Pride and Spirit (Dragon Age: Origins) *Complete*

[Wig_Powder]

After some encouragement from some of the other members here (and thanks for that) I'm going to post this story here. Unlike my previous stories, which were complete, I'm going to upload this one chapter at a time, both to keep myself motivated and to keep my posts from being huge. My hope is to get out at least one chapter a week, though I won't have a set posting day.

As I mentioned in my other posts, this is probably going to be long, and not every chapter is going to include sneezing. In fact, I'm guessing we won't be getting any sneezing until Chapter 2. I appreciate you sticking with the story until then, and then in the chapters where the sneezing is light on the ground.

Some background for those of you who haven't played the game; one of your missions in the game is to go to the tower where mages/wizards hone their skills (and are kept prisoner, but that's not really relevant to this story) and kill all the demons who are trying to take it over. This story begins right after our heroes have completed that task...

***

Prologue

Grey Warden Amell kept her arm around First Enchanter Irving, helping him down towards the bottom of the Circle tower. The rest of her party followed behind them, Wynne casting healing spells to try to help Irving regain some of his strength. “You appear to have learned much from your time outside the Circle,” Irving said, “I’ve often said to Greagoir that experience is just as important a teacher as books and practice. Of course, he doesn’t see it that way.”

“Perhaps he does,” Amell responded dryly, “And that’s why he limits the amount of mages who can go out to assist during wartime. He doesn’t want us getting too powerful.”

Irving chuckled faintly. “There could be truth to that. Though after you were able to cleanse the tower of all demons, perhaps he’ll see the merit in allowing for supervised excursions.”

Before Amell could respond, they reached the floor for the senior mages, and a nervous looking young man rushed up to them. “First Enchanter! Enchanter Wynne! Thank the Maker!”

“What is it, Doyle?” Irving asked, instantly on alert.

“We need your help! Enchanter Leorah tried to shelter some of us in the storage caves, but she eventually fell while protecting us and the demons started to come through. We all banded together to resist them, but Apprentice Prescott was killed during their final assault. One of the demons seized the opportunity and entered his body before we could stop it, but we worked together to throw up a barrier to keep it contained. But our energy is failing us, and we don’t have the strength to kill it. Can you help us?”

“Unfortunately, my strength is at a low ebb as well,” Irving said, “But I will see what I can do. And if I am unable to do it, Wynne or Warden Amell should be able to dispatch it. Lead the way, Doyle.”

Doyle hurried forward, though he obligingly stopped every few minutes to wait for the party to catch up. Amell tried to quicken her pace in response, wondering how she and her party had missed this when they’d been climbing the tower. Perhaps it had happened shortly after they’d departed. She regretted the stress the apprentices had gone through, and hoped she’d be able to correct any mistake she’d inadvertently made.

Doyle led them down into the caves, where nearly a dozen mages were clustered around a circle of milky white light, similar to the cage that had held the templar Cullen. Irving gently pushed away from Amell and straightened up, walking a bit shakily towards the group. Amell followed right behind him, both to support him if he stumbled and to get a good look at what they were dealing with.

To her surprise, instead of a twisted abomination, the figure in the barrier looked like a normal man, albeit one who was looking around at the group with amused contempt. She vaguely recognized him from her time in the Circle; while he was older than her by a few years, he had come to the Circle later than she had, having been hidden by his parents for as long as possible before being forced to give him up to the Templars. They hadn’t interacted much, but he’d seemed nice enough, and took his studies seriously. While it was a shame that this had happened to him, at least he hadn’t succumbed to the demon’s temptation. It made it easier to know that there truly was nothing of Prescott left inside that body.

As she reached for her staff, the thing that had once been Prescott took a good look at the new arrivals, and his eyes gleamed as they landed on her. “Well well well,” he said, “No wonder I haven’t seen you for some time. I was wondering where you’d got to.”

Amell froze in her tracks. She knew that voice, and it wasn’t because of her familiarity with Prescott. Unable to stop herself, she blurted out the only thing that came to mind.

“Mouse?”

 

[Red Ring of Death]

Yoooo, I'm always in for Dragon Age, no matter if there's snz or not lol I'm just excited for more Dragon Age! AND Mouse, what a pleasant surprise!

I'm glad you decided to upload this -thumbs up-

[Wig_Powder]

Thank you! I hope you keep enjoying it, especially once the sneezes finally show up.

[Wig_Powder]

I had both the time and the motivation, so have another chapter.

This seems like a good time to warn everybody that there will be spoilers for the Dragon Age games (mostly minor but at least two major ones) scattered throughout the story, so keep that in mind if you're interested in ever playing them for yourself.

***

Chapter 1

As Mouse smirked in acknowledgement, Irving’s voice, tinged with both surprise and disapproval, spoke. “You know this demon, Warden Amell?”

Amell wrenched her gaze away from Mouse and forced herself to meet Irving’s eyes. “During my Harrowing…he was the demon I was pitted against. He claimed to be a fallen apprentice, who had learned to take on the shape of a mouse to survive. He…he helped me defeat a rage demon before revealing his true colors.”

“I see,” Irving said, giving her a look that still made her insides shrivel with shame, even though he was no longer her teacher, “Well, despite his aid then, he is a problem now. We cannot allow him to walk free, and therefore he must be slain.”

Amell nodded reluctantly and reached for her staff again. As her fingers closed around the wood, a thought flashed through her mind, and she turned back to Irving. “Wait.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Irving answered, “We must cleanse the tower of all demons before we can speak to Greagoir. And the apprentices can’t maintain this barrier for much longer.”

Amell swallowed and spoke quickly. “What if we bound him instead?”

“You can’t bind a demon!” Doyle said, having rejoined the group casting the barrier, “It’ll break through the bonds within seconds, unless they’re heavily enchanted. And even then…”

“I didn’t mean with ropes or chains,” Amell said, “I meant with magic.”

She maintained eye contact with Irving, who gave her a startled look. “You speak of the spells they use in Tevinter.”

She nodded. “I read about them while trying to research the Fade. I had been hoping to find ways to protect myself against demon influence. The book didn’t say how it worked or how one cast the spell, but surely the First Enchanter would have some idea.”

“Even if I did,” Irving said, folding his arms and looking at her intently, “That spell is used on spirits, not demons. There is no guarantee it would work. And if it does, what use would you have for a demon?”

“There’s a Blight on our hands,” Amell pointed out, “And we need all the help we can get. Besides, the legends say that the corruption that creates the Blight came from the Fade. And he,” she gestured at Mouse, “Is from the Fade. Perhaps he’ll have some insight into how to stop the Archdemon.”

Irving looked her over critically. “You would have him bound to you, then?”

Amell nodded. “If something should go wrong, my friends and allies will be there to slay him.”

Irving continued to scrutinize her. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Mouse spoke up.

“If it’s either death or enslavement, I believe enslavement would be preferable. And this way, I’ve achieved my purpose of escaping the Fade.”

Irving turned to him. “Then you would submit to this willingly?”

“Well,” Mouse amended with a dark smile, “If she can subdue me first. I need to know I’ve been bested before I’ll surrender.”

Amell looked at him, then back at Irving. “Can you do the binding spell?”

Irving sighed. “Yes.”

“Do you have the strength to do it now?”

“If Wynne would be good enough to support me.”

Wynne’s lips were pursed in disapproval, but she nodded. Amell took her staff off her back and stood right at the edge of the barrier, gripping it tightly with both hands. “Then drop the protection, and back away as far as you can.”

The apprentices, looking nervous, lowered their hands and hurried to the far corner of the cave. As the magic fizzled out, Mouse bared his teeth in a grin and started to raise his hands…

…Only to be smacked in the face by Amell’s staff, which she’d swung at him with all her might. As he toppled to the ground, Amell hit him first with Mind Blast, then with Winter’s Grasp. “Hurry, First Enchanter!” she said, “Bind him!”

With Wynne behind him, casting spells of mana and health rejuvenation, Irving stepped forward and held out his hands, waving them in a complicated pattern. Something that looked like a silver thread appeared, floating over to Amell and Mouse. One end looped around Mouse’s left wrist, while the other went around Amell’s right wrist. While Amell couldn’t actually feel any weight on her wrist, her whole body seemed to tingle for a few seconds. Irving sent out a pulse of magic, and the thread disappeared from view, the tingling subsiding at the same time. “It is done,” Irving said, lowering his hands, “He is now bound to you until such time as you decide to release him. He must follow any direct order you give him, and he will be unable to hurt you directly. As he is a demon, however, I would suggest you keep an eye on him and make sure you word your requests very carefully. I’m sure he’ll find any excuse he can to disobey you.”

Amell nodded and turned her attention to Mouse, who still looked dazed, though there was no way to tell if it was from the Mind Blast or from the initial blow. “Stand up.” she said, her tone gentle but firm. She needed to make sure the spell had worked, after all.

Mouse promptly rose to his feet, though he swayed immediately afterwards and put a hand to his head. “That was…unexpected.” he said, though it was hard to say if he was impressed or bitter.

“That was the point,” Amell answered, “Now then, can you still shapeshift into your mouse form? Or did you lose that ability when you took over Prescott?”

"Of course I can,” Mouse said indignantly, “What would be the point of wanting to leave the Fade if we lost our power? Although…” he jerked his left hand, “I suppose I’ve lost it in a different way, haven’t I?”

Amell ignored his grumbling. “Then I want you to change into a mouse. Greagoir will ask questions if he sees Prescott with us, and we don’t want him to find out about what happened. Grey Warden or not, it’s only going to end badly for all of us.”

Mouse gave a curt nod, and with a brief flash of light, he disappeared, replaced by the large brown mouse she remembered from her Harrowing. She knelt down and grabbed onto him, not wanting him to try to make a run for it. “Greagoir’s probably also going to wonder what I’m doing carrying a mouse, so you’ll have to stay in my pack until we’re out of the tower. Don’t make any noise.”

