AN: Chapter 69 (nice)

We packed up camp early the next day, and made our way further into the forest. It wasn't as dense and inhospitable as the Korcari Wilds, and there was an obvious wagon-path to follow. I led the way, because the rest rode two-abreast, and Demon wouldn't tolerate that. The horse barely listened to me at the best of times, and despite instruction, he would force his way to the front of the team, so we had all just come to accept that I would take point.

He did keep stopping abruptly to rub himself against trees or graze on a patch of grass, from time to time, but there was nothing that I or anyone else could do to stop him. It felt very much like this was his journey, and we were all just along for the ride. What a twist that would be. I imagined a modern-day newspaper with a full-sized photo of his big dumb horse face, looking mean as ever, under the headline, "Horse Ends Blight - Is Named Hero of Ferelden".

"I suppose you know how to find the Dalish, then?" I asked him, as he trotted along. He ignored me, and I took that as a yes.

"So, uh...you don't have any inkling as to where we might find their camp?" Grayson asked, being careful to keep his horse out of biting-range.

"Trust me. They'll find us." I said, sounding far more confident than I felt.

Fortunately, my false bravado was rewarded less than an hour later, in the form of many many arrows pointing at us. Our party came to an abrupt halt, and I glanced left and right at the armed elves, aiming at us from the cover of the trees. I felt Valour rise up inside of me, and the fingers holding Demon's reins twitched of their own accord. I fought my better instincts, and remained calm. A woman stepped forward, her eyes trained on me, and I held my hands up in surrender.

"You will go no further, shemlen." She said, through narrowed eyes. I could tell that she was trying to sound threatening, but I thought I heard her voice tremble a little. "The Dalish are camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

"Andaran atish'an." I said, hoping that that was Dragon Age Elvish and not Tolkien Elvish. It had been a while. "I have business with Zathrian."

Her eyes widened at the mention of her Keeper's name, but her look of surprise was swiftly replaced by one of suspicion. A wave of whispers ran through the elves on either side of us, and I could feel every eye on me.

"I find that hard to believe. What business could Zathrian have with a shem?" She demanded.

"An ancient treaty, promising Dalish aid to the Grey Wardens."

"Grey Wardens?" She asked, her tone softening slightly, before the suspicion crept back in. "How do I know you truly are a Grey Warden?"

"She's not." Sten grumbled from behind me.

"Can it, Sten." I snapped over my shoulder, momentarily forgetting our precarious situation, before returning to smile at the elf. "Oh, I don't know. Got any Darkspawn lying around that we could kill for you? No? How about werewolves?"

"What? What do you know of…?"

"I know that your clan is suffering. I also know that it does not need to be this way. I'd like to help, if you'll take us to Zathrian."

"We...we do not need help from an outsider, we-"

"Mithra." Another elf stepped forward, lowering his bow, and eyeing me curiously. "Zathrian would wish to know of this."

Mithra was still staring at me with a mixture of confusion and anger, but she nodded to the other elf.

"Dismount your horses, shemlen. I will bring you to Zathrian, but we cannot trust outsiders with the location of our camp. You will be blindfolded. Do you accept these terms?"

I looked over at Grayson, and he shrugged.

"We accept." I said, sliding from the saddle.

"Hand over your weapons." She said, fiercely.

"No." I said, crossing my arms, ignoring the tell-tale sounds of bow strings tightening all around me at my show of defiance. "With all due respect, Mithra, I have been divested of my weapons once before and it did not end well. For me, or for my captors. Blindfold us if you must, but my weapons stay with me."

Grayson sighed, undoing his sword belt and handing it to one of the elves, shaking his head at me. The others followed his lead, with the exception of Sten, and I knew that this might be the one thing we had actually agreed on since my return. He wouldn't be separated from Asala any more than I would allow myself to be disarmed.

Mithra glowered at me, but nodded at one of the elves, who stepped forward and covered my eyes with a length of cloth, tying it aggressively tightly. He tied my hands in front of me, and I felt panic rise in my chest. The last time I had been bound was in Denerim. I reminded myself this was different. I wasn't a prisoner, not really. I would be free again soon.

