This is a story. A story about a woman on the run, who, along the way helps a slave escape his master. You may have heard a different tale by a silver tongued dwarf. But he left out a few details about what truly happened to the brooding Tevinter elf and what his powers could really do when put to the test. So sit back and enjoy a tale that is rarely heard in the whispers of the taverns.

***It's a slow moving romance. Because, seriously people, be realistic. Not all girls are like Isabela and not all guys are like Zev. True passion and enthrallment take time. First couple of chapters are based in Seheron with snip-its of Fenris, before Hawke and the rest of the gang.

Disclaimer: All characters and places that my OC meets and goes to belong to Bioware's series Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age II. But I own my OC. Therefore… Bioware… owns me? All the places included were taken from a map of Thedas, so I didn't make up any names of these places/oceans or even changed their locations. They all belong to Bioware.

***I use a lot of Latin because my OC technically grew up in Tevinter (it is said that Arcanum is very close to Latin and there are little references to go about talking in Arcanum so Latin it is), but they also occasionally uses Gaelic(the Irish version because it has more vocabulary) which is a speculation of what the language in Starkhaven is(or loosely connected to). Explanation for why that is includes a connection to my OC's past which will be revealed later. I will put a (1) next to it if it's Latin/Arcanum, and a (2) next to it if it is Irish. Sometimes I will throw in Qunari language. I will always have the translations in italics next to it if the word or phrase is not used frequently, then it will be up here. First chapter does not mention the name of the shadow except for the beginning and the end.***

And yes, I'm finally finishing revising this story.

Dux Mois(1)- My Leader

Amice(1)- My friend

Chapter: 1

The Shadow

Cassandra crossed her arms, smirking in a way that made the dwarf uneasy. "So, Varric, tell me about Fox."

The beardless dwarf sighed, rubbing his stubble. "How did you know?"

The Seeker's smirk widened, a slight glimmer in her eyes making her appear younger than Varric had first judged. "We have our ways, just as you have yours."

He crossed one leg over the other, placing the book of Hawke's tale on the side of the chair. "I can only tell you what I heard from her, Seeker. So the details may or may not be true, depending on whether she was telling me the truth."

The woman waved her hand mockingly in the air. "I'll take it."

He folded his hands together and rose his head up slightly, thinking back to the memory of the one called Jezebel.

The year was 9:28 Dragon Age. The place, was the western coast of Seheron, near the small city of Alam. The sun was setting early that day, masking all of Seheron in a glow of defiance. The scorching heat was dulled slightly when the ball of fire began to sleep. A shadow was out of place among the trees that lined the beach. The shadow moved with the wind and rocked with the trees, but nothing seemed to cast the strange dark entity. Another shadow soon joined the first, seeming to slip among it with the first strong gust of wind that carried the smell of the salty water. "Forgive me, dux Mois, but the other men are starting to get tiresome of all this waiting. Are you certain that the ship is to arrive today?" The first shadow did not startle from the out of turn speaking. Instead, the shadow seemed to sink more into the long grass that surrounded it.

"Aye, amice. You know my information rarely fails me. All my reports point to a ship that is to dock today on these very shores."

"Dux Mois, what will this ship have on it if I may be so bold?"

The first shadow let out a small chuckle. "Trinkets, amice. Many, many trinkets."

The second shadow shifted uneasily. "What sort of trinkets, dux Mois?"

"Enough to fill our bellies for a year."

"Ah, I see. Dux in fidem meam relinquish vobis.(1)" I leave my faith in you, my Leader.

The first shadow chuckled again. "Well, I should hope so, amice." The two shadows sat in silence once again for a moment until the second one moved back to his position along the bushes behind the first shadow. This was a waiting game, one that the shadow grew tired of quickly but remained still like it was made to be there. The dozen other shadows in the bushes remained silent except for an occasional sigh or shifting of position. They still needed some more training but this was a suppose to be an easy job, so the leader trusted their current skill level.

A small smile crept along their leader's face as a ship was spotted on the horizon, looking only as a dark mass with a few slits of white for sails. Should have changed the sail color if you planned on coming in secrecy. The leader made a small "tsk" noise, but remained still and vigilant. Her eyes focused on the large vessel, smoothly sailing on the dark water. The half moon reflected off the surface, almost leading the boat to it's destination. The vast amount of stars in the sky made the water sparkle under them. This would have been a perfect scene to paint, if they weren't getting ready for an ambush. A half hour passed before the row boats were emptied and the ship began to be pulled in by at least six men, three for each rope. So that was six so far, to their dozen. The lead shadow was calculating their tactics and estimating how many more men were aboard the grand ship. The answer soon became clear as the docking board was plopped onto the plush sand of the Seheron beach.

