Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of ice and Fire or Dragon Age

This chapter didn't include the content I originally intended for it. But we all know how things can turn out from the Dragon Age games, I wanted to explore more Daylen's personal conflict, and how the magic of Westeros (Hulk-Banner: TIME TRAVEL :) can play with the magic of Thedas. So it became an original version of the Fade conflict.

The Phoenix and the Griffin

Chapter 12: Battle for the tower

Daylen looked at the path ahead of him, his vision flashing between the fade, and the waking world. In the world of the awakened he remembered, and in the fade, he pushed forward and fought.

One blade covered in fire, and another covered in ice, the mage rushed towards his opponents. The Revenant swung its massive sword around, and at the last moment Daylen jumped to the side. He slid across the floor, ducking underneath the swipe of a shade. Before the shade could follow through, Daylen swung both arms and cut through the demon. The flames of a wrath demon flew towards him, and Daylen slammed his ice sword into the ground, creating a row of ice. Shades slithered around the ice and raised their arms to attack him. Daylen slashed one with both his swords, barely side stepped another's blow and stabbed through it before jumping back to avoid another's slash. Adjusting his footing and the angles of his blade, he feinted an attack before turning into a thrust, ploughing through the shade. The Revenant however slammed its sword into Daylen's, knocking him off of his feet and making him fall to the ground.

He remembered the signet ring, Teagan came to them after the Arl's wife came down from the castle, begging Teagan to follow her. Maybe it was the bias Daylen gained from Alistair's description of her unkind behaviour towards him, but Daylen didn't trust her. She was clearly a noble woman, her hair just a little rough from the experience. But she didn't have the wounds or scars that the villagers had, that his party had. If she had taken to Ferelden culture at all, it didn't show in her voice at least, her accent was even thicker than Leliana's. She said it was the fault of a mage, the revelation that their son Conner was a mage shed some light on what was going on. A hurt family member, a child desperate for help, turning to a whisper in the darkness.

'What will you give to save your family?'

It brought back the flames, that day he was found, that day he looked upon his grandfather and mother's relieved and loving faces. His earliest memory, and what made him who he truly was. Then the blood of his grandfather being spilt, his cry to stop it all. His cry to save them, and that whisper in the dark.

'What will you take to save them?'

The rage as he rose from the Revenant's strike, swords blazing with energy, darkness covering his body. His eyes shone through the darkness, blood red, and aura that seeped over his being. The undead warriors came towards him, but fell in a flurry of red energy. With his swords he cut a trail, slicing through the bones and screaming, a horrific sound like a demon. He ran into the undead.

The undead were in the castle when they got in, using the signet ring on the mechanism in the old mill. Teagan had been right, a passageway, one that ran through the dungeons.

What had been in the dungeons?

He remembered didn't he?

They fought through the castle, found servants whom survived, found the blacksmith's daughter and fulfilled another promise. He had made a promise, he remembered.

'What would you do to save others?'

He screamed, the darkness fading as he dived out of the way of a darkspawn projection. The fade shifted, becoming the ruins of Ostagar, the battle he never truly fought in. His will reacted, summoning a sword from memory. A green blade he held with both hands to slash desperately through the projections.

He remembered kneeling in front of the boy, giving him the sword.

"Maybe one day, you'll be a hero too!" he said to him.

A hero, the stars upon which he made that promise, the man he made that promise to, they all flashed before his eyes. And the fade shifted, to the halls of a Chantry. He saw her kneeling, he remembered her name, her mother liked flowers that grew by the mill. He gave her those flowers and she smiled, but now she prayed. Prayed because she well and truly believed, prayed because she believed in her god, believed in the woman telling her to pray . This woman must have been her mentor, or a mother figure. She truly looked at peace. It was a lie, the maker, the chant, it was all a lie.

'How far would you go to make someone see?'

They fought together to the main hall of Redcliffe castle. There, Teagan danced like a court jester, made faces at a boy whom wasn't at all amused. His voice went at a pitch as the boy spoke in a voice that wasn't his own, telling his mother to shut up.

"Nobody tells him what to do anymore, nobody!"

The power filled the air, the corrupting influence. He looked at the boy and saw standing over him the shadow of a horned woman, grey skinned, hair of purple flames and clawed fingers that didn't belong to a human. A demon, a jailor, the boy her prisoner.

There was another prisoner wasn't there?

