Darkness Endures

Kallian swung her sword down, burying the blade in the skull of one of the rebel soldiers, the edge slicing through metal, flesh, and bone. Placing one foot on the twitching corpse's chest, she ripped her gleaming blade from the soldier's head as droplets of blood leapt through the air in an arc. Gripping her sword in two hands, she turned to her next opponent, a heavy mace raised over his head as he charged, preparing to crush the slight elf before him. Catching the terrible blow on her sword, the impact sending a shock through her arms, she lashed out with a quick uppercut, snapping the man's head back. As he stumbled backward, Kallian darted past him, sliding her blade across his abdomen and gutting him while barreling forward. Dodging another wild attack, she curled her arm around the snarling woman's neck as she stood back-to-back with her and twirled like a ballerina, snapping her neck with a sickening crack.

As the body hit the ground, Kallian paused to observe the battlefield, her eyes sweeping over the plain littered with the bodies of the dead and wounded, the cries and groans of the latter rising pitifully in a cacophony of carnage. Blood stained the green and brown grass red while carrion birds circled in the sky, awaiting the end of the battle so they could finally partake of their grim feast. She watched as the mounted chevaliers ran down entire legions of Fereldan foot soldiers, crushing the men underneath their mounts' hooves as scores fled in terror.

Kallian continued to pant from exhaustion as she pushed the strands of bright red hair from her face, her fiery locks that descended far past her shoulders now a sweaty, tangled mess. She still wore her dragon scale armor forged by Master Wade on the eve of the final battle a few scarce years ago, the rust red color of the plates hiding the crimson blood that covered her body. Stitched into her tattered cloak was the heraldry of the Grey Wardens, the double griffin signifying her status as Warden Commander of Ferelden. The symbolism meant little as the organization had largely disowned her, the combined damage from her unexplained survival after slaying the archdemon, the decision to spare the Architect, which left the Wardens aghast, and increased pressure from the Chantry who would not tolerated an alleged maleficar in such a high position.

Indeed, the Orlesian Empire had used its ties with the Chantry to influence the Divine to call for an Exalted March against the supposed evil controlling Ferelden, a call Orlais accepted shamelessly, no one doubting the ulterior motives behind the invasion. If anything, Orlais' entry into the rebellion backing the renegade nobles controlling most of the ravaged south only benefitted Kallian, as she could now use the lingering hatred many people of Ferelden held for their erstwhile Orlesian overlords to bring otherwise neutral citizens to her side. Her armies pushed back the combined forces of the rebels, Chantry, and Orlais as the loyalist forces penetrated deeper into the restive Bannorn.

The generals of Orlais could see the desperate nature of their campaign and so gathered their forces for a crippling strike on Denerim, hoping to stab a dagger through the heart of the nation. In doing so, they had walked into a trap as armies from Denerim, Amaranthine, Highever, and Redcliffe, the four chief bastions of the loyalist forces, converged on the marching combined forces of the Orlesians and forced them into a corner with their backs to the sea. Desperate men, however, fight with the savagery of cornered animals, and this viciousness was something the warriors of Ferelden could not match.

A sense of danger awoke Kallian from her daze as she narrowly avoided a sword meant to cleave her in two. She unsheathed her curved dagger and stabbed backward blindly, impaling another rebel in the side before she knocked him to the ground with a punishing blow from her forearm. She stabbed down with her sword into the fallen soldier's abdomen as he screamed, his hands being sliced open as Kallian removed the sword he held with a death grip. Leaving him to slowly bleed to death, she observed ranks of cavalry thundering towards her depleted ranks, many soldiers standing with her throwing aside their weapons and abandoning the field. She smirked as she leveled one outstretched palm toward the galloping contingent, watching in satisfaction as a shockwave distorted the air in front of her, sending the chevaliers high into the air before they fell to the ground with the wet thuds of bodies made up of flesh and bone impacting the hard ground.

Numerous soldiers, mostly on the rebel side or neophytes replacing the dead in the ranks of the loyalists, gaped at the display of power. They had all heard the rumors of this small elf woman being a maleficar of terrifying a power, a demon who openly mocked the Maker and perverted his gift, but none could truly comprehend the devastation Kallian could unleash with a simple flick of her wrist. Whispered gossip told in hushed tones told of how this woman, this monster, had committed the ultimate sacrilege of defiling the last remains of Andraste while under the tutelage of an even more sinister evil, a demon who once wiped out every templar in Ferelden's Circle of Magi, a demon known as Revan.

Energy gathered around Kallian as she plunged into the enemy's ranks, cutting apart her opponents and throwing them about as the maelstrom of the Force grew around her. She was like a fierce storm, ripping apart everything in her path and leaving only destruction in her wake as she made her way to the leader of the faltering enemy forces. Her allies followed in her path, mopping up the survivors even as awe and a healthy dose of fear kept them from accomplishing the task efficiently. While the armies of Ferelden once looked to be on the brink of a crushing rout, Kallian's intervention had swung the tide of battle once again their favor as she broke through the dispirited ranks of her opponents, battering them with an unseen gale accompanied by jagged bolts of lightning.

Dropping a final soldier to the ground with a blackened hole where his heart would have been, Kallian looked into the veiled eyes of a faceless templar, one of many who had accompanied another of the slaves of the Chantry who marched with every major army, ostensibly to convince the soldiers of the righteousness of their cause or as a convenient source of morale or so Kallian thought. "Face me and die, accursed maleficar!" the templar snarled, swinging a greatsword into a ready position even as he unleashed an anti-magic burst, the mana draining energy washing over Kallian as her mouth twisted into a savage grin.

