Dragon Age Origins: Dovahkiin

by Arch-Daishou00

(M) 'Mature story' "Sea-bound to foreign shores, the Dunmeri Dragonborn Miara and her kin embark on a new land on orders from the emperor. The family's mission; To investigate and explore these foreign nations. But no objective is ever straightforward for a Doom Driven hero" Co-Author: Etheral-23. UNIGORE did the original artwork. "Thank you so much!"

33. Bygone Shadows

Disclaimer: We do not own The Elder Scrolls or Dragon Age series

Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23

Bygone Shadows

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Returning to Redcliffe did not take any time at all. Simple use of their fast travel rings with the summoning array set up in the castle by Sarya allowed the Ostagar party to return in record time. Brianna was not letting Wynne out of her sight, looking as though she feared the woman would collapse at any moment. Gin excused himself and merely went to the kitchens, he was tired and hungry, and the staff wouldn't hesitate to serve one of the champions of Redcliffe. Zevran opted to join him, much to his fellow elf's displeasure. Shale wandered around the snowy Hinterlands while Odahviing flew through the skies.

Miara, Serana, and Alistair sat in the meeting room, mugs of warm ale served in tankards as they waited for their comrades to arrive. The young Warden was polishing Duncan's shield, ensuring there was not even a single blemish upon the object, treating it like a sacred treasure.

"It's a good shield," Miara acknowledged from her place at the table. "Never seen Duncan use it."

"He preferred a sword and dagger style," Alistair replied, looking at the item fondly.

Miara slowly nodded to herself before glancing at the sword in Alistair's scabbard, resting over the table. Maric's sword was not given as much attention as Duncan's shield. "You should practice with that; get the hang of it."

Alistair paused, lips pursing. "...It's heavy."

The Dragonborn looked at him understandingly with a soft smile. "It is"

Before leaving Ostagar, Alistair came to recognize the sword Brianna was holding. His father, Maric, carried the sword he had found in the deep roads during the rebellions. Upon learning it was Alistair's father, she gave him the blade as it belonged to him.

As much as Alistair knew and understood that, he did not feel he had the right to hold it. That sword belongs to a king, and the young man wasn't ready to be that just yet.

Leaning forward with her chin resting on her palm, Serana gazed at the blade before peering to her lover; "So what's next?"

"Orzammar, the realm of the dwarves."

"Once Marcus and the others arrive. But we should rest up first," Alistair brought up while staring into his ale. Then, he looked up at the two ladies; "That sound right?"

Both Miara and Serana nodded; "Yeah." The elf remarked before taking a drink.

"Honestly, I'm all for that, but I find it hard to rest these days," The senior Warden admitted with a weary sigh. And the Tamriel women could not blame him, and a lot was riding on his shoulders. There was just no respite for the poor man between the Blight and taking the throne.

"I'm sorry about what you went through in that place, kid," Serana said apologetically. She didn't doubt the image of a reanimated Duncan would hunt him for years to come.

"You're not alone, Alistair," Miara said. "You have your friends in this mismatched company of ours."

"Yeah... Thank you," The young man said sincerely before looking deep into thought. "I've been thinking about something I saw back in Ostagar, how I never really knew Cailan I... well, there is someone else I still have yet to meet and get to know."

Oh dear, the vampire and the dunmer shared a look. "Are you telling us you have another brother?"

"A sister, actually," He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not another child of Maric, I assure you."

"Oh, thank the gods" That would have only made things even more complicated...

"She's my mother's daughter," Alistair continued. "I asked a bit about her, I know, and she lives in Denerim."

"You sure you want to meet her?"

"Figured I'd at least try to connect with her. I might not get the chance later on."

Miara gave the nod; "We'll speak with Marcus when they come back."

It was at that moment a servant came to the room; "Lord Cousland and the others have returned."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

"We were defeated," Sten spoke in his usual monotone as he leaned against the wall while Marcus and the rest sat around the main hall. Their expressions were telling enough of their current mood.

"Defeated?" Alistair chimed back with some surprise turning his gaze to Marcus; "What happened?"

The Cousland sat on a chair staring at the ground; "We sorely underestimated their skills." A whimper came from Loke, who sat beside his master.

"Bastards were sodding tough," Faren quipped with a grumble near Sereda.

"Very much so," Morrigan reproached with bitterly.

Miara and Serana came to their children, who did not look too roughed up. But their sour expressions were telling as they sat at a table. Save Sofie, who lightly paced angrily with Leliana looking worried at her; "Anyone we know with those skeevers?"

"Elenwen and Ondolemar," Sarya quipped with disdain in her voice.

"...Of course, that fucking bitch is still breathing," Serana snarled.

Miara, to her credit, was trying to keep herself as calm as possible. But her eyes glowed with fury, knowing those two wretched Thalmor were alive. "We will get them."

Theron sat on stone steps, checking his weapons; "We must be better prepared by then."

"Agreed," Oryrn nodded, leaning back against his chair. "Someone else was there. Well, in Astal form. But he terrified his people, including Elenwen and Ondolemar."

That drew the full attention of his mothers; "They were scared of this Thalmor?"

"He dispelled my magic like I was an amateur," Sarya growled with frustration.

"Did he give his name?" Serana questioned.

Neria close to Oryrn with Bran lying at her feet, she held her staff close; "He called himself Lord Naarifin."

The room became so deadly silent they could hear a pin drop. Miara was stock still, her eyes wide before she surprised the circle mage literally appearing in front of her with her arms on her shoulder; "Are you absolutely certain you heard that name!?" Her voice held such emotion it caught everyone off guard. "Are you certain!?"