Daylen leant against the green blade, which degraded into a simple wooden sword. He looked at the path ahead and saw instead of the Revenant, a warrior of ice. There was snow beneath them, and trees that Daylen had not seen before. Trees with faces on them, dying trees as more armoured warriors came out of hiding, their eyes glowing blue through the darkness of their helmets. Their blades glowed blue and their armour shifted in colour as they walked, white as snow, to darkness.

'How far would you go to stop the future? To change the past?'

"You killed it! THE THREE EYED CROW! YOU KILLED IT DAYLEN!"

It came down from the sky, a crow as large as a mountain. The monster screeched and brought its talons down on Daylen.

'How far would you go to stop the future?'

Templars, templars everywhere, walking beside the dwarves and the elves. No, this was not right. The Archdemon roaring, purple flames consuming Denerim, the darkspawn tearing people apart. The Vanguard laughing as he walked over Leliana, and Alistair.

"NOW THERE ARE NEW GODS!"

He rolled across the ice, sliding to a knelt position. Raising his head, Daylen looked through the blizzard and saw it, a huge mass, a shadow with three heads. Spreading out its massive wings it roared. A roar though drew Daylen's attention to his right. He looked towards the beast, a golden lion, sullen and proud. Its paws walked across the ice, melting it, leaving marks of molten gold in its wake. There was a rumble like thunder and Daylen looked behind him, a black stag, marching across the snow. Its antlers were like conduits, drawing lightning towards it, the volts cracking across the ground around it. Then there was a howl and Daylen looked towards a hilltop, there it stood, the white wolf, ice forming around it, red eyes looking directly at him, eyes that shifted to green, though with a slight purple tinge. There was a disturbance in the ice, and suddenly it cracked, ink coated tentacles grasped at Daylen's legs. He struggled, already falling through the ice, the tentacles quickly dragging him, tying around his waist and arms, slowly slithering around his neck. He fought against the tentacles, grabbing the edges of the ice and bringing his head to the surface. A bear claw slammed into the ground in front of him, a black furred bear that looked down on him. There was a hiss and Daylen felt a snake slither past his shoulder. He felt the fish swimming around his legs, saw the white birds soaring through the air. With a yell he tried to rise, only for gold roses to burst out of the ice, their vines and thorns raking across his skin.

"NEW POWERS!"

That voice, he heard it before, but at the level of a whisper.

The shadow of desire hung over Conner, whispering in his ear.

"I will save your father!"

"I will give you power!"

"I will make you a leader!"

All the child like wonder that came with being a noble son, the chance to conquer, to live a glorious life. But there was also the strongest desire of all, what any loving son, noble or common would want to do. Keeping one's father alive was in itself a good intention. But the price? Every death made sense to Daylen now, Redcliffe for Conner's father. Souls to keep him alive, and bodies for an army that Desire could use through its chosen host. Hope seemed lost, perhaps there was nothing else to but kill the boy.

'Kill the boy, so that the man may rise.'

He was on his knees, back in the fade, the Revenant standing over him. Daylen spread his arms apart, conjuring a bubble of energy that the Revenant slammed its sword into. The Revenant continued the assault, cutting through a wall Daylen made and then shaking Daylen's arm with a strike to a shield he conjured on it. Stumbling back, Daylen summoned fire and lightning, hitting the arms of the Revenant with both elements. It flinched with pain, limbs burning from both. Following through with his assault, Daylen created a lance of ice and drove it through the Revenant's eye. But astonishingly, the demon didn't die. With a swing of its arm, it batted Daylen aside and sent him flying into the wall. And through that wall he crashed.

The smell of fresh cooking stung his nostrils, he rose from where he lay and looked upon the inside of a house. Children rushed past him, and Daylen looked towards a blonde haired man, reading a book to a little girl. A woman with a close resemblance to the man stood at a pot, stirring the contents, whilst also checking a clay oven. The young man smiled, bouncing the boy on his knee and looking towards Daylen. His smile grew brighter and he motioned his hand for him to come over. He looked truly happy, a contrast to when he told Daylen about his sister, about the locket. The locket, Daylen widened his eyes in realisation.

It had been repaired, one small piece at a time. Clearly the Arl was no expert on crafting, but he had done his best. A crack remained across it, and by simply touching it Daylen knew that the Arl cared greatly for Alistair. His friend and fellow Warden, his friend, Daylen didn't think he would use the term after leaving the tower. He had another friend, one he considered a brother, but...