No more henchmen appeared, instead a tall, graceful man stepped onto the edge of the boat. The shadows eyes darkened as it realized what it was up against. None of their reports had given them this information. It was simply to be a cargo ship full of trinkets to bring to a winter home. What came off that ship was a surprise to both the leader and their underlings.

A magister.

If the leader could have stiffened anymore, she just did. The leader's eyes narrowed as they took in the man striding off the ship. His face looked caved in from old age but his eyes stayed strong and vigilant. A gray beard masked his chin and gray hair mopped his head. The magister's robes were dark, with few traces of red lines swirling along his chest for a hint of color. He stopped at the edge of the ship seeming to take in the scenery before him.

The shadow's eyes did not stray long on the tall eloquent being, but shifted to a slim man striding at his heels. His white hair glistened in the moonlight just like his strange tattoos. His armor was a crisp black and spiked along the edges and his gauntlets were like wolf claws. It made him appear frightening, yet beautiful. The leader did not know why she just thought this of someone who they were going to fight against. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep from the past few nights as they planned the heist. She believed this was a clever tactic, clearly an image that the magister wanted to make him appear as. The shadow was unsure if the man was a companion or brought their by force, until she saw his ears. They were long and pointed, he was an elf.

A few things clicked in the leader's mind at that moment-

1. The ship must have had valuables aboard it if it transported a magister.

2. They could easily defeat the henchmen with their numbers.

3. The magister looked powerful so they were going to have to be extra careful dealing with him.

4. The elf was a slave, and a very strong looking one at that.

She was unsure if they were able to take on the slave if it came down to single combat, but with their numbers they had the advantage. The magister brought so little henchmen because he was too sure that they would face no trouble, or the elf was the real trouble. In any situation, they always took extreme caution. One of the rules was to never underestimate the target. Especially by appearance. She had to wonder if the magister had others hiding among the ship. This would be highly illogical considering the size of the vessel. By the time any more men were able to come out, the fighting would be over. The shadow tossed all thoughts of doubt from her mind and let out a small fox call. The call was one that was used by the fox to warn other's that this was their territory, a mix between a small dog barking, and a hawk screeching. The call was not uncommon in these parts, so when it was heard one of the henchmen mumbled something about stupid foxes.

But this was their signal.

It was time to strike.

The shadows moved silently through the bushes to the edge of the forest. Each one raised a bow and swiftly knocked an arrow. The leader shadow knocked one as well, but did not pull until she saw a clear line for her target. The magister was not an option for he had wandered back onto the ship, most likely to change out of his heavy robes and was followed by his slave. The shadow picked a different target. A gentle hiss heard before a loud thwack. The man who was relieving himself in a ditch dropped to the ground, an arrow protruding from his unprotected neck line. The other shadows pulled back on their arrows, and several more hissing sounds were heard, but only a few reached their targets. Three more men went down before anyone knew what was happening. The leader made a mental note to push the scouts more in training so they would never miss. The first arrow was always the most important.

An alarmed cry was heard from one of the bodies, calling to the other men to help him. The leader quickly stepped out from her cover, a dark forest green cloak masking all of her features. The leader pulled one of their twin blades from their back and silenced the dying man permanently. "Hey, what are you doing? Where did you come from?" Another man looked at the cloaked figure accusingly and started forward, a small blade in hand. Clearly these men were unprepared. The shadow sighed and mumbled "Cén fáth a bhfuil siad i gcónaí deacair é?(2)" Why do they always make it difficult? Before the leader had a chance to respond to the man now running towards them, another arrow was sent flying past their head and into the henchman's eye socket. The shadow looked over to see Keegan, the second shadow, stepping out from the darkness. Normally, the leader did not approve of anyone interfering until another signal was shown, but Keegan had been the leader's most trusted apprentice. She gave a small nod of appreciation, her face still masked by the hood of the cloak.

Keegan stepped carefully to his leader's side searching the darkness as he was taught for the last three years. "I counted five." He mumbled almost incoherently to his leader.

"Really? I counted six."

Keegan heard an amused smile creeping in his leader's lingering words until he finally whispered back. "Bet a round that it was five, dux Mois."