This was the scene Bri, Wynne, Zevran, and Gin came to upon being told the others returned; "What's going on here?" The senior enchanter questioned.

Marcus rose from his seat; "Who is he?"

"Naarifin was a powerful Thalmor general in the first Great War," The Dragonborn said with great urgency in her tone. "A mighty mage whose tactics and employ of the arcane allowed him to achieve many critical victories for the Dominion, including the taking of the Imperial City" Her breathing was erratic. "There are many conflicting accounts on what happened to him, and many hoped he was dead… And for Thedas' sake, I hope he is. So again, are you absolutely sure that was his name?"

Neria could only nod shakily. "Y-Yes"

Miara let go of the young elf, her gaze shifting from side to side as she quickly pondered what to do. "I need to warn the empire" She reached into her clothes and touched her star-shaped pendant; the magic of Azura's Star flared to life as the link between it, and the place she had long since set up in the White-Gold Tower was activated. "Will be back later!"

With a flash of magic, Miara disappeared. She was leaving her companions to stare bewildered.

One thing was sure if Miara, of all people, was nervous...

"We're downright fucked, aren't we..." Faren summed up the situation.

Morrigan ignored the dwarf before coming to Serana; "So, have you managed to kill my mother?"

Oh, this day just kept getting better.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

As it was the afternoon in Thedas, it was early evening in Tamriel when Miara appeared in a flash of light. Surprising, two guards and a servant within the White-Gold Tower. Before they could greet the Sentinel, she took off towards the council chambers at full speed. Her expression of distress caught the attention of many as she dashed through the halls.

She came to the sight of two large doors she nearly slammed open. Much to the surprise of the council members and rulers of the nation who jumped at the presence of the Dragonborn, "Miara!" Nihlus spoke up quickly, startled along with his wife. "We were expecting you, what's got you in such a-"

"Naarifin lives!"

The Elder Council immediately erupted into different exclamations, ranging from gasps to hushes whispers to their fellow members. The Dragonborn merely ignored them in favor of approaching the emperor, and her position made it, so none of the Praetorians stepped in her path. Not that they would be able to stop her.

She briefly registered the middle-aged orc with grey hair and furred legion armor standing next to the emperor. Ugrab Gro-Keshuck, supreme commander of the Legions, gave her a brief nod which she returned before focusing her attention solely on Nihlus. The Breton sat on his throne at the great table, documents and scrolls laid out before him, all ignored in favor of watching bewildered at the dunmer woman.

"You need to speed up the sailing of troops to Thedas," She quickly said without any preamble. "Have our scouts start doing deeper reconnaissance. There's no telling where in that continent the Thalmor-"

"Miara!" Nihlus stopped her in an authoritative tone. "From. The. Start"

Miara shook her head, letting out a long breath. "The Thalmor survivors in Thedas, they're lead by Naarifin."

"Impossible" One of the Council members, an elderly imperial who looked like he was barely a year away from stepping down. "I was there that day, and I saw him fall."

"No body was ever retrieved," Miara grimly reminded them.

That... was true. Despite his defeat, there was no corpse found of the brutal Altmeri general. A fact that has haunted many for the last sixty years.

A Suthay-raht adorned in fine robes, and black fur with sharp yellow eyes rubbed his lower jaw; "For such a monster to still exist is disconcerting to this one."

"On the front lines, I saw the countless acts of his barbarism to the people of Tamriel," From her husband's side, Keya rose from her chair. Memories came to her mind like a flood. She rubbed her sleeve covers arms as she paced; "I don't want to think what that demon has been doing across the seas."

"We must keep our composure, my empress," A middle-aged Nordic woman spoke from her council seat.

"Composure," A male Bosmeri elf raised his voice with anger; "Do you know how many of my people who refused Thalmor rule sixty years ago were purged because of Naarifin!?"

"That man embodied every worst ideal and trait the Thalmor held," An altmeri woman in highly ornate robes said, a remorseful and haunted look in her eyes. "Our people suffered so much trying to erase the bloody legacy the Thalmor left that it continues yet, and led by that man of all people..."

"All I hear are words," The Sentinel stated with impatience. "When actions are needed."

"We already prepared the legion, but they've yet to set sail," An imperial councilor stated. "Transporting that many troops take time. We cannot make them sail faster."

"Then at least send a vanguard," Miara proposed, "Have our specialists start scouring through Thedas as fast as possible. The rest of the legion can focus on helping Ferelden as we promised"

"Just sending them ahead without a proper command chain and logistics?" Nihlus questioned.

"We have one they can answer to," Supreme commander Ugrab brought up, looking at the dunmer. "Sentinel Miara, are you willing to direct the Thalmor hunting efforts?"

"Once the Blight is defeated," She answered dutifully. "I will personally lead this new division."

All eyes turned to her. A green-scaled Argonian leaned back on her chair; "We read your report missives on this Blight and the Darkspawn. How dangerous are these creatures?"

"They are like the old Blight which nearly sundered Morrowind centuries ago," the Dragonborn addressed with complete seriousness; "their blood alone corrupts anything or anyone. Lethality is absolute. Whatever unit you are sending to aid us against these beasts needs every part of their body covered and protected with hard leather and armor with fully covered helmets."

"I'm sending the ninth," Nihlus informed.

At that, the elf's stony expression softened, "Ahh, Gaius and Aquila. Good." Tullius' children were talented, and most of all, capable. "The vanguard unit can come back with me to Thedas once we're done here."

