Sorry for this being late. I had planned on uploading this 12/2 but RL happened. *cheeky grin*

My thanks, as always, to those who continue to read, follow and review this story. Wyl, Arsinoe de Blassenville, csorciere, Legionary Prime, MemoriesoftheForgottenGuardi an (say that one five times fast!), Shakespira, and Kawaiibentou (a new reviewer!)

DragonAge: The Halla Reborn

Chapter 75

The trio of elves now stood outside the large, wooden gate, glaring at the aged, stained wood, casting a sidelong glance to the human soldier that stood at attention, warily watching the three well-armed and armored, strangely tattooed elves. Pol turned a baleful eye to the human, forcing a deep scowl to form upon both lip and brow. The guardsman flinched slightly before turning his attention back toward the market place.

As he turned, the scowl formed into a grin, which Junar returned three-fold.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" the blond elf asked of his city-born friend. Pol merely nodded happily as he stepped to Theron's side.

"This is really where our city-bred brethren live?" the Dalish mage asked quietly, dark eyes scanning the length and breadth of the obstruction.

Shrugging slightly, Pol moved forward, pressing a hand against the wood, listening to the familiar creaking of old hinges and dry wood as the portico swung open. "Yeah, well…believe it or not, there are a lot of elves who can't believe that our wild brethren," he turned his grin to his friends, "could live in moving houses."

Sniffing disdainfully, Junar slipped passed the youngest of the three. "Better free and wild than…"

"Easy now, Junar," Theron warned, clapping a hand to his warrior friend's shoulder, causing the beginning of the blond's tirade to fall off. "Let's not insult our brethren."

With a snort, Junar shrugged. "None of them are here now," he pointed out. At those words, Pol flushed slightly. He had known he had been accepted within the Mahariel clan. Junar, as his mentor, had decided that the youngest of the three would receive his Vallaslin prior to entering the battle against the darkspawn. That knowledge caused both excitement and fright for the elf: it was a great honor, an acknowledgment that a young elf had finally reached maturity and adulthood, ready to take his place among the hunters of the clan. However, he had also heard that the process was extremely painful. Although the Dalish would never look down upon a young elf who found the pain too extreme (and hence, causing a delay in the ritual), Pol was determined to show his wild-born brethren that a city-born elf such as he had what it took to become one with The People.

Even with this knowledge, it still warmed him greatly to hear his friend offhandedly commented that Pol was one of The People, and not one of The Lost.

DA:O

Worn and tired, the companions made their way through the noble quarter, thankful that Isolde had sent servants ahead with the majority of their gear. Since Bodahn and his son, Sandal, had set up their merchant wagon in the market district, Adela would have felt badly to ask the kindly merchant to assist with the transport of their supplies.

The Cousland compound was almost as grand an estate as the Palace was, with a great, spanning courtyard cordoned off with a sturdy, intricately ornate front gate of red and white steel. Gardens adorned the borders of the townhouse style home, opening up toward the rear of the property into a great, sprawling, free-flowing garden that currently found its colorful flowers, flowering and fruit trees, and crawling ivies choked with weeds.

Leliana and Morrigan had both hovered around the small elven Warden as she crept up the steps to stand behind Roland, who was currently working the locks of the grand estate. Adela shot the women a look of pure irritation, a frown turning the corners of her generous mouth downwards. Leliana had the grace to look sheepish; however Morrigan simply answered the girl's scowl with a smirk of her own, a raised finely manicured brow and a glint of the eye.

Much of the furnishings within the home were covered with white dust covers, the smell of disuse permeating the air. Roland had stepped in front of the group, frowning slightly as he gazed about him.

"Something wrong?" Zevran asked as he stepped through the doorway and into the large entry chamber.

Shaking his head, the Warden turned toward the elven assassin. "No, not wrong. I'm just…surprised." He shrugged as he turned toward the staircase toward the back of the chamber. "I would have thought Howe would have staked his claim to this estate." He continued to lead the others upstairs, toward where he knew the guest rooms to be situated. "But I guess the Denerim Estates are far more opulent than the Highever Townhouse."

