Summary: The world knows of Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan. But what of those who came before...?

Disclaimer: Repeat after me: I own zilch.

Queen's Quornor: The Dwarf Commoner, at last! This particular chapter is going to be of a different vein than the others, since the only person with whom the Warden-to-be runs around is interested more in his/her sister. This character has some serious attitude, I would think. But she'd be learning as she spent time around more subdued people such as Wynne and Leliana.

Leske

I am a born criminal. According to the caste system of my people, I was damned from the moment I was born, and thus I carry a brand that makes every dwarf I meet spit on me. We castless are worthless, unworthy to feel any emotion beyond pain, which is inflicted upon us regularly.

So how can it be that I can love?

My sister once asked me if I ever loved Leske. I told her I didn't understand what she meant. She said my relationship with him was really not so different from the one she shared with Prince Bhelen. She honestly cared for him, in spite of the things he did. It was her fondest wish to give him a son, regardless of what the event would mean for the rest of us.

It was not the same with me and Leske. We sometimes found our way into each other's beds, that was true, but it wasn't because we felt anything sodding special. We sought each other out to fulfill certain needs, or when we were lonely or frustrated with with Beraht or Jarvia and our lot in life. Beyond that, we only had sex because there was nobody else we trusted. He wanted to sleep with Rica, but that was impossible thanks to her role as a noble-hunter. I was the next best thing, and sometimes he would call out my sister's name when we were together. At first it sodding hurt, but I came to accept it. What better could I expect?

So I didn't hate him after I was forced to flee Orzammar. I regretted that he had to stay with Jarvia, but I didn't give a nug's ass about our relationship. It wasn't love. I've never known what that means.

That's why I chose Zevran. Alistair was looking for something I could not give, but my assassin is only after a good time. The understanding is there, as it was with Leske. He has my back, I have his, and we share tent.

What I can't understand is why I became so angry when Leske tried to kill him. I knew Jarvia would claim him for herself, the sodding bitch; it wasn't a betrayal. But when I saw my former partner step out of the shadows behind Zevran, while my assassin was preoccupied with his own prey...

I can't remember ever feeling so furious, so afraid for somebody else. Nothing made me happier than the smile Zevran gave me as Leske's body slipped off my daggers. Killing Leske was worth his safety and approval.

I don't understand why I reacted that way. I can't figure out how he could mean so much to me.

Is this what Rica feels for her prince? Is this love?

Sodding stones. Why now? I don't need this while I'm trying to save Ferelden's collective ass. I have to focuse not swoon every time Zevran comes near me.

Damn you, Leske! This is your fault, you nug-humping piece of garbage!

But still...

Ancestors accept you, my friend.