Guzzling down a whole decanter's worth of cool, mineral-rich water made him feel better than he had in months. The minerals in the water made it pure, made it sweet and clean and oddly tasty. It was the kind of water reserved for the upper districts of Orzammar. Sometimes, they used to sprinkle surface spices in the water to treat remedies. Though the memory was foggy, distant, and mired in despair, the taste of sweet water was enough to make him smile.

Shame. No amount of spices or sweetness would quell the sickness lingering within.

"Um, sir?" He looked up. It was a mousey-faced scout. Young. "Water? You asked for a bucket?"

That he had. Behind the scout stood another dwarf, a bucket of water in each hand. The mousey scout was the superior, then. Not that it mattered. He grunted, a savage sound, and pointed at the ground by his feet. The scout and her assistant briefly exchanged a glance before the subordinate shrugged and placed the pair of pails at his feet, as requested. Then he just turned and left. The scout superior looked like she had something to say about that but after glaring at the departing scout's back, then looking back at him, she decided not to pursue any course of action and instead trotted after him.

Smart.

Setting down his decanter, he pulled the first bucket closer to him. Getting up on his knees, he waited until the water had calmed down before peering into it. Though the place was as dim as ever, he could make out the ghost of a reflection, at least. What with all the torches the expeditionary forces had brought, this was a simple pleasure.

Oh, how his face had changed. The hair obscured all but his eyes and nose now. Back then, everyone made fun of him for keeping his face cleanly shaven. Not much scope of that down here.

The light reflecting off the water made his eyes seem bright in the moment, but he knew that to be an illusion. In truth, the light had gone out of him a long time ago. There was nothing keeping it alight these days.

Not entirely true. There was one thing that lit him up on the inside even now, but that was not a fire he needed at that moment. Instead, he gently lowered his hands into the bucket, curved his palms, scooped up some water, and splashed his face with it. He repeated this a few times, cleaning his face, hair, chest, armpits, crotch, and feet with the water from the first bucket.

Then, he got up, lifted the second bucket over his head and emptied it over himself.

Nerav Helmi could not stop pacing. At this rate, she was afraid her feet would bore a hole down into the lair of the next archdemon, but she couldn't help it. Two years ago, her life had changed completely when Bhelen took the throne. Her beliefs, her ideologies, everything became redundant. It was surprising just how much her life had changed in the span of two years. How the impact of a single moment, a single decision made by a single person, could have such far-reaching consequences for her.

It was laughable. After so much, one could be forgiven for thinking that Nerav, after experiencing so much, would be better prepared for having her world turned upside down yet again. She was not prepared. Not one bit.

"How can he be alive?" she muttered as she did her rounds. Over and over, the same thought bounced around in her skull. Nobody in recorded history had been exiled to the Deep Roads and survived. And yet, there was Duran. Duran, formerly of House Aeducan, the one who might have been king.

All dwarves knew the tale, though none spoke of him. Now that he was returned to them, how would society react? There were many who believed that Duran had killed King Endrin. She wouldn't be surprised if some among her expeditionary forces held that belief, too. What should have been a joyous reunion was marred by that fact, and so she had sworn the scouts to secrecy. There was no way she would jeopardise her mission by starting a riot. No, she would need to keep her wits about her for this one. He owed her answers. After digesting that, she would decide what course to take. Until then, it was all she could do to not puke from the anxiety.

"Madam Commander?"

Scout Korbin's voice pulled Nerav from the abyss her thoughts were circling and looked up sharply. The young scout was outside her tent. Taking a deep breath, Nerav answered, "What is it?"

"The, uh, man we found? He's cleaned up and ready to see you."

Quickly glancing about to see whether anything was out of place in her temporary dwelling, Nerav determined that the current state of things would have to do. "Send him in."

"Right you are, Commander. In you go, sir."

It wasn't normal for her stomach to be in knots, was it? Not in a moment like this, anyway. Why were her thoughts turning to the last conversation they had, back on the day of the Proving? No, no, that simply wouldn't do. She had to focus on the present moment. Was she, or was she not, leading a moderately-sized contingent of dwarves on a mission of exploration? These reactions were not befitting of someone in her position, so she swallowed all notions of weakness and faced her guest.

While not looking his sharpest, the bath had done Duran some good. His hair had far more discipline after being washed and braided properly. The new clothes were a tight fit. He had not been able to button up all the way, and the fabric was stretched near his shoulders and thighs. Physically, Duran remained more or less unchanged. He looked paler, but also sturdier than what she remembered. With his face overgrown with hair, it was difficult to make out his expression but something about his gaze made Nerav more nervous than comfortable.

"Congratulations," Duran spoke. His eyes had locked on her the moment he stepped in. Not a single second did he waste taking in his surroundings. "I always knew you would be a good leader."