"That's good for us," Niall muttered as he climbed the steps, keeping pace with his lover. "Who knows what condition this place would have been had he decided to, ah, stake his claim."

"Probably thought he had all of the time in the world," Zevran offered, eyes scanning over the settees that lined the back walls at the top of the stairs, taking note of how simply elegant and costly each item must be.

Roland led the others to their chambers before taking hold of Adela's arm and leading her toward the guest room set aside for notable visitors to the Cousland's manor, Haftner following closely at her heel. As they stepped to the chamber's door, the redhaired knight looked down upon his commander. His lips were pulled into a tight, thin line, his green eyes hard, a furrow deep between his brows. The elf looked up, frowning.

"Adela," the former Highever knight began, his voice soft, "about what Alistair said…"

Shaking her head, Adela turned, reaching for the doorknob and slowly turning it. "We don't know what he was talking about," she muttered as she pushed the door open. "He thinks he saw something," she turned to look her friend and fellow Warden in the eye. "We know for certain he couldn't have seen anything." Roland nodded. Adela looked back into the room. "I would have thought that Alistair…" her voice cracked somewhat and she quickly cleared her throat, not looking back up. "…that he would have been respectful enough of our marriage to have given me a clear explanation as to why he was so eager to annul our vows."

She shrugged, now looking up at the human beside her. "And I don't even know if I'm going to be contacted when…"

Frown still in place, Roland placed a large hand upon her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. Much as he wanted to pull her into a tight embrace, the man knew that to do so would only add fodder to speculation. And, although only their friends were present (and he had no doubt that any of them did not, for a moment, believe Alistair's accusations), he felt prudence would be the best course for now.

And so he gave her shoulder a squeeze, then turned her about and gently pushed her into the quest chambers, Haftner slinking alongside the young elf. She turned her head to offer him a weak smile over her shoulder as he reached forward and pulled the door closed.

DA:O

"Aw, c'mon!" the dwarven lass snarled, kicking the door jam with one booted foot. The human guard at the door merely glared at her before repeating that the Warden and her companions were no longer in residence.

"Well, ain't cha got an idea's to where they went?" the former casteless rogue accused, eyes narrowing as she intensified her glare.

If he was at all intimidated, the human male gave no indication. "I do not know where the Warden has gone," he again informed the impertinent little dwarf.

"Is something amiss?" a soft voice asked from behind the guard. Natia watched with satisfaction as the guard stiffened slightly, casting a glance over one armored shoulder. As she waited, the pretty red haired elf that Natia had met back at Redcliff stepped into the doorway.

"Really, Gervais," the elf playfully scolded the human, who had the grace to blush slightly at the elf's gentle teasing. "Don't you know that this is the Queen of Orzammar's own Scout?" The male, Gervais, shook his head, casting a frown at the tiny dwarven girl upon the stoop. "Well, now you know. And, besides," she added, tilting her pretty head, "anyone asking after The Warden should be allowed admittance to speak with either the Arl or Arlessa."

"But, Mistress…" the guard began to complain, eyes slanting back toward the roguish dwaf with anxiety, but Gail merely shook her head.

"No buts, Gervais. If the Master should learn that you had – however unintentionally – delayed any of The Warden's allies, well…" she left it hanging, smirking at the discomfort that crossed the young man's face.

"Ah, right, sorry, Mistress," he turned toward the dwarf, visibly swallowing his pride, "And, please accept my most sincere apologies, Scout." He offered a bow, and then stepped out of the way as Gail stepped out of the doorway, indicating the dwarf to follow her to the small courtyard's entrance.

"Humans can be such arrogant asses at times," the red-haired elf muttered, shaking her head at the dwarf, who giggled at her words. "Now, then," Gail continued once they reached the entrance to the estate's grounds. "The Warden and her companions have gone to the Cousland Estates over in the Palace District."

Natia paled, recalling how difficult a time she had just reaching the market district. Still not quite used to her current status, she feared that the presence of a casteless in the noble quarter would raise a ruckus, and she'd really prefer to avoid that if at all possible. She really did not want to embarrass her Queen or her sister.