Mouse sighed as she put him in her pack, sticking him inside one of the cinderfel gauntlets she’d acquired during the cleansing of the tower to try to keep him both comfortable and quiet. “It seems I’m going to have to get used to these indignities,” he said, “What a fall from grace.”

“Quiet,” Amell reminded him, slinging the pack over her shoulder again before looking back at Irving, “After you, First Enchanter.”

Irving gave her another dubious look, then started to make his way out of the caves. The rest of the apprentices hurried after him, with Wynne moving amongst them to give them healing. Amell and the rest of her party brought up the rear, mostly to prevent anything (be they demons or giant spiders) from mounting a surprise attack. “That was quite an unusual move,” Leliana commented after a few minutes, “However did you think of it?”

Amell chuckled. “I think I’ve been hanging around Alistair too much. Don’t tell him, though; I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Leliana laughed lightly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Amell grinned, though her grin faded a little as she wondered how Alistair and the rest of her group would react to the other secret that was no doubt mentally cursing in her pack at the moment. Well, she’d made her decision, and now they’d all have to live with it. She only hoped Mouse wouldn’t be more trouble than he was worth.

***

With most of the setup now out of the way, I'm hoping to get to the sneezing in the next chapter. And in case any of you wanted to know a bit more about Mouse, here's a video I found of the player's first encounter with him;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dd_Kk_TCxjw

No I'm totally not doing this because Mouse is voiced by Dominic Keating what are you talking about

 

 

Edited February 15, 2019 by Wig_Powder

[Sitruuna]

Ooooh nice
I was very curious about who you were talking about when you first asked around if ppl might be interested in this and unless you are going to surprise us by introducing some other "obscure" character and making this be about them I have to say I like your choice of character.

I'm definitely looking forward to reading more of this!

[LeapYearKisses]

Aaaa as I am not done with Origins yet, I think I'll have to stop myself from reading in entirety, but it's great so far!  I actually do know the character, since I started as a mage.   Thanks for sharing your fic!  I do think it's fun to read fic that has sneeze in it but is not a sneeze-only fic. 

[Wig_Powder]

@Sitruuna I can safely say that Mouse is the character I was talking about. I'm glad he's someone you're interested in reading about!

@LeapYearKisses Hope you enjoy the rest of the game! It's got a lot of interesting elements.

And now, the next chapter, as well as the promised sneezing...

Chapter 2

As expected, the discovery that Amell had added a demon to their band did not go over well with the rest of the party. Leliana seemed the most accepting of it, believing that the Maker had sent Mouse (it felt disrespectful to call him Prescott) to aid with the Blight. Sten appeared to disapprove, though since he disapproved of almost everything, Amell interpreted that as general indifference. Morrigan did seem faintly impressed by Amell’s boldness in trying to harness a demon, but firmly stated that “he will not be placed anywhere close to my tent.” Wynne avoided Mouse as much as possible, and took every opportunity to warn Amell to be on her guard. Amell’s Mabari always growled or barked whenever Mouse got too close, which Mouse mostly tried to ignore. Though he did occasionally shoot back with a growl of his own, something deep and guttural that caused the hairs on Amell’s skin to stand on end. The Mabari would quiet down after that, but continue to stand and glare at Mouse for the rest of the night.

Alistair, meanwhile, was the most vocal opponent of the idea. “What were you thinking?” He’d demanded the first night back at camp, “Didn’t it occur to you that he could make our lives more difficult instead of less? Maybe he’ll give off an aura that draws the attention of the darkspawn! Or find some way to communicate with the Archdemon! Or ‘accidentally’ set the camp on fire!”

“I believe he can be beneficial to us,” Amell responded, “If you disapprove so strongly, you can remain behind at Redcliffe and help train the garrisons there.”

“No,” Alistair said reluctantly, “I want to see this through, and to make sure Teyrn Loghain gets punished for his actions. Just…make sure he keeps his distance from me.”

For his part, Mouse didn’t much seem to care how anybody felt about his presence. In fact, there were times when Amell could have sworn he took a sort of perverse pleasure in throwing out insults (“After you, o bastard prince.”) or seeds of doubt (“Beware of bandying about your vision from the Maker, Sister; I’m sure the Chantry would frown on so much pride.”) whenever he found an opportunity. While it did nothing to improve the group’s opinion of him, Amell figured verbal attacks were a safer way for him to express his displeasure than physical ones, and thus only silenced him if he appeared to be going too far for one day.

Although outsiders may have thought Amell wasn’t taking the warnings of Irving, Wynne, and the others seriously, the truth was she was doing her best to take precautions. She never left Mouse alone at camp, making him accompany her and remain close to her side whenever they travelled. When they were in camp, she pitched two tents, one for her and one for Mouse, at the edge of the perimeter, and cast various wards and glyphs that would keep him from leaving the tent until she dispelled them. She never gave him anything to carry to prevent him from tampering with it, and always made sure to relay instructions to him clearly and firmly, doing her best to make sure there was no loophole to exploit. Mouse threw plenty of barbs her way for this, but he mostly seemed to accept them, and in this way a fragile truce was maintained.

In order to prevent the group from seeing Mouse as a useless addition (although one who at least didn’t use up resources besides the occasional health poultice), Amell found ways to use him. Besides spending every evening asking him what he knew about the Fade and the corruption that led to Archdemons and Blights, she would sometimes order him to transform into a mouse and scout ahead, reporting truthfully and accurately on what he’d seen. And when she knew they were heading into a fight, she would give him permission to use magic to defend himself and the party, giving express instructions that would keep him from finding a way to injure other members of the group. While he never said anything other than a sarcastic “yes, my liege” to that, she suspected he appreciated the brief moments when he was allowed to use some of his magic. She only hoped that those moments were enough to keep the worst of his resentment at bay.

***

And so the weeks passed, with everybody in the group gradually getting used to each other. Along the way, they managed to acquire two new companions; Zevran, an assassin, and Shale, a golem. Amell had welcomed both of them into the group for the same reason she had “recruited” Mouse (i.e. the more help the better), and she couldn’t help but note with some amusement that each of them had something in common with the demon. In Zevran’s case, he should by all rights have been considered an enemy but had reasons for cooperating. And in Shale’s case, it theoretically should have been compelled to obey via a control rod, though things hadn’t exactly worked out that way. Perhaps that was why Mouse seemed to get along better with the two of them. Shale didn’t seem to care one way or the other if he was a demon, just seeing him as another sack of meat. Zevran, meanwhile, came dangerously close to tempting fate by constantly bringing up Mouse’s being bound to Amell, but he almost always did it with the suggestion that Mouse was being used as a love slave. The suggestions and innuendos were so obviously outlandish that nobody could take it seriously, not even Mouse. Instead, he would just smile and say something along the lines of “There’s nothing like that between us, but I’m still closer to her than you’ll ever be”, which Zevran always took as a delightful retort. Amell suspected that if Mouse ever did manage to break free of the bond, Zevran would be the last one Mouse tried to kill.

In the third month after Mouse’s arrival, the party finally reached the Frostback Mountains as they made their way to Haven, the only lead they had on Andraste’s ashes and the cure for Arl Eamon. True to the region’s name (and the fact that it was getting into winter), they began encountering patches of snow on the ground, and the temperatures dropped considerably, especially during the night. Nobody particularly enjoyed the cold weather, but Mouse seemed especially appalled. “You really mean to tell me this is normal for the human realm for at least four months of the year?!” he demanded, sitting as close to the fire as he could during the first night in the mountains.

“What’s the matter, demon?” Alistair asked, as he passed by on his way to stand watch, “You don’t have winter in the Fade?”

“I have heard other demons speak of dreams of winter,” Mouse admitted, “But there was never a mention of the cold.”

“Well, it’s not a sensation most people enjoy,” Amell said, “I’m not surprised dreamers would leave that aspect out.” In fact, now that she thought about it, the temperature in the Fade had always been either perfectly comfortable or just a little too warm whenever she’d been there. Certainly that had been the case during her Harrowing. It made sense, then, that Mouse was unfamiliar with the concept.

Mouse shuddered. “Any demon who manages to pierce the Veil during this season must be in for quite an unpleasant surprise.”

“Indeed,” Amell said, making a note to pass this information on to Irving at the next opportunity, “And speaking of the Veil, tell me more about how you demons can sense the presence of death through it.”

Mouse continued to complain about the cold, but everyone ignored it, or in some cases saw it as a respite from his usual snide remarks. It wasn’t until the fourth day that things changed, in a very unexpected way.

The group was making their way through the mountain pass, gingerly climbing upwards to avoid slipping on the rocky and occasionally icy ground, when Amell noticed a patch of elfroot that looked to be in good condition. Since having elfroot handy for poultices was always advisable, she instructed the party to have a rest while she collected as much as she could. She was just snipping off her fifth or sixth stalk when…

“Et-kshhh!”

Amell looked up, surprised at the sound, and glanced over her shoulder to see what had made the noise. The first thing she saw was most of the rest of her team looking just as surprised as she was. The second thing she saw was Mouse, touching his face and looking horrified. “What was that?” he said, taking his hand away and staring at something on his fingers.

“It’s called a sneeze,” Leliana answered, “It’s what the body does to expel irritants that get up your nose.”

Mouse rubbed at his nose. “That would explain why it’s felt so…full.”

Alistair, Morrigan, and Shale simultaneously made a disgusted noise. Mouse tried to glare at them, but his eyes involuntarily closed, his head tipped back, and…

“Heh-CHHT!”

His head snapped downwards on the sneeze, causing him to spray his own clothes. He looked up again, a dazed expression on his face. Amell assumed it was from the force of the sneeze, until she saw his shoulders rise slightly and his eyes close again. “Ah…Aktshhh!”

