Chapter 41 The Alienage

Erin crossed her arms.

"And why should I bloody care what Anora wants, Erlina?" she demanded. "She's a guest in my house, treated with the respect due her station, even after she almost led us to our deaths and led my brother to his capture. I imagine the only reason you approach me is either Leliana or Xolana chased you away from Conrí's quarters."

A few days had passed since Conrí's capture and subsequent escape from Fort Drakon. Fergus had stationed numerous guards at the entrance hall in case Loghain sent men to detain his wounded brother, but to everyone's surprise, word reached them that Howe had been killed by a disgruntled servant who had absconded with a small fortune. Fergus had frowned, suspicious of the Regent's game. Few wouldn't believe a Cousland had killed Rendon Howe after what happened in Highever. But the Warden's presence hadn't even been mentioned.

As it were, Conrí had been seen only briefly in the last forty-eight hours. The story told by snickering servants and companions alike was that Conrí had been told on no uncertain terms by five very stubborn women that he was to rest and recover before he even thought of donning his armor again. Leliana, Xolana, Wynne, Oriana and, to Conrí's dismayed surprise, Erin all agreed he needed to recover and lay low until the Landsmeet itself.

Which meant Erlina now stood at Erin's door, imploring the youngest Cousland warrior to meet with Anora. "The queen wishes to ally with the Wardens and as your commanding officer is indisposed, she thought speaking to his second in command was prudent," Erlina said stiffly.

"I'm not second in command, Erlina," Erin sneered. "That would be Serena Aeducan. And to be honest, after both you and your mistress made us jump through hoops to get you here, she'd likely slam the door in your face," Erin scoffed. "Fine. I'll speak with Anora. Inform her I promise nothing and my brothers have final say. Fergus for dealing with the nobility and Conrí for how we Wardens ally ourselves. Now, if you'll excuse me," Erin closed the door sharply.

With an aggravated sigh, Erin turned back to her room and strode over to her wardrobe. Tossing aside the nightgown she'd hastily pulled on when Erlina knocked, she yanked on a sturdy pair of leather trousers and a new tunic. After adding a pair of use-softened leather gloves, she turned back to her bed. Erin's steely blue eyes softened when they landed on a sleeping Tira.

Erin walked around the side of the bed and sat next to her elvish lover. She took a moment to admire Tira's lithe form, tracing the lines of her vallaslin with her eyes as they wound their way down the elf's face to her neck and down her bare shoulders and chest. Her hair, free from its usual braided tail, cascaded over her pillow like a tipped bottle of ink. Erin smirked wickedly and leaned down, trailing kisses and soft nips up Tira's neck to her ear. The groggy Dalish let out a pleased purr and turned her head to catch her lover's lips. After a short exchange of affection, Tira pulled back and finally opened her slightly unfocused forest green eyes.

"Good morning, ma vhenan," she whispered, her voice still raspy from sleep. "I had hoped you were going to rejoin me, but as you are disappointingly not as naked as when we fell asleep, I take it you have been called away. So what did Anora's little mouse want so early?"

"While I desire nothing more than to remain in bed with you all day," Erin sighed, nuzzling Tira's cheek. "Her Majesty wants to speak business. I started a pot of coffee before we were disturbed so it's all yours. I'll join you in the main hall for breakfast after dealing with Anora's demands."

"Very well," Tira sighed. "Don't keep me waiting too long. I've grown rather attached to spending the days with you."

Erin smiled and leaned back down to kiss the sleepy elf. "I'll be as swift as possible, love. After, if all goes well, well," she shifted slightly and caught the tip of Tira's pointed ear lightly between her teeth, drawing a light whimper from the dark haired Dalish. "I'll leave that to your imagination."

"Fenedhis, woman…" Tira hissed. "I've told you about the teasing."

Erin giggled wickedly. "Your mouth says one thing, while the rest of you says something else, my lovely wolf."

Tira growled and shoved Erin away. "Go, before I drag you back in this bed and don't let you leave until lunch." She pulled the sheet up to just under her eyes to hide her blush and shuffled uncomfortably under it as Erin snickered and moved towards the door, stopping only to finish her cup of coffee.

Despite her pride refusing to let her admit it aloud, Tira couldn't deny she did enjoy Erin's teasing.

Erin strolled down the hall, coming to a stop outside what was once Fergus's room before he took over the Master Bedroom. She felt a twinge of pain as her thoughts turned to her parents. She still missed them terribly.

A pair of guards stood on either side of the door and both saluted as Erin approached. She waved them off and strode through the door. Anora sat at a small table, sipping from the tea set provided for her. "You asked to see me, Your Majesty?" Erin asked coolly.

Anora gave a polite smile and beckoned Erin inside. "Thank you for your time, Lady Cousland. Erlina, you may leave us." The Orlesian elf nodded and departed. "Please, join me," Anora gestured to the opposite side of the table where a steaming cup of tea sat.

Erin frowned slightly but did as she was bid. It was no secret Erin and Anora rarely got along, especially after Erlina had been caught in Erin's room in this very house, searching for evidence of Erin seducing Cailan. While Fergus and Conrí had found the situation humorous, Erin had been extremely offended. While Cailan was a shameless flirt and Erin had playfully shot him down on numerous occasions, both understood it was a game, purely fun.

After a fashion, anyway. Conrí had drawn the ire of Loghain once when, after Cailan had been a bit too forward, Conrí punched the crown prince in the jaw. Conrí had been defiant, refusing to both Loghain and Bryce to apologize. "He may be a prince, but that doesn't give him the right to put his grubby paws on my sister without permission," he'd said, glaring up at Loghain. The situation had been defused shortly after by Maric himself.