"Sentinel Redoran," The Altmeri councilwoman spoke up, garnering her fellow elf's attention; "Hasn't the Thedosians even found a means to cure this Darkspawn taint you mentioned?"

At the question, Miara felt a headache coming as she rubbed her eyes; "Not sure if that even possible. With or without their religious institution having such a hold on them."

"Their chantry sounds a lot like the Aliessian Order," The Khajiit councilman retorted dryly.

At that, Miara snorted. "They wish" The Chantry certainly had to up their game if they wanted even to come close to the Alessian Order's atrocities.

Though, to be fair, not many could be as resourceful or foolish enough to create a thousand-year-long Dragon Break.

Nihlus signaled his butler Aurelius to bring him more parchment and a quill. But first, he needed to make a list of Occulatus agents that fit their advanced recon unit. "You've had the most experience with those lands; what do you recommend, Miara?"

"Draft humans only. I'm afraid any of our elves will catch everyone's eyes. To say nothing about the beastfolk" That would be highly detrimental if they wanted to get a head start on finding the Thalmor. They needed to mingle and go unnoticed by the significant Thedosian population.

Nihlus nodded as he had already started making a list. "Would you like some of your Blades to go with you? I'm certain Jordis and Lydia would jump at the chance."

Hell, Kharjo would jump at the chance to help her. But she wouldn't risk her friend's safety. At least not until Thedas grew accustomed to Beastfolk existing. "I'll send a message to those two. Also, be wary of using magic openly around the populace."

The Altmeri councilwoman shook her head; "Honestly, I cannot comprehend an entire continent so deathly abhorrent to the use of magic. Along with these gilded cages called the circles. That just spells a disaster waiting to wake itself."

As much as Miara agreed, she focused on which human members of the Occulatus to send. But also, she tapped her communication ring. "Hopefully, Jordis and Lydia aren't playing around right now."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Trudging through the snowy fields of Ferelden was a large regiment of armored troops with the banner of Loghain Mac Tir, approaching the territory of South Reach. As Arl Leonas Bryland had bluntly spoken his opinion of Loghain and Howe months ago, they stood against the Steward of Denerim and his pet rat he made the new Teyrn of Highever. And with the queen indisposed, her father had decided to take sterner actions.

Action Bryland anticipated as he had his knights and soldiers guarding the borders of their lands. At the head of the Arls's men, draped in his full plated Silverite armor, stood Ser Warren James. A respected veteran of the Rebellions who fought at Leonas's side when they were young men. There was no one else the Arl trusted more in protecting his lands. He stood like a pillar next to his comrades as Loghain's men drew closer.

"You approach the lands of South Reach," the old knight declared in a booming voice. "State your intent!"

The leader of Loghain's unit, also adorned in full armor, took off his helmet, revealing a man in his mid-years and his short hair turned partially grey. "I think you know." they came to a stop several feet away from one another.

Ser Ollie Holloway, another veteran and a fellow knight who had long served Loghain for decades. Ser Warren had heard some stories of the man but never met.

"Tell your 'Regent'!" Ser Warren pointed aggressively at the man. "That South Reach does not recognize his claim, his authority, or any of his insane orders!" His fellow soldiers expressed themselves in accordance, either shouting, grunting or banging swords on shields, sharing in their leader's defiance.

Ser Holloway narrowed his eyes at Bryland's men and women, clearly maddened by the fact they would so openly defy Loghain. "You listen here and listen well, and General Loghain has taken upon himself the role of leading our nation in this desperate hour! You, and your arl, will uphold your oaths and do as you are commanded!"

"Commanded by a man who has done nothing to protect the south as the Darkspawn grow ever nearer!" Ser Warren had enough, taking out his blade; the action prompted both sides to ready their weapons and prepared for a brutal melee. Ser Ollie merely stared back defiantly. "So take your men, go crawl back to your Regent's boots, and tell him we are sworn to serve the crown, not his ambitions!"

Ollie's lips curled into a snarl, his hand about to draw his weapon.

When the sudden, fierce, and encompassing neigh of a horse, followed by the deep galloping sounds of hooves akin to thunder, echoed in the soon-to-be battlefield.

It was just so loud, so powerful, that the soldiers had to stop and twist their necks to see what approached them.

It was a great horse of imposing size and girth, golden furred with a long white mane of hair and an equal whitetail. A magnificent steed of the like none had seen in their lives before. Contrasting such a bright creature was its rider, a giant of a man adorned in a glorious set of masterfully crafted armor, with metal so dark it looked like the night sky made into the metal. On his back rested a massive tower shield.

The sheathed sword on his belt rivaled the height of a man, "Kinsmen of Ferelden!" He bellowed in a deep baritone with authority. "Temper your rage!" His steed came to a stop in between the two groups. "What has brought such division between brothers and sisters once united?"

Despite the fear and awe in their respected soldiers, both knights reign in their emotions at the imposing man; "Who are you good ser?" Warren called out evenly.

"I am Reymon Ebonarm, The black knight as some call me." He turned his helmet-covered gaze to both sides; "I ask once more. What has brought hostilities between good and noble kinsmen to the point they are ready to draw blood?"

A cocked brow rose from Ser Holloway; "Has news not reached your travels? We lost our good King Caillen at the fields of Ostagar against the darkspawn. Lord Regent Loghain has called for all the Arls and Bannorn to unite with him of the imminent threat."

"Orlais has not attempted to reinvade our lands in thirty years," Warren rebuked sternly; "Loghain has allowed his hatred and paranoia cloud his reason!"