He sniffed loudly, causing another round of disgusted noises. “Blow your nose, for the Maker’s sake!” Alistair demanded.

“Wh-what?” Mouse managed to say, before sneezing yet again. “TISHH!”

Amell quickly stuck the elfroot in her pack and pulled out one of her handkerchiefs, handing it to Mouse. “Here.”

He took it from her, then looked from it to her, blinking uncomprehendingly. Or maybe it was just a prelude to another sneeze. “Hupshhh!!”

That’s when Amell remembered that if he wasn’t familiar with the concept of sneezing, then he probably didn’t know the proper way to handle them. She took the handkerchief back and put it to Mouse’s face, covering his nose. “Just…exhale through your nose, as hard as you can.”

Mouse gave her a baffled, suspicious look, but obeyed. Moments later, his eyes widened, and she could see the relief in them. “There you go,” she said, placing the cloth back in his hand, “Doing that will help clear out your nose, and keep it from making too much of a mess and causing even more discomfort. You should sneeze into the handkerchief too, for the same reasons.”

(She decided she wasn’t going to tell him about the other reason one should use a handkerchief; if he found out about that, she’d probably have to start ordering him not to single-handedly perform germ warfare.)

Mouse nodded, closing his hand around the handkerchief and holding it close to his chest, as if he wanted to be ready the moment another sneeze manifested. Amell turned her attention back to the elfroot, assuming she’d dealt with the worst of the issue.

Instead, Mouse continued to sneeze for the rest of the day’s journey, and Amell noticed after a while that he wasn’t keeping pace with her like he normally was. But the thing that really made her realize something was wrong was the fact that he wasn’t verbally responding to the comments the other party members were making. Having witnessed Amell have to teach Mouse how to use a handkerchief, some of them immediately decided to use this as a way to get revenge for all the comments he’d lobbed at them over the last three months. This ranged from variations of “How the mighty have fallen” to laughing over how things had to be done for him by a mere human. Ordinarily, Mouse would have fired back with something cutting, but based on what Amell saw when she started glancing over her shoulder, he was either responding with glares or just wasn’t registering the comments at all.

There was, however, one exception to this. Leliana and Alistair had both taken to saying “Maker’s blessing” every time Mouse sneezed, and Amell could see him visibly flinch each time they did so. It made sense—if the Maker had turned His back on spirits, it stood to reason that they wouldn’t respond well to His name, and doubly so if they were demons. The only thing Amell was uncertain of was whether Leliana was doing it out of habit or to deliberately cause Mouse further discomfort.

Initially, she allowed it, as she allowed Mouse’s usual insults. But the more it happened, the more she was reminded of her time in the Circle, of the jeers some of the Templars would toss out to apprentice mages who failed a spell, mocking them for their lack of power while fearing that power at the same time. When she saw Mouse grimace yet again (after a particularly harsh sneeze, no less), she decided something had to be done.

“Leave off that, you two,” she called over her shoulder, “I don’t think Mouse appreciates it very much.”

“And we do not appreciate the insults he throws out on a constant basis,” Morrigan answered, “Surely you would not deny us a chance for a little revenge?”

“I haven’t denied it to you for four hours,” Amell answered, “And I think that’s enough for one day. Besides, it would probably be better to save your breath for the climb.” She suspected nobody was particularly happy with that response, but the jabs at Mouse obligingly stopped until they were ready to make camp for the night.

As soon as they had found a suitable location, Amell’s first action was to stake out her spot and then make a fire. Then she told Mouse to sit in front of it while she prepared the tents. Once that was done, she sat beside him and got a good look at him. Even by firelight, it confirmed what she suspected. While his face was unhealthily pale, his cheeks were flushed red, and his nose was redder still. He was also shivering despite being close to the fire, and his eyes, normally sharp and cunning, had a vacant look about them. She sighed. “A new discovery for both of us, it seems. Demons can catch cold.”

“So it’s the cold that’s irritating my nose, then?” Mouse asked, rubbing said appendage harshly. When Amell nodded, he continued “Then I suggest we get out of this pass as soon as possible, in order for the warmth to chase it away.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” Amell said, realizing the confusion, “It’s not that the cold temperature itself is making you sneeze, not directly; it’s that the cold weather has caused you to become ill with something we call a cold.”

“Why would you deliberately confuse yourself like that?” Mouse said, “It’s just bound to lead to miscommunication.”

“It’s just the way humans are sometimes.” Amell answered.

“More like most of the time, from what I’ve…” Mouse began, before he abruptly cut off and raised the handkerchief, which was looking quite bedraggled at this point, to his face. “ESHH!” He cursed in an unknown language as he finished, shivering harshly, and Amell winced in sympathy. “Is there anything you can do about this?” he asked, in a tone that somehow came across as both demanding and pleading.

“Not very much,” Amell said, “Health poultices only close wounds and stop bleeding, and injury kits only fix damaged bones and organs. The best one can do for illnesses like this is to rest and stay warm. Though there are medicines you can take to reduce fevers. I was never good at making those, but perhaps I could ask Morrigan or Wynne to make some for you.”

“Given that they both seem likely to poison me instead, I’d rather not,” Mouse said, a bit of his old bite returning, “Besides, it would give them more to taunt me with.”

“I’d ensure neither of those happened.” Amell promised.

“Yes, but they aren’t forced to follow your orders, are they?” Mouse spat.

Amell sighed again. “If you don’t want me to ask, I won’t. But if you won’t take something for the fever, it’s going to make travelling more difficult for you.”

“I’ll manage,” Mouse insisted, “As long as you keep your demands to a minimum.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Amell said, “In the meantime, give that here.”

She took the sopping handkerchief back from him and cast a drying spell on it before returning it. Then she rummaged around in her pack until she found a spare blanket. “I don’t know if you actually sleep when you’re in your tent,” she said, draping it around Mouse’s shoulders, “But this should help keep you a little warmer either way.”

Mouse blinked at her in momentary surprise, then drew the blanket a little tighter around him. “I suppose it’s time for your usual barrage of questions about the Fade?”

“Not tonight,” Amell answered, “You can just stay by the fire to warm up for a while. Or you can rest in your tent, whichever you prefer.”

He gave her another surprised look. Then his eyes abruptly closed and he brought the handkerchief back to his face. “Heh-KISHH!”

“Swift healing.”

Mouse blinked at her over the top of the handkerchief. She smiled faintly. “The Templars may insist that we mages pray in the Chantry, but given our circumstances, quite a few of us doubt that we’re blessed. So we use an alternate phrase.”

“I see,” Mouse said after a moment, “Very…well-reasoned.”

He gingerly got to his feet, groaning a little. “Perhaps it would be best if I went to my tent. I imagine we’ve got another long march ahead of us tomorrow.”

Before Amell could respond to that, he disappeared inside the tent. Amell started casting the various wards and glyphs, wincing whenever she heard a sneeze. When she got to Haven, she promised herself, one of the first things she’d do was to find a shop and buy some extra handkerchiefs. She had a feeling Mouse was going to need them.

***

Next time: The group gets to Haven, Mouse's condition gets worse, and things get complicated...

[starpollen]

I have no idea about this fandom but I love the story.  Looking forward to more!

[Sitruuna]

A very nice chapter. Non-humans experiencing illness for the first time is always a good trope. I'm very eager to see how his illness progresses... 👀

 

[Wig_Powder]

@starpollen Thanks for checking this out even if you're not familiar with the fandom! It's very flattering when that happens!

@Sitruuna Hopefully you'll enjoy this next chapter, then...

WARNING for those of you who are interesting in playing the game yourself: this chapter contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the events of the Urn of Sacred Ashes quest.

Chapter 3

The next day’s hike wasn’t particularly pleasant, for a variety of reasons. There was a biting wind they had to fight against, stinging their eyes and causing them to draw their cloaks tight around them as they fought to move forward. The patches of snow and ice were gradually growing larger, meaning they had to watch their steps through narrowed eyes. While there was no snowfall, the sky was dark grey, making it hard to tell how much time had passed. And perhaps due to a combination of all these factors, the entire party was snappish, all of them complaining about one thing or another. Zevran bemoaned what the wind was doing to his hair and skin, the Mabari literally whined whenever his paws touched snow, Shale grumbled about how slow everyone else was, and Wynne kept huffing that no one was following her advice. As for Amell, she griped about everyone else’s griping, wondering aloud at least once an hour how she had wound up with this group, much less leading them. Fortunately, nobody was in much of a mood to come to blows; all of them seemed to understand the complaints were a way of dealing with the situation and not meant personally.

Amell had been expecting Mouse to be the worst offender in all this, but while he did occasionally grouse about the cold, his sneezing, and the general frailty of humans, he was once again mostly staying quiet, which was honestly more worrying. He did manage to keep pace with the rest of them, but he was generally close to the back, his motions automatic and sluggish. Since he had no cloak, Amell had turned the blanket she’d given him into a makeshift one, and whenever she looked back to check on the group, he was generally holding it tight around him with one hand and keeping the handkerchief close to his face with the other. He was looking increasingly haggard and miserable, and Amell found herself feeling sorry for him, especially since his slow pace was one of the things the others were complaining about. She was wary of extending too much sympathy to him, unsure if this was all a ruse to make her let her guard down, but she did make sure they rested frequently and used that time to dry everyone’s boots and Mouse’s handkerchief. He never thanked her for it, but she didn’t expect him to. Even when ill, she didn’t expect his demeanor to change that much.

Somehow, despite all the hardships, the group reached the outskirts of Haven that evening. They made camp in a place where their fires hopefully wouldn’t be noticed, and everyone went to bed shortly after they finished eating. Mouse did the same, again refusing to take any sort of draught to help with his symptoms, throwing a suspicious glare in Morrigan and Wynne’s directions as he did so (Morrigan ignored him, while Wynne just pursed her lips and shook her head slightly). Amell sighed and didn’t press the issue, figuring they’d all bickered enough for one day.