She sent a torrent of blue lightning from her fingertips at the unfortunate templar, having learned years ago how to wield the dark side energy without damaging her own body. As the smoking corpse fell, more of the mage hunters charged her only to fall along with their electrocuted companion as a snap hiss and a smell of ozone signaled their deaths. A wave of fear took hold in the minds of the remaining templars as they watched the dark figure, energy pulsing from her body and blazing blade of orange light in her hand, approach with measured steps.

A bead of sweat trickled down the face of a particularly young and inexperienced templar as he looked into the icy blue eyes of the demon before him. He had heard from templars that had survived previous engagements with this maleficar that their powers seemed to have no effect on her but had always dismissed them, believing their words to be the ravings of men and women who had snapped under the great pressures of the battlefield. He had always felt smug and superior at his ability to lord over the Maker damned abominations called mages and never for a moment considered there might be one strong enough to shrug off even the most debilitating magical suppression techniques. Fear froze him in that instant, a fear so deep and pervading that he could not even raise his sword as a quick flick of a lightsaber ended his life, avenging countless crimes committed against those who could not choose how they were born all done in the name of an absent deity too selfish to watch over His own creations.

Kallian casually walked over the dismembered bodies of the templars she slew in a matter of seconds, their severed limbs and decapitated heads still glowing gold from the tremendous heat given off by her lightsaber. Her eyes strayed to the representative of the Chantry, one of their vile priests who used a false religion to rule over others, condemning her people to a life of servitude and despair. "You can kill me maleficar," she said with strength in her voice that belied her intense fear, "but the Maker will surely visit His just and terrible punishment upon you for your sins. You should repent for your fate will be to walk alone in the void, forever cut off from the love of He who is our Maker and His beloved bride, Andraste".

Kallian ignored her, continuing to study the fallen templars as she paced closer to the old woman, the priest's fear increasing with every step she took. Standing before her, she reached out quickly with one deft hand and pulled the old woman close to her face. Kallian's eyes flashed dangerously, a brief spark of yellow marring her icy blue eyes as she sneered, "Where's your Maker now?"

The Kocari Wilds were silent, the scars of the blight still leaving the swamplands devoid of any life. Even the Chasind Wilders avoided the dead forest now, stories of demons riding screeching black beasts joining the old legends of Flemeth and the more recent darkspawn incursion cautioning the children of the tribes to avoid the cursed place. A mournful wind moaned as it traveled through the bare trees of the forest, their twisted and gnarled forms appearing like grasping hands ready to snatch anyone unlucky enough to find themselves lost in the haunted wood.

A low rumbling broke the silence of the forest as a bright star appeared in the sky, soon becoming an earthshaking whine as the star enlarged into a black shape trailed by two blue tongues of flame. The black shape descended in a clearing of the forest, steam hissing from it as a silvery mist covered the craft, obscuring the dark shape while a shaft of light suddenly shone from the underside. A lone figure stood amidst the light, its features obscured as the brightness shadowed its form. Red eyes watched as the figure turned its shadowed head, seemingly searching for something even as it slowly walked into the forest.

The figure looked upon a small village, only a few fires lighting the many darkened cottages. Assessing the appearance of the town, the figure concluded that this planet was even more primitive than it first thought with no evidence of even the most basic technology present. Although this could cause some difficulties should the natives prove excessively superstitious or fearful of modern technology, finding what the figure searched for should be all the easier since she would be the only one carrying anything traceable by sensors. A sense of anticipation filled the figure, hoping that this world would finally be the one where its search ended after scouring all the graveyard worlds of the Unknown Regions.

Entering the village, the figure observed a human, obviously intoxicated, staggering through the street while swaying dangerously before his eyes caught sight of the figure before him. His eyes widened and his mouth moved rapidly as he screamed unintelligible words. Candles were lit in houses throughout the village as the drunken man continued to cry out in terror, grating on the figure's nerves as it raised its blaster, pulling the trigger with an insane sense of glee. The blaster roared as a single bolt of red energy streaked toward the man, striking him in the heart. The dark figure fired a second shot for good measure, snapping back the dead man's head as a smoking hole was left in his forehead.

More villagers awoke as the blaster's shots shook them from their dreams. Several of the braver ones emerged from their homes, only to be greeted with the sight of a monster standing over the body of one of their number. As more screams shook the village, the figure grew increasingly irritated at the incoherent babbling of this foreign tongue. Firing several more shots to silence the hysterical residents of the village, the figure was suddenly confronted by an enraged man holding a sword of all things. "How quaint," thought the figure as it gripped the man's sword arm like a vice, snapping his wrist so savagely that it hung from only a few torn pieces of skin and muscle. The brave but foolish villager gasped, falling to his knees before a bolt to the head put him out of his misery.

As chaos descended on the ordinarily quiet, sleepy village, the figure concluded that it would be necessary to acquire at least a rudimentary knowledge of this world's language, or interrogations would prove to be an exercise of futility. The figure filed that away under its primary objective but now turned its attention to its new secondary objective: to liquidate this village and leave no evidence of its presence.

Kallian walked through the gates of the royal palace for the first time in months, her military campaigns requiring that she spend long periods away from the capital. Denerim still bore the scars of the darkspawn siege, new construction replacing the burned out husks of swaths of the city's buildings. The scaffolding that surrounded half-completed structures seemed to be the city's chief architectural feature as scarcely a quarter of the city contained completed, livable buildings. The tall spire of Fort Drakon that once dominated the skyline of Denerim now lay as a pile of rubble, the hard granite used in its construction now being put to use on new projects as the greatest engineers of the present could not rival the skill of the ancients, rendering the tower's reconstruction impossible.

