the lands, and censure the Arl. Although, with Cailan dead, it would be Howe's word against, whose?" She waved her hand in front of her face. "All too complicated and unnecessary a discussion at this time," she conceded with an embarrassed giggle. She had let her thoughts run away with her mouth, she realized.

But Adela seemed to be following along. "So we need to see if there are any Cousland survivors here," she speculated, "in case this was a coup."

The bard nodded.

"Okay, then," Adela grinned, "I guess we are infiltrating a castle." She looked pointedly at the Orlesian. "Any ideas on how we do that?"

Grinning from ear to ear, recalling a hidden passage she found during her scouting of the area, Leliana gave a most enthusiastic nod.

"Good then," the elf got all serious and businesslike, turning her eyes to the quiet Qunari and witch. "Sten, Morrigan, you two will need to participate." They both looked at her, and both heads nodded, a slight feral gleam in Morrigan's eyes.

DA:O

To say he was impressed was an understatement. How the Orlesian could have found the hidden entrance into the castle was simply a feat beyond him. The outline of the stone doorway perfectly blended into the rest of the stonework of the foundation, and opened at only the slightest touch in just the right spot. Had he not known otherwise, he would almost swear that magic was employed in its construction and activation. However, due to his templar abilities, he did not sense any magic and so knew it to be simply a genius of architecture.

The group entered the cellars of the ancient fortress, carefully closing the door behind them. It was dark and damp with disuse, a heavy earthy smell permeating the tunnel. Morrigan had called forth a spell wisp and by its light the band made their way through the uneven and winding tunnel system.

The tunnel ended at a wooden wall. Leliana moved forward, using her sensitive fingers to explore the wall, searching for the seems of the doorway she knew was there, trying to locate the triggering mechanism. She smiled broadly; it was similar to the exterior door. Finding the corner, she gave a most gentle push, and with a soft 'click' the outline of the doorway was revealed with the soft natural light filtering through from the room beyond.

Raising a finger of silence to her fellows, the bard pushed open the door way just a fraction, while the warriors behind her held their weapons at the ready, and Morrigan gathered the necessary mana to toss a spell at any foes that lay beyond. Adela stepped back, pulled her bow off her shoulder, and prepared to fire should it be necessary to use deadly force.

The tunnel opened into a pantry. The group moved in, ignoring the dark reddish brown stains upon the stone floor. Leliana and Adela moved to the larder's sole door. Adela moved into the corner diagonal from the door, an arrow notched, ready for flight. Alistair moved to the wall toward the door's opening, while the Sten stood slightly to Leliana's side. Morrigan and Hafter standing toward the small room's center.

Leliana nodded, and then opened the door a crack. She breathed out a slight sigh of relief, and opened it further, revealing a cold kitchen. The fire was out, and the group could not help but notice more of the stains on the floor.

Leliana shut the door, and the others relaxed their stances. Alistair went over to the dark stain on the pantry floor.

"Well, I think this is an indication something bad happened," he muttered as the bard and elf moved to his side. Adela's eyes roamed the pantry and Alistair followed along, noting the hanging sides of beef, potatoes and other food stuffs that lined the shelves or hung from the ceiling. All of the food were spoiled and molding, a clear indication that this kitchen and pantry had not seen use in some time. Alistair was not too surprised; a castle this size would usually support two or three kitchens and pantries.

"So, now that we're in, how do we get around?" Alistair asked, knowing that while their Orlesian minstrel and elven Warden could just slink into the shadows, trying to sneak a seven foot tall Qunari warrior and heavily armored Templar may not be the easiest thing to do. He watched as Adela's eyes settled upon some clothing hanging near the door from hooks.

She turned to him, a small smile on her lips, and then moved to the clothing. Poking through them, she obviously found what she was looking for and carefully pulled it from the hook. Examining it as she approached the group, she held it up.

"Okay," she shook the dress out, "I can put this on and pretend to be one of the servants," Alistair was shaking his head as she spoke, but Leliana obviously thought it was a good idea by the nod of her head.