The next morning, Amell decided the wisest course of action was to get a lay of the land in Haven so they could figure out what they were dealing with. Not wanting to draw too much attention, she decided Alistair, Leliana, and her dog should accompany her. Then she looked over at Mouse’s tent, considering. She hadn’t dispelled her wards yet, wanting to let Mouse rest for as long as possible (while also not having to worry about him causing trouble), and she was considering keeping them up while she and the others did their reconnaissance. When she mentioned this aloud, however, nobody seemed to think it was a good idea.

“What if your spells should fail?” Sten asked, “Then he will be loose in the camp, with no one to keep him in check.”

“And there’s a chance we’ll run into trouble in Haven,” Alistair chimed in, “If that happens, you should have all your mana available, instead of continually using some of it to keep the glyphs active.”

Morrigan didn’t mince words. “Keeping him in the camp is foolish. I won’t stay here if he’s allowed to be left to his own devices.”

The dog just looked at the tent and growled.

“Remember your teachings from the Circle,” Wynne said, “Demons are cunning. Even if he truly is ill, he’s still fully capable of turning things to his advantage.”

Leliana was probably the kindest about it. “You should probably have him on hand to keep an eye on him. What if he starts displaying new symptoms and doesn’t know what to do about them? Or if they somehow start interfering with his powers and the bond?”

“Why should he get a break when the rest of us do not?” Zevran said, “Isn’t it better for all of us to be treated equally?”

Shale was…Shale. “Bring the bound rodent along. I’d appreciate the respite from his noises.”

Faced with a unanimous opinion, Amell relented. Dispelling the wards, she roused Mouse and waited for him to emerge. When he finally did, the makeshift cloak drawn tight around him, she couldn’t repress a wince at how exhausted and cold he looked. His extremely chapped and red nose didn’t help much either. “We’re going to explore Haven,” she said, “Will you be able to keep up?”

"As long as you don’t insist on running everywhere,” Mouse answered, his voice hoarse and thick with congestion, “And as long as we spend as little time as possible out…SICHHH!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, drying the handkerchief for him once he’d lowered it from his face, “You have my word on the first, though I can’t guarantee the second.”

Mouse groaned, then attempted to shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to live with that. Lead the way.” Amell nodded, called the rest of her team, and then set out.

The walk to Haven was mostly uneventful. Everyone was too busy concentrating on the walk or discussing what they might find in the town to talk about more personal matters, which at least meant that Amell didn’t have to put a stop to any biting comments. She couldn’t help but notice, however, that Mouse’s sneezes were coming less frequently, counterbalanced by being louder and harsher. It was obvious that his cold was getting worse instead of better, and it was seeming increasingly unlikely that he was just putting on an act. She felt guilty for having caved in to the pressure of the rest of the group, and vowed that, once they’d made headway on finding the ashes, she’d slow the group’s pace and allow at least one full day of rest. She’d still have to be on her guard against potential tricks, but it seemed like the most reasonable course of action.

When they arrived in Haven, it became immediately obvious that there was something suspicious going on, since there was a guard barring entrance to the town and the group found out that a male was the head of the Chantry here, which went against all established conventions. Unfortunately, they couldn’t seem to convince the guard to let them into the town to learn more…until Mouse sneezed. “HRESHHH!!”

As the guard looked at him in surprise, Amell seized her opportunity. “Please, ser, my friend here has been made ill by the cold weather, and as you can see, he lost his cloak during our journey. Won’t you at least allow us in to get him a new one? We’re more than happy to pay for it.”

The guard still looked at her suspiciously, but Mouse’s condition was hard to ignore. “Very well. But don’t linger.”

“Thank you, ser.” Amell said, giving him a grateful smile and bow of the head as the rest of the group moved past him. As soon as they were out of sight, Amell made eye contact with her Mabari and subtly inclined her head. The dog immediately wagged his tail, then barked and ran off in a random direction. “Get back here!” Amell called, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “He must have seen a cat or something. Alistair, Leliana, go find him. Mouse and I will go the shop and pick up his cloak and some other supplies.”

“Of course,” Alistair said, grinning knowingly, “Leliana, let’s split up so we can cover more ground. Who knows where that dog’s gone off to.”

As they moved away, Amell turned to Mouse to get him to start moving towards the shop, and found him giving her an odd look. Even though he was hunched in on himself, one hand clutching the blanket around himself and the other keeping the handkerchief close to his face, his eyes had the same piercing clarity they’d had when she’d realized his true nature in the Fade. It made her a little nervous, to be honest. “What?” she demanded.

“Very clever,” Mouse answered, and he moved the handkerchief just enough for Amell to see that he was smirking, “I see you’re still quick-thinking.”

“I have to be, to deal with the Blight and you at the same time,” Amell retorted, “Now come on, let’s get you that cloak.”

The shop took a minute to find, as it looked identical to the other houses scattered around the square. Once inside, the shopkeeper didn’t seem particularly happy to see them, and gave curt answers to Amell’s (attempt at) casual questions about the town. He was, however, willing to buy and trade, and Amell offloaded some of the weapons she’d gathered on her travels in exchange for some health poultices, lyrium potions, ten handkerchiefs, a pouch to keep the handkerchiefs in, and a thick brown cloak that he claimed to be the best and warmest he had. Amell thanked him, then dragged Mouse outside to equip him and discuss matters with her team without being overheard. Leaving the blanket around Mouse’s shoulders to provide him with some extra warmth, she put the cloak on him and hooked the ends together. “How is it?” she asked, “Is it keeping the cold out a little better?”

Mouse considered for a moment, then nodded. “It’s still incredibly unpleasant out here, but my body does feel warmer.”

“Good,” Amell said, slipping the handkerchiefs into the pouch and arranging them in such a way that a bit of them stuck out of the top, making them easier to withdraw, “Hopefully you’ll feel warmer the longer you wear it.”

She moved the cloak to the side and attached the pouch to Mouse’s robes. “And now you won’t need me to keep drying your handkerchief every few hours. With luck, you’ll be able to last at least until we make camp now.”

Mouse let out a half-laugh. “I think you’re underestimating how powerful my sneezes can be.” Then, as if to prove his point, he yanked one of the new handkerchiefs out of the pouch and pressed it to his face, snapping forward with the force of the sneeze. “EKTSHHHHH!!!”

“Swift healing.” Amell said, just as she spotted Alistair and Leliana returning, the dog trotting contentedly by their side. “Anything to report?” she asked.

“Most of the town is deserted,” Alistair said, “But the Chantry building at the top of the hill is full of voices. I think they’re all congregated in there.”

“I found your Mabari inside a poorly-latched house,” Leliana added, “He was growling at a bloody altar. Whatever is going on here, I do not think it is something the Maker or Andraste would approve of.”

Amell nodded. “It looks like our only hope of getting answers is to go into the Chantry. It’s a risk barging into a crowded building, but it may also shock someone into saying something. Alistair, take the dog, head back to camp, and send Shale and Sten here. Their size should intimidate the guard into letting them pass, and we’ll have strength on our side if the situation escalates.”

“And me?” Leliana asked.

“You understand Chantry matters. I need you here to tell me if there’s anything out of the ordinary, especially if we wind up having to go through documents. Besides,” Amell smiled, “If the ashes are here, you’re the one most deserving of seeing them.”

Leliana beamed at her. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

Mouse, as was his wont, spoiled the moment. “I imagine you expect me to stay on hand as well.”

“Yes,” Amell answered. “Though I think it’s best for everyone if you just keep to the back and observe. Let me know if you spot anything, but otherwise keep a low profile.”

“Easier said than done at the moment,” Mouse said dryly, waving a hand at his face, “But I’ll attempt to carry out your orders.”

“That’s all I ask. Now let’s get moving. Alistair, tell Shale and Sten to meet us outside the Chantry.” Alistair nodded and set off, the dog hurrying ahead of him to provide a cover for his exit. As he did so, Amell, Leliana, and Mouse made their way towards the area Alistair had indicated. Once they’d made their way up the hill (which was surprisingly steep), they found a corner away from the windows and waited, listening to the murmur of voices in the building. Maybe it was Amell’s anticipation speaking for her, but the longer they waited, the more ominous the sound became.

Shale and Sten finally arrived, Shale chortling over “the pathetic posturing” of the guard. They’d been briefed on the situation by Alistair, so they quickly fell in line behind Amell as she marched to the door and decisively pushed it open.

Sadly, the congregation inside seemed too engrossed by the sermon of the “Revered Father” to take note of her dramatic entrance. For better or for worse, it was once again Mouse’s sneeze that produced results. “EGISHHHH!!!”

Heads immediately turned to look at them, a good number of people backing away when they saw Shale and Sten. The priest, by contrast, was remarkably calm, merely dismissing them as outsiders and calling them rude for interrupting before ending the sermon and sending everyone away. Despite his pleasant demeanor, it only took Amell asking (very politely, if she did say so herself) about the urn for him to set his guards on them. Then again, it only took Amell and the others about three minutes to defeat them, so perhaps it balanced out.

As Amell was examining the bodies, Leliana was heading to the pile of books in the back of the church, Sten was sheathing his weapons and Shale was gloating, there was another loud sneeze from Mouse, followed by an undignified yelp. Amell turned towards the sound, and saw Mouse getting to his feet as he stood in the entrance to a doorway she hadn’t remembered seeing before. Briefly making eye contact with her, he cleared his throat, turned away…and then said “There’s someone in here.” with a note of faint surprise in his voice. Amell quickly brushed past him and entered the room to find a man lying on the ground, groaning in pain. She knelt down, helped him sit up, then gave him some water and a poultice before starting to ask questions. He turned out to be Brother Genitivi, the man they’d been looking for, and he said he knew the location of the urn. It was on the top of a mountain near Haven, and he wanted to go there immediately. Given his weakened state and Mouse’s condition, Amell tried to talk him into at least taking a day’s rest, but Genitivi was insistent, and Leliana pleaded to let him see his life’s work through to the end. Giving up and shooting an apologetic look at Mouse (who just gave a resigned shrug), Amell promised they’d go as soon as she made sure it was safe outside. Twenty minutes of fighting with cultists later, they were on their way.