Very few people still lived in Denerim, few survivors escaping the cruel blades of the tainted fiends with most having taken refuge in the royal palace during the crisis while only a handful managed to survive by their own wits and cunning. Kallian's decision to give preference to the alienage elves during the evacuation had left Denerim bearing a substantial elven population proportional to the rather depleted population of humans. Word had traveled fast in the aftermath of the battle that Denerim remained more tolerant and accepting of elven pilgrims, so many of the disadvantaged people who languished in high-walled prisons traveled to Denerim, only increasing the population therein. The human citizens of Denerim generally tolerated living along side their elven neighbors, but a long history of racism and persecution often erupted into violent examples of racial violence even as Alistair preached a doctrine of tolerance and equality.

The hatred was not borne only by the humans as many elves still held deep bitterness over their treatment at the hands of the humans, their unquenchable anger often being solely targeted at Kallian who many elves believed had sold out her own race in order to become the shameless mistress of a human king. This feeling was so widespread that Kallian often felt unwelcome in the primarily elven districts of the rebuilding city and coupled with the mistrust most human citizens felt for her, often made her feel like an outcast in her own city. She was happy that her people now had the kind of freedom she could have only dreamed about when she was young, but she feared that the rabble-rousers would undo everything she had accomplished all for their foolish sense of pride and entitlement. Relations between the two races were tense as it was, and the last thing the city needed were unscrupulous opportunists fanning the flames of racial hatred.

In no area was the divide between the two races more evident than at the very pinnacle of power in Ferelden with Eamon and his supporters clearly disapproving and actively undermining Kallian's policies creating equality between the two races. As Kallian was nominally the Arlessa of Amaranthine and with Shianni as Arlessa of Denerim, elves held two of the primary positions of power in the kingdom with Arl Eamon representing the primary opposition to the changes rapidly coursing through Fereldan society. Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever, who had spent much of the war incapacitated under the care of Chasind wilders after Ostagar, represented the more neutral, moderate branch of nobles who remained loyal to the throne. Having little stomach for governing himself, King Alistair tended to be easily influenced either by Kallian or Eamon on certain issues, resulting in a constant war between the two over who would control the ultimate fate of Ferelden.

Lately though, Kallian's grip on power had been slipping due to her deteriorating relationship with Alistair, the lover she had not seen in months. After the final battle with the archdemon, she remembered how in love they were, their resolve to stay together no matter what challenges or obstacles were set in their path. Reality, however, seldom conforms to the rosy dreams the naïve have about their future. The strain of having to fight enemies from all quarters, the influence of politics, and the constant vitriol, either direct or whispered behind closed doors, that an elf did not deserve to sit on a level equal to the king, weighed on her. The condescending attitude many employed when dealing with Kallian enraged her, but the growing doubt Alistair felt about their relationship and his less than strident attempts to protect her from the criticism hurt her even more deeply.

A grimace crossed Kallian's face as she remembered their attempts to have a child together, an ordeal that nearly crushed their fragile relationship. Kallian had always known that the taint significantly reduced the chances of bearing children, another blow the cruel hand of fate had dealt, but she always held out hope that she would finally come across some luck that had dodged her throughout her difficult life. With the Force suppressing the corruption within her, she and Alistair managed to conceive a child, but the pregnancy only resulted in a miscarriage, a trauma that brought the buried rage within Kallian once again to the surface. She remembered Alistair 's face after hearing the news, the grim countenance that evoked even more shame and anger within her. He did not need to say anything, she felt everything through the Force: his disappointment in not having an heir, his concern for the future of the throne of Ferelden, and in the back of his mind, the question of whether he could continue to stay with her, this despised, barren elf.

She had left the capital after that, only making brief visits to check on her family and barely even catching a glimpse of Alistair. The war to maintain Ferelden's independence and to regain lost territory had become an all-consuming obsession to Kallian, perhaps because she wanted to show Alistair that she was indeed worthy of him through her military exploits or perhaps in spite of him, to work off the wrath boiling inside her by slaughtering countless humans.

"And so our illustrious general returns," Eamon said as his grim gaze looked over her. "I understand you murdered another Revered Mother and slaughtered the Chantry contingent. I believe I informed you of the recent breakthrough I made in bringing the Chantry back to Ferelden, a breakthrough that is now meaningless as a result of your actions".

Kallian studied Eamon with an appraising look, his visage looking much older than his years from the stress of a near fatal poisoning, losing his wife, and managing the affairs of a kingdom held together only by the might of its armies. Eamon had arrived more than a day after the archdemon lay dead, the horde of darkspawn scattered to the four corners of Ferelden. He had not abandoned them as Kallian believed at the time, but his tardiness on the field would have still meant their deaths had Revan not intervened, and therefore, she always regarded him with a healthy dose of suspicion. "I couldn't give a damn about those sodding bastards. If they march with the Orlesians, then they will share their fate. Why does it even matter? I've routed the last army that menaced central Ferelden, the Exalted March is broken, and the Orlesians will have no choice but to lick their wounds like the dogs they are and regroup," Kallian said evenly.

"You do understand that the vast majority of our citizens worship the Maker and follow the will of the Chantry?" Eamon said patronizingly.

"Everyone knows that the Chantry is in the pocket of the Empress, the people aren't stupid. They may worship your Maker, but their hate for the Orlesians will keep them on our side," Kallian reasoned.