While Gail did not understand the source of the dwarf's sudden discomfort, she did recognize that the dwarf was uncomfortable nonetheless.

Placing a placating hand upon her shoulder, the elf gave her a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, dear," she said kindly, smiling into the dwarf's large eyes. "If you'd like, I can take you there."

Sighing heavily, the dwarf nodded. "That would be great!" she said enthusiastically, certain she had just made a new friend of the pretty elf.

Smiling back at her, Gail nodded. "Just a moment," she said, holding up one hand as she trotted back to the front door. After giving instructions to Gervais that anyone else coming here asking for The Warden either be shown in or given directions to the Cousland Estates, she turned back to lead the young dwarf away.

DA:O

Ice blue eyes glared down at clasped hands, held tightly upon the cold wooden surface of the table. Around him, voices rose and fell, emotions running high, filling the air itself with tense electricity.

The Landsmeet had gone on since dawn, with all of the nobles accepting the young Therin as their king, Eamon beaming proudly at the tall man's side. The Grand Cleric had declared Alistair's marriage to Adela annulled, as though it had never happened, thus allowing the nobles to accept Alistair without any concern about his producing a suitable heir.

Adela had not even been called to the annulment hearing.

Loghain raised his eyes, fixed them upon the Grey Warden who was now their king.

The Teyrn knew full well that, as an elf, Adela had no rights when it came to an annulment called for by her human spouse. However, he had hoped that Alistair or even the Grand Cleric would show some respect for the woman whom they all entrusted with ending the Blight.

He searched the younger man's face, which was pale and drawn, tension crinkling at the corners of his eyes, lines marring the smooth skin around his mouth. Yes, he was upset.

And that thought pleased the elder man, even though it would offer no consolation to the girl.

Sighing, he rose, stepping back from his seat, turning to watch as the other man who held an equal rank to his own stepped to his side.

Dark eyes skimming over the forms of the nobility scattered about the chamber, Fergus crossed his arms before his chest, a frown marring his scarred face further. "They seem rather….jubilant, considering there is a Blight going on and all." He remarked, almost casually. Loghain, however, could detect the slightest sneer in the younger man's voice. He almost grinned at how much like Bryce the younger Cousland sounded at that moment.

"Why wouldn't they?" Loghain snarled out softly. "They've another Therin ass on the throne."

Fergus turned toward the other man. "And you helped them place him there."

There was no accusation within the younger noble's voice. While Loghain was grateful for that, he felt he did not deserve the calm demeanor offered by the other. "Yes, and in the process, hurt a girl who means as much to me as my own daughter."

He flinched; both men did, at the mention of Anora. Taking a breath, Loghain glanced down, startling slightly when he felt a strong hand settle upon his shoulder. Looking up, he saw sympathy – but no pity – within the dark eyes of the Teyrn of Highever.

"We've much to grieve," Fergus said quietly. "And, unfortunately, many more will come to learn true grief before this is over."

Loghain blinked. He had always known that Fergus – once out of the shadow of his popular father – would come into his own, would show everyone that he was a man of calm wisdom – as had been Bryce – as much as he had been a man of the blade. The words spoken – so calmly, almost belying the other man's own terrible grief – were far too honest, too true, to ignore.

Loghain nodded, eyes going once again to Alistair, who was now holding a quiet discussion with the Grand Cleric Perpetua. "It would have been nice, however, to have prevented some harm." He muttered, thinking Fergus could not hear him.

The other man had, however, and the hand upon his shoulder tightened briefly before releasing him. "We have a war to win," the Teyrn of Highever remarked, causing Loghain to look over at him once more. Once he was certain he held Loghain's attention, Fergus continued.

"I have had the distinct pleasure to get to know Adela and her crew. She will hurt. Without a doubt. The girl has difficulty reining her emotions in. She feels so much; almost too much at times. However," his dark eyes intensified as they bore into Loghain's own, "she knows that she has a job to do. One only she can accomplish. She won't falter. Not over a broken heart; not over the death of friends…not until she is either dead or the Blight ended." He took a deep breath then, head drooping slightly. "And, once that time comes, she will need all of the good friends that she has, to help put her back together."