He heard his leader chuckle again softly, "very well, I hope you have enough coin this time, amice." A scuffle was heard beside them and the shadow pushed Keegan backwards and evaded the man who was lunging at them from the side. The henchman clumsily ran past them and stumbled into the white Seheron sand. "Looks like you owe me a round, amice." The shadow strode across the white sand gracefully, still clutching a blade in their right hand. They reached behind them with their left hand and pulled the other blade out while the man attempted to regain his footing. She looked curiously at the man who acted like he had never fought in his life. His armor was a dark tinge of brown with ruined boots and a helmet that was clearly two sizes too big for him as he readjusted it several times. He picked up his dropped sword after fumbling for a few seconds, obviously unable to remember which hand was his dominant one. He appeared slightly confused, but had the look of a killer in his eyes. Much of this may have been a ruse to make the shadow lower her guard. Or maybe he was just a moronic mercenary.

The man regained his balance and stood straight, facing the mysterious shadow. "You're going to pay for what you did to my men you filthy nug humper." A smile spread across the shadow's face, which would have been a nice thing if the henchman would have seen it. Such a pretty sight to behold as your last image before impending death. The rogue shadow quickly disappeared, leaving the henchman looking around in confusion. The shadow appeared from behind the man and flanked him, digging both of her daggers between his shoulder blades. The man let out a cry of pain and quickly succumbed to his weakening legs. "Huh, weird. I would have thought you would have been harder to kill. I swear that you were just pulling one over on me a minute ago. Didn't think anyone could really be that stupid." The rogue shadow took out their blades and put them back in their holsters. The man on the ground was hunched over, struggling for every breath. The shadow pulled out a smaller blade from a concealed location within the cloak. A hand reached out from the green sleeves and grabbed onto the man's greasy hair, the other one held the blade to the man's jugular.

"Who is on the ship?"

"I-I don-"

The shadow pricked his skin with the sharp point of their blade. Blood slowly pooled around the tip. "Who?"

"Please, messere, I swear I don't know."

"Really? Messere? Just a minute ago you were calling me a filthy nug humper. Amusing how people's manners change when they are facing impending death. So you are just protecting and dying for a man you don't know? Which, by the way, you are doing a terrible job at." The shadow's voice was angered but they still spoke with a low hush, which just brought on more intimidation to the man ready to drain himself all over his trousers.

"We were only for appearances. We didn't come prepared for a real fight. I only know a name, messere. Just a name." The blade dug deeper into the man's throat. A fourth inch of the dagger was now covered in the man's flesh and blood.

"And his name is?"

"M-Magister D-D-Danarius, messere. I swear, that's all I know. Please let me go!" The shadow paused for a moment, seeming to consider the statement. With a harsh hissing whisper, the shadow replied, "Ambulabo inter vos nimis mali liceret viventium.(1)" You are too wicked to walk among the living. The man gasped as the leader plunged the rest of the dagger into his throat and withdrew quickly. The man slumped over, his blood pouring over the white grains of sand beneath him. "Is féidir leis an Déantóir tú a threorú ar do bháis. (2)" May the Maker guide you in your death.

"What is this?" A harsh voice was spoken to the shadow's direction. The leader looked up at the magister, Danarius, who once again stood at the edge of the boat. The leader's suspicions were correct, he appeared to be in a lighter set of robes due to the scorching weather. The elf stood next to his master glaring at the leader and drawing his body length sword. Their suspicions were correct once again, as the shadows eyes landed on the elf's combative stance, the magister was just a harsh voice behind the real threat. The shadow snarled and answered, "Donec mortem.(1)" This is your death. The magister hissed at the shadow's use of Arcanum. He did not expect to be attacked by a citizen of the Imperium. Most citizens dared not to defy a magister in such a way, but then he heard them speak again and noticed that the mysterious shadow was not a born citizen of the empire. "Da mihi iam ante erat litora sanguinis tui. Extra numerum es!(1)" Give up now before I paint the beach with your blood. You are out numbered!

Danarius smirked. "I will not be spoken to in that way in my own language, especially from a Ferelden dog-lord. Fenris, show this woman and her friends some manners." The leader stepped back in shock from the magister's ability to catch on that she was Ferelden. She had lived so long in the Tevinter Imperium that her accent had nearly faded. Even the keenest of ears had difficultly picking it up.

Fenris' tattoos began to glow a bright blue as the shadow let out another fox call. Eleven more hooded figures phased out of the forest's edge and stood behind their leader. Each figure had a bow raised and an arrow nocked. The leader drew her blades and discarded her cloak. Normally, she would always keep it on but she knew that in a fight like this one, it would only get in the way. Her matching green armor was light as it formed to her body for easier movement. Her brown soft boots over lapped her dark green trousers. The tunic she wore was unique only to her guild. It was a mesh of greens and browns, forming almost a leaf-like pattern that allowed her to shape to her surroundings with ease. A silver chain with a carved leaf in stone hung loosely around her neck. She adjusted the grip of her double edged blades and grounded her feet into the plush sand. It was up to her to keep her men safe while they fired arrows, even though she was the better shot. The elf began to run down the plank, his sword raised to one side with a deadly two-handed grip on it. "Scaoileadh!(2)" Release! She shouted to her scouts to fire their arrows at the glowing elf. The elf's speed began to pick up, as if understanding her command he swiftly dodged the incoming arrows. That was the only time the scouts were allowed to fire their arrows. According to their code, this was now a one on one battle. No one must interfere.