He crossed his arms together, covering his front with a mana shield just at the right time. The Revenant thrust its sword against the shield, throwing Daylen back. Shifting in midair, Daylen managed to land on his feet and with a swing of his arm, covered the Revenant's shield in flames. Daylen's hand shook and he gripped his head, letting out a yell of anger.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!"

He took a step forward, and again he was in snow, tilting his head back to avoid the Revenant's sword. A wrath demon slithered towards him and he dived out of the path of its claw. Daylen rolled, and then split his legs apart, avoiding a Hurlock axe. He grabbed the sides of the Hurlock's head, using life drain on it to reduce the creature's skin to bone. Then he immediately ducked underneath the swing of an Undead sword. He thrust his hand at the undead soldier's rib cage, shattering the monster with a rock fist. The Revenant suddenly appeared behind Daylen, swinging its sword downwards. Daylen felt the blade drag across his back, causing him to scream.

Westeros-Beyond the wall

Ash, that was what the great forest had been reduced to, what the home of the three eyed crow had been reduced to. Yet the power still remained, and it was power that the elves of the forest sought. Power and revenge, against he who had tried to destroy the knowledge of the past. He whom had killed the three eyed crow. So the elves chanted and accessed the magic that lingered in this place. The children of the forest had left, incapable of pursuing the path that the elves had sought. So the elves recklessly spilt their blood as catalysts for the magic, giving themselves to the power beyond that of a green seer. To access the past, present and future, to break their hated human enemy. Unbeknownst to the true enemy, the others watching in the dark.

He huffed, breathing heavily, falling to his knees. Raising his head, he looked towards a village, smelling the salt air. There was shouting in the distance and the sounds of battle. Daylen moved towards it, still feeling a pain in his back. He kept on moving until he reached the source of the sounds.

"A knight is sworn to valour!"

Daylen widened his eyes as he reached the fighting, a dark haired man in black mail and red armour stood, fighting men with stag and wolf sigils on their chests. They fell one by one to the cross spear the man wielded, a spear that Daylen remembered seeing in the Amell estate before he was taken to Ferelden.

"His heart knows only virtue," the man said as he protected the villagers.

"His blade defends the helpless," he tapped his spear against the ground, causing runes across the shaft and blade to glow.

"His might upholds the weak!"

The man twirled the spear over his head.

"His wrath undoes the wicked!"

Finally the spear was set alight, glowing with fire around even the shaft. But the knight was immune to the flame, holding it in front of him. Daylen looked towards the knight alongside the villagers he protected, seeing his face, but shaking his head in denial.

'It can't be,' Daylen thought.

"WHO DARES!" one of the stag soldiers yelled.

"Damion Amell, and if you want to take more than two silver coins today, come and try. And if you act on your lord's approval, or their order, then let them be the ones to try. For I am a knight, and I will uphold my oath!"

Daylen stood in awe as his uncle charged towards the hundred men seeking the rob the village. With a jump, the man swung his father's spear, throwing back three men with a single swing. He shifted his feet, avoiding the spears of his opponents and striking back with his own. An overhead slash, a thrust, a sharp kick and punch. Watching his uncle fight reminded Daylen of the days he saw his grandfather practice, Damion was truly his father's son, not just some failed smuggler but a true warrior. He deflected several weapon strikes at once and slashed his attackers. A spear managed to scratch Damion's cheek and he tilted his head to the side to dodge a few more. Four men thrust their spears, only for Damion to tilt his head again, the spears getting trapped together. He moved underneath the spears and hit the four men with the shaft of his spear. They stumbled back and he slashed them across their throats.

"This is war, this is our right, what the Ironborn intended to do to our homes," one of the bigger soldiers said, swinging his axe at Damion.