Anora had harbored a grudge since hearing about the incident, convinced Erin had been attempting to seduce Cailan away from her and had gotten cold feet. It was only after Erin had bluntly and publicly announced her preferences for the fairer sex that Anora ceased her campaign to uncover Cailan and Erin's affair, embarrassing herself deeply.

"First, let me say I knew your family," Anora began, drawing Erin from her thoughts. "Eleanor in particular was dear to me and what Howe did was… unforgiveable. How fitting that he died by your hand."

Erin knew this to be true, as unlike many of the ladies from older families, Eleanor had always been friendly if formal during her interactions with the Queen, both before and after her Coronation. While many families believed the Mac Tir line to be upstart commoners, Eleanor believed it was a person's actions with their names that mattered rather than how old the name was.

"I appreciate the thought, Your Majesty," Erin sighed, picking up the cup of tea and taking sip. A bit sweet for her taste,she thought. "But I'd rather get to the reason you called me here."

Anora nodded. Couslands were notoriously blunt and direct, but Anora had never acted as if this bothered her. On the contrary; if the subtle quirk of her lips now was any indication, she found it oddly refreshing when contrasted with the scrambling toadies she'd probably been surrounded by for the last half decade. "Erlina has gathered information since you freed me from Howe's clutches, and I believe my father has been causing trouble in the Alienage."

"Trouble how?" Erin asked leaning back and crossing her legs.

"There are rumors of a plague, and until recently, the Alienage had been under quarantine," Anora explained. "Many believe the plague is caused by the Blight, but solid answers are difficult to come by. It may be wise to look into this. Who knows what my father may have set into motion in his paranoia."

"A helpful lead," Erin acknowledged, sipping her tea. "But I doubt that is the only reason you asked to see me."

"Eleanor taught you well," Anora sighed. "Erlina informed me of your position on the matter of politics. Your word could go far with your brothers. And I have no doubt their voices will be powerful ones in the coming days. What could they do when backed by the Queen of Fereldan? Cailan told me of Alistair, and even had he not, I would have recognized my husband's brother," Anora's cool mask broke briefly. Despite his flirtations, Anora had indeed loved Cailan. He had been a lifelong friend, and a kind man, if frustratingly naïve at times. His loss was wounding and seeing Alistair was salt in an open wound. "And I understand Eamon intends to put him on his brother's throne. While I believe Alistair is biddable enough, and a good man, he lacks the experience needed to rule in times like these. He is also a fine Grey Warden, which in my opinion, he should remain."

"Anora," Erin rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Conrí and I may be Couslands, but we are still Grey Wardens. While the Landsmeet can decide to put Alistair on the throne, we cannot have a hand in it either way. Your father isn't alone in his paranoia about the order. Because we are not bound to Fereldan and the nonsense Sophia Dryden got up to, many nobles see us as a foreign, potentially hostile force. The best I can do is recommend you speak with Fergus."

"Your brother is quite displeased with me at the moment," Anora frowned. "After your twin was taken to Fort Drakon, he made that very clear."

"He'd respect your stance more if you brought it to him yourself," Erin told her, standing up. "My fellows and I will see to this issue in the Alienage. I advise you speak with Fergus in the meantime." Erin strolled to the door. When she reached it, she paused briefly. "Ir abelas, lethallan." Anora looked up, recognizing the words as elvish but not knowing their meaning. Thankfully, Erin was quick to translate."My heart breaks for your loss, my friend. We returned to Ostagar a few weeks ago and found Cailan. Because of a Genlock Necromancer, his body was alarmingly preserved. After we found what we searched for, we gave the king as formal a pyre as we could. As his widow… and an old friend, I felt you deserved some closure. You have my condolences, your Majesty." Erin left the room, allowing the widowed queen her privacy as her mask shattered and, for the first time since learning of Cailan's death, began quietly weeping.

Erin had explained the situation to the group after everyone had risen from breakfast. Blair, having a vested interest in what was happening, demanded to be brought along. Zevran, Garik, Tristan and Tira volunteered as well, so the small group departed the Cousland home and strode across the Market District.

They stopped in at the Gnawed Noble tavern, and Erin was relieved to see Bann Alfstanna in attendance. She made her way swiftly over to the woman, who was once again meeting with Arl Bryland. Alfstanna smiled as the youngest Cousland approached. "Ah, Erin. What can I do for you?" she asked, glad to see her old friend again.

Erin sighed, displeased she had to be the bearer of bad news. "I understand Irminric hasn't been to see you. My brother and I discovered why." She placed the ring she'd been carrying since leaving Howe's dungeon in front of Alfstanna.

"This is Irminric's signet ring!" Alfstanna exclaimed. "Explain yourself! My brother would no more part with this than with his head!"

"You heard that Howe is dead, no?" Tira asked. "We were there when he fell. Your brother is still in a cell below the Arl of Denerim's estate. He refused to leave, but he is unwell. Lyrium deprivation, we believe."

"A cell?" Alfstanna squawked. "But.. no…" the Bann's normally friendly slate grey eyes narrowed in fury. "I will be having words with the Grand Cleric… and then the Regent." Alfstanna looked down at her clenched hands, attempting to settle herself, if only for the moment. After a minute, she looked up again. "Thank you, Erin," she said finally, reaching behind her neck to undo a clasp. She held out an amulet consisting of seven gold disks, each set with a star sapphire. "This amulet has been in my family for generations. Let it be a symbol of the bond between Highever and the Waking Sea." Erin, taken aback for a moment, slowly took the amulet. While part of her wished to refuse, she didn't want to insult Alfstanna. "If you need my archers' aid to take back your home, you'll have them. Now, please excuse me. I must speak with the Grand Cleric." With that, Alfstanna marched from the bar, a slight stomp in her step.