"Or the fear of you will," Eamon laughed darkly but his face bore no amusement. "It is statements like that, which feed into the Orlesian propaganda against you. My Maker? He is your Maker as well, Kallian. If you must travel around murdering members of the Chantry with forbidden magic, at least try to appear penitent, so you do not further alienate the citizenry".

"Any person who worships the bloody Maker is an ignorant fool," Kallian sneered. "Why worship a God who abandoned His supposed creation. The only higher power in this world is the power of the Force, and I refuse to be another patsy who worships some absentee god all for the sake of some corrupt church".

"Please, we have heard on many occasions of this mysterious Force, and have no wish to hear of this heathen religion further," Eamon spoke dismissively.

Kallian opened her mouth to retort, but Alistair silenced her with a wave of his hand, "Please friends, can we not be civilized? We've won a great battle and yet we bicker like unruly children. The Chantry is aligned with Orlais, but killing their representatives only hurts our cause and increases support for the enemy. Kallian, please refrain from such actions in the future".

"As you wish, your majesty," she said as she crossed her arms, still not getting over her surprise at how Alistair seemed to slip effortlessly into the persona of a wise ruler even if reality did not back up appearances.

"Fergus, you had something to report?" Alistair asked, gesturing to the brown haired man who still looked haggard years after suffering extensive injuries.

"Ah, yes your majesty. Some of the scouts spying on enemy lines in the south near the Kocari Wilds have been hearing an increasing number of rumors about talking darkspawn in the vicinity. Along with the reports, several villages have been massacred in the general area with the poor slobs apparently bearing some strange wounds," Fergus stated, concern showing on his pale face as his sister stood vigilant behind him.

"What kind of wounds?" Alistair asked as Kallian listened intently.

"Like nothing our scouts have ever seen, small holes that seem to burn through flesh and bone. What is even more troubling is the precision of the wounds, either straight through the heart or in the center of the forehead. Some who have seen the Arlessa's victims immediately thought weapons like hers might be the cause, but the wounds seem more like damage caused by an arrow than a sword," Fergus conceded, shooting a furtive glance at Kallian.

Alistair also looked at Kallian with a knowing look, the same conclusion being formed in each of their minds. They had never told anyone of Revan's true origins or the existence of nations that made up all the stars in the sky, and now if what they believed proved to be correct, another traveler from those distant stars now walked the surface of this world once again. "Talking darkspawn? Sounds familiar…I wonder what person among us spared the abomination known as the Architect and allowed it to continue building an army in the Deep Roads?" Eamon asked sarcastically.

"We don't know if these reports or true or not. It would be wise to send a group to ascertain the cause of the murdered villagers," Alistair mused, shaking his head.

"I'll go," Kallian said flatly as Alistair looked at her with an expression of shock.

"But…but you just got back after being away for so long. I think you should stay for at least a short time, it's not like the darkspawn are going anywhere…although I kind of wish they would," she said with his signature awkward smile but with a pleading look in his eye.

Kallian's teeth clenched as she glimpsed a flash of the old Alistair, but she held firm to her resolve, "If it's a problem with darkspawn then a Grey Warden will be needed to track them, and since you and I are the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden after the Order washed their hands of us, it must be me. If the murderer is something else entirely…I am also the logical choice given my…unique abilities".

Alistair looked as if he wanted to argue, but he simply sighed and nodded, "Kallian…if you would, I'd like to speak in private about some…pressing issues".

Kallian reluctantly agreed, knowing that whatever he had in mind was not going to end well. As the nobles and advisors filed out, Kallian found herself confronted by Fergus' younger sister, Elissa Cousland. She had apparently escaped the assault by the treacherous Rendon Howe on Highever castle a few weeks before the fateful battle at Ostagar though she was forced to leave her parents behind at the mercy of the animals Howe kept in his employ. She had spent most of the war hiding in scattered villages along the coast before inciting a rebellion in Highever against the tyrannical rule of Howe, wresting it from his forces' control only days before the siege on Denerim. When Fergus became Teyrn of the ravaged city, she oversaw its reconstruction while her brother continued a long recovery that still continued to this day. They had both lost family to that snake Howe, but that did not mean they felt any kinship with each other, quite the opposite in fact.

She knew of the furtive looks Elissa sent Alistair's way whenever he entered a room even if she was skilled enough to hide her glances from even the quickest of eyes, her mind a book Kallian could page through at her leisure. She also knew of the behind-the-scenes maneuvering Eamon engaged in, his attempts to arrange a marriage between the king and the Teyrn's sister obvious to anyone who even remotely cared. It would not have bothered her, the girl's obvious affection being only a trifling annoyance, but the close relationship they developed and the obvious friendliness between them disturbed her. She knew Alistair would never stray as long as he was with her, but the difficulties of the past few years had driven them apart, and perhaps he would eventually cast her aside for a woman without Kallian's flaws.

"Your victory over the Orlesians was quite impressive, the strategy and tactics you employed peerless. This victory will be recorded in the history of Ferelden as the beginning of the restoration of our great nation from the damage wrought by the traitorous Howe and Loghain," Elissa complimented as Kallian felt a degree of nervousness coming from her.

"Yes, I am indeed impressive in almost every way," Kallian joked before turning serious, "Enough of this pointless dithering. You have an ulterior motive in speaking to me, so stop dancing around and just say it".