"No," Alistair said firmly, grasping hold of the garment, "no way are you going to walk around here unarmed."

"Listen, Alistair," Adela spoke, pulling his hand free of the dress. "I go out in the open, scout around and see what I can learn. Leliana," she waved a hand toward the Orlesian, "can scout from the shadows, get into places an elven servant may not be able to. You big bad warriors and mages," she grinned at the others, "wait either in this pantry or in the tunnel until one of us reports back with a better idea of what we'll be facing here."

It was a sound plan, Alistair had to admit. At this point, it was clearly all they could do. It did not make sense having them all traipsing about the castle blind. And, he had to admit Adela could take care of herself. "Okay," he nodded, glancing at the Sten and Morrigan, both of whom had remained silent. "But, I don't like you being unarmed."

"I won't be," Adela promised, and then turned her back to remove her armor. "Ahm, Sten, Alistair?" both men gave her their full attention, "Please turn around. Lady undressing here." The Sten merely scowled but turned around, Alistair waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him a sharp look. Grinning, he turned his back to her as well.

He heard the sounds of armor being dropped to the floor, Adela muttering slightly under her breath, and then, "Okay, I'm decent," from behind. Both men turned around to find the elf, dressed in a simple woolen dress of brown and white, twisting her long braid into a coil at the base of her neck. Leliana handed her several pins and then tucked the elf's armor into her pack. Alistair was surprised to notice that the dress fit her rather well, although he noticed it was a bit large around the bust and waist, and a few inches longer than normal. Maker, she is tiny even for an elf! Came the unbidden realization.

"Ah, Adela," Alistair called. She lifted her eyes to his. "You are not going out unarmed, right?" To which she grinned. Lifting her skirts just a bit, she bent down and pulled a knife from one boot, and then switched hands and pulled out another. Although not completely satisfied (those were awfully small knives) Alistair knew that there was no further arguing about the plan. Adela handed her pack and bow to Alistair, and then moved with Leliana to the door.

Both women watched as their companions slipped back into the tunnel, and then they moved out the door, Leliana slipping into the shadows, and Adela stepping openly through the door, leaving it open so that the rogue could slip to and from the kitchen unnoticed.

DA:O

She had to admit, she enjoyed walking around without wearing armor - even the Dalish armor, which was lighter and move flexible than other armor. She almost missed the sensation of wearing a dress and made a firm mental note to purchase one and wear it whenever possible - at camp, at an inn (an inn! To sleep in a real bed! And a hot bath!)…she shook her head, focusing on the task at hand.

Walking the wide corridors of the castle, Adela was pleased that she hadn't been accosted by any of the residents. However, that also caused her a bit of concern. Normally, in a castle of this size, she should have run into other servants or denizens. That she hadn't spoke volumes, and she worried now that perhaps an elven servant walking the corridors would raise suspicion. Nothing for it now, she thought, deciding to continue on.

She did take note of more dark stains upon the floors and walls of the corridors she traversed, as well as the obvious damage done to the structure of the castle. Fresh burn marks and crumbling and missing stone gave quiet witness to the violence that the castle had obviously seen - and quite recently. Turning down a side corridor, she found a guard post where the door had been broken and bashed off its hinges. Frowning, she stepped into the small room, glancing around. More of the disturbing stains. She turned, spying another door, this one bound in metal. She stepped over and noticed that there had been attempts to batter the door down, but these had failed. Running sensitive fingers along the surface, down to the floor, she found that it was trapped as well. Removing one of the pins from her hair, the elf went to work on disabling the trap. She then went to work on the complicated locking system.

After several minutes, time wasted as she paused in her work to listen for any oncoming footsteps, the elf finally managed to get the door unlocked. She grinned, thanking Soris for all those hours he spent teaching his cousin how to open nearly any lock she encountered. Of course, she would never attain the level of skill her tricky cousin had…with that thought, she stood, once again checking the door for traps (there were none) and then pushed the door open.

