Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed: Kira Tamarion (who kindly sent me a PM), celtic-twinkie, tgail73, Nithu, Shakespira, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Biff McLaughlin (both for 43 & 44!), CCBug

Okay, because I've been so lax in this: I own nothing of the DA universe. I wish I did, I really, really do. Bioware rocks…David Gaider rocks…and I am just a hack trying to put out there my vision.

This chapter is relatively short. Although there are brief glances at Adela and her companions, I wanted mostly to answer what happened to Loghain and Nelaros after their battle with the demon. To me, adding more to this chapter seemed, ah, wrong.

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 45

Pushing himself to his knees, he groaned, shaking his blond head. Gradually, he opened his eyes, blinking painfully against the bright, flickering light that enveloped the room he found himself in. He glanced to the side, taking note of the cot he had just rolled from, the fall to the hard, wooden floor having jolted him to consciousness.

Cursing slightly, Nelaros planted a foot to the floor, and forcefully pushed himself to his feet. Standing rather shakily, he glanced around, spying Loghain lying upon the large bed that stood on the opposite side of the room. With a glance to the closed door, the elf rushed to the human's side.

He breathed. That was good. Sighing with relief, Nelaros grasped the older man's shoulders, giving him a firm shake. Loghain sputtered slightly, almost as though he was coming up for air from under water. Frowning, the elf gave him a firmer shake, whispering his name, trying to keep the panic he felt rise within him at bay.

Pale blue eyes opened, blinking and tearing against the unfamiliar brightness of the light cast by the fire. The elf allowed himself a smile as Loghain rubbed a hand to his eyes as he pushed himself to a seated position, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed.

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Nelaros spoke. "It would seem that we are free of the demon's prison." There was no missing the near joy that tinged the elf's voice, laced slightly with hysteria, and Loghain's response was a grunt and nod of his head. Grasping the Teyrn's upper arm, Nelaros pulled the man from the bed, and helped to steady him as he regained his footing.

Both men were dressed as they had been when Arawn had placed them in that Fade prison: Loghain in comfortable and well made trousers and shirt, Nelaros in tattered breeches and tunic. Both had socks but were shoeless, and there were no weapons to be seen anywhere in the room. Loghain scowled as he glared around the room that had come to represent his prison even when awake.

"We need to get out of here," the elf had said, moving quickly to the door. He had lost weight, they both had. Maker knew how long they had been imprisoned in that hell. But, he would not lose, not yet. He still drew breath, could move, and wanted to be free! He knelt down, studying the locking mechanism to the door, a thoughtful frown upon his face. He took note of Loghain stepping behind him, but was grateful the other man remained silent as he studied the lock.

He was not a rogue. He had very little talents in stealth and intrigue beyond the natural affinity the elven race had. However, as a blacksmith, the elf had made more than his fair share of locks. He was hoping that his experience and knowledge would help him decipher just how to unlock the door, short of bashing at it. That would only draw unwanted attention.

Because the elf was more than certain that armed men roamed the halls beyond the room that so resembled the refuge that he and Loghain had found while in the Fade. And these armed men would be alive and well, and skilled.

"What are the chances our host is still oblivious to our being awake?" the elf asked the human as he turned, rising to search out an object he could use as a pick. Loghain frowned, glaring at the lock, before shaking his dark head in answer. Nelaros stood, staring at the book shelves, taking in the rows of books, allowing the slightly jealous twinge that rose in his chest to fade as he continued his inventory. An ink well and quill stood at the end of one shelf, and the elf stepped over, taking note that the quill was bone rather than feather. As he turned, he took note of another object that lay not far. A confused frown furrowed his brow as he picked up the pen knife that lay thereon.

A blond brow rose as he showed his latest find to Loghain. A black brow rose in answer as Nelaros pocketed the tiny knife, a small nod condoning the action.

Picking up the quill, the elf turned back to the lock. Pressing a long, slender ear to the hard wood, the elf raised a hand, demanding silence from an already silent Loghain. The human raised an amused brow at that, smirking at the younger man. With the slightest of shrugs, the elf began working the slender, pointed tipped end of the quill into the lock, wishing yet again he had some training in such things.

DA:O

Damn! The elven woman thought as she glared down at the body of the genlock she just killed, pulling her dagger free and wiping the ironbark blade upon the creature's torn tunic.

Adela glanced up, taking stock of each of her companions, making certain that they all stood or that those injured were being tended to. This group of darkspawn had been small, and under armed. Still, she should have made certain to have had Zevran and Leliana scout ahead further. The nearer to Ostagar and the Wilds they got, the more frequent the darkspawn encounters had become.

She glanced toward the west, frowning slightly. Early spring, and still snow remained upon the ground. In some way, she was glad of that, for it covered much of the Blight tainted grown, and would cover so much more the closer to Ostagar they got.

She and Alistair had decided that, once their business with Flemeth had been taken care of, they would make a detour into Ostagar as far as they could before heading to Orzammar. Their hope was to locate Duncan's records as well as the letters Cailan had told her of. Alistair had expressed a desire to search out Duncan's body as well, and Adela admitted to her husband a need to search out Cailan. Both of them needed closure. The not knowing the fates of the two people who had meant so very much to each of them had become a constant worry for them both.