"Very direct as always. Very well. Recently, I have observed that the…relationship you have with the king has hit a rough patch. I wanted to ask you where you think your relationship with his majesty is going?" Elissa asked, all pretenses gone from her voice.

"I love Alistair, that's all there it to it," she said flatly, annoyed that the woman had the gall to broach this subject with her. "What's it to you?"

"So you plan to become queen?" the noble asked without hesitation.

"If that is what it takes to be with him, then yes," Kallian answered glibly.

"You understand how difficult this will be for many to accept? The people are already close to rioting because of the reforms you forced through pertaining to the rights of elves. How will they react to your crowning?" she asked, her eyes studying the small elf before her.

"Difficult for them to accept or difficult for you to accept? Anyway, I don't really give a damn what anyone thinks of me or my actions. I do what is necessary to accomplish my goals, and I certainly won't let anyone get in my way," she said angrily.

"Do not misunderstand me, I have utmost respect for you, as after all, you slew Howe and avenged all his victims including my family. I know that you and the king have not been married up until this point because of this very issue, you cannot deny it. Despite how strong or able you may be, you cannot change the fact that you're an elf. Most will simply look at you and see only your race. It is unfortunate but true," Elissa stated with a little more force in her voice.

"Most people, huh? I'm not a fool Elissa, I know all about Eamon's little schemes. He thinks he's so smooth moving around behind my back, but no one can hide anything from me," Kallian said scathingly.

"I know you are no fool, and that is why I wish for you to see reason. Ferelden has recovered much since the blight devastated the land, but the country is still fragile with even the slightest pressure coming to bear on it threatening to shatter the nation. The Chantry and many of the rebel nobles are willing to accept Alistair's rule as long as you step aside, and with the people already so wary of you, it will do much to solidify his rule," Elissa urged.

"If they stand in my way I will cut them down. I will tolerate no opposition. In the past I always solved these issues with my blade, and the future will be no different," Kallian answered with a dark look coming over her face.

"That may work for a time, but what of the future beyond both your and his majesty's lives? The king will need an heir, and I have heard of the unfortunate circumstances that surrounded your own child…" Elissa stated as Kallian's eyes widened.

Kallian slapped her across the face as she bore a stricken look, Elissa holding her cheek in shock as she looked upon the pained expression emanating from those icy blue eyes. "How dare you…you have no right to speak of my child or to use his death for your own purposes. Is this the level you are willing to sink to in order to get me out of the picture?"

Several of the servants looked on with veiled glances as they observed the confrontation. Many of the human servants were in disbelief that an elf could strike a noble with impunity, the old ways still stubbornly clinging to their bigoted minds. Elissa was more surprised than angry, taken aback that the normally stoic woman would express such visible emotion. "I'm sorry…to cause you pain was not my intent. I simply wanted you to understand the gravity of the problem before us, the fact that the king has no one to follow him in case the worst should happen. I should not have spoken of it," she said, recovering quickly with genuine remorse coloring her words.

"You think I don't know that? I know better than anyone…I see it every time I look into his eyes, the disappointment and fear for the future. I don't want to look upon his face and see that expression, so I stay away, but every time I return, I am confronted by it again. You and Eamon see only duty and politics, and you don't understand that I lost my child. A child is not some prize to be gained or a political tool to be kept around until needed, a child is a product of the love between two people, a gift to be treasured and cared for. You can't understand how I feel…pray you never have to".

Kallian stormed away, not even allowing Elissa to respond as she continued to stand rooted to the spot. Kallian held no overt dislike for her, quite the opposite in fact. She respected her skill in battle and her ability to rally the people as she did in taking back Highever. They had both lost family to Howe, so they shared a bond of vengeance. In another life, they could have perhaps grown close, but circumstances often determine the relationships one will share with another. Whenever Kallian saw Alistair and the Elissa together, she felt that maybe they belonged together as they were both nobles, kind hearted, and most importantly, human. This doubt constantly ate away at her, making her feel that everything that she and Alistair went through during the blight had been for nothing, a dream that could not possibly be realized, a child's naïve fantasy. She even heard that Duncan had planned to recruit in Highever had his trip to Denerim been unsuccessful, so it could have possibly been Elissa who joined the Grey Wardens while Kallian wasted away in a dungeon awaiting execution for her supposed crime. Perhaps, the two would have grown close and ruled as a beloved pair of rulers after deposing Loghain, the rebellion never occurring if the darkness within Kallian never had the chance to awaken.

Bailey perked up as soon as Kallian entered her private quarters, the mabari now residing with Alistair most of the time. She kneeled down to greet the dog, hearing Alistair step into the room and close the door behind him. "I saw that incident with Elissa just now…can't you at least try to get along with our allies," Alistair said in a stern but bemused tone.

"She said something she shouldn't have. I can't help it if all the sodding nobles in this prison-like palace all try to do their best to annoy me," Kallian said dismissively.

"Well I see you're still the same as always," Alistair said with a wry grin, pulling her close and brushing a kiss along her face as Kallian turned aside, pushing him away quickly.

"Not right now," she said as she avoided his face that had the look of a kicked puppy. "You have something to speak to me about?"

"Well actually, what I wanted to talk about concerns exactly this. What happened to us Kallian? During the blight, being with you everyday was like bliss, but when it ended we just drifted further and further apart. I don't want to lose you Kallian, I love you too much to ever let go of you, but I wonder if you still feel the same way about me," he asked with a pained expression as Kallian gaze dropped to the floor.

"I still feel the same way about you," she murmured, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

He grabbed her shoulders suddenly and brought his face close to hers, "No, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me how you really feel".