"So," Bryland took a sip from his ale as he leaned back. "I gather it was you who finally rid Fereldan of that parasite."

"My brother and I, yes," Erin nodded. "While not our intent going into it, the benefit was not unwelcome."

Bryland nodded before looking over to another table. "Sighard!" he barked, gesturing for the greying blonde man to join him. "Leave the dithering toady for a moment. I would speak with you."

Ignoring Bann Ceorlic's indignant sputtering, Sighard rose and made his way to Bryland. "I trust this is important, Bryland," Sighard sighed.

"I recall you speaking of your son yesterday eve, Sighard," Bryland rumbled.

"Aye, I only wished Howe still lived so I might tear him apart myself," Sighard growled.

"Well, I believe you owe this fine lass and her twin for your boy returning, if not in one piece then still breathing," Bryland gestures to Erin.

Sighard's eyes found Erin and widened. "My son spoke of you at great lengths but never mentioned you were a Cousland," he said. "When I saw my poor boy's legs and heard of what was done to him… but thanks to you and your brother, Oswyn still lives. If there is anyway I can repay you, please, do not hesitate to ask."

"My lord, we could use your voice against Loghain," Blair spoke up. "His paranoia of Orlais has blinded him to the true threat."

"I agree, Warden," Sighard nodded. "You will have my support. In fact, I'm taking my supper with Bann Reginalda of White River. I will speak to her on this matter."

"That would be very much appreciated, my lord," Erin said, bowing slightly.

"Please, take this, Sighard reached into his belt and pulled out a sack of coins. "I believe no good deed should go unrewarded. Take as a sign of good faith between our families, Warden Cousland. And as thanks for saving Oswyn."

Erin held up a hand in denial. "I need no thanks for simple compassion."

Sighard scowled slightly and took Erin's hand, pressing the coin into it. "I insist. And I'll not hear of the Wardens vow to stay out of political matters. This is not politics, young Cousland." He released both Erin's hand and the sack. "Your family has done mine a service and I will see it repaid," the Bann's stern expression softened. "You have my condolences for your parents, Erin. I knew them. Not well, as we fought on different fields during the Occupation and our lands were not close in peacetime, but I did like to consider them friends. Perhaps it is not my place to say this, but I believe they would be very proud of you and your brothers."

Erin was silent for a moment. "Thank you, my lord." she looked to the coin sack. "We will put this to good use."

Sighard nodded and moved to rejoin Ceorlic after giving Bryland a nod.

"Come," Tristan motioned to the door with his spear. "We have work that needs doing."

Erin scowled as she took in the sight of the Alienage. When they were younger, she and Conrí had snuck past the guards during a stay in Denerim for the Landsmeet.

It seemed the Alienage had gotten even more decrepit since then.

After Blair had chased off a supposed veteran, Erin was drawn towards the main area of the Alienage, which housed the Vhenadahl, by an unusual clamoring.

"I don't remember my Alienage that well," Tristan commented, skirting the body of a dead dog. "But I don't remember it being this… cramped."

"Urien didn't care much for making sure elves were comfortable," Blair sneered.

"I dunno," Garik sighed. "Sure, it ain't pretty, but I still say Dust Town has this place beat. Ya got a supply of water that doesn't require you to fight Deepstalkers to get to, for one."

Blair flinched. He had a point. While elves in Denerim had nowhere near the same opportunities as other races, the casteless of Orzammar could only exist through begging, crime, glorified prostitution or joining a legion of dwarves who believed themselves already dead. Looking around, Blair saw that compared to the crumbling heaps that constituted homes in Dust Town, the buildings in the Alienage were serviceable. Far from palaces, certainly, but at least they weren't in danger of collapsing.

"Still," Erin growled. "No one should have to live like this."

"Come. My father's house is this way," Blair beckoned them. She led the group to a small house not far from the main square. At the door, she hesitated briefly before knocking. A scrapping inside preceded the door opening. A single brown eyes looked through the gap between the door and the wall as the door cracked open. It widened and the door swung open, revealing a thin, brown haired elven man with a sword in his hand. "Blair! Maker's breath, I can hardly believe it!" Soris exclaimed. "Come in, come in!"

Blair smiled and embraced her cousin. "It's good to see you, Soris," she said before her eyes found his right hand. Or more accurately, the battered Longsword he'd stolen from the Arl's Palace almost a year prior. "Expecting trouble, cousin?"

"Lately, I've had nothing but trouble," Soris sighed. "After you left, there was a crackdown by the guards. A lot of houses got raided. Afterwards, folk started looking for someone to blame and since you weren't around…"

Blair scowled. "That ragged bitch Elva had a hand in that no doubt."

Soris chuckled humorlessly. "The bitter hag can't stand anyone being anything but miserable. Then came Arl Howe's purge, followed by a plague. Shianni has been screaming at the so-called healers brought in by the Regent for days now."

Blair growled. If Loghain had brought these healers in, trouble was likely not far behind. "What of my father, Soris? Is he out with Shianni? Or trying to talk her down?"

Soris flinched. "Hate to tell you this, Cousin, but Cyrion was taken into quarantine a week ago," he said. "He didn't seem ill, but the healers insisted. Shianni knows more then I do. If you want to find her, look for the angriest woman in the Alienage."