"Very well." Mithra said. "Come with us. But remember, our arrows are still trained on you."

"Yeah, I've been trying to forget that." I muttered, under my breath, as foreign hands grabbed my arm and guided me forward.

I heard a nicker of annoyance and a yell of panic, and I grinned.

"Careful of my horse." I called behind me. "He's a bit of a handful."

Grayson followed the sound of my voice, and stuck his elbow blindly into my shoulder.

"That was risky." He whispered.

"Worked though, didn't it?" I whispered back. "A little faith, please, Cousland."

"Werewolves?" He hissed.

"Told you it was pressing, didn't I?" I grinned. "Don't worry. I have a plan."

He groaned in response, but the elf holding me shoved me forward when he noticed us talking.

We walked for about half an hour, though blind as we were, it felt like longer. I could tell we had entered the camp, because all around us voices became hushed whispers. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as we were pushed and pulled, roughly, as the elves led us to their Keeper. We stopped walking, finally, and I let myself relax.

"On the ground, shemlen." I recognised Mithra's voice, and heard several thumps as my companions dropped to their knees. Before I could comply, a pair of rough hands shoved me and I landed painfully on my side, without the use of my hands to break my fall. Whatever I had fallen on didn't feel like the soft grass of the forest floor. It was solid, and I knew my ribs would bruise later.

My blindfold was suddenly ripped away and I blinked in the midday sun, as my eyes adjusted to the light. I looked down to see that the hard thing I had fallen into was Alistair's breastplate. His hands weren't bound, like mine were, and the moment his blindfold was taken off, he reached out, gently helping me to my knees. He untied the binding around my wrists, and my skin burned where he touched me, but I shook it off, nodding at him with reluctant gratitude. Grayson was on my other side, and we exchanged a wary look.

"You okay?" He asked, quietly. I nodded, taking in my surroundings. We were kneeling in front of a large, wooden caravan, not unlike the ones I had seen in the Irish traveller's campsite near where I grew up, and a number of aravels surrounded us, obscuring our view of the rest of the camp. Mithra threw us a distasteful look, before knocking on the door of the wagon.

I recognised Zathrian immediately, when he emerged, but was shocked by how young he looked. Older than me, certainly, but not by much. He could have been in his late twenties, if I didn't already know that he was centuries old.

Maybe I should curse someone? I thought, absently. Bada-bing, bada-boom, hello, eternal youth.

"Who are these strangers?" He asked, eyeing us with impatience. "Now is no time for welcoming outsiders into the camp."

"Pardon my intrusion, Keeper." Mithra said, bowing her head, and I rose, tentatively to my feet, still aware of the arrows pointed at me, but feeling more confident now that Zathrian was here. "This woman claims to be a Grey Warden."

"A Grey Warden?"

"Yes. And she…" She looked at me, before lowering her voice and speaking to Zathrian in Elvish. The Keeper nodded in understanding, but threw me a curious look.

"Ma serannas, da'len. You were wise to bring them to me. You may return to your post."

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper." She said, throwing me one final, suspicious look before departing.

"Grey Warden." Zathrian bowed his head, in greeting, and I responded in kind. I didn't know if the Dalish shook hands, but I doubted it. "Mithra tells me that you already know of me. You are an associate of Duncan's, then?"

"I was." I replied. "He died, in the battle at Ostagar."

"Ah." He said, his face falling. "Then you have my sympathies. He is one of the few of your kind who was a friend to we Dalish. His death brings me sorrow."

"Thank you." I said, feeling a little guilty that I was accepting the sympathies when Alistair was kneeling beside me. "My name is Lauren."

"I'm Grayson." Grayson rose to his feet and bowed his head, as I had done, and the others followed suit. "Well met, Zathrian."

"Manners? From a shemlen? You truly were friends of Duncan. I know why you are here, Grey Wardens. I am afraid we are in no position to honour our treaty with you...follow me." He said, leading us past the aravels. The camp was more sprawling than it had been in the game, and every eye was fixed on us as we passed.