Gleaming armor, shields and weapons hung from mannequins and various weapon racks. Feeling badly about being there, the elf backed from the room, relocking the door, and then leaving the guard room. She made a mental note to revisit the room with Alistair (they were in need of better armor and weapons, she told herself, trying to justify the decision to loot the armory) - after they discovered what happened to the castle's residents.

Leaving the room, she turned to her right instead of retracing her steps to her left. Turning a short corner, she arrived at a door. Bending down, she noted that it was unlocked. Cautiously she opened it, revealing a flight of stone stairs leading down into darkness.

Glancing about, her eyes settled on a nearby torch the hung from a wall sconce. Reaching up, using a hand on the wall as a way to make her way further up the walls (darn humans and their darn long legs!) she gripped it and pulled it free. Checking her pocket for flint and steel, she stepped through the door, closing it behind her.

The stairs nearest the top of the flight were dimly lit, and her elven eyes - sharper than a human's - allowed her to see quite a way down the stairs. She was a creature of light, however, and decided to light the torch now. The torch flared to life, and Adela found herself staring down a long, winding flight of stone stairs. Although in good repair, several steps were crumbling with age. Congratulating herself for lighting the torch, the elf made her way down into the bowels of the castle.

The earthy smell that had existed in the tunnel the elf and her group had entered the castle through gave way to a more decayed odor in the flue of the stairway. The stairs ended at another door, this one locked and bound in metal, although not as securely as the door to the armory above. After a quick check for traps (there were none) she deftly picked the old iron lock. After putting an ear to the door and hearing nothing, she carefully pulled the door open.

And fell back as the stench of rot and decay, blood and death assaulted her senses. Reeling, gagging from the odor, the elf brought a sleeved arm to her face, eyes blinking against tears. Maker! She thought, forcing bile back down her throat, it smells worse than darkspawn! Lifting her skirts, she carefully tore a length from the underskirt and wrapped it over her nose and mouth. It filtered some of the stench to a more durable odor. Thinking she was prepared, she ducked her head to take a breath, and then walked through the door.

This is a dungeon, she realized, although pleased to note the absence of torture devices every tale says are found in such places. Instead, there were cells, many cells. All with heavy doors and small barred windows. Walking carefully and slowly, she looked into each cell in the small chamber and found them to be (thankfully) empty. She turned a corner to enter into the larger chamber of the dungeons.

She was not prepared for what she saw.

Bodies. Scores of them, stacked into piles along the walls. Most of them are divested of clothing, in various stages of decay. Some appeared to have been burned, and others…she turned away, retching. Some of the bodies there were children. She rushed over to a wall, leaning against the stone, as a sob escaped her lips. Children? She realized that these poor souls must have been the inhabitants of the castle. She forced herself to look back at the gruesome display.

The bodies were just piled up, with no regard to the humanity that they once represented. Elves and humans alike shared in this atrocity, and Adela felt a rage build within her at how evil people can be. Her eyes skimmed along, trying not to take in too much detail when she spied a smaller pile, consisting of four bodies, set by one of the cells. These bodies were stripped completely of clothing. Next is the body of a human woman, amazingly left alone for the most part, as is the little one beside her. It is for the other two bodies, a man and woman, that she felt tears rise up for. They have been horribly mangled, obvious signs of torture, even at this stage of decay. She turned away, unable and unwilling to tally the numerous atrocities done to them.

She needed to leave, now that she knew what happened here. She needed to just leave these poor souls and get out and find her companions…she turned, but then she heard a soft sob. She turned back. The sound was coming from the direction of the smaller pile of bodies. A rat scurried through, and she nearly jumped. Damned thing! Once again she turned to leave, but this time the sound is unmistakably human. Purposefully ignoring the death about her, she stepped to the cell she was certain the sound came from, and pressed an ear against the wood of the door. Yes, she was certain she heard a voice.

