Ponies and Grey Wardens: A Dark Spawn

by Icecane

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Romance, Adventure, Shining Armor, Crossover, Dark, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6
Length: 25689

Sequel to previous Dragon Age story. Dark forces from both worlds meet and Equestria and Thedas are in danger of being consumed by it.

Sequel to my previous Dragon Age crossover Ponies and Grey Wardens: The Equestrian Age.

Years after Equestria was visited by the strange, bipedal creatures, their stay there has yet to be forgotten. But now, a dark force from both the world of the Grey Wardens and that of the ponies meet, creating a threat that will ravage all in its path.

With both of their lands at risk, the people of both worlds must come together once again. Reunions will be had and new bonds will be created. But with a powerful enemy that none are prepared to face, will the heroes of Ferelden and ponies of Equestria be able to stop it? And what will be lost in the attempt?

Published 2013-07-10 17:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-25 20:44:56 UTC

Lamenting Hero

The stallion's haggard breathing mixed with the overbearing sound of his hooves galloping across the stone floor. His eyes were wide, unblinking as he tried to pierce through the bleak darkness that surrounded him from all sides. Sweat coated his face, staining his golden, royal guard armor, feeling like dead weight as his strength began to dwindle.

With every step he took, it made the pain in his side all the worse. Blood dripped down his stomach and hindlegs, seeping from the deep cut that only worsened with each act of movement. Despite the ever present agony however, it was but a small thought in the back of his mind as his thoughts swarmed with the horrific sights he had seen.

All he could think about was the sight of his fellow guards, their bodies held down and torn apart, blood splattering in all directions as their terrible screams echoed into his mind, then being silenced. What was burned into his memory more than anything were the nightmarish creatures who had attacked them, their monstrous, mangled faces, snapping jaws and sickly flesh. They came out of nowhere, dragging them into the same pit they had sprung from, their kicking and screaming ignored. It had to of been a stroke of luck, managing to escape the creature that held him while his fellows were slaughtered, the blade meant for him only glancing across his flesh.

“Have to get away, have to get away!” the royal guard's frantic inner monologue shouted in his mind. “It was just a routine patrol! Nothing should have happened, nothing ever happens!” It was as if he was in some kind of cavern, the tunnels carved from the very rock that surrounded him. More and more branching paths appeared, making the stallion unable to tell where he was going. “Dead... they're all dead! Just like that! I-I have to get out of here! Oh Celestia, I don't want to die!”

There was no sense of direction, all the stallion did was run, run until he would finally be able to see daylight, for the haunting darkness consuming him to be banished away. Low, deep growls could be heard all around him, echoing through the cavern tunnels, sounding as though the monsters were apart of the black void itself. It was enough to keep the royal guard running, despite the painful pounding of his heart, his overworked lungs screaming in protest, his entire body slicked with his own sweat.

Too weak to run straight, the stallion tripped over his own hooves, crashing painfully to the ground. The impact knocked his helmet away, exposing his soaked mane to the musty, blood drenched air that he was breathing in. All four of his legs flailed about, trying to pick himself up with a growing haste. Panic completely overtook him as an angry snarl sounded just behind him.

A cry of despair escaped his lips as one of the monsters lumbered toward him, as though forming from the impenetrable darkness, like a fish breaking the surface of an ocean. It stood on two legs, its body covered in a jagged armor, colored in a filthy looking bronze that was covered in flecks of splattered blood. Only the monster's face was visible, its sunken eyes gazing down on him with an emptiness that rivaled its surroundings, razor-sharp fangs running down its lips that dripped with foul fluids, covered in a blotchy flesh that looked as though it was about to start rotting off the bone.

Before the stallion could even react, the horrifying nightmare shot a hand outward, seizing him by the neck and forcing him to the ground, its other hand grasping a rusty ax that he began to raise into the air. No matter how much the guard struggled, he was no match for the immense strength his captor had. The inevitability struck him like a hammer, his eyes bursting with frightened tears as his lips quivered. “Please no! Don't-”

The guard's pleas for mercy were cut off as the dark monster brought the ax down on him, filling the tunnel with the sound of his stunted cry of pain and the squishing of bloody flesh being sliced, all the while splattering a flesh coat of crimson onto the monster's armor.

Cries of death erupted into the night air as the denizens of a large camp were attacked. Metal clashing against metal rang out as the trained fighters brought their weapons against those of their attackers. Their eyes were wide with shock as they looked into the faces of their darkspawn opponents, their foul stench and even uglier appearance nearly making them wretch.

They were as merciless as they always were, cutting down whoever they could, never flinching when losing a meager few of their own large numbers. Despite being outnumbered, being ambushed in the dead of night, the large band of mercenaries who owned the camp fought on. One such man, clutching at the wound in his side while his lifeblood seeped out of him, stumbled toward the largest tent nestled in the far edge of the camp.

“Ser, Ser, we need you out here now!” he shouted, hearing the sounds of battle growing louder and louder.

A small ruckus could be heard from within the tent. Startled shrieks from a female's voice as well as angered cursing mixed with the violence that was occurring just outside. Within moments, the front flap of the tent was thrown open, revealing an elf in nothing but his undergarments, an irritated glare worn on his tattooed face. Right after him, a frightened man and woman looked out into the madness, their bodies bereft of clothing as they held up sheets to cover their naked hides.

“Just when I was getting in the mood,” the elf murmured in agitation, looking out to see his camp in such disarray. Soon enough however, his eyes were set on his wounded comrade. “What is happening out here?” Despite the elf's appearance and strong, smooth accent, his voice carried a commanding tone.

“Zevran,” the injured mercenary shouted in haste, “we're under attack, Ser! It's a group of darkspawn, they're cutting us down one by one!”

Surprise showed clearly on the elf's face as he squinted out to see the deformed creatures running amok in his camp. “Darkspawn...” he murmured in confusion. “In the middle of the night? Seems a bit more... organized...?” Shaking his questions aside, Zevran looked down to his previous nighttime companions. “Both of you, get out there and help your fellows! We are not going to be shown up by a pack of mindless monsters!” The two nodded their heads before disappearing back into the tent, re-equipping their armor. Zevran did not wait however, immediately running past the wounded fighter and into the fray.

An archer's corpse was sprawled out on the ground, nearly split in two from the deep cut tearing him open, his bow still clutched in his lifeless hand. Without missing a step, Zevran grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows as he continued to charge into the war zone. The clashing sounds of battle grew louder and louder the more the elf ran, his eyes narrowing with determination.

The darkspawn raid was soon in his sights. Each horrific, monster of a creature attacked the first living thing that fell into their gaze. Around the camp, the ground was already littered with bodies of darkspawn on people alike, the numbers being much greater for the latter. Even though the band of mercenaries were great in their fighting prowess, none were used to fighting against the dark creatures, being completely outnumbered didn't help either.

Zevran stopped in his tracks as soon as he was close enough. At that moment, three arrows were already in his hand, the string of his bow being drawn back. Barely half a second was spared to line the shot before the arrows were loosed, and each found their mark. Three darkspawn were hit, arrows pierced straight through their necks as their lifeless bodies collapsed onto the ground.

By then, the creatures were aware of the elf's presence, charging forward at him, brandishing their weapons to be ready to tear him to pieces. The trained assassin didn't give them the chance however, jumping back quickly as he readied more arrows, firing them off at incredible speeds. A trail of bodies were left in his wake, the attempts at the raid to chase after him.

Before long, the quiver was completely spent, not a single arrow being wasted. The momentary halt in offensive action bought the monsters enough time to close in on him. A sword nearly beheaded him, Zevran ducking just in time. Reacting fast, he swung the bow in retaliation, shattering the wooden weapon against its head. Unarmed once again, the elf used his speed to create distance between himself and the darkspawn attackers, dodging their swings. Without his leather armor, he was much more nimble than he would normally be. Not having any sort of protective covering however, a single blow would surely do him in. It was all the incentive he needed to not get hit though.

One of the still living mercenaries was in his path, seeing the skillful elf coming his way, he held up the two swords he had. Zevran snatched the blades and shoved the man to the side, just in time as a large ax came swinging down between them, throwing chunks of dirt into the air as it impacted the ground. Grip tightening on the hilts, the elf swung them both horizontally, cutting deep into the darkspawn's chest.

More of the foul creatures were already upon them, swinging with reckless abandon as they tried to fell the infuriating elf in one swing. They were strong, powerful things, but it was obvious to anyone's first glance that they were as dull-witted as the most drunken dwarf. It was all the advantage Zevran needed to keep dodging their attacks, seeing them coming a mile away.

A shriek, the sharp teeth in its stunted muzzle bared, took a swipe at him. Again, the talented rogue made a fool of it, jumping back just in time as the long blades attached to its forearms stabbed into the ground, rooting it in place. Grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear, Zevran crossed his swords at the base of the beast's neck before closing them like a pair of scissors. The shriek's body grew still as its head rolled across the ground, its dark-red blood squirting out of the exposed neck.

The darkspawn raid grew still, for the first time, the camp actually seemed quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the remaining fighters. Each scrambled away from the creatures, falling back into a decent combative position as they awaited their next move. The blighted monsters surrounding them slowly stepped closer to them, their empty eyes locked onto the half-naked elf.

Zevran could only smile, blowing a lock of his long hair out of his face as he twirled his dual swords in his hands. A light chuckle escaped him when he matched the gazes of the monstrous beasts. “If only you mentally inept creatures knew the sensation of fear,” he taunted, posing his body in a ready stance, “so you'd know the grave mistake you've made.”

One of the darkspawn roared savagely at him, the best kind of response such a dark presence could muster. As if it were a signal, the large group suddenly charged at them, swinging their weapons wildly. The mercenaries, now ready and prepared this time, took on the beasts like pros, their blades clashing against the crude metal of their opponents' weapons. The bulk of the raid stayed on the elf however, clearly sensing the greater prize in bringing him down.

Again however, the elf proved to be a formidable foe for them. As the darkspawn attacked, he dodged and countered. Several of the malicious monstrosities didn't even get the chance to do that, their attempts at swinging their weapons halted as Zevran used his superior speed to take advantage it.

At least five darkspawn were already brought to his feet before Zevran noticed something strange. The more he fought against them, the more he noticed something strange. Deep within the edge of the darkness that surrounded the camp, movement could be seen. A shadowy figure rushing through, disappearing into the void before the elf's eyes could really focus. It nearly cost him his life as his focus became split, just narrowly moving out of the way of a sudden swing.

Slicing into another darkspawn, Zevran was taken by surprise as a large hurlock jumped from the darkness toward him. The elf only had a second, the monster's massive sword coming down on top of him. Kicking back, he stumbled away just in time, the darkspawn's blade smashing into the one he had just been attacking, cleaving it in two.

This new one looked different than the others, looking far stronger and donning more prominent armor. The flesh of its exposed head was a blotchy, nighttime black, its eyes a glassy blue. Looking at it, Zevran felt that there was something different about it, different from the countless darkspawn he had fought against in his time. Mostly, his eyes fell on the massive sword in its hands, knowing how easily it could cut him to pieces with just a swing.

The hurlock then charged at him, clutching its sword with both hands to swing with all of its might. Zevran chose to take part in its game, heading straight for it as well, his weapons ready. Just as the darkspawn swung down on him, the elf sidestepped him, causing it to miss and allowing him an opening.

Swinging his blade out to slice into its side, there was a loud clang of metal on metal as the creature brought his sword up with amazing speed, blocking the attack. Gritting his teeth, Zevran twirled around to stand behind him, angling his blade to stab through its back. Again, he was surprised as the hurlock's leg kicked back, catching him in the shin and causing him to stumble. Another swing came from it then, forcing the elf back to dodge it, before he could ready himself for another attack though, his corrupted opponent used the momentum from its last wasted attack to swing its leg outward, smashing his armored foot against his chest.

Zevran was sent flying, back toward the rest of his men as they all began to fall back, holding defensive stances while two tried to help up their leader. Getting back to his feet, he looked from his aching chest back to the darkspawn, smirking slightly. “You must be... an Alpha, yes?” he remarked. “Given just a sliver more of intelligence, but still just another mindless beasty.”

The Alpha's eyes seemed to narrow as it stepped toward them, its heavy sword dragging behind it. Though their numbers had been lessened, the rest of the raid followed suit. Not a tinge of worry crossed the elf's face however, a smirk still evident as he made a sharp whistle. Immediately, the rest of his men got moving, grabbing supplies from the crates near the tents around them. In a matter of moments, they all stood together, holding small, spherical flasks that swirled with a red glow.

Taking one for himself, Zevran looked into the blazing contents within, nonchalantly tossing it up and down as his gaze drifted back to the Alpha. “I like to save these for whenever a Crow flutters into our midst,” he said, holding up the firebomb. “But, I think you'll learn to love them too. Now!”

On command, the mercenaries threw their bombs toward the approaching darkspawn. Zevran threw his own as well, watching with growing anticipation as they sailed through the air, landing directly in the center of the band of monsters. As they shattered open, their combined might exploded outward in a bright flash of fire and force. The ground itself shook, the elf and his men having to shield their eyes or risk being blinded, sweat forming across their bodies from the intense heat. When the few moments of blazing chaos were past, they looked to see the darkspawn threat utterly decimated.

Bodies of darkspawn surrounded the blackened, scorched earth where the firebombs had landed. Lifeless and charred alike, nearly every one of the dark creatures had been caught in the blast. Only a few stragglers remained, able to sense their own failure as they moved to retreat. They did not make it far, a volley of arrows quickly piercing their backs and finishing them off.

What remained of the mercenaries began to put together all that had been disrupted. Dragging the dead away, dressing wounds, repairing the camp itself, all things that needed to be done. While his men worked, Zevran strolled about the dead darkspawn, occasionally nudging them with his foot, just to be sure.

Eventually, he stood over the Alpha who had led the raid. It was scorched bad, at least judging by its armor, being hard to tell with the already blackened flesh it had. The sword it carried was also a curious sight, the craftsmanship being far better than he had ever seen from darkspawn standards. Kneeling down to pick it up, his entrapped curiosity caused him to not notice the twitch of movement beside him.

Then, everything changed faster than his mind could react. Before Zevran knew it, he was being jerked up into the air, feet dangling off the ground as the darkspawn's hand grabbed him by the face. The Alpha's fingers dug into his cheeks as its filthy palm pressed against his mouth. Though the elf struggled, his weapons had been lost, his physical strength not even able to come close to matching that of his holder. A wide, fanged grin spread across the malevolent creature's face, blue eyes glinting.

Zevran's own eyes widened as the darkspawn's other hand glowed with a green aura, the fingers melding together with the palm, the very tip becoming sharp and pointed. Its entire arm shifted in shape, becoming a large spike, as sharp as any blade he'd ever seen. The elf could see the tip jutting closer and closer to him as it was thrust forward, the night air being filled with his pained cry.