Another managed to hit Damion's chest plate with his sword, whilst a crossbow bolt hit Damion's shoulder. Daylen widened his eyes, seeing that his family was vulnerable. But this was a moment in the past, a moment that had already happened. This must have been the day his uncle died, remembered as a man who protected innocents from soldiers. With a yell, Daylen broke off into a run. He drew his dagger from his waist and brandished his shield. Time seemed to slow down as Damion and Daylen's eyes met. The son of Fausten Amell gasped as the young stranger punched one of the men about to attack him. Daylen dragged the sharp edge of his shield through the throat of one of the Baratheon soldiers, and then slashed a Stark soldier with his dagger. He stood close to his uncle, holding dagger and shield at the ready. Damion looked at the young man curiously, seeing the wildness of his hair, the tone of his skin, minus his burns. When Daylen looked towards him, both his eyes red, the knight widened his eyes. Eyes that shined with tears of realisation. Many of the Baratheon and Stark men charged towards the pair. Daylen ducked as Damion swung his spear around, an aura surrounding the weapon, making it appear gigantic for a moment. In that moment, Damion released a shockwave that threw several of the men back. Daylen dragged his dagger across the ground splitting a man's spear apart and slashing him across the face. He grabbed the spear tip before it hit the ground, driving through another man's mouth, whilst Damion stabbed another man behind him. Both punched a man into his friends, leaving them vulnerable to a wide slash from Damion's spear. Daylen stabbed a man though the armpit, and then slashed another across the throat with his shield.

"Good form Daylen," Damion said.

The Baratheon and Stark men began to back away from the Amells, fearful, knowing full well they would never defeat them in hand to hand. They ran when Damion tapped his spear against the floor, a confident and satisfied grin on his face. Once the men were out of sight, Damion stabbed the spear into the ground and turned fully to Daylen. The mage sheathed his dagger, but still kept his eyes on Damion.

"Strange things are happening, I'm not really here," he said.

"You could be right, this could just be the fade, maybe I'm just a spirit that thinks he's Damion, reliving a glorious battle," Damion stated.

He placed his hands on Daylen's shoulders, chuckling.

"Taller than me and father I see, I don't know what magic is at work here, but I'm glad I've gotten to see you," he explained.

"How do you know I'm truly Daylen?"

"The eyes, the tan, even with the burns and scars and your hair, and how you didn't hesitate to join the fight," Damion said.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around Daylen's back and hugged him.

"You truly are as I imagined you would be, tell me, have you become a hero yet?" Damion asked.

"I...I don't know, I don't think so," Daylen said.

He slowly raised his arms, touching the small of Damion's back for a moment. Then he backed away and looked around them.

"These are the Iron islands, these aren't Free March beaches so the Fade didn't make it from my memory," he said.

Damion again laughed.

"So you became a serious one, that's good, your brothers and sister would need a sensible voice," he said.

"I can't join them, besides to the people of Westeros I'd just be a bastard, if I even am her natural son and not just some found child," Daylen said.

"Daylen, I don't know the truth of it, as sad as it sounds I don't actually know whether my sister gave birth to you or just found you in the ruins of the fire that day. What I do know is that she loves you with all her heart as she does all her children. Why should being a bastard or adopted diminish you being her son, or their brother? And if you're worried about what people in Westeros think...fuck them!" Damion explained, smiling as Daylen's lip curved slightly. "I knew there was a smile in there, you should try it more often, the women would love it."

"This could just be a lie," Daylen muttered.

"A beautiful lie, a gift from the maker," Damion said and Daylen groaned.

Damion widened his eyes, and Daylen looked at his hand, it had begun to fade. Suddenly, an arrow burst through Damion's shoulder.

"NO!" Daylen yelled.

Another hit Damion's elbow, whilst a couple more bounced off of his armour. He grit his teeth together, before smiling at Daylen.

"This truly was a gift," he said as he turned.

He grabbed the spear and began to run, Daylen's body fading as the mage tried to reach out for him.

"UNCLE DAMION!" Daylen screamed, seeing more arrows strike his uncle.

"Become a hero, my nephew, pride of the Amells!" Damion's voice seemed to echo as Daylen disappeared.

Damion yelled, running like a true warrior through a storm of arrows. When his enemies fell, he leant on his spear, arrows sticking out of his gut. He looked up at the sky with a satisfied smile.

'Our future sister, father, our future truly is safe,' he thought before falling to the ground.

Pain, he was in pain, yet, Daylen was drawn to another. Drawn to a blonde haired elf, with a tattoo on the side of his face. Wait, he remembered this elf, he remembered the long road, the woman who called out for help. Yet another scar added to his arm, from the assassin's blade. Zevran Araini, the easiest interrogation there was. He confirmed that it was Howe who hired the Antivan crows, Zevran included to kill Daylen and Alistair. After the confession, Daylen had Zevran join them, though he kept his blades away from him during the journey to the tower.