Ser Holloway sneered in disgust. "If you had an inkling of loyalty to Ferelden, you would fight for her sake. You cowardly scum!"

"We won't take orders from a two-bit would-be tyrant!"

The air grew tense again, and it only needed someone to do something stupid for a deadly melee to start, as both sides looked ready to tear into each other. Each convinced they were in the right.

And it would have gone down as such if not for the great steed's thundering stomp and the knight's mighty bellow. "ENOUGH!"

Swords arms grew; still, eyes widened as the soldiers listened. For they could not do anything else, this man, this titan, just demanded their attention. And they were compelled to give it to him without question.

"Is this how the sons of Calenhad act?!" The knight shouted in righteous anger. "Are the heirs of the alamarri to butcher each other like honorless savages, when ages ago you stood united against the Tevinter slavemasters?! When only thirty years ago, many of you stood side by side against the Orlesian tyranny?!"

The soldiers could only look at each other. That… had been the past. Now they had to do what was best for their nation, and the other side was standing in the way, threatening everything they believed in.

Right?

"Did you not, Ser Holloway" The black knight looked down at Loghain's envoy, "fight in this very land against the Chevaliers alongside the brave men and women of South Reach?"

"H-How did you..." Stunned by knowledge the giant man seemingly possessed, ser Ollie stumbled upon his words. He licked his lips and finally nodded. "Yes, with the South Reach folk who had joined the rebellion."

"The Battle of Emerald Hill..." Ser Warren replied distantly, the memories still fresh. "I was there too."

"So was I," Said another older soldier from South Reach.

"And I," Added a woman from Loghain's forces.

"Hmph!" The knight intoned disapprovingly. "And yet here you stand, ready to slaughter each other as the Darkspawn advance?"

"But... our orders-"

"You once followed orders because you were fighting for your nation's future, for your people's future," Reymon said, his deep voice taking on a gentle tone. "Now, will you use orders as an excuse to kill the very people you fought for?"

How many brave brothers and sisters had they lost fighting for their country's freedom? How many kinsmen and women had fallen to the monsters at Ostagar?

And here they were, ready to shed more Fereldan blood, with no one to blame but themselves.

Ser Holloway and Ser Warren stared at each other; the heat and disdain in their eyes had fizzled out like dying embers. There was no longer any will to fight, and they saw no point in this, even if it meant going against their orders.

Ollie Holloway sheathed his blade and turned, motioning for his men to follow. "Sheath your blades, and there is to be no battle today."

"Sir?" One of the younger soldiers exclaimed in confusion.

"We go back to Denerim," Loghain's envoy said, sounding so very tired. "We found no enemy here..."

While a few of the younger soldiers tried to curve Ser Holloway's decision, the seasoned veterans rebuked them sternly as they left the area. Ser Warren let out a long sigh before sheathing his blade. He turned up to the towering knight; "thank you, Ser Reymon. For reminding us of who we are." Many of his fellow soldiers gave the nod in thanks.

"No thanks are necessary, Ser Warren," The black knight spoke with respect. "All of you are good decent men, times of strife like now can cloud the judgment of many."

A young soldier ran his hand over his face; "Now, if my cousin were with Ser Holloway, maybe he'd get some sense back to him."

"That would be a miracle given how stubborn Stefan can be, Anton," An older soldier quipped.

Ser Warren kept his gaze on the huge armored man; "Would you stay with us? As a kindly thank you."

"I'm afraid I must keep moving on," Reymon lamented before speaking again; "But could you do a favor for me?"

"Of course."

"In the following weeks ahead, I know my sister will journey this way with an eccentric group of heroes. I only request that you give her and her party any aid they need."

The knight stared up, confused. "Wait, what do you-"

"Do not forget you, all of you, are children of Ferelden!" The great black knight loudly and proudly exclaimed. He snapped the reins of his steed, and the golden stallion neighed powerfully, kicking the air. "I must go now, for the Darkness continues to spread! We ride, Warmaster!"

The horse galloped away at speeds no mere steed should be able to achieve, much less one of such size with such a large man riding atop it. So Ser Reymon rode away, the most visible visage of his person being the great tower shield, which they could now see had a rose engraved in it; it was not long before he disappeared into the snowy woods and vanished from the side.

This entire experience had left Ser Warren speechless, for how could he even begin to explain what had transpired to his Arl. Then, looking down, he found a lovely rose blooming amidst the snow-covered ground.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Alistar sat on the corner of his room in Redcliffe, the handle of Maric's blade in his hand with the weapon's tip touching the floor. He made it spin on his grasp, ever so slowly carving a tiny mark underneath the pointed edge. The whirling movement caused the glowing blue runes to dance almost hypnotically as the dwarven sword continued to spin. Alistar watched as the lights moved through the air, almost entranced.

Sometimes he wondered why they made swords look pretty when stabbing and hacking limbs was their purpose.

A knock on his door drew his attention; "Come in."

"Sorry if I'm interrupting anything," Marcus made himself known as he opened the door coming inside. Like his friend, he wore a plain shirt and leather pants and boots.

A dismissive wave came from the former Templar; "Was just looking at... My father's sword." It was hard for him to say that fully.

"I remember seeing it when going to Denerim with my father once." The exiled noble came to his friend's side, taking a seat on a chair in the room. "To think something like that was lost in the Deep Roads."

"Maybe we get to go the Deep Roads and see if we can't find something else," Alistair humored, garnering a chuckled from his friend; "Was there something you needed?"