She could see into the barred window as it is placed too high. The cell was locked, but so far none of the locks she'd encountered had deterred her, and this one was no exception. Pulling one of her knives out from a boot, the elf slowly and carefully opened the door, grimacing as it hit against the body of the woman that was too close.

The sight before her was as heart wrenching as the scene behind her.

Chained to the wall and floor sat a human man. Covered in filth, obviously left to starve, he obviously suffered great tortures, judging from the lesions that covered his dirty skin. He was naked, his head bowed with long, dirty hair covering over his face. On the floor, just out of his reach, sat a bowl full of tepid water, a plate of moldy bread next to it. Too cruel, she thought, keeping the knife in her hand as she approached the lone prisoner. What had he done to deserve this? And quickly dismissed that thought. What had any of them done to deserve this?

Slowly, carefully, she knelt down, staying just out of reach in case the poor man was violent or deranged. She ignored the human filth that covered the floor as she knelt there, watching as the man raised his head.

She gasped, wondering how long he had been here. She could tell that once he was a warrior, for his shoulders, though stooped, were broad. He was fairly thin, telling of weeks without proper food, lips parched, dried and cracked. His skin nearly gray, and his breathing rasping in the fetid air. His hair, hanging over his eyes, was red, and he peered at her with green eyes, misty with pain and misery. He blinked at her, as though trying to clear fog and sleep from his eyes.

In a dry, raspy voice he asked, "Are you real? Or is this another cruel dream?"

She was amazed at the clarity in which he spoke the words, knowing it was telling of his spirit and will to be as coherent as he was. She offered him a gentle smile. "I'm real." She wanted to reach out to him, but was still unsure of how he would react, and so she just smiled. "My name is Adela."

The man frowned. "I don't recognize you," he managed, a dry tongue licking at drier lips. "You are not one of the Cousland servants, are you?"

Shaking her head no, Adela replied. "No, I am not. I am a Grey Warden come to discover what happened here." She decided not to say more, and just waited for him to reply or ask.

Green eyes light with recognition and hope. "A Grey Warden?" his head lifted a bit further. "Is Duncan with you?"

Surprised he knew Duncan, she sadly shook her head, "I wish he were," she admitted freely, "But, sadly, no." Now she did reach out a hand to brush aside the hair that covered his eyes. He flinched somewhat, but did not move away. "What is your name?" she asked.

"My name is Gilmore," he replied, his head rising slightly more and his back straightening, as though recalling who he was helped to return him to humanity. "Ser Roland Gilmore. I was a knight here for the Teryn and his family."

Nodding, Adela's attention shifted to the chains that bound the man down. She reached for one of his hands, and, after a moment's pause, Roland obliged. Watching as she inspected the lock, he flinched slightly as she touched the raw skin beneath the manacle. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and then pulled a pin from her hair and began to work on releasing the lock.

It was rusted, and some damage appeared to have been done to the manacle (she assumed Roland tried bashing at the lock at one point) but she managed to get it undone and his wrist free. She wished she had brought some of Morrigan's poultices with her. She could tell that the wounds on his wrists are infected, as were most if not all of the wounds that covered his body.

Roland relaxed and let her undo the rest of the manacles that bound his hands and feet. He rose, unsteady on his feet, and gripped the wall for support. Straightening, he stumbled a bit, and Adela instinctively reached out and took hold of him by the waist. She was aware of his state of undress, and she noticed his flush as he became aware of it as well. Shaking her head, she helped him lean against the wall.

They were near the armory and she was certain that something there would fit him. However, she wanted to spare him any further humiliation if possible. Frowning in apology to the young man, Adela turned her back and lifted her skirts. In one quick motion, she tore the second layer of skirts free and pulled the length of cloth out. She handed this to Roland, and he gratefully accepted it, tying it about his narrow hips.

He stepped away from the wall and walked with halting steps toward the doorway. Adela put a hand on his arm to stop him. "What is beyond this door will be…difficult," she raised blue eyes full of emotion, "don't…don't look, just follow me and focus on the doorway out."