The tower, yes!

No, Daylen's eyes were drawn to Zevran, his body being stretched on some kind of device. The man was doing his best not to scream, to make it seem as if he was enjoying it. This must have been one of his trials as an Antivan crow. It was a trial he looked desperate to pass, and from the brief conversation they had, Daylen was able to discern that Zevran had had little choice in becoming an assassin. To be chosen for him had been a matter of life and death The gears of the device turned and Daylen heard Zevran's flesh stretch, pain, that was Zevran's desire. But such pain was wrong, such a dream was wrong.

And yet Daylen wondered, if his own dream was really so right?

He looked at the back of his younger self, and his grandfather, the pair of them looking up at the stars.

"Then I'll do it for you," the boy said, looking at his grandfather.

"I'm still young, and I'll be young for a long time, which means I'll still have dreams. So I'll become a hero, the hero you wanted to be."

'The dream sounded so beautiful at the time, how great would it have been to live your life that way? To have saved others in your life, but I realised the same thing you did grandfather. That you can't save everyone,' he remembered them, those he could not save.

Daveth, who choked on the poison of the Blight during his joining. Jory, whom Duncan killed to protect the Warden's secrets. Duncan and King Cailan, both killed by the darkspawn in a battle Daylen was absent from. Amalia, a girl that Daylen promised to save but failed to. Murdock, mayor of Redcliffe whom trusted Daylen with the village. Lloyd, ripped open by the undead and finished off by Bella.

"Neria," Daylen whispered.

He gripped his chest, seeing the red hair and ears of a woman he loved. Her smile, her kiss on his lips.

And there was another, another whom died right in front of him. One who he couldn't save, a resident of the tower that he was seeking to save.

"I've always thought that we should become isolationists, go off to an island somewhere and make our own colony!"

"I suppose that's one way to live, but mages don't always produce children with magic in them, you have to account for the possibility of that prejudice starting. Plus there still needs to be laws and requirements for us."

They stood in the library, him and the older mage boy. Daylen was leant against the book case, arms crossed and smiling as Niall read a book.

"Well obviously we'd need a system in place to teach mages, and protect citizens who don't develop magic," Niall said. "A series of schools and laws, not granting special protection of course...I suppose we would need a group of templars."

"Well that isn't to say they would have the exact same methods, personally I wouldn't have them under the control of the Chantry, then again I have a biased view point when it comes to the Chantry having a military force," Daylen explained.

"Because you don't like the chantry?" Niall asked.

"I don't like the chantry true, but I don't any religious organisation should have a military force, they can't truly call themselves a religion if they do," Daylen said, ignoring some of the looks more passionate mages and templars gave them.

"A controversial statement, explain," Niall said.

"Religion is about faith, faith is a belief, something that is maintained through continued belief. It ruins the point of faith if a church is able to enforce its beliefs on others through military force," Daylen explained.

Niall nodded his head slowly, a smile crossing his face.

Then he saw Niall's body, sprawled out on the floor, the abomination above him. The abomination, the demon of Sloth whom forced Daylen and his companions into this dream.

Shale, trapped as a statue forever. Morrigan, yelling at her mother. The white haired woman, the mage, Wynn, she was giving into despair. Looking at the faces of mages she had saved, thinking about those she still had yet to save. Sten, residing with his fallen comrades. Those whom the darkspawn had killed, those whom Sten led and could not save.

And when Daylen passed through the dreams, he came upon another. A red haired dwarf, insulted by his peers, drinking and being comfortable with being called a drunk. Daylen felt he knew this dwarf, or perhaps he had yet to know him. Something was being done to him, done to time. He remembered the lessons on Dreamers, Tevinter mages whom tormented their enemies through the fade. It felt like torment to Daylen, yet his companions were being given everything they wanted.

Westeros-King's Landing

"From the past, to the future, to the dreams of that day, he was shifted, thrown from one end to another. The mage of the grey order knew that his life was being threatened, that the longer he remained in those places, the greater his chance of death. But worse, the more likely he was to fail in his mission," Aristanna explained.

She told the story with the same passion and delivery the children loved. Tommen and Myrcella were bright eyed, watching in wonder. But filling out the room, sitting between Tommen and Myrcella, eyes wide and jaw lowered in awe was another whom had been drawn to Aristanna's voice and the tale she weaved. For that night, King Robert Baratheon was spending more time listening than drinking, the thought of seducing Aristanna left his mind completely. Cersei sat in the far corner of the room, a goblet of wine in her hand remained full and she listened.

