Ah, the reviews from last chapter…*grins* Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed: Arsinoe de Blassenville, CCBug, Nithu, tgail73, Katrina-Irene, Eriana10, Shakespira, celtic-twinkie, zevgirl

Okay, now let's get back to the story…

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 44

They had finally departed Redcliffe. Artemis was their newest addition, insisting that he become a Grey Warden. Adela still balked at the idea of the joining, but knew that they needed a skilled mage such as Artemis, who had shown some skill with healing, primal and entropic spells. He said, with a smile, he liked to be devastating, but fix any injuries he may inadvertently cause. So, without showing him her personal reluctance, she welcomed him as a recruit, stating that as soon as they learned how to perform a joining, both he and Roland would complete the ritual.

Adela was more than relieved as the castle, and then village, finally settled further onto the horizon. They had turned southward, and although some of their companions cast questioning looks at her, the elven warden had decided to wait until they made camp to explain their current heading.

After all, to their knowledge, they were supposed to have turned westerly, toward the Frostback Mountains and on to Orzammar.

Finally, darkness fell. Camp had been set, with the hares and fowl Adela and Morrigan had caught roasting over the fire. Alistair came over to his wife, pulling her aside as they went over what they were going to say to their companions. Once the meal had been eaten, the pair of wardens called everyone together. Morrigan, knowing what the discussion would be about, settled close to where Adela and Alistair stood, Leliana taking her place by her witch's side.

With a glance to the man who was both her Second and her husband, Adela stepped slightly forward, gazing around at the collection of warriors, mages and rogues that had joined their frantic quest to save Fereldan - and by extension, Thedas - from the Fifth Blight.

"As you've probably all become aware, we've taken a slight detour from our trek to Orzammar," she started, smiling at her friends, her companions.

"Yes, we had noticed that instead of cooler, fresh air we were experiencing the joys of Blight blacked earth," Zevran had chuckled, causing a slight ripple of chuckle from those within their camp.

Adela smiled at the other elf. "As you all probably know by now, Morrigan is the daughter of Flemeth…"

"Or someone who claims to be Flemeth," Roland put in, still not certain he completely believed that the old woman who was their witch's mother was the Flemeth of legend and lore. He merely smirked at the frown Morrigan cast him.

"I believe she is, indeed, the Flemeth," Adela told the warden recruit with a slight smile.

Alistair nodded his head. "If she isn't the Flemeth, she's still an incredibly powerful mage," the former templar put in, recalling how the old woman had shape shifted into a gigantic bird, plucking him and Adela from the bloody battlefield that was Ostagar.

Nodding her head, Adela turned back to the others. "Morrigan has discovered something rather disturbing." Leliana put her arm around Morrigan's shoulders. As the two had become closer, the more Morrigan had told Leliana of her childhood and past. It was obvious the bard knew where the conversation was leading.

"What discovery, Adela?" Wynne prompted, standing behind Artemis, her arms crossed before her chest.

"Morrigan discovered how it was that Flemeth was able to…extend her lifespan," Adela frowned, thinking of the horrific ritual Morrigan had spoken with her about during their months at Haven. The very idea that someone would do such a thing to a person they had raised as their own…the very thought of it still made the warden cringe. And she had had months to live with the notion.

Morrigan straightened slightly, telling the others of her discovery from reading her mother's grimoire. Wynne's face hardened, her lips formed into a hard line. Roland and Artemis stiffened, the former knight's eyes watching the misery of the witch. The Sten stood stolid, as always, his expression thoughtful.

"What does this news have to do with our ending the Blight?" Always so short sighted, the Sten was unable - or unwilling - to grasp the issue they all faced.

So Adela made certain to point it out in no uncertain terms.

"One of us is in grave danger," she said to the Sten, her voice stern, unforgiving. "And when one of us is in danger, we all are." She strode forward slightly, her blue eyes fixing upon the Sten's impassive features. "And if we are all in danger, so, too, is our mission to stop the Blight."

She raised her brows at the Qunari, expecting further argument. The Sten merely stared at her with those alien lavender eyes, taking in her measure. They then shifted to where Morrigan sat, next to Leliana, her back straight, her strange, predator eyes now fixed upon the Sten. After another moment's silence, the huge warrior nodded.

"Indeed. We must not allow any to seek to interfere with our quest," the Sten turned back to Adela. "Commander, what are our next steps?"

