NSFW CHAPTER AHOY keep your distance if you’re not interested in that sort of thing.

Couple of soundtracks for today: the dance in the market (which I wrote ages ago, like Chapter 2 ages ago) is inspired by (the first half of) Aldnoah’s Ver$. I also used something purported to be Levi’s theme to help with the Sten fight. GitS made an appearance as well. Then, the hurt/comfort/smexy teimuz was brainstormed to Omake Pfadlib from SnK.

Actually, originally the cuddles from the end of the previous chapter were also going to be sex, but the Haven sex was always supposed to come first, and it didn’t make sense to delay Soldier’s Peak at all, so just plain fluffy cuddles there. There’ll be a few more kinky bits in the story, anyway; in fact, I’m not sure whether or not to write the second half of this part. It doesn’t add anything to the story (I’m told sex never does unless it’s literally PWP) but smut is good, right? Anyway. AVERT YER EYES, CHILDREN

I wanted to include more lore, but the story was going at a snail’s pace anyway so if you also want lore I’mma havta say “go play the game again”. And then the part between ‘entering Haven’ and ‘finding Genitivi’ was super hard to write, for some reason. I need to write more horror stories. : )

The part where Elizabeth breaks Sten’s maul was researched a bit, and it’s difficult for a sword to break a weapon (they were designed to take a lot of stress, medieval weapons), but not impossible. Skallagrim did at least one video on how a sword can’t easily cut through a spear haft (watch full video for comments on fighting techniques; also this wasn’t the vid I was thinking of but it will do just as well), which is applicable here as well. My friend Thari suggested that the maul could break at the last rivet between the head and the handle, as that is probably where all the stress goes, especially if the maul’s been heavily used (as Sten’s has) even if not overly damaged in combat. Also, this is a fight between a human with an enchanted sword and a Qunari, soooo… that could shake things up too.

Or maybe it was ~*fate*~.

I made some Dreamselfy dolls of Elizabeth and Zevran. : )

 

Previous chapter: Soldier’s Peak; next chapter: Denerim

 

Haven

It took them another four days to travel to Denerim. Elizabeth hadn’t been in the capital in some time, and she was a little nervous that they would be spotted by one of their many enemies there, but people kept their heads down in the cold, even the guards. They took rooms in an inn near the marketplace, and set about the daunting task of finding anything that could lead them to Brother Genitivi, Ferelden’s expert on Andraste. Few people, it seemed, had ever heard of him, let alone knew him, even at the Chantry.

While the others split up to do odd jobs, earning themselves enough coin to continue staying at the inn as long as they needed to, Elizabeth and Leliana went to find Marjoleine along with Zevran, Huan, and Morrigan, who was not interested in taking a job of any kind and was spending most of her time climbing on things she shouldn’t and getting yelled at by random people. The directions they were given were clear enough, and they found a perfectly unassuming door in a maze of side-streets on the north-west side of the city that matched their description.

“Let me go first,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t answer the door herself if she is as you say.”

“I’ll just hide at the back here,” Leliana said, giggling nervously and slipping behind Zevran, pulling her hood over her head.

Elizabeth knocked at the door, which was answered by a surly-looking guard. “What d’you want?”

“I’d like to speak about the job with the red-haired girl,” Elizabeth said forcefully, trying to pretend she was a mercenary. Thankfully, Morrigan didn’t snicker.

“Don’t remember her hirelings had so many women in their group… This is all of you that came back?”

Elizabeth nodded, and they were shown into an elegant sitting room. A lovely Orlesian woman rose to greet them.

Leliana stepped forward and threw back her hood. “Marjoleine.”

Marjoleine’s eyes flickered as she stifled a gasp and re-evaluated the situation. Elizabeth kept her face stern and her head high, tacitly warning the woman that Leliana was not to be trifled with.

“Leliana,” Marjoleine said at last, faking a smile. “How lovely to see you again, my dear! You must excuse the shabby accommodations… I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with?The country smells like wet dog, everywhere, in my hair, in my clothes… I cannot get it out.”

“Stop babbling and explain why you tried to murder my friend,” Elizabeth said coldly.

“So business-like, your companion…”

“You framed me,” Leliana burst out. “I was caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not. Why do you hate me so? What did I do that you want me dead? Or did you never care for me in the first place!?”

“Dead? No… my Leliana, I know you and what you are capable of. Four, five men, you can dispatch easily. They were sent to make you come to me. And here you are!”

“No!” Leliana said. “You sent an entire mercenary company after me and my friends! Your lies are so transparent. What are you doing in Ferelden now?”

Marjoleine sighed. “In truth, you have information that can be used against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you think I did not know where you are? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? “What is she up to?” I thought. “The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy… This is not like her.” You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched… but no letters were sent, no messages. You barely spoke to anyone.”

“Sounds awfully dull,” Zevran murmured.

“Clever, Leliana, very clever,” Marjoleine said, shifting restlessly. “You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry so suddenly… What was I to think?”

“You think I left because of you?” Leliana’s voice rose in disbelief. “You think I still plot some kind of… revenge? You are mad, Marjoleine. Paranoid! Did you not see the Blight closing in on that little town? Did you not see the Grey Wardens? Not everything is about you, Marjoleine!”

“And these are the fabled Grey Wardens?” Marjoleine said, turning to the rest of them. “If I were you, I would not believe a thing she says. She will use you. You look at her and see a simple girl, a friend, trusting and sweet and warm. It is an act.”

“I am not a Grey Warden, I trust no one, and I am friends with no one,” Morrigan said, bored. “May we move on?”

“That is who you are, Marjoleine,” Leliana said. “I am not you. I left because I did not want to become you.”

Marjoleine took a step forward, and as Leliana stiffened, took her face in her hands. “Ah, but you are me, Leliana. No one will understand you as I do because we are one and the same. You know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the Game; you reveled in the power it brought you. You cannot deny this.”

Leliana shrugged off Marjoleine with a swift movement. “You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjoleine. I want you out of my life forever. You may fight, or you may leave. It is your choice. Don’t come after me, and I won’t come after you.”

Marjoleine snorted. “You think you can kill me, my Leliana? I made you. I can destroy you just as easily.”

“Not while we’re here,” Elizabeth said, shrugging her shield off and into her hand, just in case. The bodyguards were fidgeting. “Leliana will be free of you, one way or the other.”

“You are a child,” Marjoleine said dismissively. “But if you insist…” She turned to walk away, and suddenly whirled, a pair of throwing knives spitting out from her hand at them. Elizabeth flung her shield up reflexively and felt them connect and bounce off, and then the bodyguards were attacking them. One of them halted abruptly, frozen solid by Morrigan, and the other gurgled as Zevran appeared behind him and cut his throat.

Marjoleine had vanished into the next room, and now she reappeared for an instant, shooting an arrow at them. Elizabeth ducked and it smashed the window, and Leliana took a shot back, but Marjoleine ducked back behind the doorway into safety.

“Be careful,” Leliana called as Elizabeth moved cautiously towards the doorway. “She is incredibly dangerous when cornered.”

“So are we all,” Morrigan said, sending now a fireball into the next room. It exploded with a ‘foom’ and paper and cloth caught on fire. Elizabeth could hear Marjoleine coughing.

Elizabeth swung suddenly into the room, around the corner where she knew Marjoleine was, her shield high. She was partly blind, but she wouldn’t get an arrow to the face. She wasn’t expecting Marjoleine to crash into her, striking her shield aside, grabbing her by the sword arm and trying to stab her with a dagger. Elizabeth retained the presence of mind to grab the dagger hand with her shield hand, and the two women reeled back and forth, neither able to attack the other. Marjoleine was no weakling, either, and even as Elizabeth tried to angle her sword to cut her, Marjoleine brought up a foot and kicked her in the gut, sending her stumbling back. She tripped over something and fell on her back. The Orlesian threw herself at her, smiling triumphantly as the dagger arced towards her throat; Leliana’s arrow missed high.

Elizabeth kicked out, knocking Marjoleine back in turn, and even as the woman recovered herself, half-pulled herself to sitting and stabbed. Marjoleine groaned and slumped over the sword, and blood ran down to the hilt.

Elizabeth pulled her sword back and used it to help herself to her feet; Zevran was there to help her, but she was, miraculously, unhurt.

“You are on fire,” Morrigan observed, and Elizabeth jumped and patted out the smouldering patch on her pants.

Leliana sighed as she lowered her bow. “So in the end she was too paranoid for her own good. She… I suppose she always used people, used them and discarded them… to survive. She loved me as long as she could use me, but when I started doing my own thing, I became a problem.”

“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.

“It just hurts… hurts to think that I never really knew her. I thought I was close to her, before she… betrayed me. The first time.” She sniffled. “What if she’s right, though? What if… she and I really are the same? What if I’m going to turn into her?”

“She will never use or betray anyone again,” Elizabeth said. “Without her, you can choose to be yourself, not her.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “You are both nauseatingly naive. I should have gone with the walking heap of rubble.”