It soon became clear where Zathrian was leading us, and I was unsurprised to see the rows of injured elves, laid out on bedrolls on the forest floor. What did surprise me, however, was the sheer number of them. There couldn't have been less than twenty elves, and from what I could see of their faces, they were in agony. Their cries of pain turned my stomach, and I immediately changed my mind about a little curse being worth eternal youth. I couldn't believe Zathrian was standing by and allowing this to continue, despite his reasons.

"It looks like you've had your own troubles. What are the odds." Alistair muttered.

"But you are already aware of the infliction from which they suffer." Zathrian said, eyeing Alistair "How did you come to learn of our situation?"

Alistair shifted, uncomfortably, and looked at Grayson, who looked down at me. Zathrian followed this exchange, and I smiled at him when our eyes met.

"I know a lot of things." I said, hoping that my show of confidence would be enough to keep me nice and arrow-free. "I was hoping to speak with you, alone, actually."

"Alone?" Alistair said, clearly forgetting that we were Not Talking.

"Problem?" I asked, snippily.

"Uh...Grayson?" He replied, looking to his fellow Warden for support.

"I was not asking your permission, boys. I was asking Zathrian's." I said, keeping my eyes locked with the Keeper's. "Is there somewhere we can continue our conversation, away from listening ears?"

"Certainly." Zathrian said, with a warm smile, but I saw him looking between the three of us, trying to guess the dynamic of the group. He gestured for me to follow him and I turned to Grayson.

"I'll be back in two shakes of a dragon's tail." I said. "Do try to keep yourselves out of trouble while I'm gone."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

I grinned in response, and followed the Keeper away from the others, to the large tent in the centre of the camp.

"When did the attacks start?" I asked, as we walked.

"The moment we arrived here, one month ago. They ambushed us." He said, unable to keep the bitter note out of his voice. I knew I was going to have to tread carefully. This was the first real change I was trying to make since Ostagar. If I fucked up, I would be endangering all of us. But my death had given me a new perspective.

Even if I followed the script, this wasn't a video game. None of us had immunity, or plot armour. If we died, there was no respawn. Well, technically, there had been for me, but I had a strong feeling that that had been a one-time deal. If I could end this without having to fight off an army of sentient beings, I would try. The werewolves were victims in this, as much as anyone. I didn't like the idea of fighting any of them, even if we did manage to end the curse and save the majority of them. I didn't want their blood on my hands.

"I'm sorry for your troubles." I said, sincerely, as we entered his tent. "I hope that we can find a peaceful way to resolve this."

"I am afraid, peace is no longer an option." Zathrian sighed, as he took a seat, and gestured for me to sit on the free chair. The chair was...rustic. Well-crafted, and sturdy, but it looked like it might have simply grown from the forest floor. "I could not help but notice that you have a golem in your party. I was not aware that Grey Wardens utilised the children of the stone's slaves."

Zathrian's tone was neutral, probing, but the way he said the word "slaves" told me he found the idea as distasteful as I did. Hardly a surprise, given the subjugation his people faced in Thedas.

"Shale is sentient." I explained. "It has free-will, and has joined us of it's own accord."

"And the Qunari?" He asked. "He is Tal Vashoth?"

I could feel him trying to figure me out, to get a sense of who I was. I knew the Dalish were guarded and slow to trust, but I hadn't been prepared for a pop quiz.

"No, he is a Sten of the Beresaad. We saved him from a sentence of death imposed upon him by the Chantry. I had the Revered Mother release him into my service, but he is free to leave whenever he wishes."

"Interesting." Zathrian said, studying my face, curiously. "And what of the elf?"

"I don't deal in slavery, Keeper, if that is why you ask. He is an Antivan Crow who was sent to assassinate us. He failed, and offered his sword to us in exchange for his life. A fair bargain, but he too is free to leave if he wants to."

"So your people stay with you out of loyalty."