She did not take the breath she really wanted to. Of everyone, she knew that the Qunari would have been the tougher one to convince of the necessity of their next move. Sometimes with his single-mindedness, he seemed almost an unmovable obstacle, only wishing to move forward in a straight line, no deviation to the course. That he could see the danger to themselves and their mission by the threat of Flemeth always over their heads only confirmed for the young elf that their next mission was important and necessary.

"Obviously, Morrigan cannot go with us," she said, smiling gently at the witch. Morrigan looked fairly miserable with that declaration, but had known all along she could not accompany the force that set off against Flemeth. "To do so may well give Flemeth the opportunity to take over Morrigan's body as her own. So, she will need to remain behind, but with someone with her, protecting her, until we finish the job and return."

"I'll remain behind with the lovely witch," Zevran volunteered, rising to his feet to stand behind Morrigan. Adela smiled, nodding her agreement. With Zevran's skills, he could hide in ambush and await any attack Flemeth may devise.

Leliana offered to remain behind, but Adela shook her head. "We'll need your bow, Leli," the elf instructed, smiling with sympathy. "Roland will remain behind as well," She looked over at the former knight. While he did not appear happy waiting behind while they faced the evil of Flemeth, he obviously agreed with her choice of leaving a warrior behind. After a bare moment he nodded his head.

Her blue eyes skimmed over the forms of those companions who would accompany them to Flemeth's hut. Then, with a nod, she bid them good night. She expected them to be able to back at the wilds within the next few days.

DA:O

Arawn stretched out in his chair, dropping his feet unceremoniously upon the hard, oaken surface of the ornate desk he used. He smirked as he stared at the pile of paperwork - letters, requests, orders - that stood out in organized piles. One missive lay, spread open, upon the desk, the one he had been reading and re-reading for the past hour before he finally had to set it down. He glanced up as newcomers entered the room.

Rendon Howe and Elissa Cousland strolled into the room, her hand tucked comfortably into the crook of his arm. The mage stifled a slight grimace at the sight of the two. Elissa was undeniably a beautiful, well educated woman of obvious taste and nobility. That she willingly shared a bed with a man like Howe…the mage shook his head. Howe was a valued ally, a brilliant conspirator, and had proven loyal almost to a fault. Such ill thoughts were hardly worthy of the man.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Arawn asked as he straightened, pulling his feet from his desk to stand in greeting. Howe bowed slightly to the mage, yet Lady Cousland remained straight, her dark eyes scanning the form of the mage. Arawn did not stifle the smirk he needed to express. He knew well that the noblewoman did not like acquiescing to a mage. However, she was smart enough to know that he was the organizer of their plans, that without him, all would fail. If she had any desire for the power that seemed just beyond her reach, he was certain she was well aware that it would only be in her hand through him.

Howe shrugged his shoulders before turning to pour himself a brandy. Elissa went and sat down in a nearby chair, watching as her lover turned, leaning against the bar as he sipped his drink. "I just wanted to report the success in the alienage," Howe purred as he set his glass down.

"The Tevinters seemed pleased," Arawn acknowledged as he moved to Howe's side and poured himself a small brandy as well. "Have any issues arisen I was not previously made aware of?"

"Issues?" Howe drawled, frowning. "Not as far as the Tevinters' operations within the alienage go, no."

"What then?" Arawn asked as he turned to face his friend. Howe frowned slightly, glancing uneasily at the young woman. Arawn followed the motion, a blond brow twitched upwards in irritation. "I do not like dramatics, Howe," he growled, turning to resume his seat at his desk. "Out with it."

Taking a breath, it was Elissa who answered the mage. "You recall, I am certain, that I had told you that there is another bastard son of Maric romping about." Arawn nodded, fully recalling the conversation. He had dismissed the other bastard as insignificant, despite his being a Grey Warden. To Arawn's plans for the throne, the knowledge that there existed yet another son of the Theirin line held little to worry over. And, with only two Grey Wardens within Fereldan, he discounted their ability to stop his ascent to the throne greatly.

"Well," Elissa continued, a hand waving slightly as she spoke. "The elf he travels with is from the alienage here in Denerim."

"So?" the mage asked. "Elves come either from the wilds or the Alienages. That the warden came from Denerim means very little…"

"Ah, but you do not know who she is, now do you?"

