Velabanchel, near the Antivan City, Month 11 - Guardian, 9:30 of the Dragon Age.

The squeak of rats filtered about along with the moans and screams of the, soon to be forgotten, prisoners held in the many 'rooms' of the prison. Held here King Maric in this place, the cold stone hay covered floor a thin strip of cloth that would be, hardly, considered a coverlet to keep out the cold. Though it was considerably warmer in the winters here than back home in his Ferelden. It was no longer his Ferelden, held still in his filthy flea-infested cell, Maric slipped in and out of sleep. Several dozen full moons have passed since his capture, even longer since he was clean and comfortable.

Had he deserved this, he hardly thought so. It felt as if what Asha'bellanar, Witch of the Kocari Wilds, spoke of in her ramshackle hut deep in the Wilds. With his thoughts left to the bitter words, his Light's cousin had left with him.

From that day since, the words echoed in his mind, his heart, during the moments of fleeting sleep, to the days he was being sent to the daily interrogations of the Crows deep in the House of Graves.

Painful thoughts of Deedolit, His Light, extinguished. Maybe he would see the Maker or her alluring smile if perchance during one of the many conceived tortures the Crows inflicted upon him to spill his secrets they consistently inquired of him.

It was the will of the Marker he only saw Deedolit's beautiful smile.

When Maric was given rest, he sought it gladly, his memories of his best friend cursing him, as he searched for him, doubtful, in hindsight.

'I figured you halfway to Orlais in a box.', or maybe given him up for dead. Maric snorted at the thought.

The Grey Wardens sought to enter Ferelden for the Warden Commander's brother. Seeking his aid into the Deep Roads when they wished for the way to be shown, Maric volunteered. Much to Loghain's chagrin.

Maric would slip away, apologetically, but knowing that his son and Kingdom would be safe with Loghain. This was just what he needed when he agreed. The King went searching for a lost relic under the guise of aiding the Wardens.

What he had not expected in his mad search was the Fade trying to claim them as they approached the Ancient Dwarven king's throne. Of seeing Katriel once again with her pleas for him to stay with her this time.

The hearing faint heartbreaking cries in the distance, he knew he could not stay. Of Fiona's nightmare, she buried deep play in the Fade. He sympathized, gaining a better understanding of her hostility toward him when she spoke to him. Had not expected her to instigate the kiss.

Maric voiced his concern. There in the Deep Roads, where he made love to his Katriel, hurting another. It may have been many years since Katriel had trapped them there in the Deep Roads. The memories are still fresh. Even seeing Katriel in the fade had sparked pangs of guilt. The cries in the Fade were haunting. It allured Fiona, this human who was far from the one who abused her.

Here Maric was running, running to find Deedo now that he had lost his Queen and Katriel. She had spoken of an excursion to a lost land that they funded, searching ruins for a mirror. He listened as she spoke.

He knew he would do anything within his power and beyond to keep his light from staying away too long. The text she spoke of said that there is a connection between mirrors. Showing him what she had written from the books she scoured.

One happened upon her world but was lost to the times, and the other connecting to Thedas.

It was not until they reached the surface once more that the whole excursion was not just orchestrated by the talking Darkspawn the Architect. It was also his First Enchanter Remille conjuncture.

His night with Warden Fiona, Xellexes saw that with his keen eye. The High Elf came to Ferelden seeking Deedolit. She went missing just a short time after she left for her home on Norrath.

Occupied Kinloch Hold, Month 11 - Firstfall 9:10 of the Dragon Age.

Bursting through the doors of Kinloch was Loghain, followed by Xellexes, who shared a look. Relief washed over the High Elf. Loghain shook his head. Approaching Maric as he held the elbow of a small Elven woman, raised an eyebrow swiftly replaced with a poignant look.

"Brother, where is Deedolit?" Maric asked, looking behind the tall Elven man.

Fiona felt a small twinge, ignored the two men speaking, checking on Duncan.