“Oh!” Leliana brightened. “That’s right! I’m taking all us girls shoe-shopping, now that we’re finally in Denerim!”

“Even me?” Zevran said, batting his eyelashes at her.

“I meant Elizabeth and Morrigan, and Wynne and Shale.”

“Shale?” Morrigan asked in disbelief. “Shale doesn’t need shoes.”

“You never know,” Leliana said mischievously. “She said she wouldn’t mind having some red shoes.”

“Pigeon-blood red, of course,” Zevran said.

Leliana laughed. “Maybe. But if they make her happy, then mission accomplished! Well, I’m… I’m satisfied. I think. I need to pray on it. But I… we accomplished something. I’ll meet you back at the inn this evening.”

“Go on, chantry girl,” Morrigan dismissed her. “Meanwhile, I am going to do some of my own shopping.”

“Don’t get in trouble,” Zevran said with a wink, and Morrigan rolled her eyes as she stalked away.

He and Elizabeth and Huan walked in silence for a while. The Denerim market square was bustling with energy, and the sun was shining in that lazy, late-afternoon way, spreading an almost warm light over the trampled snow. It almost seemed news of the Blight had not touched the city. Vendors cried their wares, children ran and shrieked to each other, throwing dirty snowballs at all and sundry, dogs barked, and in a corner of the market, some minstrels were playing.

“You tend to get up to interesting things,” he said at last.

“Hm? What do you mean?”

He grinned. “You meet interesting people and then sometimes you kill them. I’m glad I’ve stayed with you.”

“I’m not going to send you away,” she said, blushing. She wanted to clarify that, but couldn’t find the words. Her brisk stride slowed as she registered the tune the minstrels were playing. “I… know this song.”

“Do you indeed?” he asked. “That’s interesting, for I know it too. I wouldn’t have thought you would know it, here in Ferelden.”

“I danced to this once, with my father, at a ball at Highever… It was played a little differently, of course, but I know the tune.”

“And I know the steps. Strange, the things one learns as an assassin.” He held out his hand to her. “Dance with me.”

She blinked and accepted the hand uncertainly. For an instant the world seemed to her to hold its breath.

Then she was pressed flush against his body, his right arm holding her close, his left hand holding hers gently but firmly, and they were moving in time to the music.

He was an excellent lead, and her feet followed his skillful steps. Her cheek was against his, and she inhaled his scent – leather and sweat and Antivan spice. She was very aware of the firmness of his body even through their armour and thick wool winter tunics, the lean strength in the arms that held her, the gentle sound and feel of his breath on her cheek and ear and neck, the shimmering gold of his hair against his bronzed skin. She closed her eyes and leaned more deeply into him as he deftly swung them around the small space they had to themselves.

Gradually, their movements grew less, until they were standing in one place, their arms around each other, swaying to the last notes of the music.

Elizabeth inhaled deeply, almost a sigh of contentment, and opened her eyes, raising her head slightly to look into his golden eyes. The look on his face was unexpectedly tender, and her eyes were suspiciously wet, though no tears fell. But she smiled, the happiest smile she had made in months. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” He leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss.

She couldn’t stop smiling.

 

A few days went by. They did not see Bann Teagan, not that Elizabeth sought him out – they had no news for him. They heard that Teyrn Loghain was traveling the Bannorn, coordinating the defenses against the darkspawn horde, at least of the Banns loyal to him, but Arl Howe was still in Denerim. Elizabeth made no attempt to seek him out, either. She had more important things to do, and while she grew restless at the thought that he was in the same city as her, she didn’t feel herself ready, either. It would take a great deal of planning to get to him, let alone kill him. Zevran offered to help, but she turned him down. They were having enough trouble finding Genitivi.

But when a few days later they had met for dinner, Alistair was late. When he did arrive, he burst through the door of the inn and stomped excitedly over to their table, scattering melting snow everywhere and leaving enormous boot prints on the ground.

“What?” Morrigan demanded.

“Goldanna!” he announced to the table, but mostly looking at Elizabeth. “I found her! She really exists!”

“How wonderful for you,” Morrigan said, and returned to her food and drink.

“She is your sister, yes?” Elizabeth asked, unable to forget what she had seen in the Fade, when Alistair’s demon had taken on what she presumed to be his sister’s form.

“Half-sister. I told you my mother was a servant, right? I did some investigating after I became a Grey Warden, and I found out she had a daughter, Goldanna. Well, I think today I found out where she lives!”

“That’s wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “So you’ve been to see her?”

Alistair immediately backpedaled. “Oh, no, no no no. I… I couldn’t. Not by myself, anyway. But I want to. She’s the only family I have left, really, and the only one not mixed up in all this royal nonsense. So… I’d like to go see her. Maybe warn her about the Blight, help her out somehow, I don’t know. If something happened and I never spoke to her, I’d never forgive myself.”

“So you want someone to hold your hand?” Morrigan asked caustically. “You can’t even visit a fellow human by yourself, and you’re to be king? My, this country is in a bind.”

Alistair swatted at her impatiently. “I’m not inviting you.”

“Pity,” Morrigan said. “If she turns out to be a shrew, I’m sure I’d have a grand time baiting her.”

“I’ll come with you,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not a problem.”

“Thank you ever so much,” he said, and turned his attention to his plate with great studiousness as their companions broke into chatter about his announcement.

When they were finished, Elizabeth bundled back up, and so did Alistair, and they set off into the cold night. With much hemming and hawing and consulting of some hastily scribbled directions, Alistair led them through the market to a residential corner near the elven alienage. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed.

“That’s the house! I’m almost sure of it… yes, this is the right address. She could be inside. Shall we… go and see?” His voice dropped in volume shyly at the end of it, and she nodded encouragingly.

“Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don’t know what to expect.” He began to talk very rapidly. “I’m so glad you agreed to come along with me. I’d rather you were there than anyone else in the group.” Suddenly, he turned around. “Or, we could leave, I suppose. It’s late and it’s rude to call on people after dark, isn’t it? Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”

Elizabeth grabbed him by the arm, halting him in his tracks. “Get back here, Warden Alistair. We came all this way, it would be rude not to at least say hello.”

“Will she even know who I am?” Alistair babbled. “Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange. ‘Sister’. ‘Siiiiisterrrrrr’.” He tried the word several different ways, and Elizabeth had to laugh. “Oh, I’m babbling. Maybe we should go. Let’s go. Let’s just… go.” Apparently he meant to the house, because he strode to the door, cleared his throat, and knocked.

The door was opened by a cranky-looking woman, several years older than Alistair, with brown hair that was already showing grey hairs. She stared at Alistair silently.

“Uh… Hello?” Alistair’s scraped-together nerve was failing him quickly. “Are you… Goldanna?”

“You have linens to wash?” the woman demanded. “I charge three bits on the bundle, you won’t find better. And don’t trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she’s foreign and she’ll rob you blind.”

“I’m not here to have any wash done,” Alistair said, laughing nervously. “I- My name’s Alistair. This may sound a little strange to you, but if you are Goldanna, well then… I suppose I’m your brother.”

“My what?” Goldanna demanded. She still hadn’t invited them in, and she held the door ready to close. “My name’s Goldanna, yes, but… what sort of tomfoolery are you up to?”

“Look,” Alistair said, getting a hold of his excitement, “our mother, she was a servant at Redcliffe castle, wasn’t she? Long ago, before she died. So-”

“You!” Goldanna cried, pointing at him. “I knew it! They told me you was dead. They told me the babe was dead along with Mother, but I knew they was lying!”

“They told you I was dead?” Alistair asked. “Who? Who told you that?”

“Them’s at the castle!” Goldanna said, suddenly whisking them inside. The inside of her house was low, dark, and smokey; Elizabeth thought that it had not been cleaned in a while, regardless of linen washing. But at least they were out of the cold, and there were chairs, and she seemed almost as excited as Alistair was. “I knew the babe was the king’s, and they said he was dead. Gave me coin to shut my mouth, and sent me on my way. I knew it!”

“I’m sorry, I… didn’t know that. I didn’t die. I’m… him. Your brother.” He shot a shy glance at Elizabeth, who smiled encouragingly at him.

Goldanna suddenly whirled about, turning her back to him. “Ugh, for all the good it did me! You killed Mother with your birth, and I’ve had to scrape by all this time. Twenty years and more! That coin didn’t last long, and when I went back to ask for more, they ran me off!”

Alistair blinked in surprised contemplation. “I’m sorry! But… that’s not really my fault, is it? Why are you mad at me? I didn’t even know you existed until a few months ago, and then I was becoming a Grey Warden, and…”

“Ooooh,” Goldanna said sarcastically, turning to face them and putting her hands on her hips. “A prince and a Grey Warden too, I see, I see. And who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don’t know you, boy. Your father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing! They tricked me good! I should have told everyone about you! I’ve got five young ones to feed, and unless you can help out with that, you’re less than useless to me!”

“Alistair came here hoping to find family,” Elizabeth tried to persuade her.