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Soris," Blair promised, her deep green eyes hard as a pair of emeralds.

Soris nodded, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "And I've been rude. Cyrion would have my ass in a sling. Who are your friends, Cousin?"

"Oh," Blair flushed a bit, having gotten caught up in talking with her cousin. "Soris, this is Tristan Surana, Tira Mahariel, Garik Brosca and Erin Cousland, my fellow Wardens. And, though not a Warden but still travelling with us… and also my… lover," Blair blushed slightly and fidgeted a bit with the golden earring the former Crow had given her recently. "Zevran Arainai."

Zevran grinned wickedly and slipped his arms around Blair's slender waist from behind. "Come now, amore mio, there is no need to be bashful."

Blair elbowed him lightly in the arm. "Zev, I've told you; not in front of people."

"You Fereldans are so finicky," Zevran huffed, mischief sparkling in his amber eyes.

"Reel it in, Antivan," Garik snickered. "You're running the risk of not getting any for a while."

Zevran sighed melodramatically. "Yes, yes, I know, and that would be a tragedy."

Soris furrowed his brow as he took in the Antivan elf. Blair wasn't stupid, so there had to be more than the flirting that drew her in. As he pondered this, something clicked in Soris's head. "Wait, did you say Cousland, Cousin?" he asked, eyes widening. "As in the Couslands of Highever?"

Blair blinked. She'd been around the Cousland twins for so long, she had almost forgotten they were nobility. She looked to the tall redhead, who looked weary.

"Yes, my father was Teyrn of Highever," Erin sighed, reaching down to grab the hand of the brown haired elf as he immediately scrambled to kneel. "Please, don't do that," she added, frustration clear in her tone. "I'm not nobility anymore. I'm a Grey Warden."

Soris blinked. He'd heard from Valora that the Couslands of Highever where fair and evenhanded, even when dealing with elves. It seemed this extended to their children as well. Soris stood up and Erin let go of his arm. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable," Soris gave a short, courteous bow, much less subservient than before. "Nobles have a tendency to walk over us so we've learned to keep our heads down. Especially with the likes of Vaughan and Howe walking around."

"Well, they're both dead now," Garik chuckled darkly.

"True," Soris nodded. "I'd offer something to drink, but I only have water."

"It's alright, Cousin," Blair waved him off. "We had better go anyway. Maker knows what Shianni has gotten herself into. It always did take her brain a bit to catch up with her mouth."

"Not always," Soris droned with a smirk. "Sometimes it never caught up."

"That is true," Blair chuckled. "Keeps your head down, Soris. We'll deal with this nonsense."

"Just follow the screaming, and you're bound to find Shianni."

Soris had been correct. As soon as the group headed toward the Vhenadahl, they heard yelling. It seemed most of the Alienage had gathered around what was the closest thing to a main square the walled off section of the city had.

The red-haired elf who had been barking at her neighbors turned and her eyes fell on Tira. "Great," she scoffed, eying Tsume. "Wild elves bringing wild animals into the alienage."

"Well, that's not very nice," Tira protested, before her eyes turned mischievous and she stroked the side of Erin's face. "I think I've trained her rather well."

"Charming, love," Erin rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong, shem?" the red-haired elf sneered at Erin, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Did you get bored and decide to come watch the elves die of plague?"

Erin deadpanned, her left brow slowly rising. Had Conrí or Fergus been present, they would have commented on how much she resembled their mother. Even the loud-mouthed Shianni seemed a bit cowed by the unimpressed stare. "So… you said your cousin has red hair and more bark than brains, no?" Blair, through her uncontrolled giggles, having gotten the same stare from Erin numerous times, squeaked out an affirmative. "Then yes, we found her." Erin stepped aside, letting the Tabris cousins lock eyes for the first time in nearly a year.

"Blair!" Shianni squealed and darted forward, hugging the cousin she thought lost. "Maker's ass, we thought you were dead!"

"News of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, Cousin," Blair chuckled, squeezing her temperamental family member.

"Blair, we had a funeral for you after news reached us of Ostagar! They said all Grey Wardens died with king!" Shianni exclaimed. "You have no idea. After what happened at your wedding-!"

"Wedding?!" the other Wardens exclaimed. Blair grimaced and turned to her companions. They all looked shocked, even the normally jovial and sarcastic Garik. One looked hurt, though trying desperately to hide it.

"So, there is a secretive side to you after all," Zevran commented, his voice and smile strained.

"The wedding never actually happened," Blair murmured.

"No?" Zevran's pale eyebrows went up, his grin becoming a touch more real. "You left him at the altar, didn't you?"

Blair was silent for a long moment before she turned to the group. "If you're imagining a fairy tail wedding and I was just the runaway bride, don't. Vaughn Kendals got drunk and decided his party needed female… entertainment, so he took us and a few other girls. Soris and Nelaros, my intended came to find us. The day ended with Vaughn, his friends, my

neighbor Nola… and Nelaros dead."

"I… do not know what to say to that," Zevran mumbled. He'd always wondered how Blair had been recruited. She was the only Warden who never spoke of the day she'd caught Duncan or Conrí's eye. This thoroughly explained her silence.

"After learning Soris and I had cut our way through most of Vaughn's guards, Duncan recruited me when I returned," Blair continued. "I wasn't exactly pleased, but it got me out of the city. I would have returned earlier, Shianni, but when we were last in Denerim, the Alienage was blocked off."