Roland stared at her for a moment, and then slowly nodded his head.

"We're going to the armory first," Adela told the human, "and then we're going to get you out of here". He nodded again, and then followed the little elf out of the cell.

She watched as he tried to avert his eyes, and stepped over to his side when he could not. He paled under the dirt and grime, under the gray complexion from lack of sunshine and food and breathing unhealthy air. She took his arm and pulled him with her, away from this. His eyes settled on the smaller pile that had been placed by his cell, and he stopped. A near immovable object, denial causing his feet to root to the stone floor, Adela had not the strength to pull him along.

"No," he whispered from between parched lips.

Adela again pulled at his arm. He wouldn't move. Frowning, she shook him, pulling again, saying his name, pulling again. The knight turned, his eyes focusing on the elf - the Grey Warden - and he stepped forward once, then another step. Then he let her pull him along, out of the wretched cells and up the stairs.

She couldn't get out of there fast enough, and the relief that swept over her when Roland allowed himself to be pulled away was extreme. The relief remained when she saw that no one had tampered with the lock to the armory. She quickly unlocked the door, pushed Roland inside, and then locked it up behind them.

The knight stepped over to a suit of silverite armor bearing the Cousland family heraldry. In one of the trunks, the elf found under padding and clothing and handed them to Roland, turning her back as he unwrapped the skirt and, with shaking hands, dressed. Realizing that stealth and subterfuge would no longer be necessary (and would no longer work, now that she had a gravely injured Highever knight in tow), the elf pulled a set of leather armor down fro a rack, stripped off the dress and replaced it with the armor. She was amazed it fit her almost perfectly (it was still a little large across the chest and waist). Pulling up the boots, she located a pair of daggers and gave them a test twirl, then picked up a longbow and quiver of arrows, slinging both over her shoulder.

She turned back to Roland, who was struggling with the clasps of the armor. Helping him with the last of the straps and buckles (she had gotten good at helping Alistair with his armor), she took a moment to get a better look at her new companion.

His face was haggard with grief and pain; what he had suffered these past weeks or perhaps months, was truly horrible. His eyes - a clear green - reflected that pain clearly. His nose and jaw were strong. He'll need and want to bathe, she thought, recalling the pond they had camped by a few days back. How she wished they could go to an inn! More so now than before. She snapped in the last buckle, and the knight turned to the weapon rack behind them.

With a deep sigh, the man pulled forth a magnificent longsword, its bluish blade encrusted with runes. He brought the hilt to his lips and kissed it, and then pulled the silverite shield emblazoned with the Cousland emblem. He hefted it, finding his footing secure and steady, then swung the sword in an arch. Although a bit unsteady at first, by the fourth swing he managed to follow through the feint, his feet planted firmly. With a look to his elven savior, the young knight gave her a nod. Together they left the armory and headed toward the kitchens.

As with her first trek through this part of the castle, the pair did not meet anyone - guard, servant or otherwise - on their way back to the pantry. Roland offered that it was most likely due to the severe damage this wing received during the invasion. Looking back at the fire blackened walls, crumbling stone and damaged archways, Adela found herself agreeing.

The elf kept a watchful eye on the human knight, pausing often to allow him to catch his breath. Roland would accept her kindness with a slight smile and stubbornly continued onward.

Adela pushed open the door to the kitchen, peeking in and noting that it was still empty of life. She grimaced as she stepped in with Roland behind, watching as his eyes settled upon the dark stains sunk into the stone floors. His lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes misted. Swallowing, he followed the young woman into the pantry.

And he stopped, staring at the stains that covered most of the exposed floor. Adela turned a questioning eye on him and noticed he was trembling and looked as though he would retch.

"Roland?" she asked, taking a step toward him. She heard the door to the tunnel start to open and realized her friends must have heard their entry. Standing before the knight, she placed a hand on his arm, hoping that, even through the metal he could feel her presence there, for it did not seem as though he saw her any longer. His eyes were focused upon the stains.

