Hello everyone. I know I have tried DA fics before but I believe this one will be different simply because it is different. The main character is an OC who we will meet here very soon but we will still see some of the origins from the game, even if they are not Wardens. Please enjoy the read and leave a review to let me know what you think.

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The nights grew colder as the youth dropped a few pieces of wood on the fire. He could hear the chattering teeth across the flames from all the others. He knew they were cold and hungry. Andraste's knickers, he was too, but the castle kitchens and nearly every other place in the city carrying food had locked their doors tight. Not even the Chantry left anything out for the beggars.

Highever certainly had its troubles but scarcity was not one of them. Most of the people in the Arling remained well fed and warm through the winter thanks to the generosity of the Couslands. He had even met the youngest child, Alyssa, when they were very young. But for people like him and his friends, work remained scarce and food elusive. With the Darkspawn starting to advance from the south, food was being rationed in case of a Blight's arrival meaning he and his friends would go hungry.

The youth had dreamed of fighting alongside the heroes of old, straddling a griffin with the blue and silver armor shining in the sun. The Grey Wardens received feasts and banquets everywhere they went since they were welcomed back to Ferelden. If he could find a way into the army, he could become a hero in the first battle and finally start living the good life. Just thinking about the food and drink he could enjoy as a hero made his stomach growl.

"I know you're hungry, Damien, but come on. That was loud enough to wake Andraste," one of his friends said holding his hands over the fire. The frail fingers quivered against the cold as the young man shivered beneath the ragged blanket.

Damien pulled the hood up over his head and pulled his scarf around his neck tighter. He needed to find something to feed the group and the only place he knew would have food enough to feed them all was the castle kitchens. But being locked, he would need to break in.

"Heness, if Lockey and Griggs wake up before I get back, tell them to wait here. I've gone to find some food," Damien said adjusting the wrappings on his feet. They were horrible for shoes, but they did keep his toes from freezing and falling off.

"Here, just in case," Heness said handing him a small pouch. Damien opened it and found a small set of handmade lock-picks.

"Thanks, but hopefully I won't need them," Damien replied slipping them into his pocket. He grabbed a small dagger he had stolen from the blacksmith on the other side of town and slid it into the back of his waist belt.

Taking a running start, Damien leapt and caught himself on a beam and used it to swing himself up. He scaled the side of the inn he and his friends were camped next to and flipped up onto the roof. Of all his skills, the ability to climb, run, jump, and agilely evade pursuers pleased him the most. It could even be fun at times. Lockey and Griggs had even accused him of being part squirrel, or Dalish.

Even though the comment had been meant as a joke, Damien had always found the Dalish fascinating, and had even joked about going to live with them a few times, but Dalish elves would never allow a human anywhere near their camp.

His steps made little noise as he sprinted across the roof tops, leaping from building to building. He hoped that anyone who saw him would think he was nothing more than a shadow cast by a bird against the moon. He could see the castle wall. It would be a long jump, but he could make it. Of that he was sure.

He had shown his comrades all of his skills and learned from theirs as well, but one skill he never revealed terrified even him. Since he was a young boy, he had been plagued by dreams of demons. He knew this often meant that he was a mage but without an ability to use magic, he had dismissed it. The revelation came one day as he ran, leaping from roof to roof. On one such jump, he fell short, but he had reached out with everything he had in him and something propelled him forward and up to where he landed safely. He honed his magic and found he was quite good at moving objects and even himself with nothing but a hand motion and willpower.

The gap below him was empty. Everyone was probably home sleeping, but the guards in the castle would be wide awake. He would have to sneak down to the servants quarters and find some clothes and shoes so he could blend in.

Kicking off the roof behind him, Damien soared through the air and landed lightly on the castle wall without a sound. He crept along the battlements making his way to the stair case. Though his feet froze against the stone, he thanked Andraste for his near bare feet. The hard, leather sole of a boot would have announced his presence to the entire castle; though if he found a pair of real shoes, he might take a few extras back for everyone else.

The halls were much warmer than the outside. He basked in the torch light and let it sooth his chattering teeth and frigid hands. Slipping through the door to the servants chambers, Damien found himself alone among the two dozen or so beds and trunks. Maybe the servants had some food stashed away along with an extra pair of shoes and some warmer clothes; one could only hope.

After searching through the first four chests and finding only thin summer clothes, Damien decided that they would have to do and slipped them on before tying the scarf around his neck again and draping the cloak and hood over him.

He managed to make it to the Great Hall before he spotted a pair of guards. He slipped through the door and froze. There next to a massive fireplace was Teyrn Bryce Cousland himself, the Teyrn of Highever, and he was talking to Arl Rendon Howe of Amaranthine. He had seen them pass through the streets multiple times.

"It will be good to ride with you again. Just like the old days," the Teyrn said sipping what appeared to be wine.

"Almost," Howe responded. A sudden move caught both the Teyrn and Damien off guard as the Arl leapt forward with a dagger in hand. The Teyrn rolled out of his chair just in time as the two sets of guards clashed all of a sudden. Damien couldn't believe his eyes. Was this a coup d'état?