Nerav smiled. Duran had always had a warm voice. More personable than Trian and more assured than Bhelen, his was the voice many in Orzammar expected to hear for years afterwards, guiding them towards peace and prosperity. Hearing the rich, familiar timbre did a lot to put Nerav at ease.

"You sound the same," said she, sitting down primly on a chair before gesturing for Duran to follow suit. "Please, sit. And thank you. Although… I don't really know what to talk about. This… finding you… it's not something I expected."

"But you expected to find Kal'Hirol and fight off everything that haunted it." The chair created under his weight, a sound akin to a chuckle accompanying Duran's light tone. "You really haven't changed much, Helmi. Always convinced of your victory and never stepping back. It's served you well, I take it?"

Nerav picked up a tankard to fill with water. She needed it–seeing and hearing and being close to him after so long was trying on the nerves. She also had to look down and hide her blushing cheeks with her hair.

"You always do this," she complained lightly.

"Hmm?"

"You always compliment me and my achievements while hiding yours," she explained, holding the tankard out to him. "Drink. Then tell me what you were doing hiding out in Kal'Hirol?" She regretted giving him the water. Her own throat was closing up now, but she willed herself towards the next question: "If you were alive, why didn't you come back? Why didn't you try to contact me?"

"I could not."

His answer was direct, and Nerav looked up to find him… looking directly at her. There was no malice in him, his body language was relaxed, and he was swirling the tankard in his hand in a laid-back manner. But… something was off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was definitely off.

"Because… of what happened?" she tried.

Duran nodded. "I did not think I had any friends in the city. And I could not just walk in. I would have had to fight and kill my way through the streets to even see you, and while in my mind it was worth it, I did not want to kill anyone anymore." He sighed, blowing his breath out of his nose. "Many times, I wished I could. I have many regrets, Helmi, but being unable to say goodbye to you ranked high among that list. I… am sorry. And I am happy that we met this way. I hope you can believe me."

"Of course, I believe you!" There was nothing off about the sincerity of his voice. She half wanted to reach out and take his hand. Offer some support. "I'm just… I have spent two years believing that you were dead. And now that I see you're not… I have so many questions for you!"

"I believe you." She saw his beard raise slightly, a small indication of a smile. "It has been two years already, has it?"

Nerav nodded. "Two years since Bhelen took the throne. Slaughtered the Harrowmonts."

While Duran did not respond verbally, Nerav saw his knuckles whiten around the tankard. That was good. Even after everything he had been through, Duran still knew an injustice when he heard of one.

"I got a contract to rediscover Kal'Hirol some time ago, and now I'm here." She paused. "I focused on my career, on building myself to be a Paragon. I don't know how far reclaiming Kal'Hirol will bring me towards realising that goal, but I'm hoping it'll be… a significant milestone."

"It is." Duran nodded, took a long drink of water, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I am glad that it is you doing the reclamation. Clearing the Deep Roads from here to Orzammar will be difficult, though."

Nerav laughed. "I don't think I have to worry about that. You took care of it. I think."

"I did?"

"Mhmm. The Roads were littered with darkspawn corpses, same as here. The Commander of the Grey said that this place was cleared when he came by some time ago. I'm assuming it was you who did all that."

Duran nodded.

"How long have you been here, Duran?"

"It is difficult to tell, honestly."

"I understand. Well. Have you been here this whole time?"

"No." Finishing the water, Duran handed back the tankard. "A while, but not for the entire duration of my exile. I came here to make use of the manuals left behind by the Smith caste and learn their ways."

"You learnt to smith?"

"Yes. It was a test. I was tasked with coming here, learning the ways of the smiths here, and craft weapons infused with lyrium. My axes are the result of my labours, and all the darkspawn corpses you refer to was me testing them out."

Exactly when Nerav's mouth had come unhinged, she didn't know. That Duran was a skilled fighter, she had no doubt. But to decimate hundreds of darkspawn alone? And even if he had achieved such a feat, it was not the most remarkable thing he'd said.

"Tasked to come here?" she echoed, unnerved. "You were exiled. Who tasked you? To do what? And if you weren't here, where were you?"

Duran chuckled quietly and handed the tankard back to her. "Could I have some more water? I shall tell you–thank you–if you want to know, I'll tell you. It might help you get closer to achieving your Paragon status."

"I'm all ears."

"You might want to write this down, Helmi."

There was a certain softness to the way he spoke her last name. He had always called her by her last name, just to be polite and professional, but it seemed like his old habits had not died at all. Nerav, hiding a smile, opened a drawer to pull out her writing supplies and, while doing so, asked, "Are you about to change my world, then?"

"I am."

His self-assuredness was slightly annoying, but Nerav was glad she was writing it down when he began his remarkable account with the most unexpected sentence.

"I was staying in Kal-Sharok."