With a mighty cry, Commander Cousland charged at the adversary before him. Both hands locked tightly around his large blade, he swung the heavy weight at his target, putting his full force into the blow. The chamber was consumed by the loud clang of metal against metal, the Grey Warden's sword stopped by another, equally as large as the one in his own hands.

A struggle of power took place as both blades locked together, their owners not faltering as they pushed against the other. The guards soon connected as neither let up. The commander's eyes were dead set on those of his opponent's, their faces separated only by their crossed weapons. There was a matching expression of struggle on the wielder's face, doing his best to keep the Warden's blade back.

Seeing it, a large grin spread out across the commander's face. He even chuckled, finding amusement from the sight. “Come on now,” he jeered, never breaking his gaze away from the young man he was fighting, “you've got to be able to withstand more than this.”

The human he was fighting didn't say a word in response, his face only twisting in his overexertion to overpower his superior opponent. But the commander only chuckled once again, finding little threat in the attacker's might. The young man still didn't let up however, still putting all of his strength into forcing the Warden back.

With one hand, Commander Cousland continued to keep the young man at bay. Placing the palm of his other hand on the mid-section of his blade. With feet firmly pressed to the ground, he suddenly pushed forward.

A surprised gasp escaped the opponent as he stumbled back, taken off guard as their blades finally disconnected. The commander didn't follow up on it though, still holding his ground while he readied his sword for another attack. Without waiting himself, the man regained his footing and charged, holding his blade high over his own head before bringing its weight and all of his strength down onto the commander.

Raising his own blade up horizontally, the Warden-Commander took the full brunt of the attack. Surprise showed clearly on his face as the attack made contact, feeling his knees nearly buckle under the strain. The look disappeared instantly however, his leg kicking out to hit the man's shin, causing him to jump back again to create a distance between them.

“Heh,” the commander breathed, still grinning from ear to ear. “Not bad... but my mother could do far better, and she was an archer!”

Teeth clenched, his blue eyes nearly blazing with determined fury, the young man charged again. Rather than putting all of his power in a single blow, he swung his blade out as quickly as possible. The commander once again had his blade up to block the attacks, the familiar sound of clashing steel piercing through the ears of all close enough to hear. Again and again, the young man furious swung his blade into the commander's.

Commander Cousland found himself stepping backward, feeling the power in each blow growing more and more. After the latest blow, for a single moment, the Warden's grip on his sword grew lax. Just then, the attacker swung his sword upward, the force of it destroying what was left of his hold on the blade, sending the commander's sword flying, disarming him.

Surprised, the Warden-Commander stumbled back, seeing his opponent making one more attack. Falling back to dodge the swing, the sharp tip of the blade's edge grazed across his arm, cutting a shallow wound through the flesh.

Tripping, the commander landed hard on his backside. His opponent stood over him, large sword still in hand. The young man's expressions immediately softened, looking worried as he sheathed the blade. “I-I'm so sorry, Commander Cousland, I didn't mean to wound you!” he shouted.

Unable to contain it, the Warden-Commander bent his head backwards as a fit of laughter overtook him. The man just stood there uneasily, unsure of what to do. After another moment of merriment, the commander simply smirked at him. “No apologies are necessary, Aseril, you did good,” he responded, eyes slowly moving down to the bleeding wound on his arm. “It was my idea to spar with real weapons anyway.”

“You really think so?” Aseril questioned, not looking so sure as the Warden picked himself up.

The commander nodded as he said, “Of course, you're as skilled with that blade as I first thought. Though you've only been with the Grey Wardens for a short time, you and your brother have certainly been impressive. Though you were good when you first came here, you've still improved yourself greatly. I'm proud of you.”

A weak smile appeared on the young man's face, eyes practically sparkling with mirth. “That means a lot... coming from you,” he murmured in reply.

“Speaking of,” the commander continued, running a hand through his sweat-soaked, black hair, “where is your brother? Haven't seen him all day.”

“Oh, Tearser?” Aseril questioned. “He's still in Amaranthine, looking into that blood mage problem you tasked him with.”

“Ah,” the Warden-Commander returned, remembering it himself. With a simple tilt of his hand, he gestured toward the exit of the training hall they were in. “Very well, go and clean yourself up, you've done enough training for the day.”

Aseril bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Ser,” he acknowledged, turning and walking away from his commander. With the young Grey Warden gone, Commander Cousland headed toward the far wall where a bench was. Sitting down, he took a relaxed breath before grabbing a nearby supply box, looking for bandages to dress his wound.

With the room utterly empty, no other sound to be made, his ears quickly picked up on the distinct noise of footsteps. The commander didn't need to look up from what he was doing to know who it was, having grown accustomed to it long ago.

“You enjoy watching fights than being apart of them now, Varel?” he asked wryly, his gaze drifting toward the man now standing beside him. The seneschal of Vigil's Keep certainly looked his age, with hair that was long since grayed, the rough facial scruff he wore, as well as the ever-present sight of wrinkles cracking across the usual places on his face. As was customary in the land of Ferelden however, appearances were quite deceiving. Though the man was aged, it was by no means a crippling blow to the warrior he was. Being both strong in will and strength, the commander would trust him with his life, having to actually do that very thing years ago.

“Just thought I'd appraise the young lad,” the old seneschal remarked gruffly, looking off to where Aseril had left the chamber. “You were much tougher on him than you usually would be on such a new Warden. And it seems... he was able to handle you quite well.”

“Yes,” the Warden-Commander nodded, still sounding impressed. “He and his brother are both capable fighters. In the three months since they've gone through their joining, they've proven to be far more skilled than any other recruits I've seen.”

“Tearser is the better of the two, isn't he?” Varel questioned. “From what I've heard, he fights like a demon. So furious... it's surprising that he hasn't gone to Oghren to learn how to be a berserker. Both are tough as nails too. I remember their joining, both took to the taint better than that drunken dwarf did himself, barely even phased them...”

A light chuckle escaped the commander as he idly rubbed the back of his head, remembering the sore spot he had there for days when he passed out after his own joining. “They are a curious pair,” he continued, finishing with the bandages as he made sure his cut was wrapped up. “They say they're self-taught, an amazing thing considering their abilities with their blades. I haven't seen such talent since-”

“Yourself?” the seneschal asked, earning a slight chuckle from the Grey Warden.

“I was trying to be modest,” he admitted. “But... I suppose, yeah.”

There was a silent pause between them, the old warrior scratching his chin, his gaze drifting between the commander and the chamber's exit. “Their ability isn't all that resembles you,” he offhandedly murmured. “It's their drive, that fire burning in their actions that blazes on with every swing of their swords. It's the same drive that you have. Or... that you had.”

The Warden-Commander huffed lightly as he looked at the old man out of the corner of his eye. “Is that you trying to make a point of something?” he muttered in response.

A simple shrug was the seneschal's first response before returning to scratching his fuzzy chin. “I've heard of how determined you were during the Blight, facing off against all that was set before you. It was what you showed when you and I first met, the day you arrived at the keep.” Varel's gaze then locked onto the Warden, his eyes staying focused, as though dissecting him. “In recent years though... things seemed to have changed... You're still in the prime of your youth, despite all you've been through. And I don't think simply being the Commander of the Grey and an arl would drain you so...”

“It's nothing,” the commander quickly said, almost sounding defensive.

“If I may be so bold, Commander” Varel returned, not forgetting his place, despite the company, “it seems like an awful lot of nothing. You remind me more of the old veterans after the war with Orlais was over. Soldiers who had nothing left to fight... having to face threats far less serious than an enemy trying to take their homeland...”

“Is this really any different?” the Warden asked, crossing his arms as he leaned his back stiffly against the wall. “The Blight is over. What further use does Ferelden have with the Grey Wardens? Over the last few years, what have we done but purge the land of a few bandit upstarts or...” a heavy sigh escaped him, “prevent an uprising between the mages and templars?”

Varel heaved his own little sigh, knowing how much of a touchy subject that the templars were for the Warden-Commander. It only made things worse that he was doing his best to keep the peace within the Circle Tower, whispers of an uprising matching the one that happened across the seas in Kirkwall forming. The seneschal quickly shook his head and brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “But you are Grey Wardens, you are meant to stay vigilant, yes?” he questioned. “Certainly you know this. To be prepared for whenever the darkspawn might attack again, for when the next Blight-” He was cut off as the commander began laughing. It was an odd noise, one without any sense of amusement or joy. It almost sounded sad.

“The next Blight?” the commander asked, ending his laugh. “Do you honestly think those mindless wretches will uncover the next Archdemon any time soon? That the next Blight will come in our lifetime? No... our own war with the darkspawn is over. Now, we're just wasting away here until our lives are finally claimed... What an end to the legacy of the 'hero of Ferelden' eh?”

Varel said nothing in response, all he could do was hold a frown as what the commander was saying sunk in. It wasn't the possible truth in his words, but the tone in which he said them. The once great hero sounded so dejected, so defeated, even if he did not know it himself. The thought caused the old warrior's eyes to fall onto his bare chest, seeing the markings that have long since been there.

Just underneath the thin surface of sweat that covered much of his body, the Warden-Commander's old wounds showed easily. Though his body was barely warped from his many adventures, thanks to the heavy armor he wore in battle, there was one wound that showed clearly on him. Two sets of five notches running across his chest, looking rough and jagged, like what would be left by the claws of a primal beast. On his back, the exact same scars were mirrored.

All that Varel knew of the scars was when they occurred. During that time, those seemingly few years ago, when he and King Alistair disappeared from Ferelden without a trace, only to return days later. None of them discussed what had happened, neither did a word come from those who were with them. Even Oghren, usually so easy to coerce when pumped full of a good brew, was useless. All the old dwarf ever spoke of were nonsensical, drunken ramblings of talking animals, colorful horses and something about Alistair breaking his first mount, whatever that meant. But something told him that the commander's appearance wasn't the only thing that had been changed.

With their conversation having clearly ended, Commander Cousland brought himself to his feet. After sparing a moment to wipe the sweat from his body with a cloth, he grabbed his sword and headed for the exit. Only for a moment did he stop, turning his head slightly to eye his loyal seneschal and say, “Good talking with you, Varel, as always.”

“Yes, Ser,” the aged man replied, bowing his head respectfully as he watched the commander leave. “I suppose I'll just get back to my day to day rituals then.”

Leaving the training hall, Commander Cousland made his way back to his chambers. He saw little of his fellow Grey Wardens as he traversed through the keep, not creating any stops for his simple trip. In no time at all, he was pushing open the door and given a full view of his room.

It was rather spacious compared to the quarters of the others, something to be expected considering his position. The décor was quite regal, reminding him of the halls of his old home, when his Teyrn father ruled it. Cozy rugs were laid out on the floor and beautiful tapestries hung on the walls. In the corner, his armor was propped up by the stand that held it. It was a finely crafted set, black with a dull-gold trim, with two gryphons depicted on the chestplate, the symbol of the Warden-Commander.

Breathing a contented sigh, the commander stretched out his arms until he could feel the satisfying pops of his joints. Finishing with cracking his neck, the set his large blade against the wall, admiring it for a moment. It was a far cry from the blade he used to own, not nearly as strong. Of course, he already knew it would be hard to match a sword made from a metal that fell from the heavens themselves, the one he now used was certainly a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

Settled in, the Warden-Commander stepped toward the far center of the room, where a large desk was resting. He took his rightful place before it, sitting down in front of a large stack of papers, some having been looked at before and some not. Rifling through them, he eyed the words written on them with little interest. One was a basic report on the goings on in the region he ruled, another was a request to meet with the First Warden in Weisshaupt, while one was a kind letter from an old bard friend that he should reply to at some point.

Most of the paperwork was just what usually fell before his gaze. Everything that had to be pushed under his nose for being both the leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, as well as the Arl of the region. Having once spent his days outdoors camping while he traveled the land with his friends, fighting off the fiercest monsters that the world could throw at him, what became of him seemed rather pathetic. It at least made him sympathize with Alistair, experiencing just what the royal bastard would always complain about.

With time slowly ticking by, the idle commander's gaze became less and less focused. Soon enough, he was no longer looking at the papers at his desk, holding a blank stare as his hand slowly raised up to his neck. It was there that his fingers grasped at what he wore around it, gingerly feeling the pendant that dangled there. It was a simple thing, made of thin bars of metal that were carefully bent in the shape of two gryphons, matching that of his symbol.

Just holding it comforted him, even as absently as the action was. Before long though, he noticed what he was doing, holding the pendant up to his own gaze. It made him think on how much his thoughts had been shifting as of late, to that wonderful place, to her. Though they were happy, the memories always brought a weary sigh from him, an old and dreadfully familiar feeling.

Letting the simple accessory slip from his fingers, the commander reached down into a drawer at the side of his desk. An already opened bottle of strong wine was pulled up, a habit he had found himself indulging himself in far too often in recent years. Still, it did not stop the Warden from bringing the bottle to his lips and tipping it upwards.

Only a moment past before he blinked in surprise, slowly pulling the bottle away from his mouth. Holding it out, he tipped it once again, not stopping until it was completely upside down. Not a single drop fell from it, the bottle was as dry as a bone. A groan came from the tired Warden as he grumbled a single name, “Oghren.”

Tossing the drained bottle aside, it landed in the far off corner of the room and shattered. As he began rubbing his eyes, a small yawn reminded the commander of how exhausted he was. Sleep was a rare occurrence to him lately. Even then, it was never a very good one. Gaze falling down to the papers at his desk for an instant, he realized he wouldn't make any progress with the pile for the rest of the day anyway.

Another yawn, much stronger than the last, forced Commander Cousland to look drowsily toward his bed. Just the sight of the piece of furniture made his muscles grow weaker, his eyelids becoming heavier by the second. He could almost fall asleep at his desk just thinking about it. Coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to win such a battle, he stood up from his desk and graciously approached the comforting sight.

It truly was a nice bed, looking like something one would see in the royal castle. Surely King Alistair was sleeping in something just like it. By the time the commander reached it, his feet were dragging against the stone floor. It was all he could do to not simply collapse into the large mattress, allowing it to consume him utterly as he climbed underneath of the plush covers.

The Warden-Commander then uttered a pleasant sigh as he relaxed himself completely. It took a little time for him to get comfortable however, tossing and turning until he could find the best position for him to sleep in. Finding just the place on his side, he snuggled into the cushioned softness of his bed. The more he laid there though, the more his steadily drifting mind began to think on how something was different. It felt as though there was more weight being pushed down on his bed, just a few inches away. Partially peering through his lids, his eyes immediately cracked open at what he saw.

A creature was lying in his bed. The commander's heart stopped beating in his chest for just a moment, the breath being stolen from his lungs as he recognized her. She was a pony, a unicorn mare with a beautiful lavender colored coat across her body. Atop her head, a mane that consisted of several shades of purple rested. The mare appeared to be holding onto just a few strands of consciousness. With the human's stirring, it caused her to fully awaken, her eyes opening to reveal the lovely violet irises she had, looking directly into his own.