Marcus grunted leaned back on his chair; "Spoke with Teagan about the Thalmor. But all we can do is wait till Miara returns." He paused for a long moment; "Whoever this Naarifin is, to get her of all people that concerned…" the man shook his head; "something else is also on my mind." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees; "Got some letters from my mother and Iona a few days ago."

"How are they?"

He slowly smiled, "I'm going to be a father..."

"What?" Alistair blinked rapidly, looking at the man smiling ever so softly but so very happily. "Are you serious?" Now it was his turn to smile wildly. Then, reaching out, he patted his friend on the shoulder. "Congratulations, you're going to be a great father!"

"Thank you" Marcus let out a breathy laugh. "Honestly, I hope I've been learning enough with Amethyne."

"Hey, you lead us constantly into battle, and in the decisions we take for our quest," The senior Warden said humorously. "How hard could fatherhood be?"

"If the tales my parents regaled my brother and me with are any indications, quite challenging."

Alistair laughed, "Well, don't let that stop you. You can have your own stories to embarrass your children with."

The Cousland smiled at him. "One more reason to end the Blight" He leaned back on his chair, letting out a long sigh. "I just wish I could visit them now. See Iona, Amethyne, and my mother, let them know it's all going to be alright..."

"I don't think anyone would blame you if you went to see them for a few days, at least before we go to Orzammar. After that, I plan to visit my half-sister in Denerim."

Marcus raised a brow; "A half-sister?"

"On my mother's side." The former noble gave a nod of understanding; "Anything can happen when reaching the dwarven kingdom. However, I think it's best we get some personal stuff out of the way. Help clear our heads."

"...Quite smart words to say," Marcus retorted with an impressed smirk.

Alistair shrugged, chuckling, "I have moments."

The young Cousland rubbed his hand over his chin while deep in thought. "It would be prudent for all of us to have a clear mind before going to Orzammar."

"Sure, just let me forget the fact I'm gonna be king," Alistair said with a smile as he sat unmoving for a moment. "There we go, completely forgot about it."

While Marcus laughed slightly at the man's humor, he still gave him a comforting look. "I know it's scary for you, Alistair, but I want you to know I'll be at your side every step of the way."

The senior Warden blinked a few times and looked at his friend. "You will?"

"We're already thrusting you into a position you don't want to be in, one you will need preparation for. But, I swear to you, house Cousland will always be your allies. And I'll be there when you need advice or an ear."

"I... Thank you," The Warden said with sincere gratefulness. The sad thing was that Alistair sometimes felt he would be alone throughout all this. Just placed on the throne and expected to lead. Make the right choices based on no personal experience or training, and then be blamed and suffer the consequences because he wasn't prepared.

He chose to accept the throne because it was either him or Loghain, and he wasn't about to let that bastard win.

But to hear there wear people in his life, willing to help him shoulder such a burden, comforted him and brought a little more hope to his future.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Upon entering the Tavern, Neria and faithful Mabari almost immediately felt awkward as many patrons greeted her with cheers and praise. Maker bless her; Bella got the folks to give the elven mage some room so she could come to the bar. The beautiful new tavern owner leaned against the bar apologetic as Neria and Bran came over. "Sorry about all them, lady Surana."

"Just Neria, please," the young elf was not comfortable being called by a title. "Did Oryrn come through here?"

A glint came to Bella's eye, "Oh, are you looking for our handsome Lightbringer's attention like so many other ladies in the village?"

In an instant, Neria's face went the brightest shade of red and stammered, "Wh-what!? I-I-I-" Several of the patrons at the bar, Bella included, burst into laughter at the sight of her reaction.

"Hehe, so sorry, sweetie," Bella attempted to control herself before smiling again; "Brianna was right about you. You are easy to tease."

The elf's ears were lowered as a faint growl came from the mage. She will get back at Bri for this, she huffed with her hands on her hips; "Oryrn?"

A smiling Bella pointed to a lone table at the corner where the Tamriel Templar sat quietly reading, dressed in a casual cotton shirt and leather pants. Then, the young Warden strolled over to her fellow elf with a slight grateful nod. "I wondered where you went."

The Dunmeri man glanced up; "I'm more comfortable in taverns than in castles." Then, with a motion of his head, he gestured for her to take a seat. Upon hearing a grumbling, he saw Bran sitting close to him. He patted the hound on the head and rubbed the ears. "You need something?"

"I ran out of things to do," She said with a soft laugh as she sat in front of him. "So, I wanted to spend some time with a friend."

"Curious you sought me out instead of Brianna" He didn't mean anything by it, but his words had an effect still.

Neria's gaze shifted, eyes becoming downcast as her lips pressed for a moment. "Bri is... I don't know, and she has been rather distant lately. She seems more interested in learning more martial combat and studying Tamriel magic from Miara, Sarya, and Serana."

"That why you came to me more often to learn the arts?"

"The type of magic she wants to learn is... not one I approve of," Neria said tactfully, considering it was his mothers who employed such crafts. Responsibly perhaps, but... she wanted to think she could trust Brianna with such knowledge, but lately, she had been acting more outspoken about her views on the Chantry. And now, she seemed to behave that she could get away with dismissing any words to the contrary as nonsense because she had more power.

Neria did not like that development on her friend.

Oryrn looked at her with concern, "Are you avoiding her?"