Damien watched for a full second before pulling the dagger from his waist and leaping forward. If he could save the Teyrn's life, he might get a reward and set himself up for life.

The youth tackled the Arl and managed to throw him off the Teyrn. He jumped to his feet and tossed off the cloak. He had been in several fights before, protecting territory, his friends, their food, but never against a noble or trained soldiers.

"Protect the Teyrn!" a knight screamed at him as the man push past to engage the Arl. Damien flipped the dagger in his hand and leapt to the Teryn's side.

"Quickly, my lord," Damien said taking the man's arm and pulling him to his feet. He noticed quickly the man was injured. He would need healing of some kind if he was going to survive.

"My family, please, we must find my family," the man begged. Damien sighed. He had to be a good family man.

"Let me get you somewhere safe first, my lord," Damien pleaded leading him toward the door.

"Very well, get me to the larder. There's a secret passage. Then you can go find my wife, children, and grandchild," the Teyrn said weakly.

"Yes my lord," Damien said.

As he opened the door to the hallway, he spotted guards battling each other. A man bearing an Amaranthine crest on his shield started to approach them unopposed. Leaning the injured Teyrn against the wall, Damien took a quick breath and sprang forward.

He watched the soldier react by swing his sword toward him, meant for his head, but Damien dropped to the floor allowing his momentum to carry him forward and between the man's legs. Damien lashed out with the dagger and separated the man's ligaments in his knee causing the soldier to howl in pain and collapse, dropping his sword and shield. As he scrambled to his feet, the youth scooped up the shield and brought it down onto the man's helmet. The blow sent vibrations through Damien's arms but it appeared to have knocked the soldier out cold.

Damien picked up the sword and brought it to the Teyrn before looping his arm around his shoulder again and carrying him into the kitchen.

"To be honest with you, my lord, this was not the way I pictured the night going," Damien said as he opened the larder door and helped the man inside.

"None of us expected this."

Damien chuckled. "I have a confession to make." He knelt in front of the injured noble and tore a piece of his new shirt off to bandage the wound in his stomach. "I'm not one of your servants."

"I figured as much with the way you fight," the Teyrn responded. Damien smiled.

"I actually broke in here hoping to steal some food for myself and a few friends. Everything I'm wearing except for my scarf and the cloak I lost back there is stolen. Even my dagger," Damien confessed.

"Then you are an exceptional thief and I must ask you to steal my family from Howe's grasp. Please, they are all that matter to me," Teyrn Cousland pleaded. Damien couldn't refuse. Not because the man was his lord, but because he could see the desperation in the man's eyes.

"You have my word, my lord. I'll find them and bring them here," Damien responded. He flipped the dagger in his hand again and handed the teyrn the Amaranthine shield. He closed the door to the larder and pulled a small bag of potatoes in front of it. At least the teyrn would have some warning before anyone barged in on him.

The fighting in the hall had calmed some but he could still hear the sounds of battle emanating from the Great Hall. He knelt over one of the fallen guards and stripped him of his armor. The leather wouldn't do much against a battleaxe but it would allow him to stay nimble and quick on his feet. The boots fit decently enough, certainly better than any other footwear he had ever found, and he even found a small purse of a few coppers and silvers; more money than he had seen all year.

He collected a quiver of arrows and a bow before taking up two dueling daggers. The blades were much longer than his blade. Really, what he called a dagger was little more than a boot knife. Armed with his new armor and weapons, Damien took off at a sprint through the halls. He knew the castle layout fairly well, he had certainly broken in enough times, but he had never been up to the sleeping chambers of the Teyrn's family before. He used the wall to heighten his jump to clear a pile of rubble blocking his way. As he landed, he spotted a Mabari ripping a soldier's throat out.

The hound looked more like a monster covered in blood with a soldier dying in his mouth, but majestic in a way as well. Mabari were considered the pride of most Fereldan nobles. Everyone said a mabari was even more reliable than a silverite sword for protection.

Damien hid at the corner hoping the dog would not know he was there, especially if it wanted to attack him.

"Good boy, Brax," a female voice said. Damien peaked around the corner and spotted Lady Cousland along with her mother, Teyrna Cousland. Both women were rather attractive, but Lady Alyssa Cousland was beyond compare. Strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a few of her long bangs falling softly on her face. Though covered in blood and ash, Damien could tell her complexion could only be called fairest of fair, and even that did not capture her essence. Damien shook his head. He could ogle at the girl later. For the moment, he had a promise to keep to the Teyrn.

But what luck, he had not gone very far and here they were. The younger girl wore leather armor very similar to his while the Teyrna only had her gown with the bottom torn off, most likely allowing her to move easier. He had not expected the nobles to be so down to earth. He always thought their heads were in the clouds, too high on their pedestals to notice their people.

"We have to get to the vault and collect the family sword. We can't let Howe have it," the Teryna stated pointing in the opposite direction of the kitchen.