***

Amell knew they were in for trouble as soon as the door to the old temple was opened. While it was still a grand, beautiful place, time and weather had worn away large sections of the ceiling and walls, allowing piles of snow to accumulate. They were wide enough to cover large sections of the floor, and deep enough that they generally came up to her ankles. To make matters worse, the higher altitude meant that the temperatures were lower and the winds both stronger and more constant. Shale wasn’t affected by the cold, Sten appeared to find it invigorating, Genitivi and Leliana were so enthused about being at Andraste’s final resting place that they seemed oblivious to the temperature, and Amell’s Grey Warden abilities had raised her body temperature so that she was much more tolerant to cold. Mouse, on the other hand…

Within minutes of walking inside, Mouse’s shivering seemed to double, even with his new cloak providing warmth. Watching him pull both the cloak and the blanket around himself as tightly as he could, involuntarily hunching in on himself as he did so, Amell felt a sharp pang of guilt for having dragged him along, even if it was only partially her fault. To make matters worse, the group soon discovered that the temple was swarming with cultists, which would slow their progress even further. After battling a dozen cultists and a Bronto just to clear out the main hall, Amell made up her mind on how to handle the situation. Or rather, Mouse’s situation.

“All right, listen very carefully, Mouse,” she said, as the five of them stood in front of the door that would take them deeper into the temple (Genitivi had chosen to remain behind to study the architecture and statues in the hall), “For as long as we’re in this temple, I want you to wait next to the entryway of every door we enter until I tell you to come in. That way, you can conserve your strength and won’t have to participate in the fighting. However, if you happen to encounter cultists anyway, you have my permission to use whatever spells or powers you have that will allow you to deal with the problem quickly. Just take a moment to make sure that it’s a cultist and not one of us. Understood?”

Mouse nodded, pressing his back up against the wall near the door’s hinges and sliding down it, trying to arrange the cloak and blanket to cover all of his body. “Repeat what I just told you.” Amell said, wanting to be absolutely sure he had registered what she’d said.

“S-stay by the d-doors until you’ve c-cleared a room of enemies and h-have c-called for me,” Mouse said, teeth chattering, “B-but I c-can use my m-magic if an enemy a-approaches, as l-long as I m-make sure it’s not one of your p-party first.” He looked at her with a flash of his old sarcasm as he positioned a handkerchief in front of his face. “Or d-did you want a word-for-word recita…TSHIIISHHH!!!”

“Swift healing. No, that’s fine. Just try to stay warm. Hopefully the rest of the temple will be a bit more enclosed.” With that, she nodded to Sten to push open the door and held her staff at the ready, preparing for another assault.

Slowly, room by room, the group moved through the temple, encountering resistance at every turn. Eventually (and surprisingly) the temple gave way to a labyrinthine cave system, where they started running into young dragons in addition to cultists. Amell also had to amend her rules for Mouse so that he stayed at the mouths of passageways, in already cleared rooms, and in very desperate circumstances, behind large rocks while the rest of them fought their way through. He seemed happy to oblige, especially since the caves weren’t all that much warmer than the temple had been, despite the lack of snow. Whenever they encountered a place with a brazier or even a torch on the wall, Mouse would position himself as close to it as he could, holding trembling hands to the flames. After the fourth or fifth time she saw him do this, Amell took to igniting something (or, once they entered the caves, blasting a rock for a minute) so he’d have something to keep him warm. She wasn’t sure how much good it was doing, since his pace was getting slower and slower and the shivering seemed to be increasing instead of subsiding, but it soothed her conscience a little.

After what must have been two solid hours and nearly two dozen skirmishes, the group finally emerged from the caves into the open air. While there was no snow on the ground here, it still wasn’t a safe place to linger, as it soon became clear that a huge dragon had made the mountain top its home. Fortunately, it seemed too preoccupied with eating to take notice of them, and they managed to cross over to the other side of the small pass without being seen (or heard; by some miracle, Mouse managed to keep from sneezing until they were safely inside). Amell was prepared for another fight, but instead, the room only contained one man, who greeted them with polite respect. He explained that he was the guardian of Andraste’s ashes, and that the cultists had once held the same role but became convinced that the dragon was Andraste reborn, and had thus lost their way. The ashes, he assured them, were safe behind the door he guarded, though in order to reach them, they would have to cross “The Gauntlet”. The first step, apparently, consisted of the man looking into each of their souls and forcing them to address their deepest doubts. Amell was asked about the events that led to her becoming a Grey Warden, Sten of his actions prior to joining Amell’s group, and Leliana about her vision from the Maker. The guardian had a little less luck with Shale, who merely responded to the prodding with a sarcastic “Good for you.” Then the man looked at Mouse, who was propped up against a column some distance back, trying to warm his hands from a torch just above his head.

“Interesting. Come a little closer if you please, Mouse.”

Mouse reluctantly left the fire and dragged himself before the guardian. “Just hurry up and get this over with.”

The guardian fixed him with a piercing stare. “A demon, mired in corruption and reduced to a servant. Yet amongst the darkness, I see a spark of light. If given the choice, would you nurture that spark…or snuff it out?”

“You act as though I have a choice.” Mouse replied, his angry tone hampered by the croak in his voice.

“So you pretend,” the guardian answered calmly, “But while you are bound to follow her orders, she cannot control what’s in your heart. And your heart is in turmoil.”

“So is the rest of my body,” Mouse said, shivering again for emphasis, “I don’t know how humans put up with this.”

“I see you insist on flippancy,” the guardian said, “Perhaps because you yourself aren’t sure of the answer. Allow yourself to consider the question the next time you’re in your tent with nothing but your thoughts.”

Mouse gave him a dirty look before pitching forward with another harsh sneeze. “HRISHHH!!!” The guardian ignored him and stepped aside, allowing them passage to the rest of The Gauntlet. After peering inside cautiously to make sure they weren’t about to fight yet another collection of enemies, Amell led them through the door.

The first room was nothing but a series of riddles relating to Andraste’s life. Amell was almost grateful for the sermons she’d been forced to attend in the Circle, since they allowed her to answer the questions easily. She also couldn’t help but remember how she’d answered riddles during her Harrowing, but when she glanced at Mouse to see if he was thinking along similar lines, she saw him huddled in a corner, watching proceedings with a pained look on his face. Taking the hint, she tried to answer the questions as fast as possible, successfully making it to the other side of the room without incident.

The second room involved another battle, but instead of baby dragons or soldiers, the enemies were ghostly versions of the party, including a healthy and unfettered Mouse. While the real Mouse remained in the antechamber as ordered, the other four did battle with what Zevran surely would have called “a metaphor taken a little too literally”. The Shale phantom was probably the most difficult to defeat, but all things considered, the fight didn’t take too long, and they were able to progress to the next room.

The third room was a puzzle involving a series of buttons that needed to be held down to activate a bridge. Once she realized this, Amell sighed in irritation, pulled out some parchment and charcoal from her pack, and instructed the others (sans Mouse) to stand on the buttons one by one as she wrote down what they did. Once she’d done that, it was just a matter of process of elimination to get the correct answer, and after pressing the appropriate combination, the bridge fully materialized, allowing them to pass.

The fourth room initially looked intimidating, with a huge wall of flame barring the way. But upon reading the altar placed just before the fire, it quickly became clear that all the group had to do was remove most of their clothes and equipment before passing through it. Sten seemed dubious, but Amell assured him that she’d seen magical barriers that had similar restrictions, so he obligingly began to remove his armor. Mouse was also reluctant to disrobe, but for very different reasons.

“Can’t I just stay on this side?” he said, in a tone that could only be called whining, “I’m actually somewhat warm for the first time in hours. I don’t want to do anything to ruin that.”

“I’m sorry, Mouse,” Amell said, “I really am. But I don’t know how this Gauntlet works. It may not be considered complete until all supplicants have completed the trials. Hopefully it’ll only be for a minute or so. And perhaps you can just stand in the middle of the flames and stay warm that way.” Mouse glanced at the fire, sneezed, then sighed and reluctantly moved to unhook his cloak.

As it turned out, passing through the fire was the final test, and after receiving congratulations from the guardian, the fire vanished and they were allowed to put their clothes on again. “Forgive me if I remain by the altar,” Mouse said, trying to pull on his robes quickly but mostly just managing to wrinkle them before they dropped over his head, “It’s retained some of the fire’s heat. Besides, I doubt the Maker wants me getting too close to his wife’s remains. He’d probably strike me dead where I stood.” His eyes widened, and he made a grab for his pouch before being forced to sneeze into the blanket instead. “IKSHHHHPT!” He groaned, then muttered “Then again, perhaps that would be preferable.” Amell gave him a sympathetic smile, then turned her attention to the dais where the ashes were resting.

Leliana of course was overwhelmed at being so close to Andraste. Sten and Shale seemed unimpressed. Amell acknowledged the holiness of the place and the occasion, but mostly she took a perverse sort of pleasure in being a mage who had been considered worthy and got to be the first in decades to touch Andraste’s remains. Taking a small pinch of the ashes to hopefully cure Arl Eamon, she left the dais and called for Mouse to join them, moving for the exit the guardian had indicated before leaving.

Said exit deposited them back on the small mountain pass separating the—tomb? Mausoleum?—from the rest of the temple. It looked like there was another doorway leading to a lower entrance that might save them some time, so Amell headed in that direction. Just as she stepped out of the shadow of the building, she heard an angry roar, and the Andraste dragon landed just in front of her, bellowing again. Amell swore and pulled her staff from her back, preparing to fight.