"Or duty." I suggested. "The Qunari is not particularly fond of me at the moment, but he wants to see the blight ended as much as we do."

"Thank you. I appreciate your candour, Grey Warden." He said, relaxing back into his seat. "Now. What was it you wished to discuss?"

"There are things that you don't know." I said, carefully, watching his face closely. "I have seen the path ahead, and I know what must be done. I also know the consequences, if this path is not taken."

"And how did you come to possess such knowledge?" He asked, frowning.

"That's a long story." I said, apologetically. "And I would not prolong the suffering of your clan to tell it."

"Then how am I to believe that you speak the truth?" He asked, though his voice was calm and there was no accusation there, only a question.

"I have no reason to lie. To be perfectly honest, Zathrian...your clan is small. I would not risk the lives of the only living Grey Wardens for the assistance of fifty Dalish. As skilled as your hunters are, only a Grey Warden can end the blight. It wouldn't exactly be a sound strategy to take this detour just to sit here and lie to you now."

He considered this for a moment, before nodding in acceptance.

"Very well. Tell me, then. What is it that you have seen?"

"I know about the curse. I know about Witherfang. I know that you created it, by summoning a spirit and binding it to a wolf."

"Impossible. Nobody alive knows of what happened except for myself and the spirit."

"And me." I said, confidently. "I know why you did it. And I would have done the same. I've lost people that I love, and if I knew who was responsible, I would curse them until the end of their days."

Zathrian closed his eyes, wearily, and despite his youthful appearance, he suddenly looked much older. I could see the weight of his memories in the lines of his face.

"But they died a long time ago, didn't they? The humans you once cursed?"

"They may have died, but the beasts that roam this forest are no different from their ancestors. I witnessed their savagery with my own eyes." He said, his voice rising angrily.

"They are savage, yes. Angry. Filled with rage, at the pain and suffering that has been inflicted on them, for crimes that were committed long before they were born. You're a wise man, Zathrian. Tell me what happens when you keep answering pain with more pain."

He rose to his feet, his face seething with rage, and I held up a hand to still him.

"Then I'll tell you. Your people keep suffering. Forget the werewolves. Forget the humans. Look out there, at the faces of your people as they lay dying in agony and tell me that this is what your children would have wanted."

"You were not there." He spat, angrily, but I felt my shoulders relax. I recognised this dialogue now, and it was the first recognisable thing that had happened in months. "You did not see what those humans did-"

"I have seen." I lied. I knew it was a risk, but it was only sort of a lie. I hadn't seen the events unfold, but I had heard his telling of them. "I can only imagine how you felt, as a father. How you still feel. I would have ripped them apart for what they did. Death was too good for them."

Rage flared inside of me as I thought about what those men had done, and Zathrian seemed to recognise that I was honest in my outrage, at least.

"I would have rained fire and blood down on them. But they are dead. They've been dead for a long time. Your people believe you have discovered the secrets of the Evanuris, Zathrian. Your people, who now suffer as a result of the curse you created."

"So what do you suggest?" He asked, angrily. "What is this path that you claim to have seen?"

"You will send us to bring you the heart of the wolf. But Witherfang is not just a wolf. The spirit has another form, and the werewolves have given her a name. They call her The Lady of the Forest."

"They have given the spirit a name?" He asked, doubtfully. "No. That is not...they are mindless beasts!"

"They were. They've regained their minds. When they attacked, they didn't kill any of your people did they? The elves who have died since being bitten were slain by your own hand, when the curse turned them. They're not trying to kill your people. They're trying to spread the curse to them, so that you will have no choice but to end it. I don't think they expected you to sacrifice so many of your clan without doing so."

"Ma harel, da'len." He spat. I recognised his words, though I didn't know how. I hadn't paid all that much attention to the Elvish in the game, but something inside of me whispered the words in english: You lie, child.

"Ma harel, Keeper." I spat back, rising to my feet to stand face-to-face to him. "Fen'Harel ma ghilana. You lie to yourself, and to your people. And I will not risk my people as you have done. I will not send them into the Brecilian forest to fight an army of werewolves so that you can keep your revenge alive."