"She looked into his amber eyes, the eyes that held so much warmth and bright fire now dulled by the weight of overseeing a crumbling nation and said, "I love you, I love you just as much as when I told you for the first time in the Deep Roads".

"Then why are you avoiding me? You leave for months at a time and even now when you return, you resolve to immediately leave again. If you love me then why not stay here with me?" he asked, confusion marking his features.

"I want to…but it's to painful to be with you. Seeing you now will just make it more agonizing when the end comes. I don't think I can bear it," Kallian admitted.

"What? Why? When the end comes…what do you mean?" he asked.

She looked at him with a flash of anger in her eyes, her teeth gritting as she spat, "Don't play innocent, you know exactly what I mean. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of that terrible day. I can't not look at you and still see it, the pain, anguish, and disappointment. They won't let me forget it. I've tried and tried to make this work, to disregard the constant whispers and false looks of sympathy, to force this Force forsaken country to accept us, but some tasks are to great even for me".

Alistair eyes shone with shock and regret at her bitter words as he responded slowly, "Kallian…I never blamed you for what happened, it's not your fault. We knew about the risks of two Grey Wardens being together, if anything it's my fault for pressuring you. If anyone brings up anything untoward about our being together, I'll make sure they never speak out of turn again".

Kallian shook her head sadly, "You're saying all the right things, but that's not really what you feel in your heart. I can feel the darkness everyone holds in the very depths of their heart, and even if you haven't realized yet, deep down you already know that one day you will have to cast me aside. It won't be others who force us apart in the end…it will be you".

"That's not true! I will never do that to you, I swear it!" he said forcefully as he held her close. "Being king is not so important that I will break the promise I made to you all those years ago, to protect you and never let anything hurt you!"

"To keep that promise, you may have to let me go, lest you cause me more suffering in the future," she continued as she tried desperately to contain the torrent of emotion threatening to spill forth.

"Are you telling me to end this between us?" Alistair asked in disbelief.

"No, I am merely telling you what cannot be avoided. There is nothing I want more than to be with you, but…it seems that destiny will never let me gain the happiness I desire," Kallian said, even as her mind balked at the words that flowed uncontrollably from her mouth.

"Kallian, destiny has nothing to do with it…we make our own destinies, remember? We'll make this work somehow…we've gotten through worse scrapes before. If you want to take a break for awhile…to get both our feelings together, let's talk about this when you get back from the south," Alistair suggested as Kallian could only nod numbly.

"You're right, I let self-pity cloud my judgment for a second there. We choose our own fates through our actions, but as I said…sometimes even the strongest person cannot shape events exactly as they wish. I learned that when I could not save our child. I fear that I will not be able to save our relationship either," she said as she turned away, her face emotionless as she crushed all of the strong feelings within deep inside her the lowest reaches of her soul.

Alistair could only look on, filled with self-loathing over suggesting they take a break, knowing all to well the doubts within his heart that hurt the one he loved. He was such a coward, stringing her along when he knew what she said had been correct all for his own satisfaction. Eamon had been constantly persuading him to abandon Kallian both for his own good and the good of the nation, but he knew his duty better than anyone. When the time came to finally end it though, he had run away, putting it off just like he knew he would, just like the craven fraud he knew he was. Revan had been right all those years ago, he was a fool, a fool that would rather hurt the one he loved than go against the system he claimed to despise.

Kallian watched the faint rays of light emerging from the thick foliage move slowly as the sun dipped lower in the sky, twilight beginning to cast a shadow over the search party. They had discovered several more massacres at different villages around where the town of Lothering once stood, all of the victims bearing the same strange burn wounds that were so disconcerting due to their uniformity and precision. "Can't believe they have us wandering around out here looking for talking darkspawn in these rebel-infested wilds. Serves the bastards right I say joining with those damn Orlesians," one particularly loud and outspoken members of the party observed.

Kallian readied a retort when a sense of danger had her dropping to the ground. An arrow flew through the air and struck the man in the throat, a gurgling scream of surprise barely escaping his opened mouth as blood poured from it. As he fell to the ground, more arrows emerged unseen from the thick woods, striking certain members of the party with precision while Kallian wondered why their attackers were not putting on a furious onslaught to kill them all. Her unspoken question was answered as her senses alerted her to killing intent from behind, causing her to activate one lightsaber and spin, bisecting one of her guards as she attempted to stab her with an outstretched sword. As the remainder of her loyal followers fell with arrows emerging from their bleeding bodies, the apparent traitors fell upon her, desperately trying to flank her to get around the hissing energy sword that treated metal swords and armor like paper. More arrows were aimed at the snarling elf as she gathered the Force around her to stop the projectiles in mid air. Still more struck her attackers by accident either through carelessness or intentional lack of regard for their comrades well being.

She stabbed another of her opponents as she reversed her blade and shoved it backwards, watching the shock on the man's face as his insides burned away. She laughed at the calls of 'knife ear' and other insults that rained down on her from fallen enemies, taking pleasure from each traitorous bastard she killed. Throwing her saber in a spinning arc through the thick trees toward the multiple presences she felt hidden there, Kallian heard cries of shock and pain as the energy weapon sliced through the unsuspecting ambushers. Hearing another strangled gasp behind her and feeling a presence she had not felt since the siege of Denerim, she whipped around and observed a caramel-skinned elf struggling to remove an ornate dagger from the chest of the corpse he held by the neck. Her eyes widened and words left her mouth before she could even think, "Zevran! What are you doing here?"