Shianni nodded in understanding. "Your father, he'd been so melancholy and sad — he was sure you'd ended up like your mother — he'll be overjoyed to see you! That is, assuming we can find him," she finished, her expression darkening. "They took him in there four days ago, wouldn't take no for an answer," Shianni jerked her head at the Tevinter building. "These foreigners say they're here to help with our outbreak of plague. Funny thing, though, is: the ones they help disappear."

"That's not true, Shianni!" another elf from the crowd interrupted. "Both my sisters got the Tevinter spell cast on them and they're fine!"

By way of an answer, Shianni hurled a stone at the elf woman who'd spoke. "Where's your niece, then? And my uncle Cyrion? And Valendrian?" she snapped before turning her attention back to Blair. "Your father... Cyrion wasn't sick, I swear it," Shianni insisted. "There's something going on here, they just won't let anyone in."

"And this is the quarantined area?" Tira asked.

Shianni glanced over her shoulder at the imposing structure. "It's the largest building in the Alienage, so they converted it into a quarantine zone for the plague victims. It's supposedly an infirmary, too, to cure them with their spell," she said, the last bit thick with a layer of sarcasm.

"Did they mention where the plague started from?" Tristan enquired, the shape-shifter looking rather suspiciously at the Tevinters.

"From the Blight, you know, coming up from the south." Shianni shrugged. "That's what they say, anyway. People started getting it after the refugees showed up from Ostagar, so I guess that makes sense. These men from Tevinter say their magic will prevent people from catching it. But it doesn't work if you're already ill. So they set up a quarantine."

"Something is very wrong," Tristan crossed his arms. "Quarantine won't work. There is no cure for the Blight, magical or otherwise. Even the Joining only slows it down."

"Tell me," Erin intoned, resting a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Have any of the supposed infected had black sores, veins, or milky eyes?"

Shianni blinked. "No, nothing like that. A cough or aches at worst."

"The Blight acts fast," Tira informed the redhead. "And there's only one known even temporary cure. I doubt very highly these Vints are Wardens, so they have no access to it. I don't like this."

"I agree," Blair nodded. "Zevran, we'll see if we can find a way in 'round back. The rest of you should have a chat with these lovely healers."

"Cousin, be careful," Shianni warned. "Those healers are Magisters."

"Doubt it," Tristan shook his head. "No one in the Magisterium would be caught dead in an Alienage. An enchanter of the lower senate maybe, or a new Laetan, but never a Magister."

"You just used a lot of words I don't know, Grumpy," Garik commented.

Tristan gave an agitated sigh, remembering now that most people thought 'Magister' meant 'Mage from Tevinter.' "I'll explain later, we have work to do."

Zevran and Blair quietly slipped off and made their way, unseen, around the back of the quarantine building.

Erin, Tira and Garik flanked by Koun, Kiba and Tsume approached the front.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you into the hospice," the Tevinter guarding the front held up a hand. "The Blight is a virulent contagion. We cannot risk it spreading."

"Call it professional curiosity," Tristan drawled, leaning his staff against his shoulder. "What school of magic is this miraculous cure from?"

The enchanter scowled, hearing the sarcastic mocking in the elf's voice. "I am afraid I cannot reveal that, as the spell belongs to the Minrathous Circle-"

"Because it doesn't exist," Tristan interrupted. "There is no cure for the Blight, and there's no way a refugee or survivor from Ostagar brought it here as they'd have been dead by the third dawn."

"And you know this how?" the Tevinter bristled.

"Before you go espousing expertise on the Blight," Erin growled, pushing aside her cloak to reveal the rampant Griffin on her new dragonbone cuirass. "Check first to see if you're talking out your arse to a Grey Warden."

The Tevinter's eyes widened and he began reaching for his staff when the door behind him swung open and Blair, dark grey eyes smoky with rage, fell on him like a woman possessed, her daggers stabbing into him with a previously unseen fury. The rest of the elves around them scattered as Tristan and Erin acted quickly to deal with the remaining two mages.

Zevran strode out of the Hospice, weapons streaked with blood and an ugly scowl on his normally handsome face. "Times like these, I hate being right," Zevran hissed, more agitated than Erin had ever seen him. "These Vints had dozens of elves locked in cages — men, women, children even. Seeing it all reminded me of the reason I always enjoyed assassinations in the Imperium," he added while promptly kicking one of the mages in the head. "When you see scum like these treating people as playthings."

"What happened?" a high-pitched voice interjected; in all the commotion, none of them had seen Shianni come running up.

"I saw a bunch of elves run out, but I didn't recognise any of them! Where are all the others?"

"Those were the only ones in there," Zevran replied with a shrug of the shoulders.

Shianni's expression was one of utter disbelief. "How is that possible? They've taken dozens of people in there!"

"Maybe this has an answer?" Garik put forward as he strolled out of the building, having slipped in during the ensuing melee, holding out a slip of parchment which the elf woman seized and swiftly read, Erin and the others who'd remained outside looking over her shoulder.

Only a sentence of text had been scrawled onto the parchment: 'Bring six males and eight females for the next shipment'.

"What does this mean?" Shianni demanded. "They can't be shipping people, can they? Shipping them where?"

"I think why would be the better question," Erin replied, though she didn't dare voice her next thought aloud. 'I think we already know the answer.'

"I don't care why, I just want to find all those missing!" Shianni insisted.

Before her cousin could rant further, Blair held up a hand, holding up a simple iron key. "We found this as well. Looks like it belongs to one of those apartment buildings around the corner. I'd suggest we take a look there, see what else we can turn up," she swiftly added in suggestion to the party.