"This is not revenge, it is justice!" He insisted.

I strode past him, throwing the tent flap open and striding angrily across the camp, as he followed, his anger matching mine. I stopped when the make-shift hospital ward came into sight and wheeled on him, pointing at the injured elves.

"Does that look like justice to you, Zathrian?" I hissed. The staff in his hand flared, and dark-green energy crackled around it, as he bore down on me, but I stood my ground. Slowly, reluctantly, he looked over at the bodies of his people, writhing in pain, and his face fell, miserably.

"You...shame me, child." He said, quietly. "I...I am too old. I have lived with this hate for too long. I cannot forgive…"

"Nor should you." I said, softly. "But this has gone on for too long. Aren't you tired, Zathrian? Aren't you ready for it to end?"

His shoulders slumped, defeated, and I held his arm, comfortingly.

"If it is death that you fear, don't worry." I said, gently. "Death...really isn't so bad."

"When one has lived as long as I have...I do not fear death, Warden. Death will be a welcome rest."

"Then you will come with us? To the ruin at the heart of the forest?" I asked, hopefully. "To end this?"

"I...will come." He said, and there was an odd look of relief on his face, as if he had just been waiting for someone to tell him that it was time. "Let us end this."

AN: I know I went off-script but also, Lauren's just kind of done with everyone right now, so this felt right.

Also, I have barely proof-read this, but my brain's been real slow the last few days, so I need to just put this out and then I might edit it a little later if there are any glaring inconsistencies, so feel free to point out if Thing Bad.

I try not to take too much dialogue from the game, because I don't think it's all that enjoyable to read unless it's just a snippet here and there, and then it's like a little inside joke, you know? So I'm sorry if you were reading this thinking "That's not what happens!" But it is a bit AU now that Lauren's here so that's kind of okay, right? We'll go with that.

Eiris: Take your time! I'm trying not to rush through your whole fic in one go, which is hard when it's all just up there waiting to be read lol. But it's like when there's a show I like on Netflix, I try to ration myself so I don't finish it all and then I'm just sitting there like :(

Chimera Spyke: I'm also excited for more spells! I don't want to rush her training, and this chapter obviously was very dialogue and exposition-heavy, but maybe there will be some scope for fun magic times in the next couple.

SoccerGirl4Life30: I'm with you on that. Studying has literally been sucking the life out of me, I feel like a costume of a person. Hence the frequent uploads. This is next-level procrastination. You're right, Alistair can suck it right now, but also...former Templar in love with a new and potentially dangerous mage? Oh, the possibilities. We'll check in with the Kirkwall lot soon to find out what's happening there, don't worry.

LeliMor29: Haha just friends! But you're right! You never know...haha

Playerovic: Don't worry, I have some fun magic ideas, but it won't all happen overnight. And remember, just because we saw Arcane Warriors one way in the game, that doesn't mean that what we saw wasn't super limited. Who knows what fun new things we might discover (read: make up) along the way haha. And I have unpopular opinions about blood-magic. I think they're unpopular anyway? Kind of feel like it's been demonised by the Chantry so that they can control mages because they're the ones who regulate the lyrium supply. So don't think I haven't thought about it. But it just feels a bit early in her journey of magical discovery to be tinkering with things like that just yet. And Sten is not her biggest fan right now at all, but he doesn't have a whole lot of choice than to put up with her presence the same way he puts up with Morrigan's. He's made his feelings clear, and you know what he's like, it'll probably all come to a head at some point. Might not even be during the Origins timeline...but that's all I'm saying now lol

Never33: I yell it all the time, it's honestly incredible that I still have friends at this point.

TheFanfictionMaster: Haha is that from GoT? I am a fan! But I genuinely thought it was a Wynne quote. Just shows you how much I pay attention to things lol. I was like...that sounds like something Wynne probably said when she was giving the Warden a hard time about the Alistair romance. But well-spotted haha