Despite the group’s exhaustion from all they’d gone through in Haven and the temple, they managed to hold their own for quite some time. Perhaps it was sheer stubbornness that kept them on their feet. Amell hit the dragon with every Primal spell (excepting the fire ones; she suspected those would be next to useless) she had, Leliana hung back and shot arrows at the most likely weak spots, and Sten and Shale charged in to do what damage they could in close quarters. But while they were giving it their all, their all wasn’t enough.

After being knocked over yet again by a sweep of the dragon’s wings, Amell moved to a safe distance and quickly took stock of the situation. Leliana was on the ground, having been knocked unconscious when she’d been unable to get out of the way of the dragon’s thrashing tail. Sten was still fighting, but bleeding heavily, and his blows didn’t seem to have the same force behind them. Shale appeared to be doing fine, but there was no telling what was truly going on underneath all that rock. And while Amell herself was in reasonable shape, her mana was running low, and she only had one lyrium potion left. She was prepared to fight to the last, but she had to admit that it wasn’t looking good.

As she pulled out the vial of blue liquid and prepared to uncork it, she heard a growl. But it wasn’t the angry rumble she’d been hearing on and off for the past half-hour; it was harsh, rasping, and otherworldly, causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She raised her head just in time to see the dragon lurch to the left, blood dripping out of four fresh gashes in its side. It roared its displeasure at something off to the right, and Amell automatically followed the turn of its head…only for her mouth to drop open.

A pride demon, nearly the same color as the dragon and only a head shorter than it, was standing there, glaring at the dragon. As Amell watched, it lunged forward and lashed out with its other hand, raking the dragons back and creating four new gashes. The dragon shrieked and sent a jet of flame at the demon, who just stood there and let itself be torched. Snapping out of her shock, Amell knew they needed to press the advantage. Gulping down her final potion, she sent a healing spell towards Sten. “Shale!” she screamed, “Hit it with everything you have!”

Shale obliged, slamming the ground and briefly knocking the dragon off balance. It was all the opportunity Sten needed, and he charged forward, thrusting his sword into the dragon’s underbelly. The dragon let out another shriek, and then its legs gave out from under it and its head collapsed to the ground, the light rapidly leaving its eyes. Sten bellowed something in Qunari, arms and sword raised in triumph. Amell allowed herself a triumphant cry of “Yes!” before moving to where Leliana lay, health poultice and injury kit at the ready.

As she gently tapped Leliana’s face to rouse her, she looked back to their unlikely ally. The pride demon form was gone, leaving Mouse in his human form again. He was swaying unsteadily, one hand on his head while the other clutched his cloak close to him. A moment later, he looked over in Amell’s direction. She gave him a grateful smile. He just blinked at her, before his head snapped downwards. “HEKTSHHH!!!”

Amell could see him starting to lift his head, but the sneeze had been the last straw, it seemed. One hand dropped from his head, the other loosened its grip on the cloak, and his body crumpled to the ground, as still as the dragon he had just helped to slay.

***

Next time: a chapter for caretaking and/or fever fans.

[Wig_Powder]

Chapter 4

“Mouse!” Amell gasped, staring in horror. Part of her had been expecting Mouse’s strength to give out, but for it to happen now, after what he’d just done for them…

She felt the healing items slide out of her hands. “Go on,” Leliana said faintly, “I can apply these myself. He needs your attention more than I do.” Nodding distractedly, Amell got to her feet and hurried over to where Mouse was lying.

To her relief, she could hear him breathing as she approached, even if it sounded more like a rattle than a breath. Kneeling beside him, she tried to help him sit up, only for her hand to recoil when she felt the heat radiating off his body. It was possible some of it was lingering heat from the dragon’s breath, but she suspected the primary cause was fever. “Mouse?” she murmured, shaking him as lightly as she could, “Mouse, can you hear me?”

Mouse groaned, though he was so weak that only a few trembling noises emerged, and his eyes half-opened. It was enough for Amell to see how glassy they were, and she knew he wasn’t going to be in any condition to walk. But she wasn’t entirely sure what her options were. She didn’t have the strength to carry him. Leliana didn’t either, and she was dazed from her own injury besides. Sten and Shale both had the strength, but she wasn’t sure she trusted Shale to be gentle and Sten wasn’t much better. Besides, there was a possibility they’d run into more cultists, so they’d need to be ready to spring into action. But what other options were there? It wouldn’t exactly be good for Mouse if they dragged…

The answer came to Amell like a bolt of lightning, and she cursed herself for not having thought of it sooner. “Mouse,” she said, squeezing his shoulder hard in an attempt to cut through the fever haze, “I need you to shapeshift into your mouse form.”

“N-no…” Mouse whispered, his voice barely audible, “Please…hurts…”

“I know,” Amell said, pushing aside his cloak and removing the pouch of handkerchiefs, “But it’s the best option. Not only will we be able to get you back to camp faster, but being covered in fur might allow you to feel a little warmer. And I promise you, I won’t make you shapeshift again until you’ve recovered. Please, Mouse? For your own sake?”

Mouse didn’t respond for a moment. Then he grimaced, his body tensing, and with a flash of light, a mouse’s body was underneath her hand, trembling violently. A second later, a sharp gasp of pain that cracked partway through rang through her ears. “It’s all right, Mouse,” Amell said, gingerly picking him up and stroking his back, “You won’t have to do that again for a while.”

Pulling a clean handkerchief from the pouch before attaching the pouch to her own hip, she wrapped Mouse in the handkerchief for warmth and protection before slipping him in her pack. Then she got to her feet. “Let’s go!” she barked, “We need to get back to camp as soon as possible!”

Fortunately, they were able to cross to the other door with no further incident, and there were no cultists waiting for them on the other side. In fact, their biggest obstacle was Brother Genitivi, who was brimming with questions about what they’d seen. “We can talk about it in camp,” Amell told him curtly once she was able to get a word in edgewise, “One of our team is in need of healing, and you have your own wounds to be tended to. Now let’s get moving, if you please!” Genitivi was startled by her tone, but obligingly fell in with them as they made their way out of the temple.

At Amell’s order, Sten and Shale went ahead of the others to clear the way if necessary. Knowing she’d hear the sounds of battle long before she saw it, Amell took advantage of the situation and pulled Mouse out of her pack to check on him. He was still shivering, eyes screwed shut, and his body was so warm to the touch that it reminded her of the sensation she felt whenever she conjured up a fireball. As she looked him over, she saw his nose twitch, whiskers quivering, before he turned his head into the nearest fold of the handkerchief. “Tchh! Chh! It-kshh!” Amell was a little surprised at the tiny sounds, but was more focused on getting him back to camp than dwelling on the change. There would be time to question it later; what was more important was making sure there was a later for Mouse.

***

As soon as she arrived in camp, Amell started giving orders. “Wynne, I need you to make a potion for reducing fever. Make it as strong as you can, and do it as quickly as you dare.” Wynne was startled, but when she saw the shaking mouse in Amell’s hands, she quickly realized what was going on. While she did give Amell a questioning glance, she moved to do as she was told.

Amell then moved to her campfire and called her Mabari over. “I need you to use your fur to help him feel a little warmer.” she said, showing him Mouse’s quivering form. The Mabari gave her a confused whine, followed by a suspicious growl. “Please, boy?” Amell said, “I’ll give you a pile of Mabari Crunch.”

The dog still seemed reluctant. “He saved my life, boy,” Amell said pleadingly, “I owe him this much.”

The Mabari looked down at Mouse, cocking his head for a moment, then slowly sat down by the fire. “Good boy,” Amell said, patting the dog’s head and laying Mouse (and the handkerchief he was wrapped in) down beside him, “I’ll get you those Crunches.”

Once she’d set five of the bone-shaped treats in the Mabari’s reach, she moved to Wynne’s tent to see how the fever reducer was coming along and to offer up what help she could. “It should be done in ten minutes,” Wynne said, stirring the pot and throwing in a pinch of herbs, “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to explain what exactly happened in Haven?”

Since there wasn’t much she could do but wait, Amell gave a shortened version of everything they’d gone through. When she got to the part about Mouse’s aid in fighting the dragon, Wynne looked at her sharply. “He transformed into his true shape? How was that possible?”

It was a good question. Amell had been too stunned by the sight and then too concerned for Mouse’s condition to answer that question. After wracking her brain for a minute, the answer came to her. “I gave him free reign to use whatever powers he thought would help defeat an enemy quickly, as long as he first made sure the person he was attacking wasn’t one of us. Apparently he decided changing into his demon form would help dispatch the dragon.”

 Wynne looked in the direction of Amell’s tent, a mixture of disapproval and anxiety on her face. “While I’m glad you made sure he couldn’t hurt any of your team, this is still a good example of why you must be very clear and careful with your wording. But what I find more troubling is the fact that he helped you. You’re sure you didn’t order him to?”

Amell shook her head. “In the heat of battle, I’d forgotten he was even there. At most, I assumed he was following my instructions and had found a safe place to wait out the fighting.”

“Then why would he assist you? What would he have to gain?” Wynne frowned and looked into the pot, “I fear he may have some plan with all this.”

“He really doesn’t seem to be in any shape to be putting plans into motion,” Amell said, “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“See that you do,” Wynne said, before scooping some of the mixture into a vial, “This should lower his temperature within an hour. But he needs to drink all of it.”

Amell nodded and, holding the vial by the edge to keep from burning herself, carried it back to her tent. Both Mouse and the Mabari were where she’d left them, the dog chewing on one of his treats while Mouse continued to shiver, pressed as close to the Mabari’s stomach as he could apparently manage. Amell knelt beside them, giving her dog a quick pat on the head before turning her full attention to Mouse. Gently pulling his head towards her with two fingers, she put the vial to his mouth. “Drink this. It will help.”