"Alright, if you find anything, let me know," Shianni insisted, calling out after them as Blair led them in the direction of the apartments. "I refuse to believe they're simply all gone."

"I am Caladrius," the bald man at the center of the group intoned as the party stormed into the warehouse.

The meagre handful of thugs defending the passageways leading to the central room and the dozens in the buildings prior proving unable to stop them, mercenary hirelings no match against Grey Wardens, an Antivan Crow, a pair of Mabari war hounds and a large timber wolf. Even the second in command, an arrogant elf herself, had proved to be little more than a road block. After having both of her crude iron blades blocked with Tristan's staff, she had both her hands then removed with a swift strike from his Spellweaver, a blade he'd taken up since learning enough with a sword from Conrí, Alistair, Sten and Erin. A second strike opened her throat as she stared in disbelief at her severed wrists. The bow the elven woman carried was now slung across Blair's back, having a need for a better shortbow.

"And you, one assumes, are the infamous Grey Wardens I've been hearing so much about," Caladrius finished with an oily smirk.

"You know of us?" Erin replied coldly, her eyes darting around the room, looking for any signs of traps or reinforcements on their way. To her relief, there was nothing, just the remaining half-dozen guards, the pompous mage whose attitude, clothing, and very bearing all screamed 'Egotist' at them — and the long cages at the back of the room packed to the brim with elven men, women and children. Blair let out a snarl of rage at the sight of friends, family locked up like cattle, before she made to start down the flight of stairs to the lower floor where the Tevinters were gathered, dagger and sword ready until Tristan put a hand out to stop her.

"He dies, but when we have an opening," he whispered.

Fortunately, the slavers' ringleader was too busy with his monologue to notice the exchange.

"One can scarcely get a word out of the Regent besides 'Warden' these days; it's surpassed even 'gold' in popularity," Caladrius tittered.

"Then you know what we can do. You know you should fear our presence here," was the curt response from an uncharacteristically cold Garik. The group had only seen the dwarf this angry once before and that situation ended with a Carta boss with an axe in her chest.

"Now, now, is that how we begin, with bluster? I was hoping for civility," the mage pouted in a patronizing manner.

"As civilized as slavery, scum?" Tira sneered.

"Business is business, my dear Warden-" Caladrius began, only to leap aside in mid-speech as a launched arrow hurtled towards him, the head burying itself in the wood of a crate an inch or two from his left temple. His guards all raised their weapons, levelling swords and loaded crossbows at the Dalish, but Caladrius waved them down, though his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Address me as if we are friends again, sethlin, and I'll put the next one between your eyes!" Tira snarled warningly.

"Your point is made, Warden," Caladrius replied bluntly, cured of his cavalier attitude — for the moment. "You do frighten me," the mage conceded, before an avaricious gleam appeared in those dark, shifty eyes. "But you also intrigue me. I've heard you're trying to erode Loghain's support. Must be a difficult task, like trying to wash away a mountain," the mage added with another titter. "Perhaps you could use some help?"

"Oh, this should be good!" Erin sneered, drawing a scowl from the Tevinter.

"Sarcasm is beneath us both, Warden!" Caladrius snapped petulantly, before taking a deep breath and continuing in his oily, persuasive tone. "Truth be told, there was always a limit to how long we were going to be able to operate here. We've paid for a great many of Loghain's troops, but once the Landsmeet is done, we become… inconvenient," Caladrius remarked, no doubt aware that Loghain would have him and his subordinates 'taken care of' the second their usefulness was over, and hopefully before the Regent's allies discovered their allegiance had been brought with blood money. "So, my offer to you is this; one hundred gold sovereigns from you for a letter with the seal of the Teyrn of Gwaren upon it, implicating him in all this. Then we leave with our profits and slaves a few days earlier than planned… unharmed," he finished, clearly believing he had just given a fantastic business pitch to convince a group of people who'd just killed most of his men to let him walk out with a ridiculous amount of money, dozens of slaves and his life.

"I have a counter offer..." Tristan snapped the second Caladrius had shut his mouth, unwilling to waste further words bargaining.

"Interesting..." Caladrius replied, a greedy shine in his eyes, the businessman in him too caught up by the thought of profit to realize his life and those of his men were measured in seconds, to realize he was talking to a group of young men and women who had no intention of letting him walk out of the room, let alone the city, with his life.

"Now!" Erin yelled and Tira, Blair and Tristan loosed two arrows and a spell that dropped three of the Tevinter thugs, including one stood by Caladrius's right shoulder. Caladrius's eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets as he watched the man beside him thrash and buck in his death throes with an arrow in his throat, before turning his attention back to the Wardens, weapons raised and murder in their eyes.

"Here is our new offer," Erin said, giving the stunned mage a predatory grin as she channeled her Templar powers. "We kill you and take everything you have for free."

The Tevinters loosed a volley of crossbow bolts at Erin, but with a shout of rage, Tristan cast another spell, conjuring a shield of arcane energy that the missiles clattered off uselessly. Tira and Tristan returned fire, their shots more effective as a third Tevinter fell, dropping to his knees clutching an arrow in his stomach before a fist-sized chunk of magically conjured stone crushed his skull. By that time, Erin, Blair, Zevran and Garik had charged down the stairs and a vicious melee had ensued. Blair ducked under the curved blade of one Tevinter and the warrior was forced to parry an attack by the charging Zevran, but Blair wasn't done; both sword and dagger slashed out and the thug screamed as his hamstrung legs gave out from under him. Zevran's sword quickly buried itself in the man's throat.