In many ways, not knowing the ultimate fate of either man represented their fear for each other. They both knew that death may well await them both. And if that was to be so, they hoped that they would be together should something of that sort happen. It would offer a sense of closure, a means for an ending to pick up from and create a new beginning. Taking on the role of Commander had been difficult for Adela because she did not know for fact that Duncan was, indeed, dead. She knew that Alistair, who had been so much closer to the older man, felt an almost desperate need for a funeral for the man. Adela admitted that knowing of her mother's friendship with the man had softened her heart to the possibility of offering the former Commander a resting place as well.

However, it was understood that they could not risk their mission overly much for this. It was agreed that if they met with too much resistance during the trek into Ostagar, they would turn around, immediately, and wait for after the Blight to seek out remains.

She looked up, noting that Alistair was watching her closely. She offered her husband a tight smile, giving her blade a quick shake before sheathing it, oblivious to the fact that Roland hovered nearby, an anxious expression upon his face. Such thoughts would wait for later, she scolded herself slightly as she turned and walked toward her companions. The witch's hut was a mere day or two ahead of them, and they needed to find a safe shelter for Morrigan before they traversed any closer.

DA:O

Arawn led the way, his long legs eating up the distance with a near hurried stride. Along the way, the mage had picked up two guards, ordering them to follow without preamble, Rendon striding by his side. Elissa scurried after the men, her hands holding the silken fabric of her gown slightly from the floor.

How could they have escaped? The blood mage raged within the confines of his own mind. The connection between him and the demon had been severed - violently - so he knew that they had, somehow, managed to kill a powerful desire demon in her own domain. He scowled at that, unable to convince himself fully of what the facts were telling him: Loghain and that elf had managed to escape from the most powerful Fade prison he had been able to erect.

It would seem other means of imprisonment must be utilized now. And that he would be forced to, once again, use the vials of blood he had collected from the Teyrn.

He could hear Rendon breathing harshly beside him, and he smirked, his own breathing still coming in easy breaths. Many thought mages weak physically, but the blood mage knew full well it was only those mages confined to the towers that were so. By the Chantry's own design, they were not allowed any physical training whatsoever.

However, Arawn had not always been so confined, and had taken every opportunity, during his incarceration in that damnable tower, to see to it that he remained in good physical form. He scoffed at the Chantry, thinking it ironic that had they not interfered with his mother's plans to formally introduce him to his father, he would never have turned to blood magic nor now seek to control the throne.

He stopped at the door that opened to Loghain's chambers, pushing those thoughts aside as he contemplated his next moves, pulling a vial of blood free from his breast pocket, gathering forth his power as he focused on the door.

DA:O

Alistair stepped nearer his wife as they continued their trek closer to the Wilds. He could feel a heady anticipation for the battle ahead. Not that he actually was looking forward to the fight itself, but the idea of defeating a great evil as the Witch of the Wilds…well, even to a would-be templar that was a dream come true.

He glanced back to where Morrigan walked, silently, beside Leliana. The young man was glad that the witch had found someone who could handle her moods. Despite that the two were hardly close, he and Morrigan could still call themselves friends. Keeping her safe from the evil mechanisms of Flemeth had become very important to him as well.

His gaze slipped from the pair of women and further back, to where Roland walked, alone. Alistair could hardly miss that every now and again, Roland's green eyes would settle upon Adela's small figure, and the expression of longing therein was difficult for the young man to ignore. The warden found himself scowling, and as it deepened, the tighter his face felt. With a startled realization, he firmly relaxed his face, turning his attention back to his wife, smiling down upon her as she continued to lead their group closer to their destination.

DA:O

Footsteps resounded outside the door, and Nelaros rose, motioning Loghain to the side. The Teyrn had heard the noises as well, and now positioned himself by the door, so that he could tackle the first through. Nelaros' hand strayed to the pocket where the tiny pen knife lay, but the door burst open in a shower of splinters and metal, throwing both men to the floor. Tiny shards of wood embedded themselves in the flesh of both men, and they struggled to regain their footing as the guards surged into the room.

Loghain was manhandled back against a wall, Rendon Howe rushing forth, a wickedly curved dagger in hand, gleaming with poison, pressed against the bare flesh of the Teyrn's throat. Nelaros jumped quickly to his feet, his face awash in fury, dodging past the guard who sought to restrain him, leaping over the debris on the floor at the blond mage who stood in the doorway.

The blood mage turned a calm eye to the approaching ire of the elf, and, with a flick of his hand, encompassed Nelaros in a glaring field of lightning. A slight smirk crossed the face that was so like King Maric's as the elf convulsed within the field of light and he stepped into the room.

Arawn then turned to where Loghain struggled against the smaller Howe. Brandishing the vial, he chanted the alien words of Arcanum, and watched, satisfied, as the Teyrn's body went rigid, and his struggles ceased. He nodded to Howe to keep a firm hand - and blade - upon the man. Rendon nodded his agreement, turning to smirk evilly at the Teyrn that had been Maric's closest friend and advisor.