Mouse, eyes still shut tight, started to obey, but as soon as he’d actually swallowed some of the liquid, he jerked his head away, coughing harshly. “I know, it’s not exactly a pleasant taste,” Amell said, “But you need to drink it if you want to stop feeling so cold.”

Mouse shook his head, though it was impossible to tell if it was out of defiance or genuine revulsion for the medicine. Then his nose twitched again and he lowered his head to the handkerchief he was still wrapped in. “Hikshh! Tichh!”

Amell sighed in frustration. In other circumstances, she might have been willing to argue with him, or cajole him into drinking the medicine sip by sip. But after everything she’d gone through today, her patience was at an end, and her anxiety and guilt wouldn’t be assuaged until she knew Mouse was starting to recover. There was only one way to be sure of that, even if it caused discomfort for both her and him in the short term.

“I’m sorry, Mouse,” she said softly, before wrapping her hand firmly around him, forcing his head upwards again, “Now drink. That’s. An. Order.”

His eyes actually flickered open at that, though it was hard to tell if he truly saw her or not. Then he shut them again and reluctantly pressed his mouth to the lip of the vial. Holding him in place, Amell poured the liquid down his throat, pausing every few seconds to allow him to swallow. And he did swallow, even as he squirmed and made a series of protesting noises. The first few sounded angry or disgusted, but they soon gave way to something that almost sounded like whimpering. “Almost done,” Amell said, hoping she sounded soothing, “Just a few more swallows.”

At last, the vial was empty, and she took it away, relaxing her grip on Mouse at the same time. “It’s over. You won’t have to take it again for a few hours. Longer if your temperature lowers to a manageable level.” He didn’t respond, instead pressing himself against the Mabari’s body again. Amell knew it was best to let him be, and went to check on Leliana and Genitivi.

After a few hours of her and her expedition force regaling Genitivi and the rest of her teammates with their adventures in Haven and the temple, it was agreed that they should all turn in and, assuming everyone was strong enough to travel, that they would set out for Redcliffe the next morning. Bidding everyone goodnight, Amell returned to her tent, hoping Mouse’s condition had improved.

Fortunately, it appeared that it had. Mouse’s body was still trembling, but it wasn’t as violent as it had been, and he looked like he was dozing instead of just sporadically drifting into and out of consciousness. She didn’t want to disturb him, but it would be better for him if he spent the night in a tent instead of outside, so she gingerly cupped her hands around him and lifted him up, handkerchief “blanket” and all. Reassuringly, he didn’t feel quite as warm to the touch, another sign that the medicine was working. Mouse shifted position a bit, but didn’t seem to wake up, so Amell carried him into her tent, calling for her dog to follow. Once inside, she instructed the Mabari to lie in a corner, before placing Mouse against the dog’s stomach again and covering them both with a blanket. Giving the dog a Double Baked Mabari Crunch as a thank you, she started to prepare for bed. She was just organizing her pack for the next day when the thought crossed her mind about how they were going to transport Mouse. Sticking him in her pack worked well enough in the short term and when there weren’t enemies to fight, but they were bound to encounter bandits or darkspawn on the way back to Redcliffe, and all the jostling (not to mention the occasional moment when she was knocked to the ground) probably wouldn’t be good for him, especially with all the weapons and armor with sharp corners she carried in there. She couldn’t carry him in her hands for similar reasons, and the same problem applied to all her companions, even if one of them was willing to carry him in the first place. And making him walk would be cruel, especially since she’d promised he could stay in his mouse form. There had to be some other option.

As she turned her head to look over at Mouse and the dog, something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. When she’d been working her way through the Circle to clear out the demons, she’d found a set of robes, enchanted with various spells that made both it and the wearer more resilient to damage. Wynne had identified them as being in the style the magisters wore in Tevinter. Whether they were the genuine article or had just been made to resemble them by a spiteful mage, Amell had found them beautiful and was given permission by Wynne and Irving to keep them in thanks for all she’d done for the tower. It was covered with gold and copper detailing, had numerous little decorative flourishes…and the shoulders were draped in soft, warm fur. Feeling a combination of relief and satisfaction rush through her, Amell yanked off her robes, threw on her nightclothes, and set to work.

***

The next morning, the first thing Amell did was check on Mouse. He was right where she’d left him, although the handkerchief surrounding him was more rumpled and dirty. Kneeling down to touch him, she could tell that he was still feverish, but his temperature was much less worrisome. “Mouse?” she said softly, “How are you feeling?”

“Awful.” Mouse croaked, apparently too weak to even add a biting remark.

Amell nodded in sympathy, unable to stop herself from giving his body a quick, hopefully comforting stroke. “Do you think you’ll be up for travelling, as long as you’re being carried?”

Mouse was silent for a moment. Then he gingerly poked a paw out of the handkerchief, only to audibly shudder and pull it back in. “Still cold.” As if to prove his point, his nose twitched, and he ducked his head inside the handkerchief, sneezing the same sort of tiny sneezes she’d heard last night. “Ikshh! Tichh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, “Don’t worry, I think I found a solution.”

She changed back into her Archon robes, then sat down and set Mouse on her lap, indicating to her dog that he could go out and have some breakfast. The dog gave her an eager bark and a relieved look before bounding out of the tent. Amell smiled after him, then focused her attention on Mouse. Removing the handkerchief he was wrapped in, she lifted him up and nudged him into the fur on her left shoulder before he could complain about the cold again. She’d spent an hour last night carving out a crude little pouch, one that was fur-lined on the inside and the outside. That, combined with her body heat, would hopefully be enough to keep Mouse warm. For a last-minute solution, Amell thought it was a pretty good one. In addition to the warmth, it meant she knew where Mouse was at all times, minimized the chance of him causing trouble to anyone but her, and since he was on her left shoulder and not her right, she’d still be able to wield her staff without any difficulty. “How’s that?” she asked.

 “Better.” Mouse answered after a pause. Then there was another pause before he said, almost shyly, “Handkerchief?”

Unsure if he wanted to cling to something familiar or if he’d really taken her advice about sneezing into handkerchiefs to heart, Amell pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pouch and stuffed it into the pouch next to him. “All right?”

“For now.” Mouse said, before sneezing again. Figuring that was the best she’d get from him, Amell got to work packing up her tent. After taking down both her tent and Mouse’s unused one, she joined the rest of the party for a quick breakfast. Genitivi was present as well, although he ate quickly and then left them, wanting to hurry back to Denerim and start reporting and cataloguing his findings. While the group couldn’t convince him to stay with them for safety, they did give him some of their spare supplies so he wouldn’t be travelling across Ferelden with minimal gear. Once everyone else was finished eating, Amell asked Wynne for another vial of the fever reducer, which caused Mouse to swear and everyone to stare at her shoulder. Apparently they hadn’t heard his occasional sneezes throughout breakfast, or they’d assumed he was in her pack. Amell reached into her makeshift shoulder pouch and pulled a still protesting Mouse out. “It’s for your own good, Mouse,” she said, “If your fever spikes while we’re travelling, it’ll be a lot more difficult to tend to. Doing it now should keep your temperature relatively steady, and hopefully keep you more comfortable.”

Mouse tried to glare up at her, though the effect was hampered by the unfocused look in his eyes, as well as by his nose and whiskers twitching again. Amell pulled the handkerchief out of her shoulder pouch and got it to his face just in time. “Tchii! Hiktshh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, taking the vial Wynne handed her, “Look, you can either drink it in three or four swallows, or I can force feed it to you again. You decide which one will be less unpleasant for you.”

Mouse heaved a deep sigh. “Fine. Just be quick.”

Amell uncorked the vial, pressed down lightly on Mouse’s body to keep him from squirming too much, and then put the vial to his mouth. He sighed again, then nodded for her to tip the vial. He managed two deep gulps before he wrenched his head away with a raspy cough. “Ugh,” he said, shaking his head, ears lying flat, “Disgusting.”

“But helpful,” Amell replied, “Come on, just drink a little more, and then you can go back in your little hidey-hole and grumble at us to your heart’s content.” Mouse gave her a sideways look, then obligingly drank the rest of the vial. As he made another series of displeased noises, Amell tucked him and the handkerchief back into her shoulder, then shot a look at the rest of her team, who had been watching all this unfold with a mixture of bafflement and amusement. “Come on, let’s get moving,” she said, standing up, “Arl Eamon needs us.”

  The rest of the day passed by surprisingly uneventfully. They didn’t run into any enemies, and since they were heading down the mountain, the walk wasn’t as arduous. Even Mouse kept out of trouble; while Amell could hear him muttering to himself as they started walking, he fell silent after about ten minutes, and when she pulled the pouch open and craned her neck to peer inside, she found that he’d fallen asleep, head tucked between his front paws. She bit her lip to keep from chuckling, then left him to what was hopefully a healing sleep.

Thanks in part to the downward slope and the lack of combat, the group made excellent time, getting more than halfway down the mountain before sundown, at which point they made camp. Looking over the map, Amell and Alistair concluded that they’d reach Redcliffe by the end of the week if they could maintain this pace. While there was still no guarantee that Andraste’s ashes would actually cure the Arl, the fact that they were so close to achieving another goal had everyone in high spirits. Even Mouse seemed pleased when Amell promised him that the party would stay a few extra days in Redcliffe for everyone to recover their strength, and to sleep in something more comfortable than a tent. That didn’t stop him from complaining his way through another vial of fever reducer, but Amell liked to think it was a more muted griping. That night, she let him stay burrowed in her shoulderpiece, though she did cast a glyph of paralysis on her robes once she’d laid them on an adjoining bedroll for the night. Even though it was a wise precaution, she couldn’t help but feel faintly ridiculous in doing so.