Xellexes shook his head. "That is what I have come to ask of you."

The emotion vanished from his face. "When?"

"A few months after we had returned home. She would not have left the children. I searched everywhere on Norrath. Seeking our gods, even in their vast knowing could not find her. I assumed she here."

Maric felt his throat tighten. "You told Loghain?" Seeing Xellexes nod took a ragged breath before speaking. "How did you get here so quickly?"

Xellexes looked away. "That… I wish not to discuss." Seeing a creature standing as they held him captive. "Pray, what is that?"

Looking to Fiona and Duncan as they stood by his side now. "A Darkspawn, he was once like you and me."

Xellexes's eyes narrowed. Deedolit informed him of the creatures, but he heard it speak. That was most intriguing. "Tell me everything that happened to you." Looking from Duncan, Maric, and Fiona.

Maric nodded.

Then Xellexes' words echoed. "Hold this one close. I fear my cousin is no longer."

The warm lips of the elf he saw tortured in her nightmare needed comfort. This is what they sought. The comfort Deedo and Loghain spoke of.

The Royal Palace, Month 8 - August 9:11 of the Dragon Age.

Months later, Duncan sent word he was heading back to Ferelden, along with Fiona. Anticipating their return, the words Xellexes haunted him still. The king was already awake with the news of Deedo still looping endlessly in his mind. Possibly seeing the small Elven woman he cared for would stay with him to ease the loneliness.

It was not to be. Fiona could not stay in Denerim with him, with reason. She went through her Calling, several years before her time.

It was not the sole reason for her coming back to the man she placed her trust in. With them, brought a bundle of light, like what Deedolit had spoken with him. When he looked upon the small child in Duncan's arms, his heart swelled once more.

12:01 am, Velabanchel, Month 11 - Firstfall 9:31 of the Dragon Age.

The night the Archdemon fell, Maric had heard, the Blight came either way. The Architect, thinking, speaking Darkspawn, turned a few of the small band of Wardens he accompanied into the Deep Roads, into creatures like himself.

Duncan and Fiona were right. It was no more than a foolhardy lie. The Blight still came. Perhaps the Architect perished amongst the throng that lived below them. It was quite possible they tore him to pieces, along with Utha. The monster admitted he held some control over the Darkspawn.

An announcement of a new King sitting on the Throne. Even in the darkest of places, news spread like wildfires. He had heard it all. Had hoped to keep the boy away from the weight of the crown. Though it was not meant to be. Silent mourning for his fallen son, Cailan.

'Oh, my sons, I do so apologize.' Maric silently apologized. Raking his hands in his tangled hair before slipping into another fruitless sleep.

The Witch foretold of the coming. Two surviving Wardens slew the Archdemon. Could it have been his Warden? Or his son's keeper? He knew not the specifics, just glad for it.

'They will be with you always…' Maric sighed, remembering his Light's words to him. That was not so. Everyone he loved has met the Maker.

The Royal Palace, Month 2 - Guardian 9:32 of the Dragon Age.

The West Tower Archives of the palace is where the High Elf spent the past month, from their return from Ostagar. Secluded away reading volume upon volume of the past two decades she had missed. Taking notes of the nobles who were now leading their lands, as well as referring to the letters that Maric had left her as well. Noting wet spots that smeared the ink in places. He wrote as if she had died.

Finally, closing one of the many books set before her, she closed her eyes, feeling stiff as she stood. How long had she sat in one position she hardly knew.

It was late afternoon from the looks of the light outside. A groan came from the hound that lay at her feet. Tengu, Olett's war hound, lifted his head. "Are you hungry? Shall we find something in the kitchens?"

With a yip of agreement, Deedo stretched her long body, following the hound out of the Tower, making their way to sate their hunger.

As the pair neared the corridor of the Grand Hall, the sounds of arguing came from behind the closed doors as she stopped to listen.