With one sentence, he had forced Helmi to look up from her writing. Inwardly, he smiled. That was not a name any Orzammar dwarf expected to hear anymore.

"You… you found Kal-Sharok?" asked Helmi, disbelief lacing her tone. Not in a negative way. He had merely caught her by surprise.

"Yes. As you know, my father was the one to re-establish contact with them. Once they learnt who I was, they welcomed me in." A pause. "I would like you to go there, too, after you've secured Kal'Hirol."

Her eyes widened at that revelation. Being an explorer of the Deep Roads, he would no doubt be tempted by that offer. After all, Kal-Sharok was the only other remaining city from the golden age of dwarven history. Back then, before the blights, Orzammar had stood tall with Kal-Sharok, Gundaar and Hormak. While the latter two had fallen to the darkspawn hordes, Kal-Sharok was only rumoured to have been overrun. As such, Orzammar had taken the decision to seal the roads connecting the two cities. The force of explosives blasted apart the bones of the earth, dividing the two cities, and allowing Orzammar to exist as the single bastion of dwarven culture and history in Thedas.

However, in the darkness, Kal-Sharok survived. It continued to flourish, continued to create its own history and protect itself from the darkspawn. Millennia later, when proof reached Orzammar of Kal-Sharok's continued existence, their kings had immediately asked Kal-Sharok to submit to their authority. The denizens of the former capital of the dwarven empire outright refused to this claim, as they felt betrayed by Orzammar for abandoning them in their time of need. Along with Kal'Hirol and Orzammar, Kal-Sharok made up the three great thaigs of dwarven history. Very few could claim to have stayed in all three.

"By the Stone, Duran," breathed Helmi, putting down her quill. "Do you mean that?"

"Do I mean what?"

"That you… that you were at Kal-Sharok. That you want me to go there."

"Of course. I want Orzammar and Kal-Sharok to have trading ties. Failing that, I would like us dwarves to put aside petty differences and join together. You, Helmi, are among the few people I trust to have the best interests of everyone at heart. You have the will to do what it takes, the greed to reach for more, and the innate sense of fairness to make the right decisions." He stayed silent a while before adding: "It was why I thought you would make a wonderful queen."

It had been two years, she'd said. Two years since Bhelen had done what he considered to be right. Two years since his exile. In that span of time, he had thought often about a different world. A world where Trian lived. Where his father lived still. Where he wed Nerav Helmi and had children together. Where Gorim remained ever at his side. Sometimes, though not often, he even dreamt of such a world. The greatest tragedy, then, was waking up.

Even as he thought, lost in the possibilities that could have been, he watched as Helmi blushed. He was probably making her uncomfortable. Who knew, she could have gotten married in the meanwhile. Could have had children.

"If you have a map of the Deep Roads," began he, breaking past the perceived tension, "I can chart a course for Kal-Sharok, if you would like to go."

"Of course I'll go!" Helmi all but smashed the table in twain when she smacked it with her palm. "Oops. But yes! It's the chance of a lifetime, Duran!" Here, her excitement gave way to doubt. "But suppose I even reach the city… What will I even say? Won't they shoot me down on sight because I'm from Orzammar?"

"They will not. Display the Aeducan banner and they will meet you outside the city gates. Mention my name, and you will gain an audience with the Paragon-Elect."

"Paragon-Elect?"

"Yes." Helmi handed him an ordinance map of the Deep Roads. It was thorough but bitterly incomplete. "Kal-Sharok does not have a king and neither do they officially recognise the King of Orzammar. The Paragon-Elect is the highest elected official of Kal-Sharok,voted to power by the Assembly."

"And you know this person?"

He nodded while improving her map. "They knew Endrin Aeducan was King in Orzammar, and thought me to be an envoy. Once they learnt of my lineage, they decided to provide me asylum. For a long while, I stayed with them. Learnt their ways. When I left for Kal'Hirol, it was with the blessings of Paragon-Elect Sharok."

Helmi hummed and poured herself a drink of water this time. "Is it far?"

"Oh, yes. Quite."

"How did you make it there?"

"Lord Pyral Harrowmont was kind to me. He was able to give me a pair of axes. I cut and tore my way through the Deep Roads until I reached the city."

Shaking her head, Helmi asked, "How did you not get tainted?"

"Oh, I was." That startled her enough to make her choke. "I am not so great at fighting that I can fight my way past hordes of darkspawn without being scratched, Helmi. Are you wondering how I am still alive? It is thanks to the plague doctors of Kal-Sharok. Since they had to deal with the darkspawn for close to nine hundred years by themselves, they developed… ways to stem the tide of the taint and, in some cases, reverse the effects entirely."

"So… like Grey Wardens?"

"Something like that." He looked up from the map. Noticing her drawn brows and pressed lips, he asked, "You seem unconvinced of something."