"No... Yes?" She sighed, "I don't know. Things have been so chaotic lately. It's not like we mean to, but... I guess we haven't really had time just to sit down and talk" She joined her hands over the table, rubbing her fingers. "Wynne asked us to meet with her later today, and she has something to tell us. Miara told me that something strange happened to her in Ostagar."

"Maybe you could use the chance to speak your mind to Brianna," The dunmer proposed.

"Yes, maybe I will."

Their respected ears perked up with the sound of a lute starting to play near the bar. The local bard sings a heroic tale of the champions of Redcliffe. A bashful Neria looks away, blushing much to her fellow elf curiosity; "Still not used to that yet?"

"Don't think I'll ever be used to it." They glanced at the sight of a blond human woman bringing them both a mug of ale to drink. Oryrn gave a nod of thanks which made the girl blush before scampering away. "Are you not bothered by it all?"

Oryrn shook his head, "I don't like formal gatherings where I have to dress up. I have a few tales song by bards back home in Skyrim and Cyrodiil."

At that, interest bloomed on Neria's eyes; "Like what?"

The grey-skinned elf leaned back against his chair, "A necromancer had settled in some ruins near a miner village in the rift called Karthwasten. Folks were wary enough about mages in Skyrim. But since Necromancy is an illegal practice, Ainethach, the village owner, did not want that around his village and mine." He took a sip of his ale, "And his fears were warranted as the necromancer started sending undead after them."

"So what happened?"

"I hunted down the necromancer and slew him and his minions."

Neria was pretty confident the bards would make a much more detailed and pretty story than what Oryrn said. It was a noble deed, but Oryrn never made it sound like it was a big deal; he saw his actions as nothing more than the right thing to do. He always spoke about people he had saved so casually.

"Do you travel around all the time? Going to places and going on adventures."

"I seldom stay around for long," Oryrn replied with a shrug. "Traveling, questing, that's the path I walk."

"For what goal?" Neria asked him.

"It's what I swore to do," The dunmer solemnly replied, a brief shadow of hurt passing over his eyes. "After what happened to my friend."

The dark-skinned elf pursed her lips. "So you never stay put. Is there no place you consider 'home'?"

"Only when I visit my mothers. But no real place to call my own," He shrugged, unbothered by it. "Been on the path since I was eighteen."

Thirteen years.

To be so dedicated to such a life of endless wandering from place to place. Protecting people from all manners of evil, be they monsters or cruel people. But, while it was a noble and honorable thing, Neria could help to wonder, "Doesn't it get lonely?"

"At times," Oryrn omitted, "but can't think of anything I would rather do. But not to say I haven't made interesting friends along the way."

"They travel with you?"

"Those who are on the road like me, yes. When our paths cross."

Neria fidgeted on her chair, "No one special back home?" Her hands flew over her mouth with eyes wide.

"Hmph," Oryrn let a soft laugh, "I think you've been spending too much time around Leliana."

Maybe she was. Why was she gossiping like a young circle initiate?

"I've met some that I've... been dear to," The Templar mused, leaning over the table. "But I don't know. The path I walk is not easy to share with others in my life. It does not make room to settle down."

Neria nodded to herself, deciding to ask, "But would you like to settle down?"

Oryrn looked honestly thoughtful at that question. Oh, his mothers may have asked him that same thing, but it was usually followed with their typical motherly mirth of wanting grandchildren; they always let their children follow whatever they felt was their calling and respected it. Having been on the road for so long, on the hunt for monsters and evil-doers, Oryrn rarely had pondered the possibility of simply, well not stopping, for making room for a permanent place on his life.

Was it something he could envision having? Something he actually wanted? For once, Oryrn had no answer.

"I don't know," He replied truthfully. "This life is all I've known."

All this kind man had ever been was a selfless protector and defender of the weak and helpless. Praise or recognition mattered very little or not at all to him. Traits she admired greatly about Oryrn, but at the same time, she could not help but worry about him. Focusing on such a dangerous life path could lead to his eventual death by some bandit or monster.

"There is more to life than just a lonely road and facing down evil," Neria's voice was gentle but firm as she looked at the Dunmeri man.

At those words came a snort, "Heard that quite a few times."

"Because it is true." She paused but pressed further, "You're the noblest man I've ever met. But even you have the right to be happy and have a life outside of endless battles." Conviction glowed in her tone.

"Hmm" He made a thoughtful noise as contemplation shone in his eyes for a moment. "I thank you for your kind words, Neria. And would offer some myself to you if you'd permit me."

"To me?"

"You too deserve a life outside conflict; I choose my path, you did not," He said.

The dark-skinned elf sighed softly. "I know. I'm not sure this is my calling; honestly, even inside the Circle, I wasn't sure what my path should be. I've just gone along with the flow; maybe I would have become an Enchanter eventually and get dragged into Circle politics as many do" Her lips pursed, "But honestly, part of me is now glad I became a Warden."

Oryrn gently nodded, gesturing her to go on.

"I've done more with my life as a Warden than I could have inside Kinloch Hold. I was helping the dalish, saving Redcliffe and the Circle. We've done nothing but help people who needed it" Her words were more than satisfied; she truly felt happy with what they had accomplished. "I am proud of what we have achieved in this journey so far."

"You're not the same woman you were since Ostagar so many months ago."

Neria leaned back against her chair, "Part of me misses that person. But at the same time, I'm happy that I'm no longer her. Does that make any sense?" Absently she rubs Bran's head as he comes to her side.

"It does," Oryrn nodded. "You've grown into a strong and righteous woman." The elven mage's cheek became flushed with a red tint, "Perhaps even a leader."

"Marcus is a leader. Not me."