Zevran finally managed to extricate his dagger from the corpse, letting the body fall unceremoniously to the ground as he flashed a brilliant smile at the young woman, "Kallian, my dear! You are far more beautiful than when I last laid eyes on you. Simply ravishing, the effect of maturity I see".

"Are you here to try and kill me again?" she said suspiciously, ignoring the flattery completely.

"You wound me, my dear! I hoped to see you in Denerim, but to my dismay, I was told that you only left days earlier. Most fortuitous that I would catch up to you now though I have no doubt you could handle these weaklings yourself," he said beaming as Kallian narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, most fortuitous…I haven't seen you since we lost contact during the battle. Alistair thought that you died, and I might have held out a small hope, but I was pretty sure someone with your skills survived," Kallian said with the most invisible of smiles.

"I see your dark sense of humor has not changed despite your appearance. Did you grow your hair long for Alistair, as I must say that it looks simply marvelous! How is our naïve, little templar? Not so naïve any more I hope?" he said with a laugh as Kallian's face fell.

"No, not so naïve any more, none of us are," she said sadly as Zevran's grin disappeared from his face.

"Bad news I take it," he said as Kallian nodded.

"The worst kind, but I'd rather not speak of it. I'd rather not speak of it ever if I have the choice," she answered grimly.

"Are you still together? I knew he was an idiot, but I did not think any man could be so foolish as to cast aside such a treasure," Zevran spoke in disbelief, thinking back to the awkward little romance the two had shared so long ago.

"Technically we're still together, but we're taking a break from our relationship for the moment…not that there has been much of a relationship over the past year," Kallian admitted. "That's not really the worst part though, but I won't get into that. So what happened to you after the battle ended?"

Zevran continued to maintain his look of concern but made no comment, having already heard the details from spies within the Crows over the tragedy that had befallen Kallian, "After I said my farewells to Revan, I returned to the Crows to take care of some unfinished business. That took up a rather large span of time, but now I finally came by the time to reconnect with some old friends, hence my presence in Ferelden".

As the two were talking, a shadowed figure observed them from afar through the scope of a sniper rifle. The figure observed with interest the lightsaber held in the female's hand, a female of a species the figure had never encountered. The figure brushed aside any concerns about the various dissimilarities of this race to humans or other comparable species, as the placement of vital organs probably varied little from the typical human. Slowly approaching without making a sound, the figure continued to approach the pair as its finger continued to brush the trigger of its blaster rifle.

"So you went back to the Crows…and you're telling me you're not here to assassinate me? It seems like just about everyone else is: the Orlesians, the Chantry, my own people, my own government…" she trailed off as Zevran smirked.

"My dear, I swore an oath to follow you, did I not? I am nothing if not a man of my word," he laughed.

A renewed sense of danger woke Kallian to her surroundings as she looked to a wounded assassin, blood leaking from an arrow wound, raising a dagger by its blade as he moved to throw it straight toward the back of Zevran's head. Zevran's eyes widened as he saw Kallian react, his own reflexes causing him to turn quickly to the danger just as a red bolt of energy slammed into the man's skull, blasting him back as a red vapor hung in the air.

Kallian turned to the source of the blast behind her and beheld a creature slowly approaching from the woods bearing a strange, black weapon, a creature like none she had ever seen. "Query: Why is a Jedi residing on this backwater world far removed from the Republic?" the creature asked with a synthesized voice, its tone refined and intelligent".

"What in the Force's name are you supposed to be?" an incredulous Kallian asked.

"Statement: I believe I asked a question first Jedi. Answer or I will resort to more coercive tactics," the creature answered, seeming almost gleeful at the possibility of resistance.

"First of all, I'm not a Jedi. Second of all, I've never been off this world, but given your knowledge of the Jedi I assume you have been," she said warily.

"Commentary: If you are not a Jedi then why do you carry a lightsaber, unless you are Sith, and if so, you must be eliminated".

"What do you have against the Sith?" Kallian asked with interest.

"Explanation: Nothing. The Sith want what any rational meatbag would want: the power to assassinate anyone they choose at any time. My master simply tasks me with their termination, so that is what I must accomplish".

Both Kallian and Zevran reacted to surprise at this, the words of an erstwhile companion returning to their mind, "Who was your master exactly?"

The creature looked pensive for a moment like it was deep in thought before replying, "Answer: My master is Revan, meatbag. Commentary: My master once committed mass atrocities that still warm my behavior core when I recall them. Oh, how I long for the days when we slaughtered organic meatbags together, finding new and creative ways to harm the innocent for our mutual pleasure".

Kallian began to feel that this creature was not entirely sane as she listened to it pine for the days when mass slaughter was the norm. "I knew Revan, she taught me how to use the Force".

The creature's glowing red eyes seemed to bore into her own, "Query: Then my master indeed visited this world? I have scoured the countless planets she visited on her quest to finish off the faction of meatbags known as the Sith, but found no sign. Does my master yet remain?"

"She left over three years ago, but I don't remember Revan being quite as bloodthirsty as you describe…are you sure it's the same Revan?" she asked, trying to imagine how much worse Revan was before she joined them.

"Qualification: There is only one Revan, and she is my master. I admit that I do not believe my master truly knew who she was most of the time, and the amnesia sadly dulled some of her more murderous impulses," the creature said with almost a tinge of sadness.

"Huh, I think you may have some competition for Revan's affections, Zevran. This thing, whatever it is, seems fairly obsessed with her not to mention it being one archdemon short of a blight," Kallian whispered.