“And he found it! Three nieces and two nephews, and me, worked to the bone supporting them all. And what are you going to do about it?”

“I… we don’t have a lot of coin to spare,” Alistair said. “Grey Wardens don’t make a lot…”

“You come marching in here with your fancy armour and expect me to believe that? You must think I’m very stupid.”

“If we sold our armour, it would be very difficult to fight the Blight,” Elizabeth said coldly.

“And who’re you?” Goldanna demanded. “Some tart, following him around for his riches? Shameless filthy whore!” Elizabeth rose to her feet in anger, strode to the door, and slammed it behind her. It was not as well constructed as the door of the tavern in Orzammar, and she felt the whole house shake with a satisfying bang.

“Hey!” Alistair cried. “Don’t talk to her that way. She’s my friend, and a Grey Warden too!”

Elizabeth couldn’t hear much more; shaking with anger, she walked away in the direction of the market. Alistair came jogging to catch up to her a moment later.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know… I don’t know why we came.”

Elizabeth stopped. She had been offended – no one had ever spoken to her that way before in her life, and the insinuation had been more than she could bear, but… Alistair had been cruelly disappointed, and even as he apologized to her, she could see all his hopes crushed in his eyes.

She forced herself to take some deep breaths, calming her heart and her mind, and looked up at her friend. “I’ll get over a few ignorant insults. But I’m thinking we should have brought Morrigan after all.”

He choked out a miserable laugh. “Haha, yes, maybe. That shrew is my sister?” He was silent a long moment, and they trudged along together. “I… I guess I was expecting her to just accept me without question. Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I feel like a complete idiot.”

“You can choose your family too,” she said gently. “We’re family, now, aren’t we? After everything that we’ve been through?”

He considered that. “Yes, I suppose… I suppose you’re right. …Thank you. I’m glad you came with me.”

“Thank you for asking me,” she said.

 

Leliana took the women shoe shopping the next day, and while there was a little bit of friction between all their different personalities, Elizabeth had to say she had not seen the world from Leliana’s fashion-conscious point of view before. She couldn’t also say she found it particularly to her taste, but it was something different, and that was what they all needed. And it was amusing to see Shale arguing with a merchant over the colour of her thick leather and wood sandals. Leliana insisted that she get something, that they had enough extra money to spare a little for pretty shoes, and after some hesitating she relented.

They met the men in the afternoon. Zevran had been busy as well; he had gone to Mikhail Dryden a few days before and commissioned a new pair of daggers, and now he proudly showed them off. Sandal had enchanted them, and one was now tinged with frost, and the other made the air shimmer with heat. “I’m going to need them to keep up with you and your… electrifying battle style,” he said, winking at Elizabeth.

They were lucky, that day, it seemed – someone finally directed them to a little apartment that belonged to Brother Genitivi, where they were met by his assistant, a pale-faced young man named Weylon, who told them that he hadn’t seen Genitivi in months, and fretted that his quest for the Sacred Ashes of Andraste had led him into danger. He said he had seen some of the knights from Redcliffe, and after much cajoling and persuading, told Elizabeth where he had sent them: the inn at the head of Lake Calenhad. He seemed afraid, of something or someone, although it could have been simply the combined effect of Morrigan, Sten, and Shale.

So off they went immediately, tramping across Ferelden yet again with the roads in terrible condition for traveling, to the Lake Calenhad docks and the Spoiled Princess. It took them a week, dodging darkspawn; the Blight was encroaching further and further north, and scouting parties had managed to slip through the Bannorn all the way to the northern highway. They would be probing Highever, soon, Elizabeth knew, and that thought galled her. But for now she could do nothing to stop them, only avoid them – or destroy them when they were few in number.

It turned out that Oghren had a former girlfriend working at the Spoiled Princess, and while he noisily wooed her in front of the whole inn, Elizabeth pulled the innkeeper aside to ask questions.

It was not promising; the innkeeper was obviously trying to dodge her questions. Only when she put on her angry face and bared her teeth a little did he relent, and tell her that “they” had been watching the inn, watching for people who asked after Genitivi. Genitivi himself had not been in the area for several years. She shared a significant look with Alistair across the room, and when everyone had finished their drinks they left as normally as they could.

They had only just got back on to the highway when they were jumped by men in leather armour and dark hoods.

 

Elizabeth stormed into Genitivi’s apartment a week later. “You lied to me!”

The assistant turned an interesting shade of pale green. “Er… hello. It’s… good to see you alive. Again.”

“Cut the crap,” Alistair told him. “We just wasted two weeks when we could have been fighting the Blight or saving Arl Eamon or doing something useful. Who are you, and who were those men we killed?”

The assistant blanched further. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. What men?”

“I think he needs his memory jogged,” Shale said. “May I do it? Please?”

“You would probably kill him,” Sten said. “While satisfying, it would not be very helpful while we can still get answers out of him.”

“Y-you won’t take me alive!” the assistant stammered. “I’ll tell you nothing!”

“Standing beside me are an Antivan Crow and an Orlesian bard,” Elizabeth said. “Between them, you’ll tell me everything you need to know.” She felt Zevran’s wicked grin without looking at him and knew he was hamming it up. Leliana was more stone-faced.

“You really are angry,” Morrigan said. “I’m pleasantly surprised. Even a bit impressed.”

Something in the assistant’s behaviour changed, and he turned and bolted, sending a blast of magic back at them. Elizabeth ducked from the blast and felt a wave of sparks wash over her as the spell hit the wall and detonated. Huan lunged, grabbing him by the leg and bringing him to the floor. The man shrieked and twisted, trying to get away. Shale stomped over to him and smashed his face into the floor.

The man fell limp, blood streaming from his head onto the floor. Shale actually looked somewhat abashed. “Oops. You lot really are squishy, aren’t you?” Huan backed away from the body, shaking his head in confusion.

“I… really hope that doesn’t count as murder,” Alistair said.

“He sent us to a bunch of punk-ass assassins,” Oghren barked. “He deserves what he got.”

Elizabeth turned to Wynne, Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana. “Search everything. All of Genitivi’s notes, books, maps, amulets… anything he could possibly have that would give us a clue.”

Two days later, they had a map of the southwestern Frostback Mountains, proof that the assistant had been an imposter and the real Weylon was dead, and a name: Haven.

 

It took them a round two weeks just to make it to the southern Frostback Mountains. Bodhan and Sandal had stayed in Denerim, claiming – probably correctly, in Sten’s opinion – that they would only slow them down. Once there, they had to then actually find the village of Haven. They wandered so long that the snow began to melt; it was still not exactly warm, and it was horrifically muddy, equally difficult to travel in, and a lot less pretty than it had been while covered in snow. One valley looked much like another, all deep ravines with masses of deep green pine trees and sometimes a small lake at the bottom. If it hadn’t been for Morrigan, they would have been hopelessly lost and given up long before. They also ran short on food and had to supplement their diet with whatever they could hunt in the snow or mud, slowing them down further.

Tempers were not entirely even during the trip, either. Wynne and Morrigan nearly came to blows, or spells, and Zevran pestered Wynne to tears until Elizabeth told him sharply to behave himself. But as for her own relationship with Zevran, it stayed fairly steady. They somehow had many things to talk about, and he spent most of his time cracking wise to keep up the spirits of those who cared to listen.

But as for almost everyone else, it was a very silent group that made camp every evening and broke camp every morning.

It also made for strange conversations when someone did break the silence. “What do you suppose she sees in him, anyay?” Alistair asked Leliana one day, apparently not caring that both Elizabeth and Zevran were well within earshot.

Leliana smiled. “He’s handsome enough for some. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Don’t you think it’s a bit much? The hair, the… tattoos… the snarking…”

“I’m not sure I understand. A bit too much what? Do you have a problem with him?”

“Beyond the fact that he’s an assassin who’s tried to kill us more than once – and I’m totally including those antics with the log and the river from the other day in the ‘trying to kill us’ category – no, not really.” Leliana snorted. “Do women really go for that sort of thing?” Alistair asked, sounding honestly baffled.

“Where I come from, oh yes, they do,” Leliana assured him with amusement. “Yes, he’s a bad boy, but haven’t you noticed she’s a lot brighter in mood now than she was even a couple months ago? And, if I’m not imagining things, he is, too.”

“Really? Huh. It’s just… she’s been brought up pretty sheltered, and I feel like he’s seducing her.”

“And those blushing cheeks tell me you don’t actually mind imagining such a scenario,” Morrigan said. Elizabeth flushed and pretended even harder that she wasn’t listening.

Alistair glared at her. “These blushing cheeks are just worried you’re going to suck the blood out of them,” he muttered.

“If I feel the need to suck on anything of yours, Alistair, I assure you, you will be the first to know,” Morrigan retorted.

Alistair blinked and wrinkled his nose in horror. “That… was so not what I meant.”

“I almost wish I was back in my annoying village surrounded by annoying villagers and those vermin of the sky,” Shale growled, and everyone shut up.

And the next day, Elizabeth left her tent and nearly bumped into two meters of glowering Qunari. “Sten?”

“What exactly are we doing here?” Sten demanded. “I have followed you through these mountains and we have wasted almost as much time here as we spent gathering our allies before. Is this Arl worth so much to you?”

Elizabeth looked at him tiredly. “We’ve come this far.”

“We could have been fighting the Blight. You have your army. You could even seize the army of that Arl to add it to your own.”

“The political situation-” Wynne began.

“Is nothing compared to the fact that the darkspawn run rampant across your lands and you hide in the mountains looking for fairy tales!”

Elizabeth let out a slow breath and moved away from getting loomed over. “I’m frustrated about it too. But I will not give up on this. If you wish to return to Ferelden to take a more direct role, I will wish you well.”

“Unacceptable,” Sten said, unslinging his maul from his back. “You and the boy are the only Grey Wardens in this realm. Has it not been said many times that, for whatever reason, you are the only ones who can defeat this invasion? You are not making good decisions so I shall make them for you.”

Her heart pounded. “Are you going to attack me?”

Instead of being answered, she had to dodge to one side; the maul thudded into the ground behind her. She was shaking. That had been a full-powered swing. She had fought a couple of Qunari on their journey, but Sten was better than the random mercenaries they had encountered, and… she didn’t want to hurt him.

Zevran and Huan were trying to come to her aid, but Alistair, slack-jawed in apprehension, was holding Huan back. Sten simply knocked Zevran aside as if he wasn’t even there and continued advancing on Elizabeth, who kept backing away.

“Draw your sword!” Sten shouted. “Attack me! Prove to me that you are a warrior and not just a woman!” He swung the maul again, lunging forward with terrifying speed, and Elizabeth almost fell over backwards getting away. “I know you are no coward. Stop running!”

“I don’t want to fight you!” she cried. “Why are you doing this!?”

“Worthless dog! I will not follow you as you run from your true battle! Weak mewling princess! Empty-headed quim!”

Elizabeth’s eyes blazed and she drew her sword; not even bothering with her shield, she ran at him. She sidestepped his first attack, blocked his second, counterattacked and was blocked, blocked his counter-counter attack, and the maul clove in two at the head.

She stood with her sword wreathed in lightning and pointed at his throat. “You wouldn’t kill me. If I’m one of the Grey Wardens who are the only hope of the country, what did you hope to accomplish by that? To scare me into returning to Denerim and gathering my allies? To let you lead?”

He shook his head, and to her surprise, smiled, grim though it was. “I still owe you a life-debt. I would not kill you for that alone. I had to see that you had the strength to see this through.”

She blinked, frowned, sheathed her sword and walked off. As she passed Alistair she threw his errant sock, found in her bedroll, at him.

Zevran breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m rather glad I didn’t have to stab anyone on our side today.”

 

It was an overcast, dismal day a couple days later that they stumbled upon a path that led them to a tiny cluster of huts, which made Alistair brighten if only in anticipation of getting something ‘normal’ to eat.

There was a guard at the gate, which Elizabeth found odd in a village so small, and he did not look pleasant. “Be off with you, travelers. There is nothing for you here.”

Elizabeth got the feeling that being direct with someone so unwelcoming would end poorly. “Can we not at least trade for supplies? We have been low on food for weeks. What place is this?”

“This is the village of Haven,” the guard said.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Alistair lied. “Why do you live out here?”

“Our ways are not the ways of the lowlanders. We keep to ourselves. It’s more peaceful that way.”

Alistair nodded understandingly. “About buying food…”

“We have little enough to spare after the winter, but such as we have you can trade for at the shop. Keep to the road and leave when you’re done.”

“Such a charming place,” Alistair said sarcastically. “I can’t think why anyone wouldn’t want to visit.”

The feeling that something was wrong only grew as they entered the village and turned up the road towards the shop. Every person they saw stared at them in a hostile, suspicious manner, even the children. If she wasn’t mistaken, she also detected suspicious movement; they all looked as if they were trying to act casual, but some of them were slipping away. “They are hiding something, that much is obvious,” Morrigan said quietly. “I wonder what these not-lowlander ways are that he spoke of?”

“They’re clearly against things like smiling and small talk,” Alistair said. “Cheery lot, wonder if they’ve ever heard a joke?”

“Would you like me to pop their joke cherry?” Zevran inquired.

“Best not to,” Leliana said. “They look like they’re just waiting for an excuse to attack us with scythes and pitchforks.”

“We can take ’em,” Oghren said. “Buncha… whaddya call them? Peasants.”

“You would be correct,” Morrigan said. “But I believe our fearless leader would prefer to avoid bloodshed, even if it is inefficient.”

Elizabeth said nothing. Provoking her friends would only provoke the villagers. Although… they seemed to be doing that just fine on their own.

“I suppose we probably shouldn’t mention our real reason for being here?” Oghren said without even trying to lower his voice.

“Are you trying to get us attacked?” Elizabeth said sharply.

“Most of the village is following us,” Zevran whispered to her. “It might be advantageous to find a place to retreat to, for their sake as well as ours.”

“I agree,” Elizabeth said. “There’s a small hut past the shop. We’ll go there until we can find some way to defuse the situation and learn more.”

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “You can’t defuse zealots. ‘Tis a futile endeavour. But I suppose we now know what happened to our missing Chantry scholar.”

The villagers roared and charged.

“Go!” Elizabeth shouted. “Knock them down if you must. Don’t kill the children!” She lingered a moment; she could knock them down more easily with her shield. Huan, Sten, and Shale stayed with her. “What are you doing? They have weapons!” The adults had rusted swords, boathooks, farm tools; even the smallest children were armed with knives; all of them snarled at the three like wild animals. The gate guard was there, the only one with a proper weapon, a spear. Elizabeth had never seen such bloodrage from such ordinary-looking people, and she was more frightened by that than by any evaluation of their martial abilities.

“They will not hurt me,” Sten said. “I will help you defend our rearguard.”

“I hope it is not concerned about me,” Shale said.

“In your case I am much more concerned for them,” Elizabeth said.

“You should probably cease such foolish thoughts,” Sten said. “They are trying to kill us, children or no children. You should stop them.”

“They don’t know any better,” Elizabeth said, retreating in the direction of the hut. The others had already disappeared inside. She dashed in, followed by Sten, who slammed the door. Shale stood outside, barring the door more securely than anything they could have done on their own. Elizabeth heard improvised weapons splintering on the golem’s body, a few thudding noises, and then the sound of the villagers retreating.

“They will regroup,” Alistair said. “Isn’t this a nice pickle? How are we going to learn anything in this place? Without killing them all, I mean?”

“I don’t know, you could… kill them all,” Morrigan suggested, making a show of thinking deeply.

“What’s this?” Leliana cried from the back of the hut, where no one had looked yet. Her voice was shocked. “It’s… the body of a knight from Redcliffe; here’s the red castle emblem on his tunic. And over here…”

“That appears to be human blood,” Morrigan said.

“How do you know?” Wynne asked sharply.

“I simply know,” Morrigan said. “I also know that no human can lose that much blood and live.”

“How awful,” Leliana said.

Sten had found the knight’s belongings. “I will take this warrior’s weapon. He will not mind it being used on the ones who murdered him.”

Shale opened the door. “You might be interested to know that the apparent leader of this village is in the chantry up the hill. The ones who attacked us intend to go tell him we are here.”

“Let’s go to him before they do, then,” Elizabeth said. “He might be more willing to talk. Or he might not.”

“His death will not pacify these villagers,” Alistair warned her. “It might only stir them up even more.”

“The chantry will be more easily defensible than this place,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t want to hurt them, but surely they must know that attacking us is suicide.”

“Many folk will go to great lengths to protect what they believe in,” Morrigan said. “Even court death directly, knowingly or not. I can’t say I wouldn’t mind putting them in their place, even though I care nothing for their beliefs… or yours.”

“Let’s go now,” Elizabeth said, letting Morrigan’s comment pass. Under Shale’s cover, they jogged up the steep hill until they reached a building that was not exactly as Elizabeth was expecting, but still recognizable as a chantry.

Alistair and Zevran rushed the door, flinging it open and taking the people inside by surprise. As Elizabeth followed them in, she saw that they had interrupted a sermon – and there were at least as many people here as had attacked them in the village.

“Braska,” Zevran muttered from beside her. She straightened and did her best teyrn swagger up to the priest giving the sermon – the male priest. She had seen brothers, but she had never seen a male priest before. Men weren’t allowed to become priests.

The priest looked up, and though his face was startled and angry, he at least wasn’t screaming and attacking them with a candlestick. “Yes? How dare you interrupt our service?”

“Your people attacked us without warning or provocation, Father,” Elizabeth said sternly. “We do not wish to hurt anyone, so we have come here to ask you to tell them to stand down.” Behind her, she heard Sten and Oghren close the door.

“We are a shy people, and we do not like outsiders,” the priest said. “We would fight to protect our privacy and our ways. For what reason have you come?”

Elizabeth’s gaze hardened. “Would you also murder? We have come to find Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, nothing more. You may keep your traditions. We want nothing to do with them.”

“You would change us simply by being here,” the priest said, his face growing dark. “Your very presence brings us danger. You will reveal us to the wicked world outside!”

“How dare you question Father Eirik?” cried one of the villagers.

There was a pounding on the door. “Father Eirik! Father Eirik! Are you all right?”

“You are outnumbered,” the priest said. “Lay down your arms and we will allow you to leave unharmed if you swear never to reveal our existence.”

“I don’t believe you,” Elizabeth said shortly. “Tell me what happened to Genitivi, and we might leave.”

The priest raised his arms. “Destroy these invaders, my people!”

More than one member of their party offered up a curse of one kind or another, but Morrigan walked forward calmly, pointed her gnarled black staff at Eirik, and blasted him off his feet with a bolt of lightning. “Any questions?”

The villagers screamed and rushed them.

“Are we still trying not to kill children?” Zevran asked. “They don’t seem to have any qualms about trying to kill us.”

“If at all possible, do not kill children,” Elizabeth ordered.

“I mean, that really is Social Interaction for Beginners,” Alistair quipped, knocking over a woman with his shield and kicking her husband in the groin.

“I’ll be sure to make a note of that,” Morrigan said dryly. “Although I am quite certain this counts as Martial Interaction and not Social Interaction.”

“Isn’t Martial Interaction a type of Social Interaction?” Zevran asked.

“How about all you philosophers silence yourselves and concentrate on getting us out of here alive?” Wynne said, irritated.

It was only a few minutes before the villagers broke and fled, some of them jumping out the windows to get away from the powerful group. They left a dozen dead, including the priest, and several more unconscious or badly injured. Wynne went to help them, with Oghren guarding her in case they got any more ideas.

“Wonderful,” Alistair said. “Now how are we going to find out what happened to Genitivi?”

“Hold a moment,” Leliana called. “There is something here. A secret door, perhaps?” She tapped part of the wall, found a loose spot, and pushed it aside.

“Good eye,” Wynne said, finished with her ministrations.

“It was not that difficult to find… The floor has been scuffed, and the wall doesn’t quite look right. …Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked, coming quickly to her side.

A balding man lay curled on the floor, dressed in plain clothes. At the sound of their voices, he opened his eyes, and then grimaced in pain.

Elizabeth went to him. “Are you injured, ser?”

“My leg,” gasped the man. “I can’t feel my foot.”

“The leg will heal in time,” Morrigan told him, “but the foot may need to come off.”

He sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. But if the foot goes, it goes.”

“Nonsense,” Wynne scoffed. “Let me have a look at that.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” the man said. “I take it you’re not of the villagers.”

“No indeed,” Elizabeth said. “And I take it neither are you.”

“I am Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, from Denerim. I was… trying… to research the Sacred Ashes of Andraste.” He winced as Wynne prodded his leg, but she then raised her staff and with a glow of blue light, cast a healing spell. “Ah, thank you. That feels so much better! As I was saying, I believe I am close to Andraste’s final resting place; however, all there is to be found in this place is blasphemy. They kept me alive because they believed that my knowledge, as different as it is from theirs, might be useful to them, I believe. What brings you here?”

“We were actually looking for you,” Elizabeth said. “The Arl of Redcliffe lies in a coma, and his wife believes that only the Ashes will cure him.”

“The Arl of Redcliffe? He is a noble soul. How did he become ill?”

“He was poisoned on the orders of Teyrn Loghain.”

“Politics,” muttered Genitivi. “Never did anyone any good. And that explains why certain knights were ambushed by these cultists. Eirik, the village father, told me about it. He seemed so self-righteous, so smug, that he had tortured and killed these men. But the Ashes will certainly cure him, if we can find them. Let me come with you. There is an ancient temple up on one of these mountains, I believe, but the only way to get to them is through a network of caves controlled by the cultists. I know how to enter those caves.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth said. “Is your leg well? Can you walk?”

“I can walk well enough… some assistance would be greatly appreciated, however.”

He leaned on Alistair’s shoulder, and led them out of the Chantry and up the mountain until they reached a shallow cave in the mountainside. A large, old-looking carven stone door was at the back of the cave.

“How did you find this place in the first place?” Wynne asked.

“Pure chance. I wasn’t even expecting to find any village here, at first. I had thought that the temple that housed the Sacred Ashes was simply lost to time. It took years of study simply to narrow my search to this part of the mountains. Then, I found a mention in the Chantry business records of a village called Haven that was not on any map, so I decided to come see if they knew anything. It seems they know all too much, and are not willing to share.”

“We looked through your notes,” Leliana said. “You led us to this area as well, although we searched half the winter to find anything that might be a Haven.”

“Did not Weyland, my assistant, help you?”

“I’m afraid your assistant is dead,” Wynne said gently. “Whoever we met was an imposter, probably sent by the cultists to direct people into more ambushes. It was quite elaborate.”

“Oh dear,” Genitivi said. “I… I am sorry to hear that. Weyland was a good lad, so eager to help with my dull work.”

“If it’s any consolation, the cultist who impersonated him is also dead,” Morrigan offered.

“I suppose… that is something; no one else will be fooled and murdered, though I regret the loss of life… Now, let me see. Eirik had a medallion that could open this door.”

“I have it here,” Leliana said. “It looked important so I took it.”

“Perfect.” Genitivi took the medallion and did something twisty with it and an indentation on the stone door. With a final, gentle push, there was a click and the door swung open, revealing a vast cavern. At first glance, it looked like a naturally-formed cathedral of Orlais – Elizabeth had seen pictures in books like it. But as she looked closer, she noticed certain formations that were too regular to have been formed only by nature. The floor under piles of debris and still-unmelted snow was too level, and the pillars that reached to the roof were carved in curious fashions. The windows had the shape of pointed arches and light streamed in through them, showing the place in all its ruined beauty.

A dozen men hurried forward from the back of the hall, saw that they were not from the village, and yelled as they attacked. They were accompanied by knee-high lizards.

“Hm,” Geniviti said after the fighting was over. “It seems there are more cultists up here, trained as soldiers. I… think I will stay here and let you go on ahead.”

“Will you be safe here?” Elizabeth asked. “Someone can stay with you.”

“I will lock the door behind us, and if you kill all the cultists you find, I should be fine.”

“It’s a bit of a risk, but if they have more baby dragons, it might be a good idea to have everyone with us,” Alistair said. “Unless… umm…”

“You’re not trying to decide who might stay behind, are you?” Leliana said. “I for one have no intention of staying behind. And the others might get bored.”

“Wynne might be able to, she likes studying things…”

“Wynne is invaluable to our fights, though,” Leliana said. “If someone gets unlucky and badly injured, she’s the only one who can save them.” Wynne nodded slowly.

“All right, all right,” Alistair said. “Just… let’s be careful, all right?”

“I thank you for your concern,” Genitivi said. “Be careful yourselves. Don’t become too distracted by the beauty of this place.”

“Not a problem,” Shale grunted.

“An ancient temple full of cultists… I wonder if there is any treasure here?” Zevran mused.

“Don’t get distracted by that either,” Oghren said. “What’s the hold-up? We’ve got a dead wench to dig up!”

“Er…” Leliana narrowed her eyes at the dwarf, who simply chuckled and took another swig from his flask.

 

They set off to explore the caves beyond the great hall, but there were a lot of them, and they returned to the entrance as night fell to make camp. The next day they went farther; they guessed that there was a camp of cultists further up the mountain, as they kept finding more, and also young dragons who seemed to be friendly with the cultists. Alistair hoped nervously that they didn’t meet any adult dragons, while Oghren laughed and prayed that they’d get the chance to fight one.

The caves wound higher and higher in the mountain, narrow tunnels with the occasional crack to the outside letting in a beam of natural light. They came across a natural cavern with a wide entrance through which daylight streamed… and what looked like a small army of cultists.

The leader, an imposing man with an impressive beard, took a step towards them. “Stop! You will go no further. You have defiled our temple, spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young.”

“Those dragonlings, you mean?” Morrigan scoffed. “Many people feel protective of the weak, helpless, and adorable, even of other species, but calling them your children ought to be restricted to crazy old women.”

“Enough! You will tell me why you have done this, intruder!”

“We seek the Ashes of Andraste,” Elizabeth said frankly. “We would have come in peace, but your people attacked us.”

“You seek that old relic? Know this, stranger… I am Father Kolgrim, leader of the Disciples of Andraste.” His eyes began to gleam with a fervent light. “The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can possibly imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now! What hope would you have?”

“What form has Andraste taken?” asked Elizabeth, hoping to keep him talking and get some answers.

“None but the Disciples of Andraste may approach Her. She is not ready yet. But when the time is right, She will descend upon the nations in fiery splendour, and all will know Her.” He narrowed his eyes at Elizabeth. “If you truly come in peace, then perhaps there is a way to make up for your recent transgressions.”

Elizabeth looked warily at Leliana and Alistair. If there was something that would make up for the slaying of half a cult, she didn’t want to know what it was. “How so?”

“I believe in second chances,” Kolgrim said grandly. “All of us stumble through the darkness before being found and shown the light.”

“Very wise,” Wynne said suspiciously.

“And Andraste’s mercy guides me. It may be that Her greatest enemy to date may become Her greatest champion!”

“Cut to the chase,” Oghren said. “What’s the deal?”

“Atop this mountain lie the remains of the mortal Andraste. Ashes, contained within an urn, guarded by an immortal spirit guardian and many traps. He is mired in the past and refuses to accept the risen Andraste. Right now, the Ashes prevent holy Andraste from fully realizing Her new form. They are a remnant of Her past incarnation, and She cannot move on while they still exist. She must reclaim them, and make them Her own again. All it would take would be one drop of Her blood. Blood carries power, strength, knowledge. Through it, the power that is held in the Ashes will be returned to Our Lady. But the Guardian foils all our attempts to reach the Urn. His strength is drawn from the Ashes themselves.”

“This is preposterous,” Leliana said. “He speaks of blood and power and I do not like it. You truly think Andraste is reborn?”

“I will not do this,” Elizabeth said. “I seek the Ashes to cure a sick man, and while I do not wish you ill, I do not share in your beliefs.”

“You only need a small pinch of the Ashes for that. You could take that and still do us this service, to receive great rewards: knowledge, and a share in Andraste’s power and a place as our blessed brothers and sisters.”

“I do not need that,” Elizabeth said. “I will not do as you ask.”

“Then we cannot allow you to leave here alive,” Kolgrim said, unslinging a great battleaxe from his back and getting into a fighting posture. “To arms, my brothers! Andraste will grant us victory!”

“Ha! Come on, then!” Oghren grunted, rushing forward with his own axe. “You think the likes of you is going to beat me?”

The fight was fierce and drawn out. There were two mages with Kolgrim, and they sent ice and magical curses at the companions. Morrigan transformed into a giant bear and went to maul them, but not before Zevran fell back, clutching at his head as if it was going to burst. Alistair took an arrow to his flank, and his opponent would have gravely wounded him, maybe even killed him, if not for Leliana’s shooting. Elizabeth attacked the archers, screaming “stop hurting my friends!” Shale was right behind her, scattering them like bowling pins.

Oghren and Kolgrim were locked in combat; Oghren was the better fighter, but Kolgrim had a lot of reach on him. Oghren began roaring furiously, apparently to make himself more angry or maybe to intimidate Kolgrim. He seemed to trip and stumble, and Kolgrim pressed his advantage eagerly, and no one looked more surprised than him when Oghren lopped off his head.

 

They cautiously exited the cave, looking around for an ambush or a trap. Sten was the first to notice, halting them with a gesture of his arm and a finger pointing towards a distant cliff ledge.

A large High dragon with magenta colouring slept on a cliff directly overhanging the path to the temple entrance. “That must be their Andraste,” Alistair murmured. “She’s not really as radiant as they said she was… Let’s not waken her.”

As stealthily as they could, they crept by, keeping to the shadows of the ruins between the cave and the temple. When the last person – Shale, who was taking care of her heavy tread – had passed into the temple, they allowed themselves to relax a little.

“Brother Genitivi would probably like to come up,” Wynne said. “I wonder if it can be done without waking the dragon?”

“We passed the dragon once, and we’ll have to do it again coming down,” Leliana said. “Let’s not be more noticeable than we have to. He can come back later when his foot is better.”

“That leader said they had not been able to go far into the temple, so there is probably no need for force of arms,” Elizabeth said. “Morrigan, Shale, you are not interested in sightseeing, are you?”

“I am not interested in the slightest,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps I shall go kill the dragon while the rest of you lollygaggle.”

“I’m not into powdered dead chicks,” Oghren said. “I’ll stay here too.”

In the end, it was Elizabeth, Leliana, Wynne, Alistair, and Huan who turned to head deeper into the temple, while the others sat down to rest near the door. After a moment, Elizabeth turned and found Zevran had followed them as well. He gave her a smile, which she returned briefly.

They reached the door at the end of the hall, but as they approached it, an armoured man became visible out of thin air. He held out a hand to stop them. “I bid you welcome, pilgrims. I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited a very long time for this.”

“For us?” Alistair asked in surprise.

“For pilgrims to visit. The ones who call themselves the Disciples are not true pilgrims, and I assume it is them I have to thank for the lack of true believers in this place. It is my duty and my life to protect the Urn and prepare the way for faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting I have been here, and I will remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea.”

“So the dragon is definitely not Andraste,” Zevran asked.

“No. Our Andraste has gone to the Maker’s side, never to return. I suppose the misguided Disciples saw it as an alternative to an absent Maker and a silent Andraste. A true believer, however, would not require such displays of power.”

“We have come to ask for aid for a very sick man,” Elizabeth said. “I do not want to say deathly ill, but he has been in a coma for months after poisoning and an incident with a demon.”

“If you prove yourself worthy, you will pass the tests of the Temple and come before the Urn to honour Andraste,” said the guardian. “You may then take a pinch of the Ashes, no more.”

“And if we do not prove worthy?” Alistair asked anxiously.

“The unworthy are not allowed to come before Andraste. It often occurs that those rejected become… violent, and must be put down.”

“Er. I’ll be good,” Alistair said meekly.

“Are you ready to begin the trials?” asked the guardian.

Elizabeth looked at the others, and they all nodded.

The guardian fixed Elizabeth with his distant stare and she restrained the urge to shuffle awkwardly in place. “I see the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past, your suffering, and that of others. You abandoned your mother and father to the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy.” Elizabeth tensed, pricked in the heart – she had not thought the guardian would know about her past, let alone bring it up. “Do you think you failed your parents?”

For a moment she could not speak at all. She didn’t know the answer. They had told her to go, but… “Yes. I… I should have stayed and defended them, even though I would have died at their side.”

“Thank you. That is all I wished to know,” he said, and turned to Alistair. “Alistair, knight, and Warden. You wonder if things would have been different, if you had been with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow.”

“I… yes,” Alistair said slowly, the words falling thickly from his tongue. “If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I’d just had the chance, maybe I’d…”

Wynne saved the young man from further pain. “Ask your question, guardian. I am ready.”

“Very well. You are a worthy advisor, always ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you spout only platitudes, burned into your mind in the distant past? Perhaps you are only a tool, used to spread the word of the Circle and the Chantry. Does doubt ever chip away at your truths?”

“You frame the statement in the form of a question,” Wynne said calmly. “Yet you already know our answers. There is no sense in hiding, is there. Yes, I do doubt at times; only the fool is completely certain of himself.”

“And you,” the guardian said, turning to Leliana, who looked at her feet nervously. “Why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?”

“I never said that,” Leliana said, upset and hurt. “I-”

“In Orlais you were someone,” said the guardian. “In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself; become a drab Sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative.”

“You’re saying that I made it all up for the… for the attention? I did not,” Leliana said angrily. “I know what I believe.”

The guardian removed his gaze from her and transferred it to Zevran. “And the Antivan elf.”

“Oh, is it my turn now?” Zevran said, with sarcastic, deadpan enthusiasm. “Hurrah! I am so excited.”

“Many have died at your hand,” said the guardian placidly. “But is there any you regret more than a woman-”

“How do you know about that?” Zevran snapped, interrupting him.

“I know much,” said the guardian reprovingly. “It is allowed to me. You may keep it to yourself, but the question stands. Do you regret?”

“Yes. The answer is yes.” Zevran crossed his arms, answering quickly and angrily. “If that’s what you wish to know, I do. Now let’s move on.”

“The way is open,” said the guardian, and began to vanish in a pale glow. “Good luck, and may you find what you seek.”

Slightly shaken, except perhaps for Wynne and Huan, they passed through the now-open door and into another chamber, seemingly full of spirits. They asked questions constantly of the air, their whispers creating a low buzz through the room.

Alistair went up to one. “I think this is some kind of quiz.”

“I knew he said there would be trials, but I wasn’t expecting an exam,” Zevran tried to joke. “I hope someone here has studied.”

“Let me,” Leliana said. “Whether or not you believe me to be sincere, I know the Chant. I can answer these questions.”

And she did so, with the occasional word from the others, and one by one, the ghosts vanished and the farther door opened a little bit wider with each one.

The next room was spacious, with a high ceiling and a sandy floor. Zevran toed at it. “It almost looks like a gladiatorial arena, except with no spectators.”

“Oh, how lovely of you to point that out,” Alistair said, as ghostly versions of each of them appeared. “Now we have to ‘conquer ourselves’ and all that.”

“Damn, I’m gorgeous,” Zevran said, licking his lips. “Magnificent. Look how I move!”

“We know,” Wynne said sharply. “We all get to see you every day.”

“My darling Wynne, do you not also get to finally see your own beauty without the use of a mirror?”

“Focus,” Elizabeth commanded. “If they’re half as smart as we are, this is going to be difficult. Alistair, with me. Watch for arrows.” So saying, she charged at herself, who was charging at her.

Her doppelganger crashed into her. She wasn’t quite expecting the weight and momentum of the slight, ghostly figure, and fell on her back, instantly having to defend against fierce stabs from a ghostly Starfang.

There was a pained grunt and a crash from beside her, and Alistair was smashed into the wall by a flying rock, summoned by the enemy Wynne. The spirit Alistair turned to assault her as well, assisting the spirit Elizabeth, and she was very hard-pressed to defend herself; she was actually starting to fear for her life in a way she hadn’t for quite some time. Leliana was shooting them, but her arrows did not seem to have much of an effect. Huan and spirit Huan were circling each other, occasionally lunging, but neither was doing much damage.

“Their teamwork is circumstantial!” Wynne said. “We must isolate them and destroy them one by one.” Then an arrow from the ghostly Leliana struck her in the leg and she fell to the floor.

Zevran was still fighting himself on the other side of the room, and she would have watched him with great interest if she hadn’t been so busy. There was a poofing sound, and it seemed he had worked his way around to the spirit Wynne and eliminated her. Alistair was still climbing to his feet, looking very dazed from the rock he had taken to the chest.

Leliana shot the ghostly Huan, and it vanished into thin air. The real Huan immediately turned and flung itself on the ghostly Alistair, dragging it away from Elizabeth, giving her an opportunity to strike away her double’s sword and clamber swiftly to her feet. Leliana turned to help Wynne, who was working on healing herself, and Alistair rushed to help Zevran with the ghost Zevran and Leliana.

Huan howled in pain; it seemed the ghost Alistair had managed to shake him off and stab him. Elizabeth gave a cry of anger and cut through the spirit Elizabeth’s defenses, seeming to stab directly through the ghostly ironbark armour. The spirit fizzled out into mist around her sword, and she ran through it to charge at the ghost Alistair, who turned to receive her.

He was bigger than her, just like the real Alistair, and he was about on par with her skills as well. She battled him for several moments, until she ducked to avoid a sweep of his sword and Leliana’s arrow struck him in the eye, making him vanish.

Zevran seemed to have defeated the other Zevran, and Alistair the other Leliana, and Elizabeth and Wynne hurried to help Huan, who was lying in a patch of bloody sand.

“Huan will live,” Wynne said after a moment of inspection. “Give me a moment and he will be able to travel, though I would suggest keeping him from fighting for a few days.” She raised her staff, concentrating.

“It might be difficult,” Elizabeth said, smiling and patting her rejuvenated dog’s head as he panted at her. “I’ll have to tie him to Leliana.”

Zevran dropped down beside her, resting back on his hands and stretching out his long legs. “We… are ridiculously awesome.” She had to laugh at that.

They rested a moment, hoping that there would not be any more battles like that.

 

The next room was more of a hallway, so narrow they could only enter one at a time. As Elizabeth entered, the door quietly closed behind her. She tensed, her hand going to her sword at her side, even though there would be no room to draw or wield it.

This was a test of faith, wasn’t it? If she trusted in Andraste and the Maker, she would be fine. So she strode forward with a confident step.

Until the room widened out and she saw the man standing there. He turned to face her. “My dearest child…”

“Father!” The cry was torn from her. She ran to him, but stopped just short of launching herself into his arms, nor did he open them for her.

“You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and tears will not bring me back.” His voice was his own, kindly, sympathetic, and inexorable. “No more must you grieve, my girl. Take the pain and the guilt, acknowledge it, and let it go. It is time. You have such a long road ahead of you. You have overcome so much, but more still waits you. You must be prepared. And so… take this with you. It will help you.” He smiled a little, holding out a small silver amulet, and dropped it into her outstretched hands. “The last gift I can give you, Beth.”

She fell to her knees. “Father… I miss you and Mother so much… Fergus, Gilmore, Nan, Oriana, Oren… Everyone… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” She leaned on her hands, tears splashing from her eyes on the cold stones of the floor.

“But you will save Ferelden. Be strong, pup. We’re all so proud of you. And we’ll always love you.” She looked up through her tear-blurred vision, to see her father fading away into mist with a strong smile on his face. Was it her imagination or did he wink at her? As if he had some hopeful secret?

She clutched the amulet to her chest. She was not letting this one go, no matter what. It was silver, so polished on the back as to be a mirror, and an archaic symbol of the Chantry on the front. She pulled the chain around her neck and stumbled through to the next room.

One by one, the others joined her. They all looked varying degrees of disturbed or anguished. Alistair had apparently out-wrestled Zevran for the chance to follow her, and he came and sat next to her against the wall. “I… I saw Duncan’s spirit. Did you… see anyone?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, tears flowing again.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Alistair put a friendly arm around her. “Your family?”

She nodded silently, and he squeezed her shoulder.

Zevran was a long time in appearing, and to all appearances he looked fine. She didn’t have the strength to make eye contact and look closer, but she knew him well enough that she knew he was not fine. Wynne was more affected, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Leliana emerged with a deathly pale face.

Huan bounded through happily and ran up to her, slobbering all over her face. She choked a laugh, especially when Alistair made a disgusted noise and tried to ward off the dog. She gave Huan a big hug and climbed to her feet. “Well, we’re all here. Now, how do we get across this chasm?”

 

The last test was apparently a test of wits, pulling switches to make pieces of a bridge appear seemingly out of thing air. “I suppose Andraste only favoured the clever,” Zevran quipped sarcastically. “Leliana, move to the third switch on your left.”

They emerged into a chapel-like hall, with a wall of flames burning high in front of them. Beyond was a great raised platform, as if for a king’s throne, but at the top under a statue of Andraste with a flame flickering in her hand was only a tall white urn. In front of the fire wall was an altar with an inscription on it. Elizabeth drew closer, reading aloud the surprisingly-legible words: “Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker’s sight.”

“So… we have to undress?” Zevran suggested with a salacious grin. Wynne and Leliana glared at him, and he shrugged.

“It seems so,” Elizabeth said. “Surely Andraste will not smite us for preserving our modesty, however. I… don’t wish to go completely naked.”

“Er, good,” Alistair said, quite red. “Me either. If She does smite us, I’m totally blaming you.”

“I think it must be symbolic, besides the ritual purification aspect,” Leliana said. “Andraste was burned, and we follow in Her footsteps.”

“I think you are quite right,” Wynne said. “I only wish… it is so cold in here… Could we not be purified and burned with our clothes on?”

Elizabeth was already working at her boots. Zevran was the first finished, to no one’s surprise, and approached the fire with a pensive look. “If this doesn’t work I will be even hotter than usual for a short period of time.”

Elizabeth was finally divested of everything except her underclothes, even the amulet she had been given. She was flushed despite the cold air in the temple and the goosebumps on her skin, feeling eyes on her – Zevran stared unabashed, but he was not the only one checking her out – and she did not make eye contact with anyone, chanting to herself mentally “this is not strange at all, perfectly normal, not strange at all…”

She took a breath before she could falter and walked through the fire. It gave her a bit of a tickling sensation, and it was warm, but it did not harm her. She could have danced when she got to the other side, but restrained herself. Just because she had given up her clothes did not mean she had given up her dignity. Huan dithered in front of the fire a moment before leaping through and trotting anxiously to join her.

She felt hands on her shoulders and jumped, but it was only Zevran, who laughed at her. She shook her head at him, trying not to look at his strong, lean, tattooed body, and the others finally made it across.

There was a flash of light, and the guardian appeared. “You have been through all the trials of the Gauntlet, you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her you have been cleansed. You have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrims.”

“Can we have our clothes back now?” Alistair asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

“You may approach the Sacred Ashes. If you wish to take a pinch, you may.” He handed Elizabeth a small, white silk purse and vanished.

Elizabeth approached the steps up to the Urn, Leliana beside her. “I… I don’t know what to say. I never thought I might be… I have no words to express myself!” Leliana exclaimed.

“I do,” Zevran said. “Congratulations, you found a fancy pot. I should get one for my house.”

“Zevran,” Wynne scolded. “I know you’re only here to keep an eye on Elizabeth. Behave yourself.”

“I passed the tests, didn’t I? I am as well behaved as you are, Madam Wynne.”

“I could not have asked for a greater honour than to be here,” Wynne said to Elizabeth. “Thank you for letting me come.”

Alistair’s eyes were round. “By the Maker… we’re really here. It just sank in, you know? But… we’re really here.”

Elizabeth knelt in front of the Urn, and Leliana, Wynne and Alistair did as well. Zevran followed, apparently not wanting to be left out. Elizabeth offered the bag to Leliana, who held her breath, lifted the lid on the urn, pinched a tiny amount of dust from the top, and brushed it from her fingers into the bag before replacing the lid and breathing again.

“We did it,” Alistair said reverently. “We really did it.”

 

They returned to the others as quickly as they could after passing back through the fire and putting their clothes and armour back on. From there, they snuck out under the dragon’s nose again and back into the tunnels, back to Genitivi. “Welcome back!” he cried. “You were gone a long time today. Were you successful?”

“See for yourself,” Elizabeth said, and Leliana produced the white bag and held it open just enough that he could see, and not enough that the Ashes would blow away.

“There’s some du- …That’s not dust, is it.” He closed his eyes and made a holy symbol in the air. “Oh Maker, I am not worthy to look upon…” He turned to Elizabeth in a frenzy of excitement. “You must tell me all about it! How was it situated? Was there anyone there?”

They told him all about the temple, its guardian and the trials they endured. Genitivi listened with a look of rapture on his face, scribbling frantically in a battered notebook with a well-chewed pen.

“This is marvellous,” he said, when they finally ran out of answers for his questions. “This is the greatest thing to have happened for many ages. I must hurry back to Denerim and begin building up plans for a larger expedition. There is so much history here, all untouched! We’ll study all these temples, the books in the library here, and make the place safe for pilgrims! Yes, all the pilgrims of the world must be allowed to come here and venerate Our Lady.”

“And eventually it will be exploited by the rich and powerful, as such things usually are,” Morrigan said.

Elizabeth paused. Morrigan was right. “She’s right,” she said. “I understand your enthusiasm, but… be careful of who learns about it, at least for now? There is still a High dragon in these parts. Besides the dangers it poses for those who cannot fight, those cultists believed it to be their Andraste and wanted to poison the Ashes with its blood. I know I am only a foolish swordfighter and can say nothing about Chantry business, but please don’t let anyone destroy what was hidden here for so long.”

“I’m sure that one would be much more devestated than it – you,” Shale said drily. “This is its life’s work, after all, is it not?”

Genitivi frowned. “Of course it must be made known to all. We cannot hide this to ourselves, then we would be as bad as the powerful who would exploit it. But I appreciate your concern. In my excitement, I forgot to consider such a thing. I will think on it, I assure you. Now come, let us return to Denerim. Will you escort me? I know I am old and injured and slow, but I beg your forbearance.”

“Certainly we will,” Elizabeth said. “But we must stop at Redcliffe.”

“Very well, then I will come with you there and then on to Denerim by myself. I will be on the main roads then and hopefully stronger than I am now.”

 

Elizabeth stared at the mirrored side of the amulet cupped in her palm. It was midnight, about three days later, but she had wandered away from camp through the thick forest to a rocky ridge where the moonlight streamed down upon her.

She had thought she had seen something in the silver the day before, a movement that was not a reflection of the things around her, a face, in fact, much like her father – or sometimes her mother. It was blurry, vague, small, and it could have just been a trick of the light, yet she stared at it, unblinking, waiting for that encouraging smile to happen again. It was hard when her eyes kept welling up.

She must have been there for an hour when she heard approaching footsteps – Zevran’s footsteps.

“No sleep for you tonight?” he called softly. She grunted a reply, and he hummed in response, coming to sit beside her and draping the blanket from her tent over her shoulders. “What is that you have there?”

“An amulet,” she said, stupidly. “It’s… The part in the trials with the narrow room, I… I saw… my father.” She hunched her shoulders, trying to hide her tears from him – saying it out loud hurt far more than she thought it would have. “He gave me…”

Zevran reached over and tugged her into his arms, almost into his lap. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me. I may not know what your life with your family was like, but I understand grief well enough. You are a strong woman, but even you must need to weep sometimes.”

She still struggled against letting it out, but he was so gentle, holding her against his warm shoulder and stroking her hair, letting it down from its buns and untangling the long braids until it streamed down her back in tight waves. Her tears flowed down her face and stained his winter tunic. “He said I should… let go of them. Of the pain, at least. I know I should, but I don’t… I don’t know if I can.”

He was quiet. “Did you see someone?” she asked in a whisper, and the hand that stroked her hair faltered for a moment.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said, and she nodded understandingly. She hung the amulet from her neck again and wrapped her arms around him, pressing closer to him. He had his blanket around his shoulders as well, and for a few minutes all they did was hold each other.

“I wish I could do more for you,” he muttered after a moment. “I only have one skill – killing people. Well – killing and lovemaking… killing, lovemaking, and witty retorts, those I am good enough at. But I cannot kill anyone for you here, you aren’t interested in making love, and… this isn’t the time for witty retorts.”

“I do appreciate them,” she said candidly. “I just wish that Wynne wasn’t driven to distraction by them… but you do make me smile with your sarcasm a lot.”

“Do I? It’s hard to tell.”

“You do,” she said. “But I agree – this isn’t the time for them.”

“Then what can I do for you?”

“What can I do for you?” she countered, and tensed. Surely he would pounce on that and say something ridiculously inappropriate.

But the hand stroking her hair didn’t waver. “Just keep being your wonderful sweet self, dear Liz. Make our enemies flee in terror from your wrath, and let me stay in the group.”

She was silent a long time, thinking about that.

“You could… we could…”

“Hmm?”

“I-if you wanted, we could…” Her voice dropped to a near-inaudible whisper. “…make love.”

Now the hand on her head stilled. “Liz, sweetheart, do you know what you are saying?”

She was tense, her arms and legs growing more frozen in place by the moment. His hand dropped to her arm, reminding her to relax – and breathe. But she forced herself to sit up a little, and her gaze wandered a little from nerves, but she did manage to look him in the eye for most of it. “I… I do know. Listen, Zevran. I am not a Cousland anymore, so that doesn’t matter. As a Grey Warden, I am infertile, so that doesn’t matter. And I-I… I trust you, with this, with me.”

“Liz, you know what I am. I’m not a knight to swear faithfulness forever, nor a prince to sweep you off your feet. I think you’d be doing most of the sweeping, anyway.”

“I know you are not one to be tied down. You’re not free, never been free, for so much of your life, but you try to be free where you can. I don’t necessarily understand, but I don’t want to tie you down, not against your will. But… I don’t even care about that, Zevran. I want… I want this, anyway.”

“If you are sure.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes.”

“The first step,” Zevran said, his breath ghosting over her cheek to her ear, “is not to be afraid.” He took the blanket from her shoulders and laid it on the rocky ground with a sweep of his arm, and then laid her down upon it. Her hair fanned out around her. “I know this is your first time, and I promise I will be gentle, but you must relax. You trust me with your words and actions, now trust me with your body.”

For a moment, there flashed into her mind – what if he was still working for the Crows, and just wanted to sleep with her before he killed her? Ruthlessly, she quashed that thought. She did trust him. She was just… nervous. “What if… what if one of our companions comes looking for us? Is this place all right?”

“It will be fine. They won’t come. Besides,” he added with a cheeky smile, “they think we’ve been doing this for ages anyway.” She blushed bright red.

Clothes came off slowly, sensuously, with many kisses, and the cold of the night prickled her skin and gave her goosebumps. She shyly explored his torso and arms as he leaned over her, running her hands along the lines of his back and his abdominal muscles, tracing his tattoos, on his front, his arms, his face. His hands were gentle but confident, feeling the curve of her waist and the rather small swell of her breasts, and she gasped at the tingling sensations he gave her, her eyes closing inadvertently.

When he went to remove her pants, she sat up and helped him – she wanted some kind of control over that part. She was breathing fast and shallow when she lay down again, and her knees were pinned together apprehensively, hiding what lay between her legs under dark hair. “Don’t be afraid,” he said again. “Come. Let me give you this pleasure, my darling Liz.” She hid her face from the smouldering intensity of his gaze and widened her knees a little. He reached up to move her hands away from her face, and she turned away, still not quite able to master her nerves. He sank back down her body, moving her knees a little farther apart.

It was like a jolt of lightning, stunning and blinding, as he drew his tongue across the most sensitive place on her body. The cold left her, the hardness of the stones under the blanket were forgotten; all she could sense was Zevran’s tongue. And then he began to probe her with his fingers – oh Maker, that wasn’t fair. She moaned, almost trying to squirm away under this sensual assault, her eyes squeezed shut. He held her down as she writhed uncontrollably, and kept going until something broke inside her and she cried out, shuddering with her entire body.

Her mouth was dry and she panted for air as she came down from the high. She lay limp on the blankets as he wormed his way up to lie beside her, gathering her against his warm body – almost too warm now – and kissed her. He tasted different, his mouth wet with her, but she didn’t care; she kissed him back desperately, clinging to him, pressing against him, anything to show him what an incredible thing he had done to her.

He was laughing as they broke apart. “So you liked that, eh?” She didn’t trust herself to speak but nodded shakily and enthusiastically, and he laughed heartily. She couldn’t help it and giggled along with him.

“Would you like some more?” he asked, and she belatedly realized that they still hadn’t actually had sex yet. She blushed again and nodded, and he kissed her, long and slow, as he rolled over her.

 

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