The mage frowned, glaring at the noblewoman. "As I believe I stated, Lady Cousland," he growled out, "I have little patience from drama."

Realizing she treaded upon thin ice, the young woman said, "She is the daughter of Cyrion Tabris. An artist well known throughout Fereldan..."

"So?" Arawn interrupted irritably. "An elven girl whose father is an artist is hardly anyone to be concerned over, Grey Warden or no."

"It's not her father's lineage we are concerned over," Rendon cut in, certain Elissa would only continue to irritate the blood mage. "But her mother's." At that, the nobleman rose, striding over to the bookshelves. After a moment's perusal, he found what he sought, and pulled a rather plainly bound book from the shelf. As he flipped through the pages, he slowly walked to the desk, his eyes upon the book. He then placed the open book before the mage, pointing to a picture of a wild elven woman. "That is more a cause for concern for the young elf."

Arawn glanced down at the page, taking in the drawing of the elven woman, her expression fierce, her hair short and bound into tiny braids. An elegant bow, one he recalled seeing somewhere before, in her hand as she sighted down a heavily armored Orlesian chevalier. "So, she's the daughter of one of Loghain's Night Elves," he shrugged. "What of it?"

Rendon frowned, and Elissa all but scowled at the mage. "No, Arawn," Howe persisted, pointing at the picture again, this time pointing out the tattoos along the woman's face. "She is the daughter of a Dalish Hunter."

"Dalish hunter?" the mage glanced back down at the picture, his eyes going back to the bow. He frowned. "You're wrong, Howe. The only elves fighting during the rebellion were Night Elves."

"As per the 'official' history, yes," Elissa said as she rose, frowning, to pour a glass of wine. "However, the tome you hold now is one written by Queen Rowan, King Maric and Teyrn Loghain. A more accurate accounting of the rebellion." She smirked slightly. "Very few nobles have read it, however, and certainly even fewer commoners. It is a rather well kept secret, despite the efforts of the King, Queen and Teyrn."

"They had Dalish warriors fighting alongside them?" the mage asked, this time truly studying the picture of the beautiful yet fierce elf.

"That is Adaia Mahariel. She fought by Maric, Rowan and Loghain's sides." Rendon frowned at the picture. "I met her during battle. She was perhaps the fiercest warrior I had ever encountered. Little love for humans, as well." he muttered, recalling his disastrous meeting with the fierce elf those many years before. "She was very close to the Queen and Teyrn Loghain." He tapped a finger at the picture of the bow. "She gave that bow to Loghain several years prior to her death."

So that's where I recall seeing it, the mage thought. "But what does our little elven warden's parental history have to do with anything?" he asked. Both nobles rolled their eyes, turning back to the mage.

It was Elissa who spoke first. "That 'little elven warden' was the friend of King Cailan and Queen Anora. She knows Loghain. Apparently, the Teyrn had an almost fatherly interest in the girl. If not more…"

"And?"

"Arawn, my friend," Howe purred. "You are an intelligent man. Can you not see the potential if we were to manage to capture the elf?" The Teyrn of Highever tilted his graying head slightly. "She would be another means for controlling both the Teyrn and the Queen."

Arawn scoffed. "Do you really think they would put such worth in one elf girl?"

Howe nodded. "Everyone knew of the affection the Queen holds for this knife-ear. The Teyrn was a very close friend to her mother. Was the girl not so obviously elven, I am certain other rumors would have arisen…"

Arawn scowled over at the noblewoman. "Did you not try to kill this girl while you were following them?" he reminded her.

The Cousland noble merely shrugged her graceful shoulders. "I did not realize who the chit was before I made such an attempt."

Howe smirked at his lover. "That is correct. You were never at court whenever the little elf was about."

"You've seen her before?" the blood mage asked, suddenly intrigued with yet another potential avenue for controlling their petulant guest.

"Indeed I have," the Howe noble purred lasciviously. "Quite a beauty, that one." He sipped his drink. "It was difficult to take one's eyes from her."

"I take it she is the one the rumors about an elf and the King were of?"

"Rumors only," Rendon clarified. "Cailan was, truly, as loyal and faithful to his Queen as any man in love could be. The rumors never went anywhere, despite some nobles' best efforts."