Again, Loghain flinched. To think that Adela's slender shoulders had to hold so much….he nodded in agreement. He may not like it, but the truth was the truth, regardless of how else he would have it.

"The Warden Commander and her group are staying at my townhouse," Fergus informed the other. "I am certain she would welcome a visit from you."

Nodding, Loghain gestured for the other to lead the way. The Landsmeet had been called to break. He would take this time to check in on Adela.

DA:O

He had sensed it…that dark, twisting current, dancing along his senses, calling to the Taint within his blood. It was distant as of yet, barely palpable, just beyond the peripheral of his finely trained senses, but he could still hear the faint siren call of the Archdemon.

With a frown, he pulled himself away from his tainted instincts, dark brown eyes scanning the horizon as he reached out with his senses, seeking any darkspawn that may lurk along the trails. As suspected, he sensed very few. With the bands of elves, dwarves and humans that were currently scouting the current stretch of road – both from the roadside itself and deep within the surrounding trees – the Grey Warden had expected any darkspawn presence to be lacking.

With a glance upwards, his eyes searched the skies, taking note of the swirling torrents of the clouds above, dark as any storm cloud, battling with the waning light and warmth of the sun for dominance.

The frown turned deeper and darker as he settled back before the weakly flickering campfire he had set for himself. This Blight was proving to be far different from any other recorded Blight.

What should be taking decades – such as the Call of the Archdemon being heard by the Grey Wardens or the vast scourge of darkspawn upon the surface – was taking mere months. It was almost as though the Archdemon had taken a special interest in Ferelden, seeking to make it his own as quickly as possible.

A large hand rubbed across his eyes. Despite how he may feel about Adela as Warden Commander, he had to admit to himself that she had proven more than capable in gathering an impressive army. Add to that the forces of Ferelden's nobility and the royal army, and they may well have a chance at repelling the darkspawn forces.

The knowledge, however, that there were so few Grey Wardens within the borders of Ferelden was still vastly troubling the senior warden. That Adela had not conscripted any of her formidable companions into the Order rankled his nerves. She was letting sentimentality rule her decision making.

And that had to be put a stop to before it proved detrimental to Thedas.

He had been battling with himself over the decision he knew he had to make. As a Grey Warden, it had to be done.

However, he could not, in good conscience, overlook all the good that Adela – in her current capacity – had accomplished. Towns had been saved from the darkspawn; armies of dwarves and elves had been gathered; she had even managed to acquire a group of human warriors that, despite their low numbers, appeared more than formidable enough to face any darkspawn threat.

She had managed to weed the dissenters from the nobility and pulled the rest in line. Even if Alistair had claimed the throne that, too, could accomplish a greater good for the Order once the Blight had been dealt with.

After all, a King who was not only sympathetic to the Order but also a chartered member could only add to the powerbase the Order currently enjoyed.

Despite all the good Adela had accomplished, there were two blatant reasons for why he had to act as he planned.

The first was, of course, her reluctance to conscript the necessary talent into the ranks. The mages from her group alone would prove to be most advantageous against the darkspawn and Archdemon.

The second reason was one he had struggled with for some time. After his initial meeting with the young elf, Riordan had, on several occasions, reached out with his senses toward the elven rogue. While Alistair, Roland and Niall shone darkly to his senses, he sensed none of the Taint within Adela. Yet, he knew very well that she had undergone the Joining.

That condition proved troubling. He could not allow a non-Warden to continue to command a contingent of Wardens. Yet, he knew very well that it was to Adela that many of those she had gathered were beholden and therefore loyal to Adela, not to the Grey Wardens. Thus, she was needed, if as a figurehead if nothing else.

The most worrying aspect of her no longer being Tainted was the implication that Grey Wardens could be cured of the Taint. If knowledge of such a thing became widely known, the senior Warden feared that many who were now Grey Wardens would seek the cure.

And it was that very thing that Riordan could not allow to happen.

Head aching, the roguish Warden tipped his head down, chin to chest, as he considered his options.