The shadow braced herself for impact as the elf grew closer and changed his position to an overhead attack. He used an attack known as Mighty Blow, leaping into the air and crashing down with full force, she brought up her twin blades to parry the attack. One blade held the tip, while the other was locked firmly on the center of the steel. With a grunt of exertion, Fenris, the elf, fought against her blades trying to break the contact as he landed back on his feet. The shadow did a quick side-step, releasing her blades from the contact of steel, and tried to sweep the elf's legs from under him. Fenris expected this and jumped stealthily backwards sliding in the soft sand beneath his feet. He backed up for another charge a few hundred feet away. The shadow charged at him this time with both weapons in hand. Fenris was hesitant to run at her again but with an order from his master, he took off towards her. Sand flew beneath their feet as the gap between them closed. Fenris held his sword straight out, gripping it with both hands on his right side to have a more effective penetration on the lightly armored foe.

The rogue shadow knew she had to think of something quick or she would be charging into her own death. In a desperate attempt, she took out a small, round flask and gripped it as tightly as she could whilst still holding onto the blade in her left hand. Careful not to throw her blade as well, she waited until they were about ten feet apart and quickly evaded, throwing the combustion bomb in her place. With a loud crack, the flask burst open at the elf's feet and set off an explosion, throwing the tattooed elf backwards. Fenris landed on his back and let out a gasp as the air was pushed from him. His tattoos faded from the sudden crash and he attempted to regain his footing. In the stunned and confused state, a side affect from the bomb, he had lost sight of the shadow. He let out a grunt of pain as he felt steel being driven into his back. Turning to slice at his foe, he left himself open for a quick reverse in the rogue's stance as she twisted around and dug her twin blades into his side and stomach.* The sword did not fail to make contact, however, and sliced through the rogue's tunic, cutting into her side. The shadow dug her blades deeper into the elf, causing his sword to slide along her ribs. Her tunic was soaked with blood as the elf let out a grunt of pain, succumbing to his injuries, and fell over after the steel was withdrawn from his skin.

The shadow bent over quickly, exhaling as the pain from the wound climbed up her side, and pressed one of the blades to the elf's throat, making the lyrium veins on his throat light up dully upon contact. "Is féidir leis an Déantóir-(2)" May the Maker- Her prayer was cut short as a blast of fire hit her in the chest, slamming her against a tree. Her companions remained out of the fight up to this point because they knew their leader did not like interference during single combat. For it to be disrupted by the magister was a sign of complete disrespect in their code. The twelve shadows raised their bows back up, aiming at the magister, and nocked arrows. Before any of them drew their arrows, a battle cry was heard behind them.

"Vinek kathas!" Sieze them! (Qunari language- an order to attack or kill.)

Fifteen Qunari warriors charged out of the trees, directly behind the twelve shadows. The leader stood quickly, still clutching her chest where there were faint scorch marks on her tunic. She took out a red vile from her pouch and quickly drank it, feeling some of the pain from her side and her chest numb, while giving orders to her men as they scrambled away from the edge, firing their arrows at the large Ox-Men.

"Unus ex sex regredi tuto procul ignem sagittis! Septem per duodecim sumere ex latere vestro et scapulas quantum potes, sed non nimis vicinas recedere! Utor furta tua ne confusa!(1)" One through six, retreat to a safe distance and fire your arrows! Seven through twelve, take out your blades and flank them as much as you can, but don't stray too close! Use your tricks to keep them confused! The leader quickly ran to the elf, avoiding the lightening aimed at the Qunari coming from the magister. She helped him stand and gave him a vile of health poultice. "We are allies for now. Help me kill them and we will continue this when we are through." The elf glared at her but knew she was right. His master would want him to protect him from the Qunari and worry about the shadows later. Fenris drank the poultice and tossed the empty vile on the ground, his tattoos lighting up once more.