"He was in a place of infinite possibilities, a place no human was supposed to be. But though he would deny it, he was no ordinary man. For only the extraordinary could navigate the fading realm as he did, the extraordinary or the lost. But he was not lost yet, battered and tired, he turned himself into a mouse to escape the pursuing demons. The mage of the grey order bided his time and searched both the fading realm, and within himself for the power to free his companions," she explained.

"What about the hound, what happened to him?" Myrcella asked.

"Yes, what about the dog?" the king added, biting his nails in anticipation.

"The hounds dream was an eternity of belly rubs and biscuits. But, upon seeing his master, he rose up and ran at him. The hound leapt into the arms of the mage, pushing him onto the floor, licking his face and crying, for it felt like an eternity since they last met!"

"Alpha," Daylen whispered.

He stroked the Mabari's fur, feeling the tongue on his cheek.

"Oh boy, you ran away from your dream for me," he said and Alpha barked in agreement.

Daylen rested his head back, looking at the shift from air to tower ceiling.

"The Blight, the tower, one little boy, so many things to do. I can't, damn it, damn it, why? Why can't I save everyone? All this power, all this power and yet...I can't do it, my uncle, my grandfather, my friends, one child and the only home I've ever known...DAMN IT!" he screamed.

He was crying, even as he got onto his knees. Alpha whined, pushing his nose against Daylen's face.

"I can't get it out of my mind, that girl, her father and now Conner, the children in the tower, their parents. Everything could go wrong, the templars could kill them all. We might end up having to kill Conner, I keep imagining that poor woman crying, begging us not to take her boy from her. There's so much I can get wrong, why me? This shouldn't be my life."

He looked down into a puddle, gasping at what he saw. What he saw with just one eye, the right was slashed and burned just like part of his face and arm.

"Look at you, you don't look like a hero," he muttered. "It should have been a Dalish elf, or a noble, a dwarf, or a different mage altogether!"

Alpha wined again, pushing his head against Daylen's.

"You can't call yourself a hero, if you haven't endured all, and then stood back up again."

That voice, where had it come from? Daylen set his feet into a crouch and rested his arms on his knees. He looked up at a hand that was offered to him.

"You can accept help, or you can get up on your own," the voice said.

Daylen rose, shoulders trembling as he stood.

"You spoke to them, not just to develop bonds with them, but to learn about them, to make up for your weaknesses. You knew you could never become an expert, but if you learnt just enough from each of your companions then it would make up for your other flaws. When you stop believing in yourself, they'll continue to believe in you, just as I believe, you've come this far Daylen so don't stop now," the speaker revealed his face, Niall.

The young man smiled as he patted Daylen's shoulder.

"Conner, we came here not just for the mages but for him, and Uldred," Daylen snarled. "Uldred's finally lost his mind, he's thrown our home into chaos. He must be stopped, he has to be stopped, we have to save Irving and all the other mages. I won't, I WON'T STOP!"

He yelled, darkness enveloping him. Light shot out of the darkness, and beyond the wall of Westeros, the elf mages screamed as they were thrown out of the fade. On the field of snow, Daylen stood, the lion, the wolf, all of the luminous creatures stood by his side as they faced the three headed dragon. In the Chantry, the red haired priestess raised her head from her prayer. In the cottage, the knight held his nephews, but his eyes were drawn to the door. In the tower, the healer looked away from the bodies beneath her. On the hilltop, the stone soldier began to slowly move. In the fields, the Sten stood up, away from his comrades. In the torture chamber, the elf struggled against his bonds. The witch of the wilds huffed as she followed a light. And the dwarf raised his head from his pint, awakening in his real world.

"You had a vision right? There is still things for you to do!"

"You need to find your real family, not give in to a dream!"

"There are still people alive, people you can still save!"

"Your comrades are gone, there is still a task for you to complete as well!"

"You were a crow, now you're free to make your own choice!"

"WAKE UP!"

"You slagged off the tower, well here you are stuck in a dream, PROVE YOU'RE BETTER BITCH!"

The demon of Sloth was thrown back in fear as the light shined in his world. Each of the dreaming elf mages saw him, the shadow surrounded by light, eyes glowing with a fiery slit across his right eye. Then one by one his companions appeared beside him.