Coming before the doors, the guard opened it for her to step through. She saw Alistair rubbing his forehead as several farmers quarreled about the need for supplies to rebuild, in who would need them more.

"Lady Deedolit Swiftleaf." The guard announced as she stepped through the entryway.

With a sharp, nonthreatening glance at the young man, she snorted. "That was hardly necessary." Deedolit reprimanded the guard. He looked away sheepishly.

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief, getting up to greet his adoptive mother as the others bowed. " Thank the Maker. Is there anything I could help you with, Mamil ?" His eyes pleaded with her to relieve him of the bickering. Even Eamon was at his wit's end.

The term of endearment caused the elf to smile brightly, taking Alistair's hands in hers. "I could not help but to overhear, coming to see if there was anything that I may assist you with." bowing her head to the young king then the court.

Not missing the opportunity, one farmer who demanded to be served, from what the Elven Lady heard outside of the doors, first spoke up.

"Pardon my interruption, your Grace, I… we, were discussing the call of supplies to rebuild our homes."

The Koada'dal nodded as she released Alistair's hands. Deedo came to stand before the common folk. "I see no problem with this."

The farmers smiled as if they met their demands with the help of her ladyship.

"However. If the supplies were available to send out, we would do so gladly." Deedo clasped her hands neatly as she garnered their reaction.

They looked at each other in confusion. With a soft smile, she continued. "It is also in consideration that with circumstances as they are, we are gathering as many supplies as possible to rebuild from the devastation you all… we all have suffered. I know I ask you much if you could wait just a while longer."

Smiling softly, she touched each of the ones closest to her shoulders. "As soon as we are able, supplies will arrive on your threshold." Gesturing for them to partake in a small gift, one farmer gawked at her. "Yes?" Deedolit smiled at the woman.

"You, you were there during the rebellion, I…" The woman frowned, her brows knitting together.

"I was there, yes."

The others looked upon the woman and nodded, murmured agreeing. The sweet-faced woman could hardly believe her eyes. "I was one of those children you brought peace. I tell my grandchildren of the magic of that night."

Deedo's heart tightened. She smiles thoughtfully, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I remember you." She placed a gentle finger on her nose, reached into her gown pocket pulled a few gold coins. "Bring the children. I wish to meet them." The woman nodded, bidding her farewells.

Eamon looked to the woman, stunned beyond words about how gently she easily calmed the room. Hearing the woman speak of the past, he could understand. He heard the stories of a magical night during the hard times. He and his younger brother were sent away far from Ferelden.

Alistair smiled his thanks, then saw that the farmers had a basket from the bounty that the Alienage provided. Deedo hid a yawn behind her hand as she saw Alistair return. "You should rest, mother, you have been in the archives from sun up to sun down for the past month, here I hardly remember if I have fed Tengu."

With a nod, she patted the large dog on his head. "He needs a treat, keeping at my side as he has." Tengu yipped in agreement.

Alistair nodded, having waved for someone to take the hound to the kitchens. "How do you do it?" Crossing his arms over his chest, with a lopsided smile reminiscent of his father.

The young king's tone sounded familiar. She could only smile as she respond. "What?"

"Deal with the people as you do, set their minds at ease. Olett had her way too. Is it a spell?" He suspected the subtlety that his mother may weld.

Laughter filled the hall. "Hardly. I am a merchant's daughter. I have seen my father work with the people, his staff and others, as well as my mother, each with a firm but gentle hand."

Then Deedo stood taller, clearing her throat, deepening her voice, "Never let them walk over you, you state what is what leaving it as such." Imitating her father, nodding to punctuate the words her father had spoken to her.

Alistair and Eamon chuckled. "I thank you for that. I am still learning to govern. Now if only we can gather the supplies to distribute to the ones who need it in haste."

"I will help you, you should know this." Deedo cupped his cheek.