DA:O

"Adela, if you've a moment, please," Morrigan had left Leliana's side, and, with quick strides, caught up to the warden pair. She offered Alistair a slight, apologetic smile before turning her full attention to the elf.

"Yes, Morrigan?" Adela turned to her friend, a hand reaching over to grasp the witch's hand. A slight moment of satisfaction crossed the elf's mind; mere months ago, Morrigan would have flinched away, a scathing retort upon her lips at such familiarity.

How much change can occur in the matter of months, she thought, her eyes seeking upwards to her husband's face, smiling when she saw the love in his eyes as he returned her gaze.

Morrigan cleared her throat, her eyes going to the surrounding woods. "Mother's hut is but a day or so away. I felt it necessary that we find a campsite now before we travel much further into the Wilds."

There was no missing the hesitant urgency in Morrigan's voice, something so out of character that both wardens paused in their walk to turn fully to the witch. Her dark head lowered slightly as she sought to hide the anxiety she knew was clear in her eyes.

After a moment's thoughts, Adela turned to the rest of their group, who had also stopped when the wardens had. "We should locate a secure campsite here," she instructed, motioning for the Sten and Roland to seek out the spot. Zevran had immediately melted into the shadows, while Leliana stepped nearer the trio at the front.

"Thank you," Morrigan whispered, gripping Adela's hand tightly before releasing it. "'Tis an unnatural feeling for me, this fear…"

"It's only natural, Morrigan," Adela assured the witch with a small, soft smile. "Fear is what keeps many people alive. It was your fear - your concern - that drove you to first speak with Alistair about your discovery." The elf took a slight step forward, wanting to embrace the human woman, but not quite certain Morrigan was ready for that. "And it is our fear for your safety that determines our next step."

Yellow eyes widened slightly at that, and she glanced down as Leliana took Morrigan's hand in her own. "'Tis a strange feeling…" the witch murmured, still gazing down at where Leliana's tanned hand grasped her own paler one.

"What's that?" Alistair asked, confusion marring his handsome face as the witch let the silence drag on for several moments.

Looking up, Morrigan's eyes traveled from Alistair's face to Adela's, finally resting upon Leliana's. "This friendship notion…'tis most confusing and yet…comforting as well."

Laughing slightly, Adela did give into her impulse and hugged the taller human woman. "Good." She smirked into the witch's face before releasing her. "It's supposed to feel that way."

DA:O

Arawn studied the young elf carefully, his face expressionless as the young man convulsed in his crushing prison. "I believe our Tevinter friends may find a use for this one," he finally said, glancing over to where Rendon and Elissa stood by the doorway, Howe holding his blade securely against Loghain's neck. "His will is exceedingly strong."

A brow rose in question to that. "Won't that make him more…difficult for them to control?" the nobleman asked, his blade pressing tighter to Loghain's neck, ignoring the glare Loghain shot him from beneath his brows.

Smirking now, Arawn said with a knowing glance to where the Teyrn stood captive. "As odd as it may seem, a blood slave's value is in how strong their will is rather than how docile and weak minded. The stronger the will, the more useful the slave. This one," he waved a near negligent hand toward Nelaros, "has proven his will time and again. His strength both of character and physique. And, given the elf's obvious beauty," he smirked. "Trust me. He will fetch us a price that could purchase many arms and armaments for the army."

Loghain spat out a curse for his companion, who now found himself yet again captive. Arawn merely scowled slightly at the Teyrn.

Arawn took note of the sour look that crossed Elissa's face. He turned his glare to the noblewoman. "Come now, Lady Cousland," his tone, while mimicking a gentle tease, held a steel honed warning as well. "You may well look down your noble nose upon a mere maleficar such as I. However," he took a step nearer the woman, causing her to take a cautious step back. "even you cannot deny that without my power, you could never hope to elevate your station as your dreams and desires demand."

His eyes were hard, intense, and the noblewoman, who certainly was no fool, noticed that the bloodshot quality was disappearing, being replaced by the blood red that marked his power. The power of blood that the Chantry so feared. That anyone with half the sense would fear. She found herself quaking in the face of the man's power, his intense stare, but found herself frozen in those eyes, unable to move.

Arawn stood, glaring down at the woman, who finally, wisely, lowered her glare with a slight nod. Howe, who had been holding a breath while holding the blade steady at Loghain's jugular, released the tension he had been feeling.

With a jerk, the blood mage indicated the guards to take hold of the elf. Then, he stepped over to where Loghain stood, his eyes, still blood red and angry looking, scanned over his thinner form. With the smallest of smiles, the maleficar glared at the older man who had been a close friend to the man who had sired him. "I believe, Teyrn Loghain, that a family reunion may well be in order." Loghain frowned at the man as he felt his power wash over him yet again. "I believe that you are familiar with a young elven woman by the name of Adela Tabris?"

Frozen as he was, Nelaros could not let out the gasp of surprise he felt at the mention of Adela's name. Arawn turned his attention to the elf, his red eyes narrowing slightly in thought. A knowing grin came into being, and he motioned for the guards to take the elf down to the dungeons as he released the crushing aspect of his spell, keeping the elf confined and immobile, to await transport to the Tevinter headquarters.