With a scream, Caladrius's magic lashed out, draining the blood from the two men Erin and Garik were fighting and channeling it into a torrent of flame that forced the attackers to retreat a few steps, but the Tevinter's expression of triumph evaporated as Tristan conjured a jet of ice that pushed the enemy mage back, putting out the flames he was conjuring. Both fire and ice dissipated suddenly as Erin's Templar training once more proved its use, silencing the raging magics and leaving Caladrius helpless.

With a roar, Tristan slammed the blunt end of his staff into the mage's gut, unbalancing him and knocking Caladrius on his backside in an undignified heap. Before the mage could recover, Spellweaver descended and for the second time that day, another Tevinter screamed as Tristan severed their hand at the wrist; Caladrius whimpered at the sight of his severed right hand, still closed around the silver haft of his staff. Before the mage could recover, Erin let loose another burst of Templar anti-magic and a burst of flame darted from Tristan's staff to cauterize the wound, preventing any chance of Caladrius using his injury to turn the situation back in his favor. Tristan pulled back his sword for a decapitating blow, the elves in the cages lining the walls cheering and hooting with gleeful anticipation at the sight of the source of their misery about to die.

"Enough, enough!" Caladrius screamed, thrusting out his remaining hand in a desperate entreaty for mercy. "Well, it seems your reputation is an accurate one. I surrender!"

"Surrender? I don't think so!" Tristan snarled, seizing Caladrius by the throat and forcing him up against one of the cages, the Tevinter wailing with fright as the elves within clawed, punched, bit and kicked him through the bars.

"Perhaps I should leave you to the mercy of these elves?"

"Wait, please! Hear me out, kind ser, I beg you!" the mage whimpered. "Were I to use the life force of these remaining slaves, I could-" he was cut off as a pair of thrown daggers found their mark in his throat, just missing Tristan's hand. He looked up, dropping the mage as he choked on his own blood to see Blair and Zevran lowering their hands from a throw.

"I had that, you know," the elven mage grumped. He scowled at his glove when he saw a pair of paper thin scratches on it.

"Took too long," Blair said simply as her sword flashed and cleaved through the cheap chains holding the cages shut. A grey haired elven man strode out and immediately hugged Blair. "Hey, Papa. Not how I wanted a reunion, but Tevinter sucks so…"

Cyrion Tabris chuckled wetly as he hugged his daughter. "You still have your mother's smart mouth. Maker, how I missed you, my daughter."

Blair gripped him just as hard, burying her face in his shoulder to hide her own tears. "I missed you, too."

While the father and daughter were embracing Tira was helping the rest of the freed elves from the building, pointing them to the back door. She received some odd looks, especially from the elder generation, but wrote it off as them never meeting a Dalish before.

After a few long moments, Cyrion finally pulled back, and really took in his daughter's face for the first time in nearly a year. Her hair had grown longer and was now brushed back and loose. She'd gained a few small scars and had a gold earing she hadn't worn before. But the biggest change were her eyes. Gone was the usually polite, serious girl who paradoxically had inherited her mother's smart mouth, and in her place was a woman every bit the fighter her mother was. Cyrion was simultaneously proud and saddened by the change.

Blair pulled away after a moment. "Before you pull my ear off for being rude, let me introduce everyone," she said, turning and gesturing to the others. "All but Zevran over there are Wardens. That's Erin Cousland, and before you ask, Papa, yes, those Couslands. Don't kneel, she hates that. You remember Tristan Surana, right? He was with Duncan when I was recruited. He's still a sour puss. There's Garik Brosca, the only one here our current commander recruited. You think I have a big mouth, let him get going. And that's-"

"Adaia?" Cyrion gasped as his eyes fell on Tira.

Blair turned back to her father, worried he'd hit his head. "Papa are you-?" Blair was silenced once again by the sound of a drawn bowstring.

Tira had spun around, nocked an arrow and had it half drawn back. Her face was snow white, her eyes were wide and her hands were shaking. "How do you know my mother's name?" she demanded. "Tell me!"

Cyrion sighed, grabbing the side of his head. "Adaia was my wife. She was originally from a Dalish clan as I understand it. I found her in the woods when I lived in Gwaren, starving and half dead from exhaustion."

In that moment, her father looked so tired, Blair had to wonder whether he was remembering anything of her mother's last days. He seemed grim, eyes tracing Tira's vallaslin though the features he saw beneath them must have been different ones. Blair vaguely recalled an argument between her parents when she was young, a secret being discussed but never revealed, before her mother left and never returned, taking her secrets to the grave with her.

She hardly dared to wonder whether her trembling companion might have been one of them.

"Did she have vallaslin like mine?" Tira's eyes narrowed.

Cyrion sighed and nodded. "The very same, just red…"

"Not dark blue," Blair gasped. She had never thought to look before but now that she had, it was almost startlingly obvious. While Tira's eyes were a darker shade of green, her cheeks rounder, and nose and ears just a tad bit shorter, the resemblance to Blair's late mother was striking.

There was a clattering of steel and wood on stone that drew Blair's attention away from her friend's — her sister's — face. The arrow had fallen from Tira's limp fingers. Blair had never known the Dalish to lose control of her emotions easily; the only time she had witnessed it was when her childhood friend had appeared, twisted by the Blight. But now, several emotions were at war in her face, predominantly grief and betrayal.

Erin approached to comfort her lover but to her dismay, Tira held up a hand and backed away, her body still trembling. "I'm sorry, ma vhenan, but… I have to go, I can't… I have to go." She turned and bolted out the door, Tsume right behind, whining in concern.