"Leaders are not built all the same. Each of them is different in their ways, values, and principles."

"Hmm…" Neria was not so sure about that. She knew she had grown and could finally accept it. But she didn't know if she was worth such a position of responsibility.

"Now," Oryrn smiled good-naturedly at her. "What is that you yourself, want to do now, Neria Surana?"

The mage thought about it for a moment and smiled.

"For now, I just want to enjoy a drink with my friend."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Leliana adjusted the fur coat tighter against her chest; she breathed hot air into her palms and rubbed them together as a way to keep her fingers from stiffening too much. The arrows in her quiver rattled lightly with subtle shivering on her part.

Her companion smiled mirthfully at her. "I will remind you are the one who asked for this"

"I am well aware..."

Leliana had considered the current weather good practice for keeping her skills sharp. The cold produced stiff limbs, and she didn't need to explain how important it was to an archer to maintain reasonable control of her arms. That was why she opted to hunt, and the snowy white forest provided a set of obstacles that posed a good challenge for her marksmanship.

She could have just brought an enchanted cloak to ward against the cold, but Leliana figured she could not always count on such items.

Sofie, on the other hand, brought no such protection. She strutted around in the same steel armor as always, which exposed those large arms of hers. Unfortunately, the fur and leather that held the gear together didn't look like they could functionally do much to ward off the cold.

"How are you not freezing?" The bard had to ask.

"Nord, my dear," Sofie smirked. "Cold is nothing to us... plus a benefit of divine dragon blood."

The brief tenseness from the beautiful redhead to the taller woman did not go unnoticed. But it wasn't a subject she would press as Leli had finally grown comfortable to speak more casually with her again. The events at Kinloch Hold and within the Fade had rattled the bard to the core. And the Nord gave her as much space as she needed.

"This place almost looks as beautiful as Skyrim during winter," Sofie decided to change the subject.

Leli glanced over to the taller woman, "I thought it was always wintering there?"

"Yes, in certain areas like the Pale, parts of Eastmarch, and Winterhold," she clarified while they trudged through the snow. "But when actual winter hits there, it can be the coldest place on Nirn itself." She didn't count the frigid wasteland of Atmora due to it being such.

"I'd like to see Skyrim one day," The bard commented.

"Oh, you'd love it. From the mountains, you can see as though Kyne blanketed the whole area with snow."

The moment those words came out of her mouth, Sofie knew she had screwed up. Mentioning a deity when Leliana struggled to understand the concept was exactly what she didn't need right now.

And from the way Leliana awkwardly turned her gaze, Sofie knew it would once follow the uncomfortable silence and the redhead's attempt to put some distance between the two. Yet, she tried to sort out her thoughts again at the same time because Sofie had done something stupid.

...You know what? Screw it, why was she blaming herself for all this? This has gone on for far too long.

"Okay, we need to clear things up" Sofie suddenly stopped, prompting Leliana to do the same. "Leli, I know learning what my mom is taking a toll on you."

Leliana pursed her lips but did not reply.

"I know how much your faith is important to you, but I... I just can't go pretending this isn't real. I can't ignore it because it became part of my heritage, part of my life. I deal with divinities and otherwordly beings far more often than most mortals will do in a lifetime. I just... I just want to make it clear that as long as this persists, I'm not sure we can actually continue what we have."

Leliana played the fool. "And... what do we have?"

Sofie softly shook her head, "Please, Leliana, do I really have to say it?" She walked closer and held one of Leliana's hands in a warm grip. "I care about you, I really do. And... I'd like us to be more, but I'm not sure we can if 'this' is just going to get in the way."

Leliana stared up at her with hopeful and worried eyes. As the words she longed to hear was followed by those she dreaded.

So, the bard decided she couldn't ignore the issue any longer.

"I believe your mother is a god," The archer finally said, accompanied with a long sigh. "After all we've seen, all the things that happened, I'd be a fool to ignore such truth when they were laid bare right before my eyes."

Sofie did not understand. "Then why-?"

Blue eyes snapped back at her. "Because here she is, a god, while the Maker remains silent" It hurt even to say these words. "Centuries of tragedies and blood spilled, yet the silence was our only reward. And know I see gods who are present, and who are... nothing like I imagined."

She unconsciously tightened her grip on Sofie's hands.

"I thought I was chosen," Leliana continued. "I felt; amidst my calling, amidst all this darkness and evil, I could do the right thing. That my faith rewarded me for all the pain, I endured... But if the Maker is really silent, even after all this. What does it mean for us, who prayed for a sign for so long? ...Why did I endure so much, if in the end silence too was the answer?"

The Nordic woman saw the pain in her friend's eyes, "You said a vision drove you to join us."

Placing her bow between her left arm, Leli used her right to grab something from one of her pockets, "It was likely a stupid dream now thinking on it. I'm not sure why I kept this, though." She pulled out a small cloth she unwrapped to reveal a beautifully preserved and pressed rose. "I found this in a dead rose bush after." Her voice lacked its usual life. "The same rose in my dream as the darkness plunged it all; it gave me faith that throughout the tragedy, there was still hope. Life would still bloom"

However, Sofie's eyes grew considerably, "You found this rose?"

"Yes?" The former bard took note of her friend's reaction.

"Leliana," She muttered slowly, "That rose is a symbol of Lady Mara's blessing."

The redhead stood stock still, "Quoi?"

"Leli, you did receive a vision. But from Mother Mara."