"This is where…" he started, his voice a mere whisper, not even looking up as Alistair stepped through the secret entry. Roland turned his eyes to Adela's hand, and then up to her face. "Those bodies, by the cell…those were of the Teryn and Teryna," a sob caught in his throat. "And…" he shook his head, unable to continue. Adela looked over at Alistair, who had been watching the pair with uncertainty.

"Alistair," she called to her fellow Warden, who stepped forward. The others came through into the pantry. Adela noted that Leliana hadn't returned from her scouting yet. "Alistair, this is Ser Roland Gilmore, a Knight of Highever." the aforementioned knight looked up. "Roland, this is Alistair, a fellow Grey Warden." Roland bowed his head.

Wishing Leliana was here to take care of the knight, Adela looked to the others, and was surprised when Morrigan stepped forward, a potion in hand, offering it to the knight. "Here," she pushed the potion into his hands, "drink this. 'Twould restore some strength to your limbs so that when we flee this place you may keep up."

Alistair pulled Adela aside as their witch tended the newest member of their group. "Where did you find him?" the human asked, staring down into her face.

"Alistair," she whispered, "it was horrible! I found him in the dungeons, alone," her eyes went back to the knight and watched as he followed Morrigan into the tunnel entrance. "chained to the floor and wall, without food, clothing…" she shook her head, fighting the nausea and tears she had been holding back for Roland's sake. "The dungeon was filled with the bodies of the…" she stopped, her head bowed.

Alistair stared over the top of her head. Then he nodded. "We now know what happened to the Teryn," he said softly.

Sniffing, she looked up, nodding. "I had thought Arl Howe was a snake, lecherous and unkind. But, this…" she trembled with anger, "only a monster could do something like…" She wiped a trembling hand across her eyes, steadying herself.

Taking a deep breath, gathering herself (she had to be stronger than this!), she said "This part of the castle seems to have been vacated." she shrugged. "I didn't meet a single person - servant, guard - at all. Which is rather strange," she looked thoughtful. "Roland and I are of a mind it's because of the damage to this part of the castle. It seemed rather excessive."

She looked around the pantry, taking in the dust covered cobwebs and rotten food, avoiding the stain on the floor. "I should go and find Leliana," she said almost absently, concern growing for their missing companion, stepping back from Alistair.

But her fellow Warden was shaking his head. "No," he said firmly, "let's not change the plans now." She looked up at him. "Look, we sent you and Leliana out to scout around different wings of the castle. You've done yours. That you didn't run into anyone was pure luck. Let Leliana finish her job."

Frowning, she bit her lip. Of course Alistair was right. If she changed the plans now, Leliana could very well be placed into danger (if she hadn't already found it yet, she thought). "How long was I gone?" she asked.

"About three hours," was the quick - very quick - response.

Adela raised a brow at that, but Alistair just looked at her. "Okay, we'll give Leliana another couple of hours. She's moving slower than I was anyway because she's been all quiet and stealthy, while I was just trying to blend in." She tapped her chin with a long finger, and glanced back at the entrance with concern. "Roland is going to need help," she turned back to Alistair. "He is very bad shape. I'm amazed he has the strength to carry that armor and his weapons."

"Really bad?" Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder. He frowned deeply as the elf nodded.

"I wish we could get him to an inn where he could get a proper bath, clothing, food…But, we can't risk it. Any inn near the castle will more than likely recognize him. And we can't have it out that one of their…" she grimaced in disgust, "prisoners escaped."

"There's the pond a couple of days back," Alistair offered.

"I know, I've thought of that. And, it's better than nothing. I'll have to scrub out his wounds…" she shivered. "I wish we had a proper healer with us."

"You do a fair good job of keeping us all whole and death free," he quipped, brushing a lock of her hair from her eyes.

She grinned up at him. "I know, but think of how much better it would be if I could just," and she waggled her fingers, "be all magical and heal all wounds instantly like a mage." She slumped. "I miss Albus."