Danarius shouted to Fenris to slay the Qunari that was charging towards him. The shadow nodded to Fenris, understanding that they were to not fight along each other's side and took off in the opposite direction. She weaved through the waves of arrows being shot from her companions as well as the ice, fire and lightening spells being cast by the magister. She had chosen a target, the largest and assumed leader of these pack of Ox-Men. The shadow attacked him head on while he was distracted by one of her apprentices. The Qunari was knocked back in surprise but quickly regained his concentration, cutting down the apprentice that fell into him when he stumbled. After slicing him in half with his massive sword, the Qunari focused his attention back on the shadow.

She grimaced at the lightening speed the Qunari killed number eight, but regained her focus on the horned beast. He charged at her quickly and she disappeared once again in a cloud of smoke only to reappear about to flank him. The Qunari was too quick and whipped around, digging his sword into her side while sending her flying. She crashed onto the white sand. Everything started to slow down as she stood up again and grabbed for her dropped blades. She wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline burst or the loss of blood that made this affect, but she took advantage of her enhanced keen perception.

Charging at him this time, the shadow slid on her knees at the last moment and sliced along the Qunari's inner thigh with her right-handed blade, passing between his open legs. The Ox-Man let out a howl in surprise and used his pummel to bash on the shadow's skull as he turned quickly despite the burning sensation between his legs.

The shadow was knocked to the ground, her blades scattered beside her. The Qunari raised his sword, ready to plunge it in her heart. She grasped a vile that fell out of her pouch and quickly broke it into the wound she had made on his inner thigh. She sighed in relief when the liquid was green and the Qunari dropped his sword, clutching his leg in pain.

The debilitating poison seeped quickly in the Qunari, his veins surging forth from his skin. The shadow wasted no time getting back up. Her head wound made her sway, but she picked up one of her blades and managed to gather enough strength to swing it down at the Qunari's neck-line. The Ox-Man, in one last attempt to save him own life, grabbed her arm when she was about to strike and twisted it, using the last strength he could pull together until the poison took full affect. The Qunari hissed to her as he pulled her close, "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun."(Qunari language) Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun.

The shadow let out a yelp of pain as she felt the bones in her right forearm begin to crack. Her arm was released as the Ox-Man fell face down in the dirt. He was still alive, but the poison's affects in such an extreme amount rendered him unconscious. Taking her blade up again in her left hand, she aimed it for the base of the Qunari's skull. She didn't want him coming after her because of this. "Féadfaidh an Qun tú a threorú i do bháis.(2)" May the Qun guide you in your death. With all of her remaining strength, she plunged the blade deep in his neck until she was met with no more resistance. The Qunari's body laid still, blood pouring out of the newly formed wound.

She pulled her blade out and drank another poultice.

All around the shadow the battle was still raging. She heard the clash of steel on steel but her vision was a blur. Her body cried out to sleep from the battles that she had encountered; but she could not. Not until she knew everything would be alright. "Dux Mois!" Number twelve, her favorite apprentice, ran to her. She looked in the direction she heard her friend stop.

"Keegan, you must send help, amice." She struggled to breathe. Pressure had formed in her chest as all her wounds not numbed by the poultice overcame her.

Keegan crouched down next to her, concern ringing in his voice. "No, dux Mois. I will not leave you while you are in this state."

The shadow chuckled and cough, blood leaking out of her mouth. "You must, Keegan. You have to find Lawrence and the other guild members. Send them here. They must finish the job should we fail." Keegan wanted to slap his leader for being more concerned with the job than her own life. Lawrence would kill him as soon as he got there for abandoning her. The rules may state that in a dire circumstance you need to fend for yourself, but Lawrence wouldn't give a damn about the rules if Keegan didn't return with the woman.

"I- I can not, dux Mois. Lawrence, he would-"

"Shhh, Keegan. Lawrence will understand. You need to go now though. You need to leave us to our fate. Hopefully, if you make it back quickly enough, the Maker will smile on us this night."

A pained expression crossed Keegan's face as his leader slumped over in pain. He placed a hand on her shoulder, knowing he had to leave or they may not have a chance of winning at all.

"May the Maker guide your steps." She gave out in one last huff of breath before closing her eyes, accepting the sleep her body craved. Keegan moved his leader's left hand to the charm on her necklace. If she was to die this night, then she would die a leader.

"And yours as well, Jezebel."

Keegan took off, leaving his leader and companions to fight for themselves. On one last look back from the forest line, he saw two men for every one Qunari being cut down. They had three remaining on the field and eleven more Qunari to deal with. No, ten. A flash of blue light struck down one close to the magister, Danarius. The magister seemed to be growing weaker, he would not last much longer. Keegan said a quick prayer to the Maker and disappeared into the forest.

A/N- *This is actually my favorite flanking technique in the game. It's Backstab followed by Twinblades.