"Andraste's holy knickers, they have to grab some precious heirloom," Damien whispered to himself. He decided to remain hidden and shadow them for protection. The less noticeable he was, the easier it would be to surprise anyone that tried to attack them.

He crept through the halls following the two women and quickly noticed that they didn't need much protection. The young Lady Cousland could a wield a blade better than most of the soldiers he had seen and the Teyrna could put an arrow in a man's eye at 20 paces.

They disappeared for a moment down the hall and reemerged a moment later wielding an older but obviously more powerful sword. Damien found himself feeling uneasy. There was something very wrong.

"Now to find father. He's probably in the Great Hall," Lady Cousland said waving her mother to follow. Damien pulled his bow and notched an arrow. He would need to be ready to fight. He simply could not shake the feeling that something was off even in the midst of battle.

As the women entered the Great Hall, Damien caught a glimpse of the fighting inside and it appeared to be far more fierce than when he had left. Slipping in quickly, Damien found himself watching guards and knights battling for their lives. The Lady and Teryna wasted no time jumping right into the battle. Damien realized he could no longer stay hidden and charged forward. His skills from the years of pickpocketing, fighting, and running across rooftops started to really show in his fighting style as he used a bench to leap over the two women and engage the soldier in front of them.

He fired the arrow aimlessly causing the soldier to lift his shield opening his stomach for a jab from the end of his bow. He flipped the weapon around and caught the man's head with the bow string and released his hold on the grip. The weapon sprung from his hand colliding with the soldier's helmet and denting the face piece in onto his face and knocking him to the ground. Damien grabbed hold of the man's shield and spun, using the momentum to hurl the protective weapon like a disc toward the few soldiers that were managing to slip through the gate. The shield collided with a man knocking him out cold. Damien scooped up the bow again and rushed forward toward a very skinny man dressed in robes.

He quickly realized why he'd had a bad feeling earlier. The man before him sliced open his hand allowing tentacles of blood to pour out and surround him. Damien grabbed his knife and hurled it at the man burying it deep in his head.

As the blood mage fell, time seemed to slow. Damien watched wide-eyed as the man collapsed and felt his stomach tie itself in knots.

"Maker's breath… what have I done?" Damien whispered as he started to back way.

"You killed a blood mage, and quite stylishly as well," a knight said stepping to his side and patting him on the shoulder. "My Lady, I was so worried some of Howe's men might have slipped past us," the knight said turning to the Teryna.

"Some did… they got to…" The Teyrna could not finish her sentence. Damien's heart sank. The grandchild the Teyrn had mentioned. He had forgotten about them when he saw the Teyrna safe.

"Sir Gilmore, what's the situation? Have you seen my father?" Lady Cousland asked.

"Last I saw of him, a servant was taking him toward the kitchens," the knight responded. Damien turned to face them. The knight took one look at him before pointing. "This is him. What are you doing in armor? Where's the Teyrn?"

"I got him to the larder but he asked me to come and find his family. As for the armor, I needed something more than clothing if I was gonna fight through these bastards didn't I?" Damien snapped. His stomach still threatened to jump out of his gut. Killing the blood mage might have been the right thing to do, but he was still a person, a living breathing person who died at his hand. On top of that, this knight getting all high and mighty on him was only making him mad.

"How dare you-" the knight started but the Teyrna stopped him.

"You are not one of our servants. I know all of them by name. And you are certainly not a guard. None of our soldiers fight the way you do, or would freeze in the middle of a battle. Who are you?" the Teyrna asked.

"My lady, at this time I'm the man who's taking you to your husband at his request," Damien said. "I'll explain more when we get there."

"Good enough for me. If he tries anything, Brax will eat him," Lady Cousland answered.

That appeared to be all they needed to hear because they immediately took off toward the kitchens. Damien led the way, but could feel the eyes on his back. They jumped over the bodies that littered the hallway and slipped through the kitchen door.

"I swear, if I get my hands on Howe," Lady Cousland began. Damien shook his head and slid the potatoes out of the way.

"Escape first, revenge later, my lady," Damien said pulling the door open. The Teyrn was right where he had left him. He had turned very pale and had blood running from his mouth. The wound apparently had done more damage than Damien had originally thought. If only he knew healing magic or had a potion or poultice, they could save him.

"There you both are," he exclaimed weakly. Damien turned away and stepped out of earshot. He did not want to see the man die. He took a large bag from the floor and started stuffing bread, fruit and vegetables into it. A single loaf of bread could last his group several days if not a week, and there were at least ten in the kitchen.

He had nearly filled the bag when the door opened and an armed man entered. Damien pulled his bow and drew an arrow.

"Stop right there, or I'll drop you. Hand to Andraste," Damien ordered.

"No need for that, I am a friend," the man said gently. There was something in the man's voice that made Damien think he could trust him.

"Who are you?" Damien asked still holding the arrow at full draw.

"My name is Duncan, Commander of the Grey."