The commander immediately fell backward, a startled cry of shock escaping him as he rolled off of the side of his bed. With a painful thud, he smashed the back of his head against the stone floor, dazing himself while his legs remained propped up on the edge of the bed. As his blurred vision steadied and refocused, looking up at the ceiling of his chambers, the view was soon dominated by the face of the mare as she leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at him. Spreading across her face was a large, gleeful smile, while the commander's own gaped with utter disbelief as he stared at her.

“T-Twilight?!”

A Surprise Reunion

Commander Cousland was unable to do anything, unable to say anything, barely even able to think. The once mighty hero was utterly dumbstruck as he looked up at the unicorn scholar Twilight Sparkle, the pony mare looking down at him in turn. Their gazes were fixed on one another, not a word or sound being made besides the commander's own unsteady breathing.

Regarding her as one might a hallucination after a lucid dream, all the commander could do as he slowly regained movement of his body was raise a trembling hand up to the creature lying on his bed. “Can't be...” he murmured, still unable to believe his own eyes. It had to be a trick. A cruel attempt by a demon to take him. Maybe even his mind being claimed by the insanity of the taint that coursed through his veins.

Slowly, barely moving, his arm stretched out toward the mare. She did nothing herself, eyes slowly moving from the Warden's own to the tip of his outstretched finger. Tentative motions continuing, the space between them both ended as the commander lightly poked the tip of the unicorn's nose, causing her to blink suddenly and bringing a large smile to curl across her face. It was far different than the warrior thought would happen, expecting his hand to pass through her, or for the mare to suddenly disappear from the nothingness she had come from.

In reaction to the human's touch however, Twilight's body suddenly surged forward, sliding off the edge of his bed as she landed with a light thud on his chest. There, their faces met, their noses touching as only a miniscule gap separated their eyes, brought as close as they could possibly be, both lost in the vastness of the orbs.

“T-Twilight...” the commander then murmured, not with shock or disbelief, but with a sweet and loving tone. Raising a hand, he gingerly stroked her cheek, running his palm down her neck and side before it fell back at his side. Slowly, the mare gave a slight nod of her head, as though affirming to the human the truth in his simple sentence. In that moment, she was swallowed up by the warrior as his arms wrapped around her, holding her in a tight embrace as he laughed jovially. “Oh, Twilight!”

Tears welling up in her eyes, Twilight returned the gesture, wrapping her forelegs around the human as best as she could, burying her face in his shoulder as she took in the loving hold. “It's been so long,” she whispered, words trembling from her unsteady voice. All she wanted to do was hold the human as close as possible, to never let go of him, struck with the fear that if she did, she would lose him yet again.

They stayed like that for some time. Neither time nor their position on the floor were ever a detail to them as they remained locked together. The room soon fell into silence, only being broken by their light breathing and the occasional, pleasant sigh escaping the mare as she snuggled in deeper against the warrior. Sadly, their parting was inevitable, as it usually was for them. Separating just enough, the two looked each other in the eyes once again, sharing several more moments of silence.

Being the first to speak, confusion took over the commander's expression. Just seeing her there, before him now, was such an impossibility to him, simply being with her then and there continued to make him think of it as some kind of cruel dream. “Twilight,” he said softly, “what... what are you doing here? How did you get here?”

Before answering, the mare adjusted her position, allowing the human to sit up fully as she sat in front of him. A thick frown then spread across her face, her head hung down as she eyed the floor. “It was so long since you left,” she murmured in reply. “So many years... It felt like you'd never come back. I... I wanted to see you again so much. So... I made this...” Lifting up her foreleg, Twilight showed to the commander what had gone unnoticed through his joyful eyes. It was a large bracelet, covering much of the lower half of the limb. The metal was smooth, as reflective as a mirror. It was decorated, but not in anyway one would think for a piece of jewelry. Several shards of what looked like glass were fitted into it, with a clear, half-sphere in the center that was filled with a crimson liquid.

“What is it?” the commander asked, running a finger across the surface of it. As he touched the glass shards, he felt a strange sense of familiarity. Even though he was far from being magical, he could feel a power radiating from them.

Twilight could see it in his eyes, a light gasp coming from him as his searching thoughts finally realized what he was looking at. A simple nod came from her, letting him know how right he was. “The mirror you used when you returned to your world from ours,” she said, her gazing drifting down to the bracelet. “Though you left, it remained with us. But it was broken... useless... or so I thought.” A happy, almost proud smile stretched across her face as she continued. “It took so long, but I managed to use them to make this bracelet, allowing me to use it like you used those mirrors. Of course... I had the Elements of Harmony to help. Without their magic, I doubt I'd have ever been able to make it.”

“And this?” the Warden questioned, tapping the circular ornament at the center. It was strange, but it too seemed familiar to him.

Commander Cousland could hear the unicorn swallowing before she answered, taking her gaze away from the piece of jewelry as she said, “It's... your blood.” From the look on her face, it was clear that the morbidity of it wasn't lost to her. Quickly however, she faced the commander, already seeing his own reaction to it as she explained herself. “It was the only thing of you that was left. There was plenty spilled from your fight with that monster, so I preserved some of it. I remember how you needed something connected to your world to return to it, so this was the only way I could come here...”

“And here you are,” the commander murmured, still hardly able to believe that the mare was sitting in his room, visiting his world like they did hers. It was then that it fully dawned on him just what that meant, his eyes growing wide as he realized that the magical talking equine was in his world. “No...” Springing to his feet, the commander's expression turned to worry as he paced the floor.

“What's wrong?” Twilight questioned, growing confused and worried herself over his sudden shift in behavior.

Biting his lower lip, the commander didn't stop pacing as he turned to her and said, “Twilight... you can't be here.” Surprise showed clearly on the scholar's face, not understanding him. What pained the Warden most was the hurt in her eyes as well, forcing him to elaborate. “This is... bad. I mean, I'm happy to see you, believe me. But... this is bad.”

Twilight merely tilted her head in a confused stare, having no idea what the distraught human was going on about.

Seeing her lack of understanding clearly, it made it all the more difficult for him to explain it to her. “Okay...” he started. “People... aren't as open-minded as the ponies in your world are. I mean... they're suspicious, fearful, very difficult when it comes to accepting differences... You remember how I reacted when we first met, right?”

“Um... yeah,” Twilight answered, thinking on that very day. Looking back, it was almost comical.

“Think of that, but a lot worse, okay?” he replied. “I mean, just the fact that you're a talking animal is reason enough for anyone to think you're some kind of demon. Maker forbid the templars ever found you. Oh, Andraste's breath, the templars! I'm practically already their worst enemy, if they were to think I was harboring demons, they'd storm the keep. They'd claim you were some kind of abomination and try to kill you... and that's only the best case scen-” The commander then jumped with a startled yelp as a light knocking came from the door.

“Commander? Is everything alright?” a voice asked from behind the closed entrance.

A sharp gasp of fear erupted from the commander as he looked frantically from the source of the knocking to Twilight. “Someone's at the door!” he stated obviously. “Twilight, you have to hide!”

Looking around, the mare couldn't see any immediate hiding place for her to fit into. Despite it, the knocking persisted, not letting up even as the commander nearly bit off his lip in frantic searching. With nothing else, the human grabbed the sheet off of his bed and tossed it over the scholar. It was a poor disguise, only creating a large lump on the floor, but he didn't notice it as he then ran to the door and opened it hastily.

On the other side of the threshold, the elven Grey Warden stopped himself mid-knock as he gazed upon his commander. “Uh... Commander Cousland,” the elf murmured cautiously. “I heard a slight commotion from nearby, is something the matter?”

Sweat was already beading on the Warden's brow as he rigidly shook his head. “N-nope,” he answered uneasily. “Nothing's wrong at all, I just had a bit of a fright in my sleep, that's all.”

The commander's demeanor didn't go unnoticed by the elf, his gaze looking him up and down. “Ser...” he said questioningly, “you're looking a little flushed, are you feeling okay?”

Feeling as though his skin was indeed burning from the inside, the commander' developed a sheepish smile. “It's nothing to worry about,” he replied, still doing poorly at not looking suspicious. “I'm just a bit under the weather.” Gaping his mouth open wide, he gave a gut-wrenching yawn that was as bad as it was forced. “I'll just be turning in for the night. See to it that I am not disturbed.”

“Yes, Ser,” the elf nodded, allowing the commander to close the door and breathe a sigh of relief.

Turning back to his bed, he could see Twilight already throwing off the cover that was consuming her. Before another word could be said, he wrapped his arms around her once again, hugging her as tightly as he could. “I'm sorry,” he said sweetly. “I'm so happy to finally see you again, after all these years apart.” Breaking away, he looked her in the eyes, running a hand through her mane. “But, you can't stay here. My world is dangerous, in more ways then one. You've had a taste of it before, and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen.”

Sorrow etched itself onto the scholar's features. Seeing the human wanting to send her away struck at her heart harder than any physical blow could. “Is it because of those monsters?” she asked. “Those 'demons' that attacked me before? Please... I've gone through that once before, it'll never happen again.”

A small huff of amusement escaped the Warden as he nodded. “Of course,” he murmured. “You're far too strong to fall prey to the demons again. But, I've already said it. My world isn't as accepting as your own. I don't want to have to hide you away from everything, and I'm not worth you abandoning all that you've known.”

With a saddened sigh, Twilight looked away from the human, silently murmuring, “I'm not even sure if I can go back...” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shock on the Warden's face, pushing her to explain herself. “This bracelet, even when I made it, it took so much of my magic to make it work. Though you weren't here, I could see that this was your room, so I waited. But, ever since I came to your world, I've felt so weak.” She shook her head, dismayed and unable to collect her thoughts fully on the matter. “I don't know... your world feels... so different.”

Scratching his chin in thought, the commander mulled over the mare's words. The conclusion came to him quickly enough, seeing what the problem was. “It's because you're not used to a world without magic,” he concluded. “I remember sensing it in Equestria while we were there. The air itself seemed saturated by it. But for our own, it's devoid of such things. Magic here comes from the Fade, something that you're not connected to. While it comes naturally from your own power, mages have to tap into it.”

“I've never felt so weak before,” Twilight murmured, looking more tired than anything.

A lighthearted chuckle came from the Warden as he said, “You're just not used to such an empty world. Maybe... it's just a matter of waiting. You just need to give it time and I'm sure you'll be able to recover.”

Sensing the truth in his words, Twilight nodded her head. Meeting his gaze again, she quietly asked. “And until then... can we spend that time together?”

Copying her previous nod, a large smile spread across the commander's visage. Without another word, they leaned toward one another, the Warden cupping the mare's cheek in his hand, rubbing the soft coat underneath his fingers. Slowly, the broke the gap that separated them, bringing themselves together as their lips locked and they kissed passionately.

They stayed like that for several minutes, engaged in an act of affection that they had gone without for far too long. By the time they finally broke apart, Twilight was beaming brightly, no trace of sadness over their inevitable separation. It was something they both had to learn to live with, cherishing every moment they'd have together.

Not letting the human out of her sights, Twilight climbed atop his bed. It was certainly a comforting piece of furniture, making the mare fully aware why she had fallen asleep in it before while waiting for the Warden to return. Sleep was the last thing on her mind this time however, her loving, half-lidded gaze locked onto the creature she cared for.

With a weak spark, the unicorn's horn began to glow, developing a dull aura of magenta. It was a clear sign of her weak form, but it did not stop her from using what little magic she was able to control into levitating the upper sheet of the bod. It lifted upward and coiled around the commander's neck, resting on his shoulders before he could feel the slightest of tugs trying to pull him forward.

It was all the Warden-Commander could do to not laugh at the display. Of course, he could easily resist the attempt. But the commander simply smiled as he allowed himself to be pulled toward his bed, falling into the warm of the mare waiting for him.

Far from the keep where the two lovers were together, an entire world away, a ruler stayed awake through the night, dread gripping her heart.

In the privacy of her chambers, Princess Celestia's calm demeanor of utter serenity was gone. All she wore was an expression of worry and concern as she rifled through the scrolls set before her. The plush cushions that she laid on and the hypnotic crackling coming from her fireplace did little to relax her.

She was fully aware of what her faithful student was up to, being one of the first to know of her work during the time she searched for a means to reunite with the creature she had met during that fateful time. It was a heavy burden she had to wear however, her mind racing with concern for Twilight's well-being. Of course, the princess knew full well that the young unicorn could take care of herself, it did not make it easier for her to accept the fact that she was in no position to help if the worst was to happen.

Compounding her anxiety, the papers that she levitated in front of her gaze made things all the worse. For sometime, she could feel a certain uneasiness stretching across the lands. Something about it was eerily familiar, reminding her of a time years ago. A dark, nightmarish feeling that nearly made her sick to her stomach.

The soft sound of echoing hoofsteps tore the alabaster ruler's attention away from her own thoughts. Ears perking up, a gentle, pleasant smile grew across her lips. Only one soul would be brazen enough to enter her chambers without so much as a knock, not that she minded.

“Sister,” Princess Luna said, the azure equine approaching her sibling, “it is late. You should be resting now. Do not worry, I will safeguard the night, as always.”

“But worry I must, Luna,” the elder sister replied, her eyes drifting back to the papers she was reading. “Look at this. Two of our guard patrols have been late returning to the castle. What could possibly be keeping them?”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” the nightly princess murmured. “They get restless after such long stays in the castle. It's quite possible they saw their own shadows and decided to give chase.”

Celestia merely shook her head. “If only I could accept that,” she murmured before looking to her sister. “And you? I don't think you came by simply to see if I was sleeping. Aren't you usually watching over the dreams of our subjects at this hour?”

Eyes falling to the ground, the princess of the night shifted uneasily in place. “It's nothing,” she then said, very little confidence in her tone.

“Luna,” the princess said expectantly, easily able to tell when her sister wasn't giving her the truth.

Huffing out a sigh, Luna faced her older sibling, holding an expression that matched her own several moments ago. “I feel as though... something is amiss in the land,” she said, sounding unsure. “I've no idea as to what or why, it might be nothing at all. But... everything feels so unbearably calm, as the land is just before the pegasi release their thunderous storms.”

Hearing her brought a nod from Celestia, understanding showing clearly on her face. “Yes,” she murmured. “I've felt such things as well. But I'm unsure if they are truly things to be concerned with, or if I'm worrying over nothing.” A dull sigh left her as the princess' eyes became locked onto the fire burning in front of her. The flames dancing within their confines with no sign of stopping, burning with a ravenous hunger that would consume anything that it could claim. “But, with everything that's happening, and Twilight's departure to visit that strange world, is it all just coincidence?”

A raspy groan emanated from Commander Cousland's throat as his eyes cracked open. His drowsy mind was filled with the painfully loud knocking at his door. Sitting up in his bed, the Warden felt his stiff joints popping as they moved, making the simple act of awaking all the more strenuous.

Despite his discomforts however, there was no stopping the smile that made its way onto his face as his gaze fell onto the still sleeping form of Twilight, nestled right next to where he was previously lying. Her peaceful rest was only slightly disturbed by the knocking that filled the chamber, her form stirring only slightly before falling still once again. It was clear enough how tired she was, both from the exhaustion of her trip to the Warden's world, as well as from their other activities performed in the dark on the night.

Still however, the incessant knocking at his door forced the commander to break away from the magical equine and climb out of bed. Grumbling angrily to himself as he wiped his eyes clean of any drowsy remnants, he opened the door to see the keep's only Dalish Grey Warden standing there.

Dressed in her usual robes, the elven mage Velanna stood at the threshold as the door came swinging open. Upon seeing the Warden-Commander, the woman's eyes widened as her cheeks became inflamed with a bright shade of red. Adverting her gaze and turning her head away from the Warden, she coughed into her hand as a means to clear the suddenly awkward air. “Creators,” she breathed, still not looking at the commander. “Um... I believe you've misplaced something.”

Looking over himself, a surprised gasp left the commander as he realized he was stark naked. Developing his own tinge of embarrassment, he slammed the door shut between them. “Heh... sorry about that,” he called through the wooden barrier between them, as though the apology would make things right. With haste, he grabbed for the pair of pants that had been previously discarded sometime ago, not bothering with his undergarments as he put them on.

Able to open the door once again, the two shared an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Velanna turned her head slightly to barely look at him. Seeing that he was no longer exposed, the elf fully faced her commander and handed him a letter.

“What's this?” he asked, taking it from her. Though the parchment was typical, the envelope was closed by a wax seal bearing the mark of the Grey Wardens, his name being written on the front.

Trying to stifle a yawn, Velanna frowned at the letter and said, “I know it's early and all, but you've made it clear that you are to be given any letter coming from that insufferable fool posthaste. So, here it is.”

“Oh,” Commander Cousland murmured, surprise etching onto his face as he looked at the letter with a new light. “Well... thank you, Velanna.”

The elf gave a nod of welcome before walking away, saying, “If you'll excuse me, I'll be off trying to forget that this moment ever happened.”

Smirking to himself, the Commander murmured, “It couldn't have been that bad,” as he returned to his chambers and shut the door behind him.

Eying the letter, the Warden's mind quickly became abuzz with rampant questions. The most dominant one being just what Anders would be sending a letter all the way from the Deep Roads for. Not waiting a second longer to find out, he broke the wax seal and opened the note that was inside.

Scanning every word that was written, eyes becoming riveted to the piece of parchment, the commander's jaw slowly descended. Though the letter was short, barely anything being written on it at all, it said so much to him. Once again, he was struck with utter disbelief as he looked from the letter off to his bed where Twilight was still resting.

For years the commander had been waiting to hear such news from the endearing mage, to hear of some sort of breakthrough in what they had been working on. It almost seemed impossible for such news to come to him now, coming shortly after the discovery of Twilight's visit. It made him pause his train of thought for a moment to dwell on the definition of coincidence.

Separated Again

With a pleasant sigh, Twilight's eyes opened to a new day. Rising from the sheets that covered her, the semi-familiar surroundings of the Warden-Commander's room appeared to her. Despite hardly knowing of the place, just knowing that it all belonged to him filled her with a sense of comfort. The bed still felt so soft, so cozy, it almost made the unicorn want to fall back asleep. But as she stretched her limbs out across the mattress, she realized that something was missing, or someone.

The absence of the commander made her sit fully upright on the bed, fully awake as her gaze traveled across the room she was in. It took only a matter of moments for her sudden spark of concern to be extinguished as she spotted the black-haired human. Dressed in his usual garb, the Warden sat at his desk as his eyes remained riveted to the surface. Clutched in his hand was a quill, scrawling across several pieces of parchment, only stopping momentarily to dip it into the nearby inkwell.

Hearing the rustle of his bedsheets, the commander's gaze was broken from his work, a warm smile showing on his lips before he turned back to his desk. “Good morning,” he said to her, “I hope you're feeling better.”

“Still feeling weak,” Twilight murmured as she climbed out of bed. Approaching the human, the mare's gaze fell onto his desk, trying to see what he was writing. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting a few things ready before I have to leave,” he said, his tone made all the more clear to make sure the pony heard him.

Twilight's eyes only widened, not understanding him fully. “You... you're leaving?” she asked, a tinge of worry and confusion in her voice.

Sighing sullenly, the commander nodded his head. “Yes,” he replied. “I have to make a trip down into the Deep Roads, where the darkspawn dwell. It'll take a few days, three at the least, two if I'm luck.”

“You're fighting those monsters?” the unicorn blurted, more confused than ever. All she could think of where the beasts of his world she had seen already, the demon that had possesed her, and the nightmarish monster that had nearly taken the Warden's life. It made her heart race, the fluttering beat matching her own unsteady breath. “W-why would you do that?” Without giving the Warden a chance to respond, she was already upon the human. Wrapping her forelegs around him tightly, she embraced him as hard as she could, burying her face into his chest as the cloth of his shirt became damp with tears.

“Twilight...” the commander murmured, running a hand through her mane. But he was stopped as the mare shook her head violently.

“No, I don't want you to go!” she cried childishly, the sound of sniffling being heard through her tantrum. “Please... I don't want to see you in danger anymore. I don't want to be separated from you any longer. It's been too long, too long! Why does it have to be so hard? Why does it matter that we're from different worlds?”

Minutes passed as the commander sat there, waiting for Twilight's sadness to end. When her shaking body and sniffling stopped, he lifted her head up from his wet shirt and smiled softly. “Come now, Twilight,” he said with a light mirth, “I know you're stronger than this. Besides, that's exactly why I have to go.” Gingerly wiping away the tears still clinging to her face, he continued. “Do you remember why we all had to part ways before? How the Fade was tearing its way into your world from ours? Our connection to it allowing you to be attacked by that demon? Well... now we may have found a way past that.”

Stunned shock flashed across the lavender-coated mare's eyes as she whispered, “Really?”

The Warden-Commander's smile broadened. With a nod of his head, he wrapped his arms around the mare just as tightly as she did to him, saying, “Yes! Thanks to Anders, and a little help, we might just have a way to deal with the Fade.”

“So you need to leave?” Twilight then asked.

“Yes,” the Warden stated. “But I won't be away for long.”

It didn't take long for the mare to understand, what the Warden was trying to do to fully dawn on her. Though it pained her to know he was leaving her side so soon, putting himself in danger all the while, it filled her heart with a hope that she was refused years ago. Tears drying, the scholar hugged him yet again, whispering, “Just... be safe...”

Chuckling lightly, the hug was returned as the Grey-Warden said, “Of course.”

Holding each other close, the commander's mind slowly began to realize one detail, Twilight's presence within the keep. He couldn't risk letting everyone be aware of what was happening, unsure as to what it would bring. It brought a new concern to his thoughts as they raced to find an adequate solution.

Separating, the Warden-Commander made sure no more tears remained on the unicorn's face before he stood up. Eyes cast between the door and the mare in front of him, he paused for a moment before saying, “Wait here, I need to get everything ready for the trip. I'll be back soon.”

“Alright,” Twilight murmured, watching as the Warden quickly grabbed the papers he had been writing on and left the chamber. Left alone, the typical curiosity that the scholarly pony had began to resurface, her gaze becoming drawn to a small bookshelf at the far off wall.

The halls and passing Grey-Wardens were barely registered to the commander as his quickened step hurried him along. Those who did see the Warden-Commander noted how strange he was acting. Holding his chin in thought as he mumbled to himself. None were able to listen in long enough to make heads or tails of it.

“Anders and Alistair are obviously out of the question,” he murmured. “Of course, Shale is still in Orlais. Who else...?” A groan escaped him as he thought on his only option. “Ugh, guess I've no other choice... Need to find Varel though.”

As if by luck, the two crossed paths in the hallway leading into the throne room, the old warrior looking as though he was ready to take off looking for something himself. “Oh, Commander,” he said readily. “I was just about to go looking for you. Tearser has returned to the keep and we have a guest looking to see you.”

“A guest?” the commander questioned, folding his arms indignantly. “I've already made it clear. I'm not here to entertain guests. Unless it's important, you can send them away.”

Barely finishing his sentence, Commander Cousland's voice was ended with the sudden swing of the nearby door. Stepping through, a man dressed in a fine attire fit for nobility, the front depicting the heraldry of Highever, stepped toward the two, grinning from ear to ear as he eyed the commander. “Is that how it is then?” he questioned in mock hurt. “You're too important now to even see your only family?”

Seeing the man, the commander's face brightened. “Fergus!” he said happily, grabbing the teyrn of Highever in a crushing hug. “It's been ages, brother.”

A wheezing gasp escaped him as he was lifted off of the ground, feeling as though he was about to be broken in half. Fergus could only offer a weak chuckle as he was set back down, reeling from the powerful embrace. “Now I see why people are surprised when they find out that I'm the eldest,” he said winded, patting his little brother on the shoulder.

A confident laugh came from him as he poked at the man's chest. “Maybe you should try taking on an entire Blight,” he retorted in a joking manner. “How's the old homestead been treating you? The place still standing?”

“As mighty as ever,” Fergus answered. “You should come and see it sometime. You haven't been there since we fully rebuilt it two years back.”

“I've been busy,” the Warden said simply. “I have my own little corner of Ferelden to run you know, not to mention I think the keep would fall apart if I wasn't here. Speaking of which...” Facing Varel, the commander handed him the papers he was still carrying.

“What's this?” the old warrior questioned as he examined the papers. “A list of supplies? And... orders to follow while you're away? But, Commander, I...”

“I'm planning a bit of a trip, Varel,” responded the Warden. “I trust you can get things ready for me without delay. Also, send word to Aseril and Tearser, I'd like them to accompany me.”

“Going somewhere, little brother?” Fergus asked, curious himself.

Eyes passing to his brother for only a moment, the commander kept his gaze on Varel, the answer being for him just as much as it was for the one asking. “To the Deep Roads in fact. There's a pressing matter I need to see to.”

Shock showed clearly on the seneschal's face. “The Deep Roads?” he murmured. “With only meager supplies and two other men? Certainly more precautions need to be taken, Ser. I don't even think those two have ever faced a darkspawn before, let alone ventured into their pit.”

“What better way to practice?” the commander retorted amusingly. “And there's no Blight. There might be a bit more of the monsters down there, but they won't be much of a challenge in their current state.”

A smirk came from Fergus, having the utmost confidence in his brother's abilities. “Well, if it's an expedition you're planning, then I won't keep you,” he said, giving his brother a light pat before directing his eyes toward the exit. “I'm headed to Denerim for business with the king. Thought I'd stop by for a quick hello on my way. But my traveling companions get antsy if we stray from the path for too long, so I should get back to it.”

Nodding his understanding, the commander took his brother's hand and gave it a firm grip. “Farewell, Fergus. Do give Alistair my regards.”

“Of course, brother,” the teyrn replied, turning to leave with simple wave of his hand goodbye.

With no other company present, the commander soon turned to his seneschal. “Varel,” he said pointedly, “please do as I've asked. There's something I must attend to before leaving.”

Though with a clear aversion of the Grey-Warden's plan written on his face, the old warrior gave a respectful nod all the same, saying, “Right away, Commander.” With that, the two parted ways, with Varel off to complete his tasks and the commander in search of a certain red-haired Warden.

The keep's kitchen, dining hall and cellar were quickly searched and left, none housing the one that the commander was looking for. It seemed odd to him, being the usual places he'd be. Not remembering ever sending him off with a task, he had to still be in the keep. Perhaps curled up in a dark corner while nursing a hangover.

With the first places he'd look having been eliminated, all the Warden could think of was searching his room, being close to the cellar for obvious reasons. Walking through the hall leading to the section of barracks that had the Grey-Warden's room, the commander held his chin in thought as he continued his earlier mumbling.

“Hopefully he's here,” he said quietly to himself. “If not, I suppose I'll have to get the hounds to sniff him ou-” Surprised, a sudden gasp escaped him as he turned a corner, feeling a sharp yank on his leg before his world was turned upside down, literally.

It took several moments for the commander's senses to readjust, but he soon found himself suspended several feet off the ground. His body swayed while his arms dangled down toward the ground, blood rushing to his head from his upturned perspective. Managing to turn his head slightly, he caught sight of a rope wrapped tightly around his ankle, hanging him up like hunted game.

A familiar, gruff laugh came from nearby as a red-haired dwarf appeared. Teeth showing clearly from the monumental grin spreading his lips apart, the dwarf eyed the captured commander with mirth. “Ha, looks like I caught one!” he shouted proud.

Soon after him, another dwarf appeared, a slightly agitated look on her face. “Fine,” she said with a huff, crossing her arms. “I guess your stupid trap worked after all, you win the bet. Even managed to snag the commander.”

Hanging there, the Warden-Commander glared at the two dwarves. “Oghren, Sigrun, let me down from here this instant!” he snapped.

A hearty laugh came bursting from Oghren, watching the human dangle helplessly. “It's a good look for you,” he said. “That little Howe blighter sure knows his stuff too. Never knew learning how to make these traps could be so fun.”

“Damn it, Oghren,” Commander Cousland shouted again. “I swear, if you don't get me down, I'll-”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on,” the brazen dwarf said, grabbing the large ax he carried and swinging it at the base of the rope.

Nearly breaking his neck, the commander crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, looking up at the ceiling in a daze. Groaning, he managed to pick himself up and send another look of ire toward the two dwarves. Sigrun simply pointed a finger at her company, hoping to direct the building wrath away from herself.

Remembering why he was tracking down the headache-inducing dwarf in the first place, a sigh came from the Warden-Commander as he allowed his irritation to subside. “Oghren, I need you to talk to you about something,” he said calmly.

The dwarf merely stared at him, unaware of the urgency of it all. “If it's about that bottle of spirits in your room, it's your own damn fault. Warden-Commander or not, you don't keep the good stuff all to yourself,” he said, folding his arms stubbornly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, another sigh came from him. “No, it's not about that,” he replied, eyes trailing toward the feminine dwarf beside him. The dreadful thought then came to him as to his previous plan for the unkempt dwarf to be his only help regarding Twilight.

Standing before Sigrun, the commander eyed her closely for a moment. With short hair that was kept tied back in small tails, it framed her face perfectly enough, allowing one to see her tattooed flesh. Despite the appearance of the chosen designs however, they did little to draw the eye away from the casteless brand on her cheek. She shifted in place uncomfortably as well, her eyes moving away from the commander as she could feel his gaze on the mark.

“Sigrun,” the Warden then said, gaining her full attention.

“Um... yes... Commander?” she asked dutifully, gauging his tone and demeanor, sensing that something was up.

“I may need you as well. Please, follow me,” he replied gesturing back the way he came. Though Oghren looked unsure and uncaring, Sigrun nodded her head in understanding, both being led away by the commander.

Returning to his quarters, Twilight was situated comfortably on the floor, a book lying open in front of her. Torn away from her light reading, the unicorn's gaze became fixated on the company that the commander had brought, recognizing one while seeing a new face in the other.

Upon seeing the mare, Oghren grunted in understanding, looking between her and the commander. “Oh, I get it then,” he murmured aloud. “Another sodding mess with these creatures, eh?” The memory of their last encounter was already fresh in his mind.

Sigrun on the other hand merely stared at the unicorn, eyes lit up with a child's wonderment. “Wow, what a beautiful creature,” she said, not noticing the light shade of red appearing on the lavender pony's cheeks. “And here I thought I had seen everything that the surface world had to offer. What is it? Some kind of horse that you noble types keep as indoor pets?”

Reaching out to pet her, the dwarf was immediately frozen in place as she said, “My name's Twilight Sparkle, I'm a unicorn.”

With a startled gasp, Sigrun jumped backward, grabbing one of her small axes and holding up defensively. “By the stone!” she breathed, staring wide-eyed at the mare. “It... it can talk?! Is it supposed to do that?!”

“Yes,” the commander replied, rubbing his eyes. He had expected this kind of reaction.

“What is it then?” Sigrun then asked, still shocked to see the animal talking.

Twilight frowned for a moment, slowly approaching the stunned dwarf. “I'm a unicorn,” she repeated, “a type of pony.” Examining the woman, a soft smile appeared across her features. “You're a dwarf, aren't you? You're short like one.” Gaze then shifting toward the red-haired mug nearby, her smile expanded a little more. “Oh, hello to you too, Oghren.”

Deciding to help the still startled dwarf along, he stepped next to the two, pointing from Twilight to Sigrun and back to Twilight. “Sigrun, this is Twilight. Twilight... Sigrun. Now, Sigrun, Twilight's visiting from... a very far away place.”

“Nice to... meet you,” the female dwarf then said, putting her ax away as she continued to stare at the mare curiously. Then surprise hit he suddenly. “Wait... so she's one of the creatures from that magical world that Oghren told me about?” Her gaze was then frozen between the Warden-Commander and unicorn. “That means... you two... and King Alistair...” Eyes widening, her cheeks flushed with red. “Oh my...”

Furiously turning toward Oghren, the Warden glared down at him. “You told her?!” he snapped.

Oghren merely shrugged, saying, “Had no choice. She forced it out of me with physical persuasions and... a lot of wine...”

“Five bottles to be exact,” the casteless dwarf said, looking proud of herself. “I wanted to know where you lot disappeared to. Of course, I never believed him.”

Releasing a strenuous groan, Warden-Commander managed to compose himself and regain his serious demeanor. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, I need the two of you to help me,” he said, his tone showing his need for their cooperation. “I have to leave for a trip down into the Deep Roads and I need both of you to look after Twilight while I'm gone. Absolutely no one is to know about this, got that?”

“From Grey-Wardens to babysitters?” Oghren questioned. “What's next? Should I lick your boots clean too? No thanks, this tongue's only for two things, lapping up whatever booze it finds, and for the ladies... of course.”

“Just do it, please,” the commander murmured. “Help me with this and I'll... I'll get you a crate of that ale from Orlais you liked so much.”

Though the dwarf began scratching his chin in contemplation, the commander already knew what his answer would be. Oghren was at least easy to bribe. “Fine, alright,” he eventually said.

“And you too, Sigrun?” the commander asked, sounding hopeful. “I'm putting a lot of trust into you now. I hope you understand that.”

“Of course,” the dwarven woman said. “I'd be happy to help you out and keep her company.”

“Good, thank you,” replied the commander, his tone grateful. With that problem resolved, the Warden knelt down next to Twilight, a warm smile radiating from her. “Whenever you need something just tell them and they'll get it for you. I know this isn't ideal, but I need to go see Anders. And... if you start having any nightmares-”

“I know,” Twilight said, feeling her heart fill with joy at seeing him worry for her, “I won't let any of those monsters take me again. I'll be fine here, just don't forget,” with her weakened magic, she lifted up the necklace that the Warden wore, the one she had made for him, “we're always connected.”

With his own smile, he replied, “Now more than ever,” lightly tapping the bracelet wrapped around her foreleg.

They spent a few moments embraced in a comforting hug before the Warden made for the stand that held his armor. Donning the heavy metal plates, he was fully equipped for whatever he would face in the pits where the darkspawn made their home. Just before leaving, he turned back to Twilight and his fellow Wardens, saying, “I'll be back as soon as I can, take care, all of you.” With that, he was gone, leaving the three alone with one another.

Certain that the Warden-Commander wasn't coming back, Oghren took a place beside the lavender-coated mare, curiosity twinkling in his eyes. “So...” he began, voice brimming with the suggestiveness he was known for, “I'm just wondering... The Warden, how does he... you know, 'measure up' compared to your own kind?”

A stunned silence befell Twilight as she took a step back, eyes wide as her cheeks became inflamed. “E-excuse me?!”

As Commander Cousland stepped into the throne room, sword swung across his back, he spotted Varel accompanied by the two Grey-wardens he was expecting. Aseril gained a small smile as he spotted the commander approaching, bowing his head in respect. Next to him, another man stood, Aseril's brother Tearser.

“Ah, hello, Commander,” Tearser said, bending his waist in an over-exaggerated bow. “We've been told that you have a new task for us.”

“That I do,” the Warden soon replied. “We are traveling through the Deep Roads to meet with an old friend of mine. With any luck, we'll run into a few groups of darkspawn so you can see what our greatest enemy is like first hand.”

A large grin spread across Tearser's face as he clasped his hands together, clearly excited. “Alright! Now that's what I'm talking about!”

“Will it be dangerous?” Aseril asked, sounding more curious than anything.

“In an unexpected sense,” the commander replied. “Make no mistake, darkspawn are never a laughing matter. But as of now, they'll prove little true threat without an Archdemon leading them.”

With a hearty laugh, Tearser wrapped an arm around his brother, squeezing him tight. “Don't worry, brother,” he said determinedly. “We're more than a match for an entire horde's worth of those monsters. Not to mention we have the hero of Ferelden with us.”

The commander couldn't help but smile at the excitement, eying the two warriors. They were slightly similar in appearance, made obvious due to being brothers. Both with jet-black hair and the same light-blue eyes. Tearser was taller by half a foot however, with broader shoulders and stronger form, while Aseril was the fastest of the two. And though Aseril's near-shoulder length hair was well kept, Tearser's own was a shaggy mane of locks. They both used the same kind of weapons as the commander himself as well, large swords that required both hands to be swung for a powerful strike.

They were both dressed in their armor with a large bag of supplies over each of their shoulders. Seeing that they were ready to go, Commander Cousland faced Varel for a final farewell. “Be sure to look after the place while I'm gone,” he said to the aged man.

“Of course, Ser,” the senseschal said. “I have your orders. Just worry more about not being crushed by an ogre. I doubt the next Blight will come while you're away.”

A light laugh came from the Warden as he turned to leave, calling behind him, “Well, it'd be the perfect place to be should that happen.”

As the three Grey Wardens left the keep, the towering stone walls at their backs, the commander breathed in the fresh air around them. Being cooped up in the keep for so long, it was a welcomed changed to have a reason to venture out, even if the little adventure wouldn't be as grandiose as his previous endeavors.

But he was soon struck by something odd. Unable to place what, the Warden-Commander was momentarily overtaken by a strange, somewhat familiar sensation. Feeling as though his very mind was swimming in a green ocean, his thoughts turned to the mare that was waiting for his return. Quickly shaking his head to rid himself of it, he kept his mind focused and set his thoughts to completing the task at hand, his sights set on the infested caverns of the darkspawn.

Self-Worth and Family Scars

Far west of Vigil's Keep, the Warden-Commander and his two comrades stared into the gaping maw before them. The earth cracked open like jagged jaws, stretching wide to swallow up anything that neared it. An ever present feeling of dread stayed in the air around the crevice, chilling the bones of less stalwart warriors. But they were mighty Grey Wardens, those who laughed in the face of the dark creatures that lurched within the deep recesses.

Without a word, the Commander trekked down, being eaten alive by the stretched gullet. Behind him, the two brothers, Aseril and Tearser followed. Their eyes looked about where they were, the strange sights being so foreign to them. Though holding the taint in their blood for some time, to fully embrace the corrupted presence of the darkspawn for the first time nearly choked them.

Despite the ominous opening in the earth, its actual depth left much to be desired. Only twenty feet separated the bottom of the small crevice from the surface world. With large platforms of rock jutting out of the wall, the Grey Wardens found easy footing to climb down. Upon reaching the bottom however, the two novice warriors were shocked at what they found.

A large gate, clearly of dwarven make by the design of it, completely concealing whatever was beyond the thick blockade of shaped stone. Nearly twice their size, two doors pressed into each other to keep unwanted visitors out, looking more impenetrable than the walls that surrounded the keep itself. Save for the typical designs put into dwarven architecture, the only defining feature on it was the large insignia of the Grey Wardens carved into the center, as well as a noticeable hole made into the far side.

“Amazing,” Aseril remarked, holding his chin in his hand as he inspected the design. “And this leads to...”

“The Deep Roads,” Commander Cousland said, holding a prideful smirk as he gazed at the gate himself. “Years back, a small raid of darkspawn managed to dig their way up to the surface at this very spot. Of course, with how close they were to the keep, they were easily taken care of.”

A loud laugh came from Tearser as he rapped his knuckles against the mighty walls. “Stupid beasts,” he said snidely, “attacking the Wardens directly. Like that would ever work.”

Wearing an uneasy smile, the commander chuckled lightly, saying, “Well... you'd be surprised... But anyway. Normally, we collapse such tunnels, make sure no other darkspawn can funnel their way in. But I decided to have a few of my dwarven friends build this gate instead. While dangerous, the Deep Roads are an incredibly fast way of travel if you know where you're going.”

“Where are we going exactly?” Aseril asked, yet to be told what the commander's plan was.

“We're headed for an outpost far into the Deep Roads,” the commander replied, searching through his bag as he spoke. “It's something I had the dwarves of Orzammar help build years ago for an old friend. It's closer to the underground city, but it'll be much faster if we cut through the Deep Roads instead of traveling across Ferelden.”

Finished with his short search, the Warden-Commander held up a piece of rock carved into a rectangular shape. Other than its shape, the only other detail about it were the intricate notches at the end of it, showing a meticulously carved design. Without a word, the object was inserted into the door, the commander pausing only for a moment before he twisted it like a key to a normal door.

The miniscule pit they were in then echoed with a loud, stone clacking noise, like a real door unlocking only amplified greatly. Soon after it, the sound of stone grinding against stone came. To the astonishment of the two Grey Wardens, the doors began to move. As the mighty gate opened, the grinding continued. Within moments however, it immediately stopped, the opening just large enough for people to be able to slip through.

Putting the rectangular key away, the commander turned to his companions and gestured for them to follow. “Let's get going,” he said, looking through the dark opening into the tunnel that was ahead.

Beyond the stone gate, the darkness of the Deep Roads beckoned to them. Though at the far end of it all, a dim light could be seen, it did little to scare away the abysmal nothingness at the start. None of it was noticed by the Warden however, gaze set forward as his destination was made clear, his fellows following straight behind him. Their steps never faltered, even as the noise of grinding stone filled the air once again, and the gates slammed shut behind them.

Sighing pleasantly, Sigrun sat down next to Twilight and Oghren, holding a small bowl of cooked rice as she began eating from it. The red-haired dwarf's eyes narrowed as they remained locked on the cards in his hand, while the mare held a similar gaze on the hand she levitated before her. Sigrun simply watched the two as they wordlessly tossed a card from their hand into the ever growing pile in front of them before drawing another.

“You're not doing too bad for your first time at playing diamondback,” the female dwarf murmured to the pony.

“It's a lot similar to something we have in Equestria,” Twilight replied, her eyes nearly reflecting the gears in her head turning. “Sometimes my friends like to play card games, I usually get dragged to play too.”

A soft smile appeared on the dwarf's face, still finding humor in conversing with what amounted to a mode of travel in Ferelden. “Do you know a lot about our world?” she then asked curiously. “I can only imagine what it must be like in your own home. Magic as plentiful as water, no humans, elves or dwarves... no darkspawn... I can't wrap my head around such a place.”

With a light laugh, Twilight nodded her head in understanding. “I know a bit, and meeting the others certainly helped me understand a little about what it's like here,” she admitted. “Even now though... I'm not used to simply how different it feels just being here. At least... I know he's here as well... and that makes it all worth it...” The mare's lavender cheeks blushed slightly as her smile grew all the more bright.

Sigrun saw the look herself, unable to help herself but giggle like a young girl. “Well,” she started, “I suppose if you're going to fall for anyone, the commander's a good choice.”

“Do you know him well?” the unicorn asked. Though the dwarf's name wasn't too familiar with her, Twilight could almost swear that she had heard of her at least once back when the Warden regaled her with stories of his many adventures.

Shrugging slightly, Sigrun waved her hand in a simple gesture. “Better than some, I guess,” she answered. “Not as well as Oghren or King Alistair do, but I've fought by his side several times. He saved me when the rest of my comrades were slaughtered by the darkspawn.” A light chuckle escaped her. “It's almost funny... seeing as I'm part of the Legion of the Dead. But, I later found out just what the darkspawn would have planned for me and...” she closed her eyes, her body shuddering, “I escaped a fate worse than anything else I could imagine. Even now, I'm proud to be of help to him. Surprising really, how I'd one day have such respect for a noble. Never before have I seen one as selfless as him. Though, that may just be the bias of a casteless...”

Grunting loudly, Oghren grabbed a small bottle of whine, taking a swig before he looked at the two girls and said, “You're not too far off. Most nobles are about as worthless as they think peasants are. Only nobles I've ever seen act with any ability are the ones who've never held a scrap of real title to them, like that royal bastard Alistair. Those damned nobles back in Orzammar, with skin nearly as soft as an elfs with egos to match, could learn a thing or two from them.”

“But he lost everything, didn't he?” Twilight returned, knowing of the Warden's bloody past.

With a nod, Oghren remained silent as he looked at his latest hand of cards. “That's right,” he said, tossing another card into the pile. “But that wasn't what made him who he is. The Warden's the best damned example I've seen of how this sodding world should work. It doesn't matter if you're born noble or casteless, dealt a lucky hand or a crotch-kicking awful one, all that matters is what you do in spite of it.” Rubbing his hairy chin, the dwarf gave a weary sigh before continuing. “Take it from a once drunkard of a warrior not worth the stone he walked on, whose now a proud warrior of the Grey Wardens because of him.”

“He certainly is a hero, even in Equestria,” Twilight murmured, her smile slowing drooping. “But, I still worry for him.”

A hearty laugh exploded from Oghren, hand running across his mouth to clean it of the remaining droplets of ale from his latest drink. “You sound just like Felsi,” he said as his mirth ended. “Never have it in me to tell her we mostly just sit on our asses these days. Course, I suppose that's just how things are, you wouldn't be very caring if you didn't worry.”

“But you really don't need to,” Sigrun added. “He's the Hero of Ferelden after all. A few lowly darkspawn aren't going to be much of a challenge for him.”

With another laugh, Oghren's lips splayed out in a wide grin as he said, “Ha! If the Warden meets his end down there, then the rest of Thedas might as well bend over and wait for their thorough pipe cleaning!”

The Deep Roads were certainly a marvelous sight. Even in their ruined state, the long trail of dwarven carved paths, forever tainted by the darkspawn, they still held a grand magnificence. A massive, seemingly never-ending chamber as large as any great hall in the most imposing of castles. Mighty stone pillars held up the ceiling, keeping it all from collapsing on them. It was all illuminated by a beautiful, orange light coming from the twin rivers of lava at both sides of the trail.

One could only imagine how beautiful the Deep Roads once were, connecting the dwarven cities into one vast, underground empire, before the shadows of the darkspawn fell over the world.

It was that very thought that went through Commander Cousland's head as he sat there, eyes idly looking away from the simple map in his hands to take in his surroundings. Marked on the parchment, a crude depiction of the immediate area showed them where they were, as well as how far they had to go to get to their destination. Though there was no true sense of time within the underground passageway, they at least knew they had been traveling for some time, allowing themselves a rest.

Folding the map and tucking it away in his traveling bag, the commander took a large bite out of the dried meat he had packed. Washing it down with water from his flask, the Warden smiled at how nostalgic it felt. Perhaps not the grandest of meals, but the simple feast brought back many memories of sitting before a roaring fire, eating alongside friends made through their quest to save Ferelden. There was no need for such a fire now though, the bubbling liquid fire around them offering enough heat and light for them.

Aseril sat nearby, his back against a large chunk of rubble, shattered from the broken pillar just next to him. The young man wordlessly ate his own food, eyes distant as he looked to not all be there. The commander wondered what he was thinking, perhaps the very same question that was plaguing his own thoughts.

“Sorry about the lack of any fun,” the Warden-Commander said, his eyes drifting toward his sword at his side. It had gone unused since they had entered the Deep Roads, completely clean. “I'm not sure why... We should have encountered some darkspawn. Maybe we'll find some closer to the outpost.”

“You make it sound like it's a bad thing,” Aseril remarked.

A shrug came from the Warden as he put away the rest of his food, not wanting to eat all of his rations so early into their journey. “I had hoped you'd get the chance to fight some, a little experience can go a long way. Ah well, if this world isn't short on anything, it's those blighted monsters.” Chuckling lightly, he looked off further into the current hall they were in. “Maybe they're just waiting for us to rest, cut our throats while we sleep. Don't worry about that though, we'd sense them coming before they had the chance. Wouldn't be the first time they've tried that trick anyway...”

Loud grunts of exertion could be heard echoing nearby. It wasn't difficult to find the source however. Just a short distance away, Tearser was still standing, his large sword clutched between his hands as he swung it about, looking as though he was fighting an invisible adversary. Sweat coated his face, making it clear how long he had been at it. After several more swings, he sheathed the mighty blade and dropped to the ground, not pausing for a moment of rest as he began doing push ups.

Smiling to himself, the commander laughed as he murmured, “Speaking of fighting darkspawn... Tearser! You won't be much use if you're too exhausted to fight off the darkspawn!”

“Don't... don't count on it!” Tearser shouted back, kicking off of the ground and raising his body fully upright with his hands flat on the stone floor. With his newly formed handstand, he again began bending and straightening his arms, body shaking from the sudden strain.

The Warden merely watched the young man go. Eventually, he looked toward the younger brother, murmuring, “A bit too eager to work up a good sweat... Has he always been like that?”

Nodding listlessly, Aseril hugged his knees to his chest, resting his chin between them. “Yeah...” he said quietly. “Tearser's always been... one to prove how strong he is. Mostly it's to himself, other times... it's to our father...” His tone was strange, the commander unable to tell if it was one of sadness or contempt.

“Your father?” the Warden questioned, being the first time he had ever heard of him. “He must be a great warrior, to sire such strong sons.”

Aseril's mouth simply formed into a small frown, eyes looking downward at the featureless ground. “He is... or was... I'm not really sure which to say,” he murmured. “We've never actually met him before. All we've ever known about him was how strong of a warrior he was... and that he loved our mothers very much.” Noticing the gaze he had earned, the young Grey Warden knew he had to elaborate. “We have two different mothers,” he explained. “And all we really know about them is what father saw in them, both supposedly being quite gifted with magic.”

“Had a thing for mages, huh?” the Warden offhandedly said. Though, for him, it was completely coincidental, he could oddly relate.

Huffing slightly, Aseril again nodded, replying, “You could say that... Other than what little we heard about them, we had nothing else in the way of 'family'. We grew up around a lot of others like us. I think we were supposed to look at them like siblings, but we never did. Just as we were were nothing more than a single large group to our caretaker.” A weary, dejected sigh came from him. “Never anything more to her...”

From what the commander gathered, they must have grown up in an orphanage somewhere. It was a sad fate, but it didn't seem like they were doing too bad for themselves now. The Warden was technically an orphan himself, and a good friend of his also had a similar fate to the young Grey Wardens, raised without any kind of family. He didn't seem to turn out too badly either, if one were to look past the fact that he killed people for money.

Ambush

Heaving an exasperated sigh, King Alistair rested his elbow on his desk as he held his chin. Eyes drifting lazily down at the desk, the papers he had been mulling through seemed to blur into incomprehensible messes the longer he stared at them. It was another dull day in the castle of Denerim for the king.

“I'm bored,” he stated obviously, talking to himself as he was completely alone in his study. As nothing immediately appeared to relieve him of his tiresome kingly duties, he began idly folding the corners of the pieces of parchments. “Maybe I should get drunk...? Been a while since I've loosened up. It's not like anyone could stop me anyway... I am the king after all.” Another sigh escaped, his joints cracking as he moved about a little bit more, becoming stiff from his solitary pose. “Nah... Teagan wouldn't let me hear the end of it.”

Barely noticing the yawn stretching his mouth wide, Alistair's vision slowly began to blur. The crackling of the fire behind him was almost soothing, the only sound he could hear. Everything seemed still, calming in spite of the ever present boredom that permeated his thoughts. Alistair didn't even notice it as the small thud of his forehead hitting the desk sounded, lightly snoring against his sudden rest.

It was short lived however, the doors to the study suddenly opening, one of the castle guards bursting in with a handful of papers in hand.

Gasping from the sudden, jarring intrusion, the Warden-King's head shot upward. Eyes fully open, a small trail of drool glistening from his lower lip down to his chin, he spotted the approaching guard. “I-I'm awake!” he quickly shouted, reminiscent to his younger days of study under the watchful eyes of the chantry. “I was just... taking a closer look at these papers.” Grabbing one of them from his desk, he held it up close to his face, nose nearly touching it. “Yup, these are words all right.”

“Uh... your highness,” the guard said, bowing his head respectfully all the same, “the latest reports on the darkspawn have arrived.”

“Have they now?” Alistair questioned. “Well, let's have a look.” Taking the small stack of papers, the previous ones were brushed aside as the king's focused was placed on what was new. “Have these gotten to the Grey Wardens yet?”

The guard shook his head. “No, they come to you first, then are supposed to be sent to Vigil's Keep. As the Warden-Commander ordered.”

“Hm, alright,” he then nodded, his gaze locked onto the papers as he looked from one to the other. “Reports from the Grey Warden scouts... as well as the one from Orzammar...” As he continued to look them over, a noticeable frown crossed his features.

“Is... is something wrong, Ser?” asked the guard, looking worried himself over his king's expression.

Not looking away from the reports, Alistair murmured, “The darkspawn seemed to have become much more active as of late. But why? I haven't seen them act this way since... the Architect...” Folding the reports back up, Alistair handed them back to the guard. “Get our fastest courier and tell him to get these to the Warden-Commander posthaste! I do not want a repeat of that incident!”

Nodding his head in understanding, the guard immediately turned and bolted from the room, reports in hand. Left alone once again, Alistair sat in his chair silently. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little worried over what he had seen.

“It's probably nothing...” the king murmured to himself, unable to shake how unsure he sounded.

The Warden-Commander could only shake his head at his own perplexed mind. They traveled further and further into the Deep Roads. Walking through the tunnels constructed by the dwarves long ago, as well as the ones dug into by the darkspawn. Despite being in the very home of the foul beasts however, not a single one of the creatures had encountered them.

Having kept his thoughts clear, concentrating as hard as he could, the Warden wasn't even able to sense the creatures nearby. He couldn't even feel them far away, clinging to the deepest reaches of his mind. It wasn't something he had ever experienced before, for the first time feeling completely isolated from the ancient monsters.

“Maybe they knew I was coming and ran off in fear, heh,” he said aloud to his fellow Grey Wardens. Even as the words escaped him, his tone nothing but confident, it didn't take away from the creeping anxiety that was building. Thinking of himself as foolish against good fortune, he shook the sensation away, gesturing for them to continue onward.

They didn't have to travel much longer however, the commander already knowing how close they were to their goal. Sure enough, only after another hour of traversing through the expansive caverns that the darkspawn had opened up into the dwarven made pathways, they stopped in their tracks. With a knowing smile, the Warden-Commander gazed up at the structure before them, while Aseril and Tearser marveled at the strange sight.

Where the Deep Roads only had emptiness and ruins, the small structure certainly stood out. It was shaped like a fortress, a large stone wall surrounding what looked like a wide tower that raised high into the air. The architecture itself was very similar to that of the old dwarven thaig ruins dotting the Deep Roads where the subterranean civilization existed. It made certain that those few who looked at it knew what hands crafted it.

It was situated in a far, dark corner of the cavern they were in, away from prying eyes of darkpsawn and brave soul alike. In the center of the wall they were facing, a large wooden doorway blocked their entrance. In the center separating the double doors, a familiar square hole was set into the metal framing it. Without a word, the commander produced the stone key he had used once before, inserting it into the hole and giving it a sudden turn.

A metallic clacking sound echoed through the dingy landscape, the door itself suddenly trembling for a brief moment. Pausing just for a moment, the Warden then put the rectangular key away and placed his hand on the door, giving it a forceful push. Groaning loudly in its defiant ways, the door slowly creaked open, with the commander's feet firmly pushed against the rocky ground.

Within moments, the doorway was open, leaving the Warden's heavy breathing to linger in the air from the sudden exertion. The inside of the fortress walls showed very little however. Only a few crates and sacks of supplies were seen, as well as an elevated path spanning the wall, allowing any to peer over it if need be. The tower itself still loomed in front of them however. Though it didn't look as impenetrable as a mighty castle, it would surely hold up against a small raid of darkspawn that might happen upon it. Another door barred their entrance into the tower, much smaller than the gate they had opened and looking far more modest in design.

Staring at it for only a moment, the Commander turned to his fellows and said, “Why don't you two wait out here. Keep a sharp eye out for anything coming our way, I shouldn't be too long.”

“Yes, Ser,” both Grey Wardens said, nodding their heads in acceptance. With his own nod, the Warden-Commander opened the door, having no resistance as there was no lock for it, and disappeared into the tower.

The inside of the structure was eerily comparable to that of the Circle Tower. Many of the rooms held large tables filled with strange alchemical apparatuses, as well as massive bookshelves holding a seemingly countless number of old tomes. Several floors made up the tower, each with a winding staircase running up the wall to reach the next.

Slowly, the Warden made his way up the tower, not seeing the faces he was looking for immediately. Everything was silent, nearly nerve-wracking. All he could hear was his own light breathing and thudding footsteps. As more floors were at his feet, several other noises filled the air. The unmistakable sounds of bubbling liquids and rushing fluids became known. There was also the sudden, acrid scent of burned flesh and smoke.

The Warden's steps slowed as he reached the top of the tower. Every ounce of his ability was put into making his footfalls silent, the rest of his concentration put into listening to what was around him. From all that he could sense however, the tower seemed abandoned, made all the more possible by the lack of company he had seen. But such suspicions were soon put to rest, as he rose into the uppermost floor and felt the searing heat of a fireball land just inches away from his face.

Nearly toppling over and back down the stairs, the commander jumped to the side, hand already gripping the hilt of his blade as his eyes became set on the direction the blast of fire had come from. Standing there, several feet away, a man in mage's robes stood there, smoking hand outstretched.

“Oh, it's you,” the mage said, eyes growing wide for a moment while his tone seemed far too casual for what he had just attempted.

Rubbing the warm flesh on the side of his head, feeling as though the hairs on his face were nearly singed, Commander Cousland murmured, “Not the welcome I was expecting, Anders.”

The Grey Warden mage simply looked at his commander, lips parting in a goofy smile before he approached him, slapping him on the back amusingly. "Sorry about that,” he said with a laugh. “We've just been a bit jumpy as of late. We've felt no darkspawn around for ages, figured they were planning something.”

“I told you to look before you start shooting fire everywhere,” another man chimed in. On the other side of the room, a man wearing his own set of robes stood behind a table, holding a quill in his grip as he began to scrawl notes in a book set before him.

Anders merely rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. 'Don't burn that down, Anders.'” he said offhandedly. “Sound more like my mother why don't you, Seren.”

“I can only wonder why you'd be throwing fire at her in the first place. Or why she wouldn't use your real name,” the preoccupied mage replied, causing Anders to stick his tongue out at him childishly.

The Warden merely chuckled at the lighthearted bickering, knowing it was a common thing between the two roommates. His gaze then began to shift from one mage to the other, taking in how much the two had change since the long stretch of time he had seen them last.

There was little else to Anders' attire besides the usual robes he wore. The only other things on him was the satchel that was at his side, occasionally moving on its own for the obvious reason, as well as the noticeable scar running across the palm of his right hand. The mage's appearance had changed very little as well. His hair had grown longer from his self-imposed solitude in the Deep Roads, leaving the ponytail he kept it in to have more length. There was also noticeable stubble on his face, making the Warden wonder if it was even possible for him to grow a full beard.

The other mage, Seren, was far different compared to Anders. He was as well kept as he usually was, clean shaven with his hair always cut short. Even his robes looked much more clean and new. His eyes held a dark, sunken gaze, always looking as though he never got enough sleep. It was coupled with his pale skin, making him look more like a ghost than anything.

Around them, the room held many similarities to that of the many others down below, with several stark differences as well. The bubbling sound that the Warden had heard before came from the boiling fluids on a nearby table. The glass vials were held over burners so that the liquids inside bubbled loudly, producing strangely colored pillars of steam.

Several tables had more sinister looking equipment. Calipers and tongs were what the commander was able to immediately recognized, but everything else was foreign to him, only able to tell that many of there were incredible sharp and easily capable of cutting into flesh. Where such tools were used became readily apparent as well. Only a simple glance in the room was able to show him the most definable features of the place, the corpses of dwarves that laid motionless. There were only a few, skin looking as cold and rough as stone, bloodied tarps were thrown over the rest of their bodies.

Barely paying the sight any mind, the Warden-Commander looked at the still busy mage and casually asked, “So, how does the research go?”

At that, Seren's face brightened, looking strange with his overly white skin. Smiling a little, he replied, “Quite well actually.” Pausing for a moment to jot down a few more notes, he continued. “We're getting further and further along with our work, made especially helpful with the steady supplies coming in from Orzammar,” he coughed lightly in his hand, “as well as the Legion's extraordinary assistance and cooperation, of course.”

Anders rubbed his chin in perplexing thought. “I'm still surprised they took it so well,” he said. “'Hey, we'd like to butcher your honored dead, that'd just be fine, right?' Heh, they've even sent their fallen down to us on their own. It's not even like our research would matter to them.”

“They share the same world as us,” Seren said, eyes now locked on a dusty tome in his hands. “Underground or not, a world filled with abominations is still an issue. And just think what gateways our success could open.” For a moment, his gaze broke to look at the commander. “Let's not forget who it was that asked them too. One simply can't say no to the Hero of Ferelden these days.”

A chuckle escaped Anders as he folded his arms, leaning his back against the nearest wall. “Tell that to the templars,” he retorted merrily. “He's more of an enemy to them than the blasted demons themselves. That's not even taking into account this place. Boy, if they heard that two blood mages were hidden away in the Deep Roads and doing experiments, they'd knock down the doors to the keep and drag the commander away in chains saying that you were summoning demons to attack Ferelden.” A soft meow sounded and all eyes moved to the mage's bag, where the white-furred head of his cat popped out. “Aw, isn't that right, Ser Pounce-a-lot? Yes it is. Yes it is.”

“Of course they'd immediately label us as maleficarum,” Seren snapped with a sneer, an immediate glare of disdain crossing him. “To ban such essential things like medical practice, all because of their blind paranoia. I can only thank the Maker that you saved me when you did, Commander.” Absentmindedly, his hand reached up and lightly rubbed his neck, he gulped audibly.

“I couldn't let such a brilliant mind go to waste. Especially when the Grey Wardens don't share the same views as the Circle.” the Warden replied. “You've been a wondrous help. Someone I can trust to help me and Anders with our goal.”

“And what a goal,” the pale mage said, growing more excited as he thought on it. “Just think, mages not having to rip their very personalities from the minds to be free of their powers. Being Tranquil will be a thing of the past.”

The Warden-Commander looked surprised at that, looking between the two mages in confusion. “So... you two haven't had any grand breakthrough?”

For a moment, both mages began to look confused themselves, both shaking their heads. “I'm sorry, but... no,” Anders said apologetically. “We've gotten pretty far, but we are just as far from our actual goal.” Looking over to Seren for a moment, the cat-loving mage wordlessly nodded to him. Upon seeing the look on his face, the pale mage dropped his book and crossed the room to a series of vials.

“Our initial thoughts have proven to be correct,” Seren said as he began looking through assortment of glass tubes. “Dwarves hold no connection to magic or the Fade itself, even having a resistance to magic itself. Of course, the reason for it is obvious.” He turned toward the commander for a moment, holding his hand out where a small chunk of rock rested on a thick cloth. It glowed with a brilliant blue color, a radiance that drew the eyes to stare at it almost longingly. “Lyrium is what gave them this gift, it might also be what will help us.”

“Of course,” Anders chimed in, “we're looking for a way for the effects to be more immediate, not having to wait centuries.”

“Yes, very true,” Seren nodded, wrapping the stone back up in the cloth and setting it aside. “We've already seen how lyrium works on mages now. But the Rite of Tranquility is as outdated as it is barbaric.” Grabbing something else, the mage approached the commander, holding up a vial of a glowing blue liquid. Swirls of a brilliant azure twisted and floated within, nearly as bright as the flame of a torch. Curious, the commander took the vial from the mage, examining it for himself. Even with the cork firmly sealing it, there was an earthy smell coming from the mixture.

“It's the best we've got so far,” Anders said, looking at the vial himself, seeing their goal coming so close, yet still seeing the distance that separated them from it. “It's made from the same methods as lyrium potions as well as what the chantry uses to give to their templars. Added to it are what mixtures we've come up with from the blood of the dwarves we've studied. Even then, I don't think it's ready to test just-” The rest of Anders' words were caught in his throat as his eyes grew wide, witnessing the commander popping the cork from the vial and down a portion of its contents.

His entire body shaking, the commander immediately dropped down to his knees. The entire tower seemed to swaying like a ship caught in stormy waters to him. The startled gasps from the two mages were completely lost to him. Nothing was all his thoughts could focus on, everything becoming clouded and impossible to focus on.

It wasn't until he felt the grip of Anders and Seren on his arms, forcing him upright, was he jarred out of his stupor. The tower came rushing back to him, as if the stones forming it were crashed together to reform the structure. His legs could barely take to standing on solid ground, feeling like he had been wading through muddy earth all his life. For several moments, the grips on his arms stayed there, making sure he could steady himself. Soon enough, he was let go, feeling like he would collapse for single moment before he was able to assure himself he could stand on his own.

“Are you crazy?!” the outraged voice of Anders shouted into his ears, striking his skull like a hammer to an anvil. “That mixture could have killed you on the spot for all you know?! What were you thinking just downing it like some cheap ale?!”

Groaning in response to the mage, the Warden-Commander braced himself against the nearby wall, rubbing his eyes as he felt like he had spent the entire night trying to outdo Oghren in a drinking contest. “Sorry,” he managed to force out of his mouth, his voice a ragged croak. “Guess I wasn't really thinking.”

“How are you feeling?” Seren asked. His tone was far different from Anders' holding no worry or anger. In fact, he sounded intrigued. Looking up at him, the commander even noticed a journal and quill in his hands, his gaze locked on him firmly, eagerly awaiting to hear the results.

“A bit... light headed?” the commander murmured, finding it difficult to center his thoughts. It was a strange feeling, his mind feeling far too empty, unnaturally so. His thoughts seemed too small to fill the cavernous depths of his skull, like something had been removed to create the sudden abundance. “A little weak... and a bit... nauseous.”

“Fascinating,” Seren breathed, his pale faced showing more excitement as he quickly wrote down notes in his journal. “You're no mage, but you're still connected to the Fade.” He lightly grabbed the Warden's chin, turning his head from side to side to examine him. “Gaze is a bit vacant, could just be an initial reaction. Skin's a little cold... Actually, you're reaction is very similar to that of mages right after they're made tranquil.”

Anders began scratching his chin in thought, taking the vial from the commander and looking at what fluid remained. “We must be closer to it than we thought...”

“So... am I disconnected from the Fade?” the commander asked. His tone must have sounded more desperately hopeful than he had wanted, judging by the curious look that Seren gave him.

The mage simply shrugged. “Perhaps... perhaps not,” he said cryptically. “You're no mage, so it's not like we can test it with a show of magic. Even then, I doubt it's permanent. No... at best, your mind's just clouded from the Fade. It'll surely wear off... in time.” A smile spread across his face. “But even still, that stunt will prove quite helpful. I'm certain in no time we'll figure out a way to cut the mind free permanently.”

“A 'cure' for mages...” Anders muttered offhandedly. “No doubt the Chantry would treat it like one, try and destroy all mages with it, even the ones who don't want it.”

“But don't forget,” Seren returned, “this will be in the hands of the Grey Wardens. Even though the templars have held a great deal of contempt for us, I know they won't dare try anything so long as the Warden-Commander's around.” The mage's face turned bright red as he released a loud laugh, nearly doubling over from the swelling joy. “Goodness, you should have seen them before I 'left' the Circle all those years ago. The templars are intimidated by you, I think the Knight-Commander's even afraid. Not hard to see why though.” With another small chortle, he took the vial from Anders and took his journal off to the far side of the room to set them aside.

As Seren busied himself, Anders looked at the commander carefully. From his bending knees and occasional quiver coming from his body, it looked as though he was having trouble simply standing. “Are you alright?” he asked, watching him immediately stiffen his posture.

“Yes,” the Warden nodded. “I'm fine I just... need a few moments to recuperate.”

A huff escaped the mage as he folded his arms. “What's up with the sudden death wish anyway? I thought you liked to throw yourself at monsters and demons, not haphazardly gulp down possibly lethal concoctions. That's more Oghren's thing.”

“Sorry...” Commander Cousland replied. “It's just...” He stopped himself, locking eyes with Anders for a brief moment. Of course, the mage deserved to know of his lavender-furred guest. “Recently, the keep has been visited by an old friend.” Stopping for a second, he waited to spy the confused stare from the mage, already knowing he would guess his cryptic words. Lowering his voice just enough as to not be overheard, he said it. “Twilight's come to our world.”

“What?!” Anders blurted out, causing Seren to look over toward them briefly. Voice becoming a sharp whisper, the mage quickly grabbed onto the commander's shoulders sharply, nearly throttling him as he began to shake him vigorously. “Wh-what's she doing here?! Is everyone alright?! How's Fluttershy?! What's going on?!”

The Warden-Commander stayed silent, waiting for the mage to calm down before he lightly pulled his hands off of him. “Everything's fine,” he said reassuringly. “She's made no mention of what the others are up to, so I doubt anything's wrong. But she's managed to find a way to travel to world.” A light exhale escaped him as he smiled warmly. “She... missed me... Oghren and Sigrun are looking after her now, but I wanted to come here to see how far you guys had actually come.” A frown made its way onto his expression at that. “From that letter you sent, I had assumed you were much closer.”

Anders merely stared at the commander with confusion shadowing his features. “Letter?” he questioned. “What letter?”

Blinking in confused surprise, the commander was about to question his friend. But before he could utter a word, a loud, crackling boom sounded off. The entire tower suddenly shook, the sound of shattering glass filled the room as several of the vials and beakers fell from their rightful places, the inhabitants stumbled about as they had difficult finding sure footing.

No one had a chance to steady themselves or to react. Just as soon as the shaking ended, the nearby wall exploded inward. A massive ball of rock, metal and fire broke into the room, nearly smashing through the wall on the other side before it came to a halt. Seren was nearly flattened by it, having just moved out of its destructive path.

Stepping over the rocky debris, the three Grey Wardens looked out the gaping hole that had just been created. Far off in the distance, in the cavernous depths that they were in, an ominous red glow could be seen, vicious roaring cries erupted into the air.

A loud clang of metal against stone sounded from far below them. At the base of the tower, Aseril and Tearser came running in, their gazes set upward. “C-Commander!” Aseril shouted upward, the oncoming panic clear in his shaken voice.

Betrayal

Another tremor shook the damaged tower, large chunks of stone falling from the ceiling as the roof began to collapse. The Grey Wardens residing within stumbled as the ground underneath of them trembled violently. Just outside, the monstrous growls and cries steadily grew louder, amplified by the sheer number of wordless roars.

“We need to leave, now!” Commander Cousland shouted, his gaze directed at Anders and Seren. The ponytail wearing mage was already moving about, attempting to dodge the falling rocks. His companion within the lonely tower was fast moving as well.

With frantic eyes, Seren scoured the tables and shelves around him. Arms swinging about almost wildly, he grabbed handfuls of journals and filled vials, stuffing them into his bag. “We must preserve our research!” the pale mage shouted, stopping the commander from shouting at him to hurry. “I will not have our work be for naught! Not wasted by those blasted creatures!” Nearly filling his bag to bursting, there was a contented nod from the satisfied mage before he ran toward the stairs leading down.

The three Grey Wardens rushed down the stairs as quickly as they could. Filling the air was the sound of cracking stone, more portions of the tower being blown away by the darkspawn catapults, shaking the structure more and more and nearly tossing them from the wall. Tearser and Aseril were eagerly waiting for them at the bottom, their swords already drawn as they cast uncertain eyes outside into the chaotic scene that was heading straight for them.

Once they were all outside, leaving the once impregnable looking tower behind, the commander could fully see what they were up against. His eyes widened at what was out there. Old memories resurface, visions of a monstrous army tearing away at everything in their path. The commander could vividly remember the terrible power the beasts wrought during Ostagar and when the horde descended upon Denerim.

A massive raid of darkspawn were approaching them. Their numbers easily made for a small army. From genlocks to ogres, they all brandished what weapons they had and charged for the group of Grey Wardens. Cries for blood filled the air, nearly drowned by the quaking sounds of so many feet pounding against the earth.

“How are there so many...? How did we not sense them...?” Seren murmured, eyes wide as his entire body quivered in a mix of shock and fear.

A shriek, faster than the rest of its kin, was already raising its blades to bring down on them. With quick reflexes, the commander's leg swung up and connected into the creature's gut. As it staggered, not missing a step, he withdrew his sword and struck the creature down, nearly slicing it in two. It was but a single opponent in the near endless numbers now barreling toward them however, and the Warden could see that.

Quickly looking about the area, he looked off into the far off system of tunnels that connected to the chamber they were in. “We need to get out of here!” the commander shouted, turning to those with him. “Anders, Tearser, both of you go right and try to outrun them! Try and make your way to Orzammar if you can, if not, find your way back around to the keep! We'll take the way we came, try and split their focus the best we can!”

“What?!” Anders snapped, bewildered by the idea. “Are you serious?! We can't split up, that'd be suicide!”

Directing a fierce and serious glare at the mage, the commander said, “Smaller groups will be harder to follow, Anders! We don't have time to argue about this!”

Tearser looked ready to go, sword clutched in his hand while his eyes continued to shift toward the direction he was to go. But Anders still hesitated, eying his commander as he could just barely see the grip on his own sword lessening. “Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked, concerned that his friend might not be ready for any kind of fight.

The commander didn't have a chance to answer as another ball of fire and rock came flying toward them. They all jumped out of the way, being sprayed with rock chips as it smashed into cave floor. Seeing that the darkspawn were about to overtake them, he pointed off toward the right and shouted, “Just go, now!”

Unable to voice any word against him, Anders took only a single glance backward as he ran alongside Tearser. Not having the chance to look back themselves, the encompassing cries and howls of the darkspawn grew even louder as Aseril, Seren and the commander ran off as well. Even as they ran to make distance between them and the ravaging tide behind them, it only gave their darkspawn pursuers a chance at a predatory chase.

Before, the Deep Roads seemed empty, abandoned. Now, the ancient tunnels were alive with the malicious roars of darkspawn and the ominous, fiery glow that accompanied them.

Their twisted shadows danced across the stone walls as they came from all sides. The three Grey Wardens kept running, forced to change direction over and over again. Only a few times were the groups of darkspawn small enough for them to battle. They were dealt with in a timely fashion, but the commander could feel his heart pounding harder in his chest with every bout.

With their continuous running and constant attacks, his vision began to blur and his mind drifted away from him every so often. It didn't take long for him to notice that his own breathing was much more haggard than it was for Seren or Aseril. Neither seemed to notice it for themselves however, making him thankful that he wasn't worrying them during their escape. It allowed for him to try focusing his thoughts on getting away, as well as to silently hope that Anders and Tearser were faring well.

They stopped for just a moment, their halt in movement allowing them to hear the faint dripping of darkspawn blood from their swords. The cries of the horrific beasts sounded distant, but still nearing. Around them, the area was far more open, large ledges jutting out of the stone wall to perils drops that were hundreds of feet off of the ground.

Lava poured out like waterfalls into small lakes, lighting the expansive terrain. Trails made into the stone, no doubt where ancient explorers of the nightmarish landscape once trudged, gave them paths to follow. They hugged the walls, barely large enough for a person to walk forward across. With little else go, they had no choice but to trek across the precarious trail, wondering if it really would be darkspawn that would do them in.

Practically hugging the wall to their side, they tried to stay as far from the ledge as possible. Seren's audible gulping could be heard throughout the nerve-wracking journey. Vertigo nearly claimed them as well, forcing them to make sure they didn't look over the engulfing vastness just below them. But with steady breaths, and even steadier movements, they managed find sure footing and cross the treacherous stretch of stone.

It led them to an old ruin, obviously dwarven made, given where they were. Nestled on a simple alcove, it seemed to be a doorway that was to lead out to where they were, looking out to the massive trench that spanned endlessly in both directions. For a dwarf, it might have been a wondrous view long ago.

Cautiously, the Grey Wardens moved through the opening of the structure. The inside was a simple hallway, leading onward for a good distance. Every few feet, the hall was sectioned with small alcoves that held honored memorials. Stone caskets sat proudly on large pedestals. Surrounding them were ornaments made from stone and adorned with jewels. The walls and the caskets themselves were covered in old markings, writings from dwarves long since gone to those who were left there.

Seren looked at the setting with fascination, overpowering his worry now that they didn't have darkspawn nipping at their heels for the time being. “An old dwarven graveyard,” the mage murmured, running a hand across the smooth surface of the casket before him. “So well crafted... must be someone of notable standing... Most likely a noble or great hero, hard to say.”

“Reminds me of ones I've seen for the Legion's fallen,” the Warden said. The ones he had seen were far less decorative, nearly destroyed by the presence of the darkspawn, but it was easy enough to see their similarities.

“Maker,” the mage breathed, “if only we weren't being hunted at the moment. I'd love to return here someday and examine this place more closely.”

“We need to get going, now,” Aseril said urgently, still looking about the area with caution.

The other two Wardens nodded their heads in agreement. “Right,” Seren said. “With this grave site, we should be close to a dwarven civilization of some kind. We can try to catch our bearings there.”

Without another word, they followed the lengthy hallway, passing by more and more carved caskets. The constant reminder of death did little for their optimism, and it became a welcome sight to see the hall end and the area around them to open up into a more open setting. They stood on a massive platform of stone, jutting out of the wall of the latest expansive cavern they were in. The trench they had seen before continued onward as well, making their footing but a small ledge compared to the open ground hundreds of feet below them.

More signs of dwarven work on the landscape was soon seen. A gigantic gate made of stone and metal stood at the far side against the wall. They couldn't even see the top of the imposing structure, already realizing there would be no way for them to see what was beyond it. Several doorways were also nearby, much like the one they had just came through. They offered little incentive to explore, not compared to what else they saw.

Just as marvelous as the gate, an even larger bridge stretched outward from the ledge they stood on. A truly amazing sight, showing the back-breaking labor that the tireless dwarves who made it went through. It was impossible to tell what was on the other side, the other side of the gaping trench blurred by a haze of pure heat. Embers surrounded it like snowflakes, making the Grey Wardens sweat just from standing there.

“We should go that way,” Aseril suggested, pointing down the length of the bridge. Looking better than trying to open a door that dwarfed even the largest of ogres, Seren and the commander both agreed and they began walking across the impressive piece of architecture.

Adding to its size, the bridge was extremely wide, dozens of feet expanding to the left and right of them. What was most certainly a well-traveled road for dwarfs going from one thaig to another, one could imagine how busy it might have been. Carts filled with supplies going to and fro, armored dwarf warriors with their weapons held proudly, and if it was anything like roads on the surface, shifty-eyed bandits looking for an easy target.

The heat only seemed to get more intense as they continued to cross the bridge. Sweat coated their faces, their breathing becoming more forced than what it was while running from the darkspawn. Commander Cousland could hardly stand it himself, his armor suddenly feeling much heavier on him, each step taking a little more effort than the last. Aseril and Seren didn't seem to suffer the same way he was, only looking sweaty and a little winded.

After a while of walking, the sweltering heat of the haze seemed to surrounded them. It blocked their view of the way they came, just as it continued to do to what was beyond them. Their portion of bridge seemed suspended in the air, beckoning them to continue to escape the sightless trek. And continue they did, feeling a pressing need to proceed.

Going further across the bridge, it did not take them much longer for their eyes to catch a shape emerging from the thick haze. The more they approached it, the more it began to form. Further and further they marched, each step being propelled with a growing curiosity. Just as they could finally make out what they were seeing, they all stopped in their tracks.

It was a barricade, made of blackened, twisted metal, that was shaped in horrific ways. The commander's eyes grew wide for a moment, immediately recognizing them and who made them, but it was obvious to the others just as much as it was to him. Upon the realization, the once silent air became a chorus of familiar cries and beastly yells.

Breaking through the blinding haze, darkspawn charged at them in full force. They were just as numerous as they were before, a primal blood lust filling their near-empty eyes as they were focused on their human targets. The three Grey Wardens nearly tripped over their scrambling feet as grabbed their weapons and turned back to run. But they didn't make it far.

With tails of billowing smoke, massive balls of stone and flame came hurtling through the air. Instead of hitting the fleeing targets, the catapulted rocks sailed beyond them and smashed into the bridge ahead. Ear-wrenching sounds of cracking rock completely overtook that of the rampaging darkspawn for brief moments.

The Grey Wardens were once again stopped as they looked on with horror as the section of the bridge began to crumble. Cracks were splitting across the surface withing moments of each other, covering a massive portion in no time. As they worsened, the chunks and chips broken apart began to fall, nothing supporting them as they dropped down below to the furthest surface. When the dust cleared, the bridge was separated in two, with a gap that was far too large for them to make it to the other side. They were trapped.

With nothing else left, they turned to face the incoming attack. The Warden-Commander brandished his sword, eyes focused on the beasts as they neared. “If they truly want a fight,” he said, “then they will face the strength of the Grey Wardens! We will fight on until none are left or we've taken as many as we can! To the both of you... I'm sorry...”

An uneasy chuckle escaped Seren as he held up his hands, a crackling flame encircling around his fingers. “Let's try and focus on that first bit, eh Commander?” he said with little real certainty.

With a nod, the Warden's grip on his sword tightened and he readied himself. By then, the faster darkspawn were already upon them. Gnashing jaws were wide open as the beasts cried out in furious strength, their jagged blades swinging out at the Grey Wardens.

Aseril and the commander sliced into the oncoming attack, stopping the darkspawn short as their dark blood sprayed out of their wounds. The ones at the rear were met with powerful blasts of fire, burning their exposed flesh and throwing them to the ground. From the sheer force of the attack, several of the darkspawn were tossed off the side of the bridge, falling into the depths below.

The two warriors already had a thin coating of darkspawn blood on their armor, feeling it drip down their faces and mixing with their sweat as they prepared for the rest of the horde to come at them. Despite how easily the Grey Wardens had taken on the first wave, the rampaging creatures didn't hesitate in attacking again. More of them made up the next attempt, eager to draw blood as they stepped over the corpses of their fallen. Seren tried his best to keep as many back as he could, impressive feats of magic showing well as balls of fire and ice, even bolts of lightning flew by his companions and struck at the threat.

Again and again the sounds of battle accompanied the anger yells of the corrupted monsters. The clashing of metal against metal, of final beastly gasps and mighty cries of exertion continued unabated. There was nothing else they could do but fight, the thought of winning looking like a daunting goal, even as the bodies began to pile up.

One swing of the commander's sword fell short, his arms suddenly feeling weak as the edge of his blade merely scratched the surface of a hurlock's armor. The Warden tripped as he tried to move back to dodge its retaliating swing. Expecting the blade to cut into him, he was surprised as another moved between them. Aseril then pushed the darkspawn away, giving the commander ample time to swing his own sword from his low angle, cutting into their legs and toppling several darkspawn at once. Standing back on his two feet, he took a deep breath while clutching his sword experimentally, feeling the muscles in his arms fighting against him.

Looking out across the bridge, the Warden could see the still numerous darkspawn coming toward them. Large ogres, at least twice their size, came running toward them. The horned titans were nearly fully covered in thick plates of metal, a crude depiction of armor for the hulking creatures. They were a half-dozen in number, taking up much of the bridge as they came at them, several smaller darkspawn at their feet as they too came running.

They needed room to fight such walls of muscle and strength, something they did not have while cornered on the bridge's end. As their opponents lumbered forward, teeth dripping with saliva, the Grey Warden's stood their ground. One wrong step and they'd be crushed, or struck off the side of the bridge like a child's toy.

The ogres were soon upon them, arms raised up as their meaty fists were balled up and ready to smash their way through them. The three fighters bent their legs, ready to move out of the way as well as they could. Readying themselves for a difficult fight, they steeled their nerves while the ogres were just a few feet away. With their heart-pounding tension in preparation, it came as a jarring surprise when the darkspawn immediately stopped.

The Warden-Commander could barely believe his eyes. Never before had he ever seen the nightmarish beasts act in such a way. They looked almost dumbstruck, halted in their tracks as their eyes looked away from them aimlessly. An even bigger shock came to them as the ogres began to retreat, the bulky darkspawn walking away from the Grey Wardens without so much as a growl of anger, moving back into the ranks far off where they were first seen.

An earth-shattering roar split through the air itself, like the crackling sound of lightning amplified by the roaring fires far below them, it felt as though the world was collapsing in on itself. The source of it was seen soon enough, a massive form heading straight for them. They didn't even have a chance to get a clear look at the blackened hide of the monster as it hurtled toward them. The mighty wings on its back created a powerful gust as they flapped, nearly knocking them off their feet and blowing the lifeless bodies of the fallen darkspawn off the edge of the bridge. Grunts of pain escaped the commander and Seren, both nearly toppling over as they clutched at their heads, feeling as though arrows of fire were piercing through their skulls.

Eyes stinging from the lashes that the air itself struck them with, the commander tried to look at what was coming toward them. All he saw was a gaping maw, jaws stretched wide to reveal thick fangs as sharp as any blade. “Get down!” he shouted as he threw himself to the stone floor. He looked at his fellows and saw Aseril do the same, but Seren still stood there.

The mage was frozen in place, a look of utter terror written on his face. Even as Commander Cousland shouted at him, Seren did not move. All the warrior could do was look on in horror as he saw the mage plucked from the bridge, trapped in the flying beast's jaws. For a split moment, he could hear Seren's pained cries before they were overpowered by the creature who had him.

With a swift jerk of its neck, the monster released the mage caught in its jaws. From the bridge, only a mass of flailing limbs could be seen as Seren disappeared into the cavernous depths under them. The two Grey Wardens who remained slowly returned to their feet, already hearing the beating wings of the monster as it came flying back toward them. But instead of trying to knock them away like it did their mage friend, it landed on the bridge in front of them, separating them from the darkspawn.

Looking at the monster fully, the Warden-Commander mirrored the expression that Seren had moments ago. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, he could only stare at the powerful dragon in bewilderment. Its twisted, gnarled hide was an unholy black. Spikes jutted from its body at all angles, from its neck down to its thrashing tail. At its mouth, many of the dragon's sharp fangs were so large that they protruded from its mouth as the jaws were unable to contain them.

“No...” the Warden breathed. “It can't be... this isn't possible...” No matter how much he wanted to say otherwise, there was no denying what he saw. One of the fearsome leaders of the darkspawn, an Archdemon. The very monster he had slain before, stopping the Blight as it nearly wiped out his entire homeland.

The commander's knuckles began to ache from his tightening grip on his sword, his teeth nearly cracked as his jaw locked in place. As his sights narrowed on the corrupted god, his entire body began to tremble with building rage. “Aseril,” he said quickly, not looking away from the black dragon, “we have to stop this thing, here and now! We can't let it take the horde to the surface, we can't let another Blight ravage Ferelden! If both of us have to die to make that happen, we need to cut it down!”

As if sensing his defiant ways, the Archdemon reared its head back and released another ear-splitting roar. But the commander didn't falter, readying himself to charge at the beast. Behind him, he could hear a footstep, knowing that Aseril was doing the same.

“I'm right behind you,” the young Grey Warden then replied, his tone low, barely above a whisper.

Something was wrong, it was a sudden sensation within the Warden's disconnected thoughts. But he wasn't able to react, unknown of what it was until his nerves flared up in painful agony, feeling the sharp edge of a blade slice through his flesh. A cry of a gasp escaped him, his body feeling as though it was set on fire from the inside. The blade cut into his side, its edge scraping against the bone of his ribcage.

The Warden fell to his knees, sword clattering to the ground, his hand pressed against the wound as his blood seeped out of it. From afar, he could hear a low roar coming from the Archdemon. His heart stopped as he realized what it sounded like. Laughter. Looking up at the dragon, the commander was in full view as something began to happen to it.

Mouth open wide, a fire could be seen forming in its throat. But it was not the blazing red torrent as it should be, but a dark emerald crackling behind its fangs. The flame roared from its maw, flowing out and wrapping around its entire body. As the green flames encircled it, the Archdemon began to change.

The dragon began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller as the rest of its body altered in its entirety. The large talons on its feet began to recede into itself, its feet completely disappearing until all that was left of the legs were flat stumps. What were once massive wings became fragile things, looking tattered and papery that fidgeted on their own while creating a soft buzz. The thick, black hide covering its body became smooth, just as the spikes protruding from it disappeared, leaving behind only a single curved horn at its forehead.