Shaking his head, he gently turned her and pushed her toward the secret door. "If you had been born a mage," he said as he pushed her through, "You would have been at the tower and you'd never have become a Warden," he shut the door carefully, turning to gaze down at her, "and we would never have met." He grinned widely. "And guess who would still be sitting at Ostagar, whining that everyone died? Me." he poked himself in the chest.

"Silly human," the elf scolded, moving to take a seat by Roland to check on him. "You know damned well you would not have just stood there waiting for death." She smiled at Roland, offering him a water bottle from her pack, which he accepted gratefully. After scolding him to drink slowly, she looked back at her fellow Warden. "You don't give yourself enough credit, you know." She then turned back to her pack, searching out some bread to give to Roland, knowing he would be unable to eat anything more substantive at the moment.

Alistair watched as she took care of the Highever knight, smiling thoughtfully. "Yeah, well, you have never had occasion to follow me, Commander," his grinned widened as she shot him a nasty look, "so you don't know. Remember: No pants?"

She blinked, a slow smile forming on her lips. Then, the two Wardens shared a chuckle as their companions looked sharply at them at that remark.

DA:O

Leliana had returned an hour behind Adela, and did not have anything positive to share. By her estimate, there were at least two to three hundred soldiers stationed at the castle, and there was a rebuilding effort underway in the northern wing. While there were plenty of servants - mostly elven - she did not see any other humans save the soldiers. She had managed to poke into some of the rooms, but there were some areas she had been unable to access.

Roland had mentioned that one of the Teryn's children - a young woman named Elissa - was missing. Based upon some of the questions Howe and his lieutenants asked of him, he was under the impression they had not found her.

"That's good," Adela said, and Leliana nodded her head in agreement. "There is at least one surviving member of the family."

"'Course we need to find her," Alistair prompted, but Adela shook her head. "I'm afraid we can't take the time to try and locate a missing - or hiding - noblewoman." She sighed, not happy with that decision. "If they haven't found her yet, they most likely won't. She's safer wherever she is right now." She lifted her head, speaking gently into the obvious displeased looks she saw on both Alistair and Roland's faces. "Remember, Alistair. We Wardens have a price on our heads, people are looking for us to help fill their pockets with gold. If we start looking for this noblewoman, we could very well be placing her in even more danger or inadvertently leading her enemies to her." She looked from one face to the other, grateful as she saw them both ease, accepting her reasoning. "We also have some treaties to enforce, and an Arl to get on board before we can even think of ending this silly Blight."

With a heavy sigh, knowing she was right (that's why she's in charge, he thought) Alistair bent to pick up his pack.

Roland looked over at the elven and human Wardens. "You should probably go back to the armory," he whispered, his throat still dry and unused to speaking, "there may be more weapons or armor for use." he grimaced. "I am certain the Teryn would rather the Wardens use whatever is there than risk Howe's men getting their hands on them."

Glancing back to the doorway, Adela nodded, "Okay. Alistair and Sten will go with me. Leliana," she turned to the bard, "You and Morrigan will take Roland and Hafter out and back to camp. We'll follow as quickly as we can."

"Is separating the group a wise idea?" Alistair asked, feeling it his duty to do so.

She nodded, "Roland is in no condition to fight," she smiled apologetically at the knight. "The sooner he's out of here, and into fresh air, the better. Morrigan," she turned to the witch, "make sure you give him some of your potions, the ones for strength and stamina, but not for healing," the witch raised an eyebrow. The elf explained. "The potions will heal the skin over infected wounds, and they need to be cleansed first." With a slight nod, the witch turned away. Leliana grinned at the elf, and together with Morrigan helped Roland to his feet, and began walking him out.

DA:O

Several hours later, now with quality armor and weapons, the group reunited at camp. Roland had been given a bedroll and was currently sleeping in Adela's tent. They were too close to the castle to risk a camp fire, so they alternated watch, two at a time, throughout the night, and then, before first light and after a cold breakfast of bread and cheese, packed up and headed back southward.