Leliana was left speechless, and she looked down at the flower as her hands trembled. "But... But this-"

Any pondering on her part or doubt on her eyes vanished when they heard a branch breaking. In the silence of the snowy woods, their frozen breathes were all they could hear.

Leliana immediately pocketed the rose and readied her bow. The steely gaze in her blue eyes contrasted sharply with the confused and lost gaze she wore just a moment ago. "Animal?" She quickly asked.

Sofie's gaze narrowed. "Laas," She whispered... and several pulses of auras lit up in her eyes. "We're not alone," She muttered to the bard.

"How many?"

"I count ten."

"Closest?"

"Up in the tree, ten feet east, nine feet up."

Leliana quickly knocked an arrow, aimed high at the position Sofie pointed out and let loose.

There was a sharp sound with the arrow landing on something, followed by a gasp of pain. The sound of branches rattling and breaking soon followed, and down from the tree fell a man in heavy leathers. The arrow stuck firmly in his chest as he lay dead on the snow.

Leliana immediately drew another arrow. "Nine now"

A war cry rang out as several men, and a few women draped in armors or leathers with swords, maces, and daggers charged at the duo. Within a hair's breadth, two more were dispatched by Leliana's archery skills with arrows penetrating their skulls. It did not deter the rest as Sofie drew her greatsword, and Leliana opted to her daggers.

The battle was met with their attackers, keeping their backs together so as not to be separated. Sofie parried one who held the mace while kicking another hard in the chest. Her red-haired companion's daggers danced with another enemy. "They are decently skilled," she muttered with a grunt.

She leaned back just far enough for her opponent's blade to miss her neck.

"Let's just kill these damn whores already!" A man shouted before his throat was soon taken into the giant hand of the Nordic woman. His life snuffed out in an instant as she twisted.

A low growl came from Sofie, "I needed to blow off some steam."

Leliana parried away her opponent's blades and kneed him in the stomach, the man buckled, and Leliana used him for momentum, jumping over his back and kicking away another incoming attacker, finishing with a dagger to the neck on the man she had vaulted over. Then, using her free dagger, she grabbed the edge between her fingers and threw it, burying it on the still stunned assassin's chest.

Leliana quickly moved to retrieve it. "Leave at least one alive!"

The moment she said so, Sofie had already decapitated two assassins at the same time. She blinked and looked around, counting only four assassins left. So right, they already got most of them. And she wasn't going to raise them to get answers.

One of the last assassins, an agile man in leathers with a long sword in hand, tried to close the distance and stab her with a thrust. Sofie turned to the side, the tip of the blade scraping against her metallic pauldrons, and grabbed the man's waist.

With a simple squish, she broke it. The man barely had time to register the pain when Sofie kicked the side of his leg and dislocated his knee, he screamed, and the Nord threw him against a tree. "Stay there"

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

The moment the man can back to consciousness, he cries out in sheer agony from his injuries. However, he found himself tied to the tree thrown at by that giant Avvar woman through the pain. Around him were the corpses of his comrades and two angry women staring down at him. "Fucking bollocks," he hissed out through his teeth.

Sofie knelt in front of him, "I know you nor your friends here come from Redcliffe. Did Loghain send you?"

"Piss off Avvar cunt!" A pained-filled scream bellowed out of his mouth from Sofie pressing on his dislocated knee.

"Language if you please," The redhead scowled. "Answer my friend's question. Did Loghain send you?" He held his mouth shut to the man's credit while Sofie continued applying pressure.

"Alright, it's been a sucky day, and I'm losing my patience" He froze when Sofie's eyes became slits, and he could swear fire was burning right inside her veins. "Either you talk, or I'm actually going to hurt you now…"

"It wasn't the fucking regent!" The man yelled back in desperation. "Some Orlesian bitch hired us to kill you!"

Confusion glowed in Sofie's eyes; "Orlais doesn't even know about us."

"Not you! Her!" He motioned his head at Leliana, glaring. "tieing up a loose end, she said!"

...No, it couldn't be her...

"Was her name Marjolaine!?" The man was quiet before Leliana knelt and grabbed his collar, "Was it her!?"

The anger in her tone caught Sofie off guard as her friend shook the man in a rage. Her demeanor had changed completely.

"Maker damn it, yes!" Finally, the would-be assassin could hold it no longer, "That was her name!"

Leliana began breathing rapidly, her gaze becoming lost as she took a few steps back, clearly shaken. Sofie approached her with concern, slowly reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Leli?"

Taking a sharp, deep breath, Leliana knelt once more to set the man's knee in place, much to his pain. "Leave. Now" She ordered him, cutting him loose. "Just know that if you warn her, it's not us you will have to be afraid of."

The assassin stiffly nodded, struggling to get to his feet and limping away through the snow, as far as his legs could take him.

Leliana let out a shuddering sigh, burying her face in her hands. "I should have known... she's never going to let me go."

"Marjolaine... your bard mentor," Sofie said, recalling what Leliana told her.

"She must be here in Ferelden," The former lay sister muttered, slowly removing her hands from her face yet leaving one over her mouth. "Her agents must have finally spotted me during our travels. It's only now that they finally managed to reach me."

The Nord looked at her for a moment, silently pondering as a storm brewed behind Leliana's eyes. "What do you want to do?"

Leliana took a deep breath, her hand going to her pendant before momentarily stopping and slowly going back. "Marjolaine won't leave me alone, not while I still live… I need to confront her" She shifted her gaze towards Sofie, and the Nord saw just how afraid she was. "Can you help me?"

Sofie swore without a moment of doubt. "Always"

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX