The War End & A Legend Begins

Aedan's world was completely black. He swam through ocean of utter shadow that consumed his as being he tranquilly fell through it depths. Time seemed to have no meaning, the urge to act was absent. Aedan was perfect content to let his mind drift in the warm, endless darkness and let his battered body rest.

When was the last time he ever knew such peace? Never.

Where was he? He didn't care.

How did he get here? It didn't matter.

The warm tranquility shattered when Aedan's mind was flooded with memory and realization of what he had so recently done! Denerim burning. Fighting the Archdemon….Morrigan. Aedan's eyes shot open and he sat up in the bed he was laying on. "MORRIGAN!" Aedan's lungs felt like they had been smashed then sewn together, his vision was completely blurred and could see only smudged shadows, every bone and muscle in his body felt like someone smashed him with a hammers and set him on fire. He laid his body back down on what felt like a divinely soft bed and tried to get a sense what was going on around him.

He heard a doorway creak open and his vision made out a tall, familiar and definitely female silhouette. As he tried to focus his blurred eye sight. In his effort he was able to make out two familiar, beautiful golden eyes. "M-Mo Siule Orga Whurnin?"

"Nay, Mo dearthaire." Answered a beautiful, foreign but familiar voice. It filled Aedan with happy nostalgia and shattered hope.

"S-Siobahn? W-what are you doing here? Where are my friends? Where am I?" Aedan struggled to get back up.

"Be still!" The Avvar woman ordered as she pushed Aedan back onto the bed. "If you move about too much you'll undo yer bandages and all the work Wynne and I put into healing you will be for naught."

"What has happened?" Aedan asked again.

Siobahn exhaustedly sat herself down. "Well, to begin with," she chuckled. "You only slew an Old God in sinlge combat! Chieftian Maferath and many of our warriors were fighting at the top of the tower and saw you charge down the Archdemon, all covered in black flames and screaming like an angry god!" Siobahn's laugh was loud and hearty for a woman. "Our warriors will tell tales of this for generations!"

"What happened after that?" Aedan chuckled as he remembered that terrible fight with the Archdemon and the memory of the agonizing pain.

"Well, obviously you were gravely injured." The woman shaman answered gravely. "While your battle with the Archdemon was epic, it was also foolish and almost cost you your life. I was summoned to help heal you. Wynne is a great mage, but she is old and can only do so much when there are others who need healing. You flesh was like an over cooked chicken and crisp as a burnt tree. But thankfully, your Reaver abilities have helped your healing process. Hmmm, probably the only upside of being in a city where many people perished."

"And my companions?" Aedan didn't know who even survived the encounter with Urthemiel.

"Alive and well, Mo Dearthaire." Siobahn answered smiling. "This new Lowland king of yours is overseeing the relief effort for your people and Wynne is assisting in healing the injured. Your pet dwarf has been telling everyone about how you two ripped the Archdemon's wings of its body with your bare hands. Every one of your companions is helping in any way they can, and will be delighted to know you're awake." Siobahn's eyes flashed with realization. "Wait here. Your king wanted me to get him as soon as you were awake."

Siobahn trotted out of the room and came back a few minutes later with Alistair close behind. Alistair wasn't wearing any armor but the simple finery of royalty and had a look of complete relief on his face. "Oh, thank the Maker!" The king almost cried. "You're alive! We were all so worried, we actually thought you were going to die. Everyone's been waiting to hear if you'd make it."

"Everyone? What…what about Morrigan?" Aedan's voice was full of doomed hope.

"I am sorry, Aedan. But there has been no sighting or sign of her since the Archdemon fell." Alistair answered sorrowfully. "And I'm afraid there is more disconcerting news. It seems the Wardens are less than ecstatic about your victory than most would think."

"Apparently they would rather question why you are still alive than celebrate this earth shattering victory." Siobahn commented.

"Could Riordan have been wrong?" Alistair inquired. "How are you still alive?"

This would be an issue. The Wardens would hound Aedan for answers for his continued existence disproved the utmost importance of the Order of The Grey. But this was a matter for another time. "I'm alive thanks to two people. Leandra Hawke, a mother whose love brought me the means of becoming a Reaver, otherwise I'd have been dead many times over. And Morrigan, it's only because of her that I'm still breathing."

"Really?" Alistair was almost stunned. "I had no idea. She disappeared so quickly, do you know where she went?"

Aedan laid trying to ignore the pain in his body, and his heart. "I don't know. But I will find her again. Someday. I swear I will."

"Well, before you do a Witch Hunt, I suggest you first get better. And quickly." Alistair urged. "There's going to be a large celebration as soon as the rubble has been cleared. And the whole nation wants to see its savior."

"And speaking of healing, I need you to leave, Alistair. So that I may properly tend to Aedan's injuries." Siobahn requested. "I doubt they're any easier to look at." An ill look washed over Alistair's face and he quickly took his leave.

Seeing the look on Alistair's face made Aedan feel a touch of dread about what his injuries were like. With his vision returning to his eyes, Aedan looked at a mirror across the room and was put-off by his appearance. His eyes were dark and sullen, like he had been gravely ill and starving for a time. Aedan's once thick, neck-long, dark mane was practically burned off his head. Burnt patches of hair still remained, revealing his fire-kissed scalp beneath. Aedan laid back and allowed Siobahn perform her healing arts. She peeled back the soiled bandages and revealed the burnt, moist skin that clung to it. Aedan couldn't take his eyes off his own ruined flesh, had he not been a Reaver he'd probably be in nightmarish agony.

Siobahn looked down on her adopted brother and couldn't help but feel a great deal of pity. For such a mighty warrior to be brought down so low after such an epic victory was appalling to her. He should have died gloriously in battle instead of having to suffer this indignity.

"Where is my sword?" Aedan asked longingly breaking his silence. He hadn't been without a weapon or armor for such a long period in a long time, and now he felt…naked. Vulnerable.

Siobahn knew the purpose behind Aedan's question. "I'm sorry, Mo Dearthaire, but it's gone. Destroyed."

"Destroyed? How?" Aedan actually didn't want to believe that.

"When your companions carried you off to safety, Maferath tried to fetch your sword from the Archdemon's skull. But the instant he touched it, the sword crumbled into ash." Siobahn's tone was sympathetic. She gave him the meteor from which that sword was forged, and she knew what a magnificent blade it was.

"I am going to miss that sword." Aedan said mournfully. He was going to miss it. Suddenly he felt like he was weaker.

"The gods sent the starmetal so that you may perform a great task, Mo Dearthaire." Siobahn counseled. "And it slew an Archdemon. What greater task is there than that?"

Aedan smiled even though it hurt. Siobahn always gave the best council. It was why should make a great shaman when her time came. He was going to miss her and her people when they left back to their home in the Frostbacks.

She could see that Aedan was full of negative emotions so Siobahn decided to try and cheer him up with a smile returning to her lips "The people of this land of all races are already making songs and stories of your legend."

Aedan gave her a wry grin. "Oh, really?"

"Aye, they are already singing of your great prowess as a warrior, and many are under the belief that you are invincible. That you can't be killed in battle!"

That's unlikely, Aedan thought to himself. "If I were invincible I wouldn't need this much healing."

"Ah, don't be like that, Mo Dearthaire." Siobhan chided. "You are the only warrior in all of existence to have slain a living god and live! The glory that will be heaped upon your name and the legends told of you will last for a thousand years!"

Aedan tried not to let the idea of glory and a resonating name get to his head. That was what probably led to Loghain's personal downfall. Even so, he could not dismiss the effect his reputation have on the people around him

Siobahn smiled warmly at the handsome, injured Alamarii on the bed. "Hah. I swear that if I fancied men, I'd have fallen in love with you when we first met."

"Alas, Siobahn, it wasn't meant to be." Aedan laughed. "You have your…prefrences and I….I have Morrigan."

"She must be quite the woman for you to love her so dearly."

"There is no other woman like her." Aedan answered with a sad smile. He tried to keep his mind off of her. "Siobahn, how well am I healing?"

"Well, enough considering how badly injured you were when Wynne and I first started." Siobahn answered. "Being bathed in the fire of an Archdemon isn't exactly good for the skin. But with continued treatment and lots of rest you should be on the mend soon enough."

"That isn't good enough, Siobahn." Aedan informed gravely. "I don't have the time to wait around to be healed. This victory may be the greatest in my nation's history, but now my country is weaker than it has ever been in our whole history. Orlais could still invade us in our weakened state, the darkspawn still linger, and there are those who will challenge Alistair's claim on the throne. My people will be looking to Alistair to lead them, but they'll be looking to me to protect them. I can't do that sitting in a bed waiting for my damned wounds to heal."

"And….What? What do you want me to do about it?" Siobahn asked blithely.

"Your people's magic has been unaffected by the Circle's restrictions and the Chantry's dogma." Aedan answered earnestly. "In some ways the magic of your shamans is stronger than that of the Circle mages. And you know of methods that can heal a broken body and prolong a person's life, even if they're on the edge of death."

Siobahn knew what her adopted brother was asking. "You understand what you're asking, Mo Dearthaire? There is a reason so many, even amongst the Avvar clans, such magic is scarcely used. Are you comfortable with partaking in such a taboo act?"

"Siobahn…I'm a Reaver and a Grey Warden. I've imbibed the blood of dragons and darkspawn, and I've consumed the flesh of my most hated enemy. I don't care what others claim is taboo. I only care if the ends justify the means."

"So be it." Siobahn confirmed. "The Kiss of The Lady will heal you." Siobahn closed the window shades, dimming the room in darkness. The young shaman began chanting in an ancient dialect that Aedan didn't understand, the very air around her was heavy with forboding darkness. Siobahn pulled an ancient but well hewn knife from her belt. The blade appeared to be dragonbone and was inscribed with ancient runes that shimmered dimly in the dark room. Siobahn undid her leather jerkin and slid out of her trousers, revealing her delicate skin, deep curves and small but ample breasts. She straddled Aedan's waist, her weight and warmth pressing down on him as she glided her hands down his injured chest, still chanting in her alien tongue. The shaman's soft hands felt like heaven against Aedan's burnt flesh.

Siobahn gently grabbed Aedan's burned hand and gracefully slid the sharp blade across his wrist, opening his veins. Aedan's blood spilt like a river of crimson from the slit in his wrist. Her chanting stopped as she brought her slender arm to her ruby lips and bit deeply into her own wrist. A small stream of red spilled down Siobahn's chin and coated her mouth as she drank her own blood. Siobahn descended down on Aedan's body, her long legs wrapped around his waist and her soft breasts gliding on his chest as she brought the injured warrior into a heated, macabre kiss. Siobahn's wet tongue and warm blood flooded into Aedan's mouth and down his throat.

Her tongue slid and danced along his as her bare nipples rubbed against his pectorals and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer to him. For the briefest of moments he thought he was kissing Morrigan. But that wasn't the truth. Siobahn didn't possess the passion or hunger that he desired, craved, from Morrigan. What Siobahn was doing wasn't out of lust or desire, she was merely assisting her adopted brother heal in the most effective way she knew how. Suddenly the searing pain of Aedan's burns left his body, and he could feel his strength returning. His once burnt, wet and crisp flesh was healing, and his muscles became strong and taught once more. The deeper there embrace became the faster his body healed.

Siobahn finally separated her mouth from his, a thick rope of bloody saliva trailed from their lips. She rested her head on his fully recovered chest and smiled contently as she listened to his strong heartbeat.

"That…was the first time I ever kissed a man and like it, Mo Deathaire." The Avvarian shaman giggled.

"You could have told me the ritual was so…explicit." Aedan gasped as he tried to recover from their embrace. But after his last night with Morrigan he should have known that all bloodmagic was explicit in one form or another.

"Hah! But this was so much more fun!" Sioban laughed. She bounced off the bed and quickly started gathering her clothes. "Now if you don't mind, this little therapy session's got my kitty purring. I'm going to find an attractive, lowland lass to scratch it."

"I'd go to the Pearl then." Aedan called after her as she left the room. "Tell Sanga I sent you. And ask for the 'The Buried Dog Bone Special'! You'll be glad you did!"

Alone in his room once more, Aedan hopped out of bed with renewed vigor and looked at himself in the mirror. All the burns, cuts and devastation he had suffered was gone, even his hair had grown back a little. With his body healed he can instantly set to work on protecting and rebuilding his nation. He can rest when he has the luxury of being dead. First he had a country to rebuild and people to punish.

The Palace Tower….

It had been a few weeks since the Archdemon was slain, and still Anora was being kept in this damned tower like a common criminal. During the darkspawn raid of the Palace District Anora was locked in this very tower. Never before had she prayed to the Maker so hard. Thankfully, the tower was high and far enough out of the way from the rest of the Palace that the darkspawn didn't even come near her. She saw the blast of light that erupted from the top of Fort Drakon, and saw darkspawn flood out of the city, heard the cheers down in the street crying that the Blight was over. And for the first time since her imprisonment felt like she could breathe a little easier.

The now deposed queen was surprised that Alistair let her live, and even allowed her the opportunity to take the throne if he fell in battle. It was possibly the first, and very likely, only smart decision he made as king. This…setback would not stop her. She would retake her rightful place on Ferelden's throne. At the end of all this, Ferelden was going to need a strong, proven ruler to oversee its reconstruction, Alistair is incapable of that.

Anora heard footsteps approaching her room down the stairway. She thought it was Erlina or her jailor come to give her rations or news of her being summoned. But to her surprise, and displeasure, it was Aedan. She had heard from Erlina that he had been terribly injured in his fight with the Archdemon, but he looked healthy enough to live a hundred years. His tattooed face was like stone: no emotion. But his eyes…his eyes were filled with taunting glee.

"It is done, Anora." Aedan stated as if they both had been waiting for the long awaited answer to an agonizing question. "Alistair lives and he will rule on as king on his ancestor's throne."

Anora glared at Aedan spitefully, but tried to maintain her composure. "Do you really think that what you've done will matter? You may have stopped the Blight, but Alistair will not be able to guide this country to a lasting peace. His lack of political fortitude will destroy this nation, and when another outside force comes to conquer us it will be your fault."

Aedan's lips curled into a frightening, toothy grin and Anora thought it was the light flickering in the hall, but his eys seemed to glow red like burning coals. "Once again, Anora, you overestimate yourself and underestimate the strength and spirit of others." Aedan's tone was genuine, but threatening. "Maric, who was born in the wild, was able to rebuild this country after nearly a century of occupation, and Alistair shares that strength. You on the other hand?" Aedan's smile became more sinister. "Your father is dead, and even now the disgruntled and dispossessed people of Gwaren who he oppressed and ignored are razing your family's manor to the ground, looting and burning everything they can get."

Anora felt her heart break a little. The thought of her childhood home and family possessions being desecrated by the angry populace was…disheartening. But she couldn't afford to be emotional. Not in front of him.

"But do you honestly think that is enough to satisfy them?" Aedan asked balefully. "Your father has paid for his crimes, but the people will still want someone to blame for all the pain they have suffered, all the tragedy your father allowed, and visited on them. Now who do you think that will be?"

This was one of the oldest and most effectively brutal method of political manipulations. But Anora would not be threatened. "Do you really think anyone would truly hold me responsible for what my father thought was best for this country? You're being absurd."

"Am I? When a soldier or a servant commits a terrible act, that act is reflected upon their master. That is the truth. When the Orlesian chevaliers commited their crimes, our people hated the emperor for it because he gave those men the right to do it. And everything your father did, he did it with your authority. His crimes are your crimes. And our people want someone to pay for those crimes. You might be executed for your father's crimes, or you might be allowed to retain the teynir of Gwaren and live with a constant target on your back, surrounded by people who hate you. Either way, your future is not a bright one."

"Why have you come here, Aedan?" Anora asked bitterly. "To gloat?"

"No." He answered flatly. "But if I hate you, it's because you earned it. However, despite what you did, and everything you might have done to me for your own self-interests, you were still once my queen, and the woman my mother thought of as the daughter she never had. So, out of fond memory of that kiss we once shared, I decided to come and grant you a gift. One that can help you…escape from your terrible circumstances." Aedan slipped a long, thin box through the bars of the door and let it fall to the ground. "Whether you decide to use it or not is up to you. But personally, I think you should just save everyone the trouble."

Aedan turned from the door and walked back down the stairs. What did he leave? An escape? Anora picked up the box and carefully opened the package. Sweet Bloody Maker! Anora gasped and threw the opened box in shock and horror as if there were a leper in it. The package hit the wall and Aedan's 'gift' fell to the floor. The gift of a long, well tied noose. Anora could hear Aedan's mocking laughter echo through the tower.

The Blackhall of Denerim….

It had been a three months since the Blight had officially ended. Around twelve weeks since the Archdemon had been slain. Eighty-four days since Teryn Loghain was convicted of treason and other terrible crimes and was unceremoniously executed on the spot before the Landsmeet. Ever since the execution Cauthrien half-expected that she would wind up in these halls. The Blackhall was the seat of Ferelden's archaic and harsh justice. Its foreboding, black granite walls withstood the might of the darkspawn horde. And the air was heavy, filled with the Fereldan chill biting the air and quiet as a tombstone except for the harried breathing of her fellow soldiers. Cauthrien looked at the faces of her men and, as they tried to hide it, she knew they were afraid. Cauthrien was afraid too, but she was more ashamed to be here than anything else.

During the weeks since the Archdemon's death, Cauthrien and the remnants of Maric's shield had been patrolling the roads leading to Denerim, trying to lend assistance where they could. But after Loghain's treason had been confirmed the surrounding villages and citizens were more welcoming to the darkspawn than to them. And just last week when she and her men were making their way towards Amaranthine they were met by several sheriffs and a lot of their well-armed, and very angry deputies with a warrant for their arrest, signed by the signature of King Alistair. There was no point in running, no point in fighting. Cauthrien didn't want to be responsible for killing anymore of her countrymen, nor would she attempt to escape justice like a common criminal.

They were disarmed and marched back to the capital. Fortunately, the people of the city were too busy with preparing to celebrate their nation's salvation to give them much mind. Only a handful of them took the time to throw rocks and the occasional horse-apple at them. Just one citizen, an elven woman, took the effort to spit in her face and curse her a slaver. The woman sobbed angrily that her son was sold to Tevinter and that she would never see her again. Cauthrien didn't fight back because she knew it was true. And here they were, chained, unarmed, and waiting for the blackhaller to come fill his seat and pass judgment on them.

The tense silence was broken in the hall by the heavy footsteps of a powerful figure. He stood tall, with broad shoulders and armed with a devastating battle-axe strapped to his back. It figures he would be the one to punish them. Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. Cauthrien had heard the stories flying through the country about how he stood down and slew the Archdemon in single combat. She even heard of the rumors that The Hero of Ferelden was invincible, that he could not be slain in battle. Merely rumors, but who could say they were untrue? After all, not even Loghain Mac Tir could kill this man.

At the realization that the Hero of Ferelden would be their judge some of the men began to lose their nerve. They all remembered what he did to Howe. "Wh-where is the blackhaller?"

"He decided to spend the day's celebration by staying home with his family, and fuck his wife." The Warden answered nonchalantly. "So, by the authority of the Landsmeet and King Alistair, your trial, and your fates, are left to me and my mercy."

The former lieutenant felt a shiver run down her spine. What kind of mercy could a man like Aedan Cousland possess?

Aedan stood before them, his intense gaze burning through them as he addressed their crimes. "Cauthrien and those of Maric's Shield unfortunate enough to still be alive, through your service to Loghain Mac Tir, former Teryn of Gwaren, you partook in several heinous crimes against the people of Ferelden. Your crimes are as listed: conspiracy to commit regicide, murder, the unlawful imprisonment and torture of Fereldan citizens, committing the foul crime of slavery, and abandoning your post in a time of war. Your crimes are beyond vile, and your guilt is clear. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

Cauthrien swallowed as each crime listed felt like a nail slowly being driven in to her very soul. The worst part was, everything he said was completely true. "We….We were only obeying orders." It was the oldest excuse a soldier could make when charged with war crimes. But it was all she could say. "We believed we were acting in the best interests for Ferelden."

"Are you a dog, Cauthrien?" Aedan asked hatefully. "No, of course not. Dogs bark and bite back when their masters do what they something they don't like. You're more like cattle, and you Lieutenant Cauthrien are the fat cow, who blindly follows the herders orders no matter how degrading if it means he can fend off the wolves for them." Aedan looked Cauthrien straight in the eyes, she could not match his gaze. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that these crimes you committed against our people was for their own good!? Every crime you and your men committed was against everything our nation stands for! Name me one thing you actually accomplished that outstrips your crimes." They said nothing. "I didn't think so."

"Using the slavers was Arl Howe's brainchild." Cauthrien finally defended. "He was the one who brought the Tevinter slavers and allowed them to take elves from the Alienage."

"And this is a fact? You didn't partake in the slavery."

"No." Cauthrien answered defiantly.

"But you knew slavery is illegal and abominable in this country, Cauthrien. Do you honestly believe they did this with the crown's consent? You knew what Howe and Loghain were doing was illegal, and you did nothing."

"I was following my lord's orders." Cauthrien exhaled through her grinding jaw, her fists clenching in anger.

"And you betrayed your country and your conscience in the process." Aedan spat. "Does that sound like an order you should follow? When your commander does something honorable you partake in that honor. And when he does something evil, his evil becomes yours. Being right and doing right are not the same thing."

All of them remained silent. Had they succeeded every crime they committed could have been justified. Instead they failed and every life they destroyed was for nothing. Now had to pay the price. "Please, Lord Cousland." One of the men begged. "We only wanted to….hrrgkh!"

Aedan's mailed fist smashed into the soldier's face like a battering ram. "Speak when spoken to, scum!" Aedan wiped the blood off his knuckles and turned his attention to Cauthrien, his eyes and face painted with hate. "Your fate lies in my hands." He reminded dangerously. "Abandoning your post at Ostagar alone warrants the death sentence. So tell me, Cauthrien, do you think that death is a fitting punishment for your crimes?"

"Yes." Cauthrien answered bitterly as tried to keep a stiff upper lip.

"Well, I don't!" Aedan boomed, his voice carrying out through the Blackhall. "Better soldiers, better people died fighting for this nation! And I don't want filth like you being counted amongst their number!"

Cauthrien fought back the tears of shame and regret as she tried to remain stone faced before her judge.

"You don't deserve to be buried in the same land as those men. You don't even deserve to be called a Fereldan!" Aedan calmed down and regained his composure. "Death is too good for the likes of you. There is only one fitting enough for what you've done."

Cauthrien and her men prepared themselves. Knowing Aedan Cousland, their punishment would be prolonged and extremely painful in the most unholy of methods. They could at least meet it with honor and dignity.

"Cauthrien, and the members of Maric's Shield." This was the moment of truth. "I, Aedan Cousland, by the authority of the Landsmeet and in the name of King Alistair, hereby sentence you…to banishment. Exile. Under pain of excruciating death."

A thousand mountains crushed Cauthrien's heart and broke her spirit. This was indeed a fate worse than death. This couldn't be happening. How…how could he even do such a thing? She would rather be executed.

"You will never again set foot on our hallowed soil. You've lost the honor and privilege to live and die in this country. You are no longer a Fereldan, and are therefore no longer fit to live here." Aedan voice was as cold and hard as the Frostback Mountains.

"Please. Please don't do this." Cauthrien begged for the first time in her life. "We deserve death, I don't deny that. But, please, don't send us into exile. Fereldan is all we know!"

"Those elves you sold into slavery didn't want to leave this country, either." Aedan reminded spitefully. "What makes you more deserving to remain natives of this land than them?"

"Where will we go?" Cauthrien asked desperately.

"I don't know." Aedan answered without care. "Maybe Tevinter. You seem to have a grasp of the slave trade, perhaps they'll teach you how to master the craft. Or maybe…Orlais. I hear they make excellent use of honorless backstabbers who hide behind honor rather than live by it."

The former members of Maric's Shield were dragged out like the criminals they had become. These disgraced soldiers were once they were the proudest and most distinct of Ferelden's military. Now their names would be spat on for the rest of their days. Never again would they set foot on their native soil and would die in foreign lands, hated, unmourned, and forgotten. Unless….

"Wait!" Cauthrien called desperately.

"Don't try begging, Cauthrien." Aedan waved off uncaringly. "It's pathetic and insulting. Better men than you suffered and died by your hands, and you called them traitors. Now you will suffer a traitor's punishment."

"I demand that my men and I be recruited into the ranks of the Ash Warriors as punishment for our crimes." Cauthrien's voice possessed newfound confidence and hope, but still desperate.

The angry scowl on Aedan's face could have shattered every mirror in the kingdom. "You dare? Need I tell you how many Ash Warriors are dead because of you and Loghain!?"

"No need." Cauthrien rebuffed. "I already know how many. Which is why I'm sure they could use us."

"What makes you think you're worthy of such an honor!?" Aedan demanded.

"Nothing." Cauthrien answered flatly. "But that isn't for you or me to decide." Cauthrien was gambling with all their lives, but she knew of Aedan's sense of national pride and adherence to their people's customs.

Anger grunted in anger and smashed his fist into the granite wall and left an imprint of his fist in it. "Bring me the head abbot of The Order of The Line now!" Aedan ordered to one of the guards.

It didn't take for Aedan's men to find Abbot Luwin. Apparently, he was looking for Aedan as well. He wanted to breed The Warden's prized mabari to refill the empty kennels around Denerim. The abbot was dressed in humble, drab clothing that had faded designs of war hounds on his robes. The most extravagant thing he possessed was an old, worn out talisman that feature to mabaris back to back against a black tome. Cauthrien remembered him and she had no doubt he remembered her. The lives of her and her men were in his hands. But she had no doubt of the creek she was in. Cauthrien remembered how Howe attempted to assassinate the abbot and steal his prized mabari like a common thief.

Aedan angrily explained the situation to the Abbot. How Cauthrien and her men dared to want to join the ranks of heroes like the Ash Warriors and how unworthy they were of such distinction. Cauthrien thought the abbot wouldn't even bother with them, but instead he just listened with an oddly serene look on his face. When Aedan was done with his rant the old man looked at Cauthrien and her men with his eyebrow raised. Cauthrien felt her stomach twist into knots. "Very well. I will induct them into the Order myself." The abbot answered almost jovially.

Aedan couldn't believe his ears! "What!? Abbot Luwin, these traitors defiled everything our nation stands for! They would have murdered you and anyone else who opposed Loghain! How can you allow them to join you?"

"That is simple, Lord Cousland." The abbot answered calmly. "Much like your Order of The Grey and the Legion of the Dead of Orzammar, Ash Warriors have no past. You know that any who joins us has their records erased and the names stricken. Many of our most distinct warriors were once horrible criminals, and the only goal of an Ash Warrior is a worthy death. And besides, our ranks were devastated in the Blight. We cannot afford to turn away willing recruits if our Order is to survive into the next age."

Aedan scoffed in anger. But relented. Abbot Luwin was right, as much as he hated to admit it. The whole point of the Ash Warriors was for condemned men to erase their crimes by seeking a worthy death. They were mercenaries whose only payment was a worthy cause. But he couldn't stand the thought of all of Cauthrien's crimes being erased as if they were nothing. In a flash like lightening, Aedan swiped his knife down over Cauthrien's right eye, leaving a long cut that went down her forhead, over her eye and ended down her cheek. Cauthrien yelled in pain as the burning cut seared the nerves and muscles of her face. "Everywhere you go, every time you look in the mirror, everyone will see that scar and know who you are." Aedan's voice was like cold steel. "And you will live with this permanent reminder of your shame, failure and crimes." Aedan motioned to the guards. "Now get this filth out of my sight."

Despite the pain in Cauthrien's face, she walked with her head held high. She managed to save herself and her men from a punishment worse than death to them. And they would have a chance to serve their country the right way and, perhaps, one day make up for the crimes they were guilty of.

The Royal Palace….

The palace and much of the city had been restored to its former splendor, such as it is. The reconstruction since the Archdemons death had gone wonderfully, the people were now ready to officially celebrate one the greatest victories in nation's history. And with the difficult days of recovery ahead, Alistair decided that they should take their celebrations where they could.

All that had participated in the fight against the darkspawn or their representatives filled the throne room. Generals and ambassadors from Orzammar stood next to First Enchanter Irving and his fellow mages. Keeper Lanaya and her hunters stood shoulder to shoulder with the knights of Redcliffe, there was not a sign of hostility between the two parties. Even the Avvar managed to be…cordial. Fortunatley that was because Chief Maferath and Siobahn made sure they behaved. And all of the Warden's companions appeared were present, dressed for the occasion.

Alistair stood before the throne in the garments of the Fereldan King, using his newfound powers of speech to address the people who had gathered. "My friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate our victory over the darkspawn, to honor those who gave their lives in the fight against evil and the defense of Denerim." Alistair's words received a quiet, emotional response. "Of those who battled the Blight, there is one who deserves…commendation. Ladies and gentlemen I present the Hero of Ferelden, the first man to slay an Archdemon since Garahel four centuries ago." Aedan silently walked forward and presented himself to the people who had gathered, receiving a roaring applause from all present. "My friend, it is difficult to imagine how you could have aided these people more. Is there any boon you would ask of your king? If it is within my power, I will grant it."

Aedan knelt humbly before his newly elected king. After defeating the Blight and saving his homeland there was only one thing he truly wanted, his family, but that was not possible for any king. "My king. I…I ask that you give my family justice." Aedan requested sadly.

"The Howes are hereby stripped of their lands and titles, and will be investigated about their involvement in the Highever attack." Alistair answered with kingly authority. "Highever itself is returned to your family, namely your brother Fergus, who was found safe and sound in Korcari Wilds."

Aedan looked over to the crowd and was filled with shock and joy to actually see his brother standing amongst the crowd. His joy was quickly over washed with shame and regret, he couldn't stand to be in Fergus' sight after what happened.

"Let it also be known that the Arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Rendon Howe, is hereby granted to The Grey Wardens." Alistair continued. "There they can rebuild and follow the example that this man has set." Alistair looked to his brother-in-arms. "What are your plans now, my friend?"

Aedan thought for a moment and knew what he was going to do. "I intend to search for Morrigan." He couldn't ignore the hole she left in his heart. Hopefully the ring she gave him would help.

"My impression was that she didn't want to be found." Alistair waved off. "But if that's what you want, then good luck. But don't be gone too long, this country still needs its hero."

"I will never abandon Ferelden or her people, Alistair."

"Glad to hear it. Now go out and celebrate, damn it!" Alistair laughed. "This is a party for Andraste's sake!"

Aedan summoned all his courage to meet his brother. Right now he'd rather be facing the Archdemon again the face Fergus. His brother smiled that charming grin that his family loved so much. "When I heard that my little brother not only defeated the Archdemon, but was declared a hero, I was stunned to say the least." He laughed. "But can anyone expect less of a Cousland?"

Tears of held back emotion finally flooded from Aedan's eyes as he embraced his beloved brother. "Oh, Fergus! Can you ever forgive me?" Aedan sobbed.

Fergus hugged his younger brother as his own tears escaped. "There is nothing to forgive, Aedan. I know Oren and Oriana wouldn't have blamed you, and neither do I." Fergus said with his voice cracking.

"I killed him, Fergus." Aedan wept bitterly. "I killed Howe for what he did. I made him bleed. I made him suffer for what he did."

"And I wish I was there for it." Fergus said honestly. "But, please, let's not focus on the past now."

"What…what happened to you, Fergus?" Aedan asked. "I thought you were dead."

"I never actually made it to Ostagar." Fergus answered. "My scouting party was ambushed by darkspawn. All my men were killed and I was left for dead. I woke up weeks later in a Chasind hut near death. It wasn't until a few weeks ago I was well enough to finally leave." The look of pride on Fergus' face filled Aedan with a kind of joy he had not felt in ages. "Imagine my surprise when I heard your name being chanted like a hero. Mother and Father would be so proud of you."

Aedan wiped the tears from his eyes, not wanting to seem weak in front of his brother. "What are you going to do now?"

"I think I'll…take up the title of Teryn of Highever and help rebuild. There is so much work to be done." Fergus answered sadly.

Aedan looked at his left hand and slipped his father's ring off his finger. "Here, Fergus. You should have this. It belongs to the Teryn of Highever."

"I thought this was lost!" Fergus marveled as he placed the ring rightfully on to his finger. "You…you'll come back with me to Highever, won't you? The castle just won't be the same with…everyone gone."

"There are things that I have left to do. But I promise, I will, brother." Aedan swore.

"I'll hold you to that, little brother." Fergus laughed. "Otherwise I'll hunt you down and give you a good finger wagging like mother used to!"

Aedan felt like the weight of the Frostbacks had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew he could never make up for failing to protect his brother's wife and son, but at least he had his forgiveness. They were all that was left of House Cousland, and they would remain as brothers.

Aedan greeted his companion one last time before he left to greet the mass of people outside the door. Leliana decided she would rejoin the Chantry. After everything they had been through she decided to make sure that the Chantry would continue to protect the innocent, and she could do that. Despite Aedan's feelings for the Chantry, he wished the bard all the luck in the world.

Wynne was offered the position of First Enchanter of Kinloch Hold, but declined the honor. Instead, she decided to use what time she had left in the world to travel around and search for a way to restore Shale her mortality. Apparently Shale had learned the value of being flesh and blood from a stunning example of mortal fortitude. Aedan would miss them both dearly. Wynne and her kind, matronly nature. And Shale's blunt fortitude and brutal honesty.

Zevran decided he would stay only for a little while. He knew that the Crows would eventually send more assassins after him, and he would not let them endanger the friends he had come to cherish. That bit of selflessness surprised Aedan to say the least. He never thought he'd miss the perverted elf, but he was going to. He knew how to make a laugh out of anything.

Sten, for the first time since they had met, showed absolute humility and respect to Aedan. Aedan only had to stop a Blight to accomplish that feat. With his sword and honor restored Sten decided to return to his people with his head held high, and he would forever be grateful to the bas who became known as "kadan" to him, and would tell every qunari in Par Vollen that Aedan Cousland was "Basalit-an". Aedan didn't dismiss the significance of what that meant to Sten, but he still knew that in future the two could become enemies on the battlefield. When that day came Aedan would fight him out of respect rather than hatred.

Oghren…was already drunk, but he wasn't plastered. Apparently, Teagan bet a whole sovereirn that Oghren couldn't down a whole barrel of pickle juice. Tegan was going to be one gold piece poorer. Turns out Oghren was offered a position in the Ferelden army, the highest rank ever awarded to surface dwarf. And he was going to make an honest woman out of Felsi as well. Was this even the same Oghren Kondrat Aedan knew? Aedan had to admit, he'd miss Oghren. Not the belching, or puking, that weird smell, the crappy jokes, the constant inebriation or the farting….Actually, Aedan was going to like not being around Oghren for a while.

Aedan finally reached the doors, and for the first time in his life, he was nervous. His life's dream was to become a hero to his people, but the reality was much more staggering than the dream. Aedan finally opened the doors and was greeted with cheers and praise from not just his own countrymen, but from Dalish elves, Orzammar dwarves and Circle mages came to greet him as a hero. Their cheers raised made his spirit soar to height he never knew possible. It was exalting, yet humbling. As he walked through the crowd he was pleasantly surprised to see Bevin and his sister Kaitlyn amongst the people. Bevin had his grandfather's sword strapped to his back like the warrior he would one day become.

"I told you he was a hero, Kaitlyn!" Bevin praised.

Kaitlyn's smiled beamed through the crowd. "Of all the money that 'ere I spent, I spent it in good company." Her voice carried through the crowd as the entire city joined her.

And of all the harm that 'ere I've done

Alas it was to none but me

And all I've done for want of wit

To memory now I can't recall

So fill to me The Parting Glass

Goodnight and joy be with you all

Of all the comrades the e're I had

They're sorry for my going away

And all the sweethearts that e're I loved

They would wish me one more day to stay

But since it falls on to my lot

That I should rise and you should not

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call "Goodnight and Joy be with you all"

A man may drink and not be drunk

A man may fight and not be slain

A man may court a pretty girl and perhaps be welcomed back again

But since it has, so ought to be

By a time to rise and a time to fall

Come fill to me The Parting Glass

Goodnight and Joy be with you all

Come fill to me The Parting Glass

Goodnight and Joy be with you all

Two Months Later in the Frostback Mountains...

It had been a frustrating journey through his country during the course of the Blight, but now it was more aggravating trying to get to end of Ferelden's borders with these new problems; citizens who recognized him as the Hero of Ferelden, all begging him to regale them with tales of his heroics or trying pawn off their daughters to him, him slapping down Chantry fools who dared to credit the Maker with Aedan's victory, and all this talk he had heard of the darkspawn rallying and causing problems in the north, his family's terynir.

The most frustrating of all, however, was finding all these different informants who said they have seen a woman of Morrigan's description and following their advice only to find the trail had gone cold, as if she vanished into thin air. The latest bit of news he heard was of a pale, golden-eyed woman with raven hair had made it to the Frostback Mountains, an impressive feat considering some say she looked like she was with child.

Aedan had tried to use the ring Morrigan gave him to find her and whenever he was close to her the ring seemed to…emanate his love's emotions; she too could sense he was searching for her. The ring "informed" that she felt regret and loss, but he could not use it to find her exact whereabouts. Aedan searched all he could in the mountains, hell, he even searched through Orzammar, and King Bhelen was magnanimous enough to have his spies search the city only to find nothing. Aedan concluded that she had already left Ferelden's borders and was probably half way to Halamshiral at this point. Aedan could've yelled at the world for the failure in not finding the love of his life so he could persuade her to start a life with him and their child, but what was the point? She had told she'd be gone and he wouldn't find her. Morrigan was many things that could be seen in a negative light, but she was no liar.

Now here was on the surface settlement at the gates of Orzammar chugging down what was the closest thing these surface dwarves and traders passed off as alcohol and eating what looked like stew mixed with vomit and feces. Aedan didn't care, it wasn't like there was anything that could lift his spirits up and the bad food and drink was perfect for his mood.

"'Scuse me, human…." A dwarf soldier with a falcon perched on his forearm addressed. "Yer name Aedan Kesland?"

Aedan quirked an eyebrow. "It's Cousland actually, but yes. What do you want?"

"Sorry to interrupt your, uh…meal, but this hawk came to our gate with a message specifically for an Aedan Cousland, describing in great detail a large human with tattoos on his face. I look out into this place and here ya are!" Aedan was waiting on this guard to get to the point so he can continue to feel shitty about himself. "Anyway message fer ya."

Aedan took the message and on it was labeled the royal arms of the Theirin family, this message was from Alistair.

Dear Aedan.

I know your searching for Morrigan, Maker knows why, but we have a situation; apparently the darkspawn have forgotten that the Archedemon is dead and are overstaying their welcome here in Ferelden, more specifically the northern coast at Amaranthine. Rude of them, really. The Grey Wardens of Orlais have finally arrived to assist in rebuilding the order at Vigil's Keep, but their having problems routing out the darkspawn there and are requesting you in specific to act as the new Warden Commander. Personally I think you're the only one suited for the job and none the lords of Ferelden want a high ranking Orlesian in their backyard. I'd take the position myself, but thanks to you I get to play king instead, so lucky me. Funnies aside we need you, Aedan. I know Morrigan meant a lot to you but Ferelden is far from safe, Blight or no Blight. Until the darkspawn have completely returned to the Deep Roads we need to you to reestablish the Warden's strength in this country so that Ferelden never forgets the importants of our former Order. No pressure, right? This message contains your commission and orders with my royal seal. Go to Kinloch Hold and there will be a small party to escort you to Amaranthine, as well as give you fresh arms, armour and supplies. Good Luck.

Best wishes and fondest regards.

Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden.

P.S. I am also putting you in this position because being king isn't all it's cracked up to be. If I get to suffer then so do you!

Aedan folded the letter and sadly packed up his camp. He didn't want to give up his search. He wanted to find Morrigan. He needed to find Morrigan. His Golden Eyed Darling. But his country needed him, and he could not turn his back on his sworn duty. Morrigan was strong, and she would be alright, he knew should would be. And he would continue his search. Some day. Aedan looked back to bitter Frostbacks with a heavy heart.

"MORRIGAAAN! I will find you one day! I will never stop looking!" His heart was as heavy as the mountains themselves. "I love you! I will always love you!"

Aedan's walk back down the mountains was harder, his footsteps laden with failure and heartbreak. Then he felt the ring shine on his finger. And he could feel her heart as if it were his own. She felt…regret and sorrow. But the ring said no more.

He would find his love someday, but not until he had secured his nation. He was Aedan Cousland, Son of Highever, Brother of Bear-Hold. Berserker and Reaver. Warden and Hero. And his actions would define the course of the Dragon Age. And while others heroes and champions may rise, Aedan's story was not yet over.

Author's Note:

Alright! So this part of the story is over, but the story itself is not. I will continue to write and add to this fic. I have updated this story once a week ever since I first posted this story. But my updates will becomes less frequent now. Dragon Age Inquisition is out and the holidays are coming up, so those will be taking up most of my time. And I'd like to start writing my own stuff now. Thank you all, and please continue to support and review.

In War, Victory.

In Peace, Vigilance.

In Death, Sacrifice.

~Grey Warden Motto.