Eamon stepped closer to them. Hushed as he spoke with the King. "Alistair. I have contacted Teagan. There should be some supplies to spare coming soon."

"Ah see! Xev Bristlebane smiles upon us!" Deedo patted her son's shoulder. "This is a start. Thank you, young Eamon." The Lady smiled warmly. "Something I had tasked Xellexes and Ruroni with. When they arrive, there will be more than enough supplies."

Eamon gave his thanks, bowed his head, excusing himself, heading for an early dinner.

Deedo yawned again. Alistair, seeing this, sent her on her way to get a good night's rest. Deedolit chuckled, agreeing that the sudden need to sleep was overwhelming.

She suddenly caught herself a few times on her way to the apartments. Deedo tried to hide her yawns as she passed each person going about the duty. Once in her chambers, Deedo crawled straight into bed. She will rest her eyes but for a few moments. Her hand tucked comfortably, felt something under her pillow. Another yawn, too tired to open her eyes, slept with the object in her hand.

.

.

.

The Fade, the realm of dreams, is a place that leads you to what you desire most. Also, the realm in which benign spirits keep watch over those who enter, or the wildest, harmful demons who seek ways outside of their Fade home.

Deedo was here, again, walking a path, birds chirping sweet songs, the trees reaching for the skies. Woodland creatures darting to and fro in play. So comfortable and peaceful she smiled, watching fawns watch her with interest alongside their mother doe. A large white stag stood off in the distance, looking about his surroundings, then eyeing her, seemed to bow his mighty head.

Deedo looked ahead, then her eyes caught a man tall and fair. Blond hair blew in the breeze, wearing simple clothing from his profile, but donning a regal cape.

"Maric?" voice but a whisper, as if she would be mistaken if she spoke any louder.

Hearing the wind whisper to him turned to see a vision before him. A smile broadened and opened his arms in greeting. "I've been waiting."

Deedo paused, unsure if she could trust this image before her. She read in Kinloch, read what happened or could happen, but she felt peace, laced with anxious energies. Taking his hand, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Maric just refused to acknowledge before what he heard was Deedo. Deedolit was no more. She had to be, Right?

The Koada'dal was there so vividly looking him in the eyes. Like when he first entered the Fade beholding Katriel. Every time he rested, she was there, clear as blue cloudless skies. She had been calling, searching for him and now another. He could hear her.

To see her in his dreams brought comfort. Now he felt something, saw something. Her smile had faded ever so slightly, no longer with the tearful cries he heard in the vast distance. He could hear her pleading, assuming it may just be a trick of the mind, a demon, like he had seen before in the Fade. He would force himself to wake just as he went to call out to her. Now he held her close.

Month 2 - Guardian, 9:32 of the Dragon Age.

Many more nights had passed, this night he made bold his actions. He did not regret his decision. Maric opened his eyes. He felt her, her warmth, her love. Petal's soft lips against his, felt her wet tears as she saw he was hearty and hail. But it was within the Fade, a facade he could not tell her where he was.

Assuredly, she would come for him. No more allowing her to risk her life. She was not dead. Thanking the Maker when he opened his eyes, looking into the moonlit sky.

The sound of clinking metal and shouting jarred him from his thoughts. Dread filled the air as the sudden rush of cold permeated the stone cell between him and his cellmate. The sudden quiet sent his nerves wildly tingling.

Maric feared that this was the time his luck was finally near its end. Whatever was approaching, Maric knew it was coming for him. Quickly, he spoke to his cellmate, reminding him once more.

"If a woman with the hair the color of moonlight comes seeking me, she will have with her my son, let them know I was here. What they did to me, tell them mostly, I am so sorry." His head bowed as he prayed his luck has not waned.

The Apartments of Norrath's Ambassador.

The High Elf awoke. She felt warm, her cheeks wet with tears. The Lady saw and spoke to Maric as if he would be right before her. She remembered her hand felt something before she slumbered. Sitting up, she moved the pillows, tossing them to the foot of the enormous bed. A thick paged black leather book was under one as a small brown leather journal was under her head rested.