"Hmm? Oh. No, no!" She held up her palms. "It's just… difficult to imagine any of this, Duran." Then, sighing, she leaned back into her chair. "It's strange enough that I have you sitting across from me but all this other stuff? It is quite perplexing."

"Go to Kal-Sharok." He passed the new and improved map over to her. "That is how you will be able to verify all of this."

Helmi picked up the map and took a close look at it, falling silent as she did so. In the meanwhile, he busied himself with studying her face. Nerav Helmi had not changed much. Two years did nothing to a dwarf, usually. She was still pretty, still smart. Evidently, she'd gone up in the world if she was out here digging up old cities. Good for her. If there was anyone who deserved a good future, it was her.

Which was why he needed her out of Orzammar.

"How is your family?" he asked, causing her to look up. "Are they all well?"

"Well enough." With a shrug, she returned her attention to the map. "When they're not stuffed up Bhelen's backside, anyway. Tell me." She leaned forward again. "How long will it take me to get there?"

"By yourself? A fortnight. With all your people?" He shrugged. "Closer to a month."

"You expect me to go by myself?"

"The Roads are clear."

She pursed her lips slightly at that thought. "I sent Bhelen a letter earlier, asking for more troops to hold Kal'Hirol. Until then, I plan on documenting everything there is to see here. When once they arrive…"

"You will not regret it. That much, I can guarantee. Maybe you can become a Paragon both in Orzammar and Kal-Sharok, depending on what you do."

That made her chuckle. "That's a bit too ambitious. Even for me! Besides, even if the two cities recognised each other's Paragons, I doubt I can do enough deeds in my lifetime to rise to that status."

"On the contrary, it's easier than you think. While Orzammar grants you the status of a Paragon based on what you have done already, Kal-Sharok makes you a Paragon based on what you promise to do. So, if you can promise to undertake a big enough project, it can be done."

Once again, Helmi's mouth fell open. "No! It can't be that easy, can it?"

"Go there and see for yourself."

"Hah! At this rate, I might just have to." She grinned. "Are you staying with us, then, Duran? You could come with us if you do. You can show me Kal-Sharok yourself."

Over the past couple of years, while he was doing everything he could to prepare himself for the coming few days, he had never thought about that particular notion. It sounded nice. It was nice. Taking her to Kal-Sharok, settling in, maybe having a chance at rekindling what they had long ago… she hadn't been keen on answering questions about her family. Maybe she wouldn't miss them. In Kal-Sharok, away from the history and bad blood of Orzammar, maybe he could have a chance at a normal life.

Duran smiled. Yes, that would be good. After everything he'd been through, he deserved it, didn't he? Some happiness for himself. Something to have and hold. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine. He imagined walking through the gates of the White City, hand in hand with that of his former betrothed. He imagined showing her the house, the pool, his workplace. Children. Old age. It all flashed through like a gurgling brook behind his lids.

What a beautiful image. What a wonderful life. All because he had run into her by accident. Laughable. His deeds, his promises, his destiny… it was written in stone now. If a chance encounter could undo the Stone, undo his will, then could he really be called an Aeducan?

Wringing the wryness out of his smile, Duran opened his eyes and gazed at Nerav Helmi once more. Then, he shook his head slightly. "No."

"No?"

"No, Nerav. I've left Kal-Sharok behind. I cannot return there until I complete the promise I made to Paragon-Elect Sharok. Do not ask me what that promise is, for that is firmly between them and I. However, I can tell you this."

Sliding off the chair, he leaned forward and cupped her face with his hands. More lines, scars, and callouses had accumulated in his palm, along his fingers, in the years spent apart. Underlying them, however, beat the same heart. Hopefully, she felt that as he placed his forehead against hers.

"I have never stopped loving you. One day, I hope you'll let me show you what I mean. But, until that day, our deeds and destinies pull us in opposite directions."

"Duran, I–"

He let her go, stepping away from her desk and turning back. "I was not counting on seeing you today, Nerav, but I am glad I did. I am very proud of you for reaching Kal'Hirol. I would be even happier if you reached Kal-Sharok." Looking back over his shoulder, he parted the flaps of her tent. "However, I must leave. My destiny awaits, and I cannot be kept from it. I hope that you can understand."

Although he hoped she would, he did not expect her to. He had given her so little to go on, after all. Still, he caught her nodding. Despite her bewildered look, she nodded. What more could he ask for?

"Thank you. This is not goodbye, Nerav. We shall meet again." A pause. "But I would like to ask you of one thing more."

"Huh? Duran, of course!" She came around her desk. "Anything you need. Any way I can help, I'll do it."

He knew that. Knew she would say that. It ached him to inconvenience her this way, but if she could help him now, he would never deny her anything ever again.

So, blowing out a breath, he asked, "Can you get me into Orzammar?"