King's landing

"'You made a dangerous enemy demon, by toying with my mind,' said the wild witch," Aristanna said.

"'How did I get here? What happened to all those lucious wood nymphs?' the elf assassin jested."

"'Ah, it has found its way back to me, excellent, now it can watch me pop this demon's head like an overripe grape, yes' the stone soldier said gleefully."

"'I am here and I have had enough of cages, it is time to finish this,' said the giant."

"'Oh here I am, and there you are! You just disappeared, well no matter,' the knight shrugged his shoulders."

"'You tried to keep us apart, you led us from each other because you fear us. Don't you?' the priestess asked."

"'You will not hold us demon, we found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us,' declared the healer."

Myrcella and Tommen smiled in joy, whilst Robert was leaning forward and laughing.

"Oh I know what's going to happen, that demon's going to have his head smashed in," he said.

"The demon called forth its forces to fight the mage of the grey order. And with a motion of his hand, the mage gave the unspoken command for his companions to charge. They fought as the mage and demon clashed, the light the mage wielded turning into his blue flames. With sword, arrows and magic the companions fought alongside their leader, and emerged victorious, the mage of the grey order consumed the demon in his furious flames," Aristanna told the story and the children cheered for the hero's victory.

She took out her flute and began to play a tune of blissful happiness. But as the tune shifted to darker tones, Cersei was the first to realise the hero's victory had not come without sacrifice.

Daylen looked at his hands, consumed by the darkness. He had not taken the time to look at his form during his resurrection. Then he looked to his companions, Zevran had a grin and a nod of approval, Leliana was smiling. Alistair was taken aback, eyes filled with awe. Sten had his head low in respect, and Wynn was looking at him with understanding. Morrigan's expression was filled with surprise, though she tilted her head somewhat. Daylen recognised the flirtatious look in her eyes. One by one they disappeared, to return to their world. There was a light behind Daylen and he turned to see Niall.

"Incredible, maker I never believed that one could draw power from magic like that. But it is a dangerous magic, don't lose yourself in it Daylen," he said.

"Niall, I'm sorry I..."

"Don't say that you couldn't save me, because you have Daylen. My mother always said that I was destined for greatness, maybe it's possible to still do something great. You gave me hope for that Daylen, so don't stop," Niall explained.

"I'm still not certain, but thank you my friend," Daylen said.

Niall gasped for a moment, a tear falling down his face.

"Oh, I'm glad you consider me as such, go Daylen, go back and save what you can," Niall said.

Daylen nodded his head, the darkness fading to reveal his human form. He left the Fade like a ghost disappearing, and Niall smiled with a content expression. A light shined behind him and Niall looked over his shoulder. An armoured man stood there, a red haired elf girl behind him.

"Come Niall," Damion offered the mage his hand. "Let us go and find more of the lost."

"Oh Daylen, it seems I haven't lost my chance to go on an adventure yet," Niall smiled as he took the knight's hand.

King's landing

"And that is the end, for now," Aristanna said, putting down her flute.

"Oh, but we want to hear how he defeated the purple mage," Tommen said.

"Yes woman, continue, YOUR KING COMMANDS IT!" Robert yelled.

Cersei and Barristan sighed, even when he wasn't drunk, the king could bellow.

"Perhaps I can speak of a bit more. The grey mage continued his trek up the tower, all the while haunted by a final thought, a sudden remembrance of what had occurred in the dungeons of the castle on the cliff. It was in those dungeons that the grey mage met a friend, his betrayer, and from what others told him, the one who perhaps orchestrated the creation of the army of bones," Aristanna explained and those listening gasped in shock.

"The necromancer was his own friend, how awful," Myrcella said.

"Traitors should be executed, I bet the grey mage gave that traitor what he deserved," Robert said.

"And that was what haunted the grey mage, he wondered if he truly was a hero, if he truly was a good person. Because the choice he made in that dungeon haunted him and would continue to haunt him for some time. This man whom lied to him, this man who had triggered such suffering, was one that he let go!"

"Just go Jowan, get out of my sight, your help is the last thing this place needs. Consider this the last act of a friend and pray we never meet again, GET OUT! GO!"

Next Chapter 13: The Amell handmaiden

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

So yeah, Daylen does do some things people might not agree with, and it haunts him. And he's not a hundred percent confident in the path he's taking, but its a path he knows that he needs to take.