"Yes it would seem so. I knew that she had another assassin traveling with her through the vast expanses between the stars, but I never quite imagined him to be like…this," Zevran commented.

"Clarification: I am indeed an assassin droid whose primary function is to burn holes through any organic meatbag my master sees fit to have eliminated. I also possess excellent hearing," the creature spoke up with annoyance.

"What's a droid?" Kallian asked with interest, "Is that your race or something".

The creature seemed to blink as the red lights of its eyes flashed for a second before it spoke in a patronizing tone, "Commentary: Is this what a superior, mechanical being of my stature is reduced to, explaining the finer points of synthetic transcendence to these ignorant, primitive meatbags? Explanation: A droid is a sentient mechanical being mostly used for the more dull and mindless labor throughout the galaxy. I on the other hand, am far above these lesser droids not to mention pathetic meatbags, created by my master to hunt down targets and terminate them".

Kallian would have been more eager to learn more, but the droid's condescending attitude quickly grated on her nerves, "Stop calling me meatbag! I have a name you know, it's Kallian!"

The droid ignored her objection to the term and proceeded only to further irritate her, "Query: I am sorry that you object to your meatbag status, meatbag, perhaps you would prefer liquidious fleshbag?"

Kallian sighed, giving up on reasoning with the obviously psychotic droid, "Well, now that I've told you my name, why don't you give me yours?"

"Disclosure: I am HK-47, a skilled protocol and combat droid. I am quite skilled at linguistics and cultural exchange, and should such exchanges turn violent…I am quite skilled at personal combat".

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, HK-47. I am Zevran. I had the pleasure of traveling with your master for a time. It seems we share a profession, how marvelous," he said as he offered a hand in greeting.

HK looked at the offered hand for a time before finally taking it, Zevran grimacing as the droid nearly crushed every bone in his hand. "Statement: The pleasure is all mine, meatbag. If you would like, we could test our respective skill in assassination protocols against each other, which would surely give me even more pleasure".

"I'm afraid I must decline, my friend," Zevran said as he gingerly rubbed his hand. "I'm sure someone of your…unique sensibilities would take such a game far more seriously than I would prefer.

HK rolled his shoulder joints as if imitating a shrug, "Statement: Pity. Now the atmosphere is growing rather morbid…perhaps we should find something to kill to cheer ourselves up".

"If all of Revan's companions were like this, I can kind of understand why she was such a crazy bitch," Kallian wondered aloud.

"Threat: Kindly refrain from insulting my master meatbag, or you will find your organs spilling out upon the ground," HK spoke with a tinge of anger as he towered over Kallian.

She glared at the droid, arching her neck to stare up into his grim visage, his height far above that of an average human and approaching that of a qunari. Just as she was about to voice a scathing retort, a group of rebels walked into the clearing, surprise evident on their faces as the observed the carnage before them along with the three strange figures stand amongst the scattered corpses. Kallian did not even give them a moment to take in the situation before them as she unleashed a blast of blue lightning, leaving the rebels a smoking, twitching pile of blackened corpses.

HK gave her a sidelong look after this display of power and deadpanned, "Statement: Engaging in unprovoked displays of indiscriminate violence? I like you. Observation: Perhaps we will get along better than I first judged, meatbag".

"Uh, thanks…I guess," Kallian said, not exactly feeling privileged to be approved of by the sociopathic droid. "Since Revan left some time ago…does that mean you're going to return to the stars to continue the search?"

"Answer: Indeed, massacring the babbling meatbags on this world gave me a thrill in my behavior core I have not felt for some time, but sadly, my mission compels me to continue on," he answered in a wistful tone.

"If you're leaving this world, do you think you might take me with you. I'd like to see Revan again…to continue learning about the Force," Kallian asked.

"My dear Kallian, I know you have made some questionable decisions in the past, sparing me being one of those I admit, but do you truly believe it is a good idea to travel with a machine created for the purpose of murder that seems to enjoy it far too much?" Zevran asked incredulously.

"Objection: The only difference between us as a machine created for the purpose of killing and an organic meatbag raised for the purpose of killing is that I am much more efficient and skillful at it. I take pleasure in it only what any being would derive satisfaction from plying a trade they excel at," HK repudiated. "Answer: As for the previous question, if a meatbag such as yourself wishes to follow my master, I see no reason to refuse such a request, other than your being an organic meatbag but such disabilities can be overcome".

"Well if you're going Kallian, then I am certainly tagging along," Zevran said as Kallian looked at him in surprise. "It will be a pleasure to see Revan again, and I also cannot in good conscience leave you alone with our bloodthirsty friend here".

"Request: I only ask that both of you refrain from acting in a manner similar to the tortured individuals unable to overcome their various personality conflicts that followed my master before. If you do, I may put a blaster to either my behavior core or your heads and pull the trigger, though it will most likely be the latter," the droid said seriously, and Kallian knew not whether to laugh or to be concerned as they took their first step on a new journey.

A/N: Well, I decided to start a sequel to my previous story. The original idea for this was more of an interlude or a what-if scenario about HK-47 in the Dragon Age world, but I largely abandoned that plan and decided to incorporate it into the sequel. I originally intended the first story to be more of a tragedy, but those intentions were obviously lost in the happy ending of that story, so I decided to reintroduce the tragic elements in the opening chapter of this story. I do not have a coherent plan for how this story will go, so I do not know how often updates will be uploaded. I have not played KOTOR II for a long while, so I will have to brush up on the plot. Also, thanks to Inverness and Gogolu for the reviews of the the last chapter of the previous story.