Settling back into his chair, Arawn watched his two co-conspirators closely. "It would be a good thing, then, that your assassin failed in his duty." He smirked as Rendon's face paled slightly. "There is still the obstacle of actually getting the girl. She has proven elusive and capable. The rumors of villages being saved by Grey Wardens are starting to persist. If the Bannorn were not so caught up in their petty little civil war, I fear that public opinion would quickly turn to the Wardens, and no one would continue to believe that they were responsible for Cailan's death."

Howe's smile widened, and he stepped up to refill his brandy glass. "We shall merely keep our eyes open and ears to the ground, as it were." He lifted his glass, raising it in toast to the bastard of Maric. "Opportunities, my friend, abound. You merely need to know how to take advantage of them when they do."

DA:O

A soft, feminine chuckled resounded down the desolate corridor. Loghain turned to his companion, watching as Nelaros turned his head this way and that, his sharp elven hearing trying to pinpoint the demon's location. He watched as a slight smirk crossed the elf's face, and Nelaros nodded, twitching his head straight ahead.

Raising his shield, the human led the way, the elf glancing behind them, wary for any more surprises from the predator that hunted them.

The pair was determined that this would be the final confrontation with the vile creature. They had spent weeks fending her and her 'pets' off, and had still managed to survive. Each man continued to sport terrible wounds, but most of those had healed. Nelaros' hair had even begun to grow back.

The chuckle echoed from ahead once more, and the pair found themselves standing atop the once grand staircase. The elf pointed with his sword down the stairs, quietly advising the Teyrn that their quarry stood on the ground floor. Loghain nodded, then carefully began his descent to the main hall.

"Ah, my pretty, pretty pets," the demon purred out, taunting the pair as they continued down the stairway, pausing at the bottom to take in the scene around them.

Standing in her near naked glory was the desire demon. Her hair - a swath of purple flame - blazed outward, her red eyes narrowed as she watched the two men. She floated a few inches from the floor, her hands twitching by her sides. Around her lay the bodies of many soldiers, portions of the ceiling and crumbled statues. The great double doors that led to the courtyard stood, hanging askew upon broken hinges, allowing gray light into the chamber.

"Tsk, tsk," she tutted at the pair as they stood, shields and weapons in hand, ready for battle. "You two have certainly caused me some troubles," she purred, smirking at the two as she floated a couple of feet closer. "But, as they say, all good things must come to an end." Her red eyes settled upon Nelaros, venom and fury blazing therein. "And so must you."

With a dramatic wave of her arms, she shouted out a word of power. The pair launched themselves at her as the bodies of the dead shambled to their feet, clutching rusted swords and dented shields in decaying hands. The demon let out a chorus of laughter as she commended her minions to attack the men.

DA:O

Nelaros staggered back, taking the brunt of the undead soldier's shield bash into his own shield. His sword wavered slightly, but he gripped it tighter, pushing back with his shield, catching the dead man off guard as his sword swept in, lopping off the undead creature's arm at the shoulder. No blood was forthcoming, and the elf found that vastly disturbing. Shrugging his ill ease off, he advanced, swinging his sword out and decapitating the thing in an easy swipe.

He heard Loghain's warning cry, and spun about, twisting his shield closer to ricochet a crossbow bolt from him. Sighting the archer, the elf rushed forward, his shield before him to repel any other bolts, his sword swinging to knock the weapon from the near skeletal man's hands. The weapon clattered to the floor, and the thing merely stood there as Nelaros ended its miserable existence.

A turn, and Loghain was fully in the elf's sight. The young elven man was greatly impressed by the older man's battle prowess. He watched as the elder man bashed his shield straight into the face of one undead soldier while his blade swept out to drive fully into the chest of another. A great war cry erupted from the Teyrn's lips, knocking several of the surrounding foes backwards.

The desire demon watched all, occasionally muttering a word of power, trying to toss icy spells at the two mortals. Loghain always managed to shrug off the power, yet the elven man felt the cold keenly. Gasping for breath, he fought against the ice, pushing himself forward, towards the demon.

She had to die. Otherwise, both he and Loghain would continue to be harried by the seemingly endless supply of animated dead.