Blair had frozen for a moment but shook her head and took stock of everyone. Looks of confusion reigned for Garik, Zevran and Tristan, while Erin looked very hurt and worried. "Zev," she said after a moment, realizing Erin was in no mental state to lead. "Take everyone back to my house. Grab Shianni and fill her in. I'm going after her. And no arguing, Crow, or you get none for a week," with that she pulled Zevran down for a brief, forceful kiss and strode out, Kiba right on her heels.

The rest of the Wardens and their Crow companion were left gobsmacked. It wasn't like Blair to be so assertive — though no one doubted that the assassin would be highly appreciative of the fact, even if he did look a bit surprised right that moment. Once they'd all had a moment to process, however, they took their leave to do as Blair had asked. Zevran seemed oddly slow to follow, however, slightly raised shoulders making him appear as though he was trying to overcome a nasty, creeping sensation up his spine. He frowned, turned around briefly, and then finally caught up with his companions, all but shaking himself as if to rid himself of some unwelcome substance.

"Oh," he grumbled when Tristan raised an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out what was keeping his fellow elf. "Master Tabris appears to be attempting to set me ablaze with his eyes. Delightful."

Tira found herself on the docks overlooking the water as the sun began to sink towards the horizon. She sat there, watching the ships sail as she ran her hand through Tsume's fur absentmindedly. Her mind was still spinning from the fights and the revelation from Blair's father. She regretted drawing her bow on the man, but she had been so blindsided by the news her mother had lived beyond leaving her in Ashalle's care that she had fallen back on instinct. Not only had she lived but started another family.

A family without her.

"You can stop lurking any time now," she said after a while.

Blair, who had been standing in the shadows of an alley, stepped out, not surprised she'd been found out. She said nothing as she approached the dock, Kiba following dutifully.

"What was she like?" Tira asked a bit coldly. "Our mother?"

"Kind," Blair said quietly. "Full of life. A bit wild. She never yelled at me when I would climb the Vhenadahl. She'd just laugh."

"I wouldn't know," Tira mumbled bitterly. "I was days old when she left. My father had been killed by a bunch of Chantry Templars. He was the Keeper, and she was a Hunter. She stuck around just long enough to give birth to me, and then simply wandered off into the forest. Everyone figured she died not long after," Tira wiped her face and stood up. "But she didn't. She wandered off with some other man and wound up starting another happy family in the alienage. Meanwhile she left me to be raised by her friend who was more of a mother to me then my own flesh and blood was."

Blair remained silent. She was beginning to get angry and wanted to defend her mother, their mother, but she couldn't speak. Tira had every right to feel angry and betrayed. Adaia had basically abandoned her in a selfish bid to die. If Cyrion hadn't found her…

"But that's fine. I grew up fine without her," Tira continued, trying and failing to keep the tremor from her voice. "I had friends and a caretaker who loved me. I didn't need her. And I don't need this," she snarled and ripped the cord from her neck, pulling her arm back to toss the pendant into the water.

Blair darted forward and grabbed her hand. She knew very well that the pendant Tira was about to dispose of belonged to their mother. "I know you're angry, but you don't want to do that," she said softly.

"And why not?!" Tira howled, rounding on Blair, her eyes alight with pain. "She never spared me a second thought! She ran off with your father and had you! She never came to visit, to bring me back with her or to bring you to the clan! She knew where we would be, when we would be there and for how long we would be there! If she can't even make that effort for her own daughter, to the Void with her!" Tira lowered her head, panting from the exertion of over twenty years of unrealized grief pouring out her. After almost a minute of silence, the dark-haired elf lifted her eyes again, and Blair saw tears flooding from the leaf green orbs. "Why didn't she want me, Blair?" she sobbed.

Blair immediately pulled her estranged sister into a tight hug, holding her silently as weeping wracked the taller woman's frame.

AN Hey everyone. Again, I'm sorry this took so long, but the final two missions before the Landsmeet are my least favorite in probably the whole series so far. Finding the will to write about Rescue the Queen and Unrest in the Alienage was a chore. I hope the chapter is still enjoyable even with a lot of the mission cut. Every time I tried to write about that woman in the apartments, you know the one I'm talking about, even though I can't be assed to find her name, I felt my eyes glaze over and my desire to write fade. So I decided to just cut it entirely.

Now to address the elephant in the room. No I don't think in Cannon Mahariel and Tabris are related. But, because Mahariel's parents are never mentioned by name, and I had never seen this particular familial relation suggested, I decided to go with it. And Adaia always sounded like a Dalish name to me.

With that said, from Caladrius's death onward I wrote in one sitting because the ideas kept flowing. Also because I knew how Tira would react to the news that she and Blair share the same mother, I wanted to get it all written so it didn't feel disjointed when I read it back. Honestly, since the gauntlet scenes way back, that series of scenes were some of the most emotionally draining scenes I've ever written because to be plain, they got a little real. I had a parent not be around much when I was a child and when I did get to spend time with them the other parent would try and vilify them after I got home. So yes I do understand Tira's rather abruptly surfacing abandonment issues. As I said to my beta, nobody takes that kind of news well.

Before I go on rambling and boring the hell out of all of you, again I want to thank everybody who has stuck around to read this. I also want to thank all of the new people who have come, read, and followed. Now that the slog part of Origins is done, I'm hopeful that the next few and final chapters of this instalment will come quicker. As always I appreciate feedback as long as it's constructive. If you dislike something, please tell me civilly and explain why. I want to do this well so I'm open to constructive criticism. Thanks again and see you next time. ~Sin