Reaching for the black book, the wood snapped suddenly in the fireplace. She withdrew her hand. Something about this book caused her fingers to tingle. Picking up the smaller journal, she opened the pages. It was Olett's, her handwriting scrawled across many pages. Reading each page and notation, her child kept detailed accounts.

Deedo smiled. "Without me by her side, she has the Swiftleaf attributes." from her daughter's time in the tower to the night before the Archdemon fell.

Reading thoroughly, she saw how she was greeted by Cailan, who missed his godmother. How she found her brother, Ikal'antulien. Those whom she came across lent her aid. Much of what Alistair and Morrigan had shared. Deedo did not know she touched many lives.

Morrigan mentioned more than once. Olett wrote about the book she found in the mage tower when she had to go back for Eamon's son Conner, freeing Cullen. Wynne, coming with them to lend her aid.

Morrigan told her that the book was Flemeth's lost spellbook.

"Tuesday 8th of August

Morrigan told me they lost the book for a time. It should contain spells to bolster her powers. She would teach me as her thanks once she gained the knowledge. I have no reason to doubt her. Her mother helped us, even though Morrigan first protested she has become a good friend. I have learned from her as much as she from me. We will discuss her findings later."

"Saturday 22nd of Kingsway

We made camp near Solider's Peak. The horrors, demons poured from a mirror there. I thought I had my fill of demons. I believe what we saw, Alistair confirmed that this was possibly the reason the Grey Wardens were exiled from Ferelden. The mage we saw in the waking dreams was Avernus was still alive after over two centuries! How it is possible? I wanted to question him more. I could not bring myself to do so. I negotiated a deal with him to work for the Wardens when the time came. Alistair did not disagree. He nearly refuted, he understood. He was now reenlisted in the Wardens, which is something, as long as he is no longer using people for his experiments.

I looked over, and Morrigan seemed distressed. I go to speak with her. She looked at me, mortified. She told me the book was not what she had originally thought. It was a book on possession. Graphically detailed, she said. I asked to see it for myself, and she forbid me from looking at it. I agreed because it is Morrigan's way. I asked her was there anything else remotely useful within the pages. She shook her head, leaving it at that.

She asked a hefty favor… Kill Flemeth."

Deedo slowly looked at the black book that lay next to her. She reached her long fingers to touch the hardened, stitched leather-bound tome. An icy chill crept up her spine. Picking up the book, she flipped through the pages. Within several records of daughters, her taking their beauty for her own once her decrepit body was nearing its end. Deedo saw that she and her daughter were amongst the pages. How Flemeth singled her out when she was hidden amongst the trees. She purposefully sought a host instead of producing one.

"The elf grown. She would not be a viable host. I will have to keep my eyes on this one. She may be the key."

Deedo felt her stomach turn. She forced herself to flip through the pages. Daughter upon daughter listed. Morrigan was the last daughter to have been blood born of the Wilds Witch.

The next page. Held what anyone would repulse against. It was true, Flemeth had plans designed for a child for her purpose.

"She is with child. I felt them within her. I will alter my plan. The body will be a value once it is born."

Deedo covered her mouth. She felt the need to empty the contents of her stomach. This was why Morrigan did not answer her. "She knew of me. Flemeth taught her." Picking the journal up again, she leafed through it. Finding it spoke of a ritual, to gather the soul of the old god. To house in the body of a child.

Gathering both books, she headed to find Alistair. She needed more answers. Loghain had told her that the child Morrigan carried was his. Loghain spared Alistair a bastard. Deedo stopped in her tracks. Her bare feet feeling the carpet beneath her, blinking away tears, the tears on the pages Maric left. The designs for the child, the secreted words in the Witch's hut between them.

Her pulse quickened, Maric, he used her?