Chortling with evil humor, the demon turned her head, gesturing with one hand toward a group of lying dead. Nelaros saw his chance, and leapt forward, his blade held high above his head as he leapt over a fallen statue. His shield was held closely, but his arm held it like a taut spring, ready to unfurl. The demon heard him, and started to turn. Only to find the shield launched into her face, hard, smashing her nose, splaying it across her smooth, pale cheek as the elf's full weight came upon her. With a shriek, she stumbled, her arms flailing as she lost her balance, finding herself down on her back upon the cold, stone floor. Nelaros landed gracefully upon his feet, his sword sweeping downward, seeking a quick end to the demon and to their torment.

But the demon had other ideas, and was not without her own abilities. With a snarl, she pushed herself to the side, twisting and curling, well out of range of the sweeping blade, until her feet were once again beneath her. As Nelaros recovered from his errant swing, the demon rose once more, tall and proud, oblivious to the blood and broken nose that marred her features. With a roar, her clawed hands swung out, striking the elf across the face, leaving deep, bloody furrows in their wake. Eyes watering, the elven warrior stepped back, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. Instinctively, his shield raised upwards, seeking to block any further attacks from the fiend.

He stumbled, his injured face tingling. Poison. Scowling, he shook his head, glaring into the leering face of the desire demon. He could hear Loghain in the distance, shouting out his war cry, steel against steel and bone, and he hoped that the older man could hold out long enough for him to finish off the demandable demon. She stood there, shaking her head slowly at him, tsking at him. With a great shake of his head, clearing out the fuzziness that threatened just at the peripheral of his awareness, he once again launched himself at the demon, surprising her with his sudden movement.

His blade met demonic flesh, and black ichor flooded from the gaping wound in her side. Her shriek echoed off the stone walls, painfully to the elf's sensitive ears. Grimacing, he pulled back, ducking from a vicious swing of those poisoned talons. He could hear heavy running footsteps, and he risked a glance to see that Loghain had disengaged himself from the undead, and was running at the demon's back, shield held up, blade straight. Nelaros ducked under another swing, knocking her arm away with his shield, smirking at the trail of blood the sharp edge of the shield left along her arm.

He straightened, bringing his blade to bear, as Loghain's own shield bashed into the back of the demon, sending her screaming forward. With his own snarl, the elf braced his blade, driving it deeply into the demon's chest. The force of Loghain's blow caused her to impale herself deeper upon the blade, the very tip erupting from her back in a spray of black ichor. The human danced aside, narrowly missing the shower of poisoned blood.

Red eyes glared into Nelaros' blues, and she spat, cursing the pair as she slumped to the floor, the light going out of her eyes. The elf quickly released his blade, stepping warily back, uncertain what form her death would take. Flesh and muscle, tendon and joints melted away, and the skeletal form of the demon crumbled to dust. The elf almost frowned, so disappointed was he with the lack of fiery display other demons had exhibited while in their death throes.

It seemed rather…anticlimactic.

Around them, those undead that remained suddenly fell to the floor, and crumbled into dust.

Around them, the decayed ruins of the palace disappeared, leaving only a field of gray fog surrounding them.

Loghain turned to offer some words to his companion, and frowned as he watched the elf, a confused expression upon his face, dissipate. Then, Loghain himself lost consciousness.

DA:O

Arawn poured through the paperwork, barely listening as his companions talked quietly in their corner. There was a sudden spasm of exhaustive pain in his head, and the blood mage groaned in pain, clutching his head in his strong hands as the pain intensified. Rendon and Elissa stopped their talk, and Howe rushed to his friend's side, grasping hold of the mage's shoulders as he continued to convulse. Elissa rose to their side, but stepped back as she saw the blood that dribbled from Arawn's mouth, nose and ears.

"Get a cloth!" Howe instructed her harshly, holding onto the other man's shoulders, confused and terrified. She did as instructed, placing it into her lover's outstretched hand. Howe pressed the cloth to the mage's nose, hoping to stem the flow of blood.

Arawn raised a trembling hand and took the cloth from Rendon's own. Muttering at the pair, the mage shook his head, wiping away the blood from his face. He set his hands upon the hard, cool surface of his desk, steadying himself. He raised a face that was pale and clammy. His eyes, usually blue, were yellow and red, and continued to weep bloody tears. Elissa gasped at the sight, stumbling back slightly.

"We must get to Loghain's chambers," the mage gasped out in a voice that was raw and torn.

Without a word, without question, Howe followed the mage from the study, leaving behind a confused and worried Elissa.