To everyone’s relief, Amell and Wynne (who’d been called in for a second opinion) agreed the next day that Mouse’s fever was low enough that another vial wouldn’t be necessary until the evening, so the whole camp was spared more grousing about the vile taste. That didn’t mean he was entirely silent, though; the reduction of the fever meant he was able to focus more on his surroundings, and one aspect in particular.

Shortly after they’d started their days hike, Mouse sneezed, the same sort of tiny sneeze he’d been emitting ever since his transformation. That wasn’t so unusual at this point, but what was new was that Amell could feel him moving around inside her shoulderpiece for a few seconds before he sneezed again. This continued for a good two or three minutes before she decided to investigate. “What’s going on in there?” she asked, pinching the fur and lifting it up so she could hear Mouse a little better.

“What’s going on is that these blasted hairs keep getting in my face and making me…” his words cut off abruptly, and he sneezed again. “Sichh!”

 “Swift healing. Well, there’s not much I can do about that at the moment. Maybe try keeping your head between your paws, or keeping your nose in the handkerchief?”

“That just delays the inevitable,” Mouse said, “Don’t you have some sort of spell that could help?”

“I’m not familiar with any spells that make things less ticklish, or noses less sensitive. The best I can do is trim the area surrounding the pouch, so you can poke your nose out of it. And that’ll have to wait until we make camp.”

Mouse sighed. “Well then, couldn’t you use a spell to…Kipshh!…knock me out for the duration?”

“As increasingly tempting as you’re making that option, I’m not wasting mana on a minor inconvenience.”

“You call this a minor inconvenience?”

“Since it’s not happening to me, yes. Now find some way to cope like the rest of us humans do.” With that, Amell released the fur to let him know that the conversation was over. Mouse resumed shifting around and sneezing, though now she could hear what sounded like cursing sprinkled in there as well. She tuned him out, though she felt a little more of her anxiety lift; if he was throwing out insults, he was starting to recover.

(Once she retired to her tent that night, she allowed Mouse to perch on her shoulder while she carefully cut away bits of fur from the pouch’s opening, letting him climb in and out to see if it met with his approval. The process took longer than it had for her to make the pouch in the first place, it left a somewhat noticeable bald patch on the shoulder, and Mouse seemed delighted by the opportunity to boss her around. For all that, though, Amell thought it was worth it when, just before she cast the paralysis glyph for the night, she heard a muffled “Thank you” from inside the now-satisfactory pouch. She knew better than to call attention to it, but it still felt like she’d achieved a minor victory.)

***

While the team did encounter a few packs of bandits and darkspawn as they made their way to Redcliffe, they arrived at Arl Eamon’s castle after a few days of steady travel. To pretty much everyone’s relief, the ashes did indeed seem to have curative properties, because Eamon was roused from his stupor and seemed to recover much of his strength upon waking. He was impressed with all Amell and her party had done to help him, his family, and Ferelden, and was more than happy to let them spend a few days in his home to rest and replenish their supplies. Amell didn’t want to request a second room for Mouse for a variety of reasons, so instead she made him a bed of sorts on a comfortable chair near the fireplace, the freshly cleaned and pressed handkerchiefs piled by his side. By this time, Mouse’s fever was mostly gone, only rising a bit in the evenings, but he still claimed weakness, a fogged head, and congestion in his nose and throat. Since it wouldn’t hurt to let him rest in a place protected from the wind and cold, Amell didn’t press the issue. Instead, she cast a paralysis glyph on the chair and left Mouse to doze while she discussed matters with Eamon and the rest of her group.

On the second afternoon of their stay, Amell was in her room, taking advantage of Eamon’s library to read up on the Dalish elves and the dwarves in preparation for meeting with them, when Mouse spoke up from his chair. “If you wouldn’t mind dropping this spell, I believe I’m ready to assume my human form again.”

Amell obligingly lifted the glyph and watched as a white light flashed and Mouse, human once more, stood up from the chair, only to sway and put a hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. “Take it slow,” Amell suggested, “You haven’t been using your legs much in the past few days, much less tried to walk on two. You’ll probably need to practice a bit.”

Mouse shook his head in mild disbelief even as he gingerly started walking towards the far wall, one hand always at the ready to grab onto something. “Is it always like this when humans fall ill?”

“Not always. It depends on the length and severity of the illness. Besides, this was your first experience with sickness. It’s not a surprise it’s left you out of sorts.”

Mouse reached the wall and kept a hand against it as he started moving to the far corner of the room. “How do you stand it?”

“We certainly don’t enjoy it,” Amell admitted, “But it’s something we’ve just learned to deal with and work around as best we can. Given time, you will too.”

“Useful as that might be, I think I’ll try to avoid the experience.” Amell smiled faintly in response and returned to her reading, only to be interrupted a minute later when she felt a hand on the back of her chair. “What are you reading?” Mouse asked.

“In Pursuit of Knowledge and Stone Halls of the Dwarves, both by our friend Brother Genitivi, and Ferelden: Folklore and History by someone called Sister Petrine,” Amell answered, gesturing to each book in turn, “I’m just trying to find anything that might help us gain the trust of the elves and dwarves. Even with the Grey Warden treaties, showing respect for their culture will make it easier to get them on our side.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Mouse said, “Give me one of those.”

“Why?” Amell said, surprised by his tone, which was almost requesting instead of imperious.

“Because you aren’t the only one who has things they need or want to learn,” Mouse replied, “I’ll let you know if I find anything useful.”

Amell hesitated, then shrugged and passed him Ferelden: Folklore and History. “Here. This seems like a decent enough place to start.”

Mouse nodded, tucked the book under his arm, and made his way back to his chair, where he sat down and started to read from the beginning, instead of using the index like Amell had been doing. Amell watched him for a moment, still a little baffled by this turn of events. Then she returned to her own reading.

For several minutes, a peaceful silence fell, with no sound but the crackling fire and the turn of pages. Then Mouse sneezed, the sound a little louder and stronger than it had been in his mouse form, though not as bad as it had been during their slog through the temple. “Het-keshh!”

“Swift healing.” Amell said, standing up from her chair as something occurred to her. Pulling the duvet off the bed, she came to Mouse’s chair and threw it over his legs. “Best to stay warm,” she explained when he glanced up at her in confusion, “It’s unlikely you’ll fall ill again while you’re here, but we might as well take every precaution. And obviously, the scrap of wool you were using as a mouse isn’t going to cut it.”

Mouse nodded his understanding and returned to his reading. Amell paused, debating with herself, and then decided now was probably the best time she’d ever have to ask. “Mouse?”

He lowered the book again. “Yes?”

“Back in Haven, when we were fighting the dragon…why did you help us? You were ill, and you must have known that transforming would have weakened you still further. Besides, you had every reason to let us die.”

Mouse ran his hand over the pages of the book, considering. “Perhaps the fever was clouding my mind,” he said at last, “Because at that particular moment, I had a great deal of respect for you and didn’t much want to see you killed.”

Amell blinked at him. “What?”

He looked up at her. “You solved the temple’s riddles and puzzles on your own, with no input from the others. You quickly came up with the best course of action, be it deciding who would be best to accompany you or finding ways to bend the rules the guard laid out. I suppose I thought it would be a shame for someone so promising to be cut down.”

Amell stared at him, simultaneously feeling a warmth in her chest at the compliments and an immediate suspicion in her mind. Flattery was the quickest way for a pride demon to get inside your head and open you up to temptation and possession. Mouse himself had tried a similar trick during her Harrowing. And just as now had been the best time for her to ask why he’d helped her, it was equally a good time for him to play his old games, now that she was flush with success from saving Eamon and still somewhat thinking of Mouse as an invalid. It made it difficult for her to come up with the appropriate response.

As it turned out, Mouse saved her the trouble, as a smirk spread across his face. “Even now, you remain on your guard around me, as evidenced by the glyphs and your careful silences. I’m impressed, even if it does make my life more challenging. Then again, we pride demons enjoy a good challenge.”

“I aim to please,” Amell answered dryly, stepping away from the chair, “Now then, get back to your reading. Don’t leave that chair. If you want to do another turn around the room, ask me first. And you’re forbidden to use the book or its pages as a weapon against me or any of my allies.”

“Ah, we’re back to the orders,” Mouse said with a fake sigh, “Very well, as you command.”

Amell started to move away, then said, over her shoulder;

“Thank you. For what you did. I’m not sure we could have defeated that dragon without your help.”

As she took her seat again, Mouse answered “You’re welcome. And loathe as I am to say it, consider us even. After all, you also looked after me even when you didn’t have to.”

Amell pulled In Pursuit of Knowledge towards her, preparing to lose herself in her research. But before she did so, she reflected that even if it was an experience neither of them had enjoyed, it seemed that Mouse’s first exposure to illness had actually been good for the both of them.

***

Next time: The gang continues on their mission, and run into their fair share of surprises.

Also, this is the last chapter where illness and sneezing are plot relevant. They're still going to happen, but it's going to be more of a light sprinkling than a core ingredient.

Also also, I found this picture of Archon Robes from the game, in case you wanted a visual of what Mouse was being carried around in, and why he might have found it a bit bothersome.

[Wig_Powder]

Another WARNING: this chapter contains SPOILERS regarding one of the canon companions in the game.

Chapter 5

After another two days of rest, Amell decided the whole group was ready to set out once more. She’d put the matter to a vote, and barring some abstentions, the consensus was that their next stop should be the Brecilian Forest, to try to locate the Dalish elves. Thus agreed, they set out the following morning, in reasonably high spirits.

Now that Mouse was fully recovered, he walked alongside the rest of them, still carrying nothing but his cloak (the blanket had been left at Redcliffe to be turned into scraps) and the pouch of handkerchiefs. But instead of returning to his usual behavior of needling her and her companions, he kept surprisingly silent. When Amell glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was still there and not showing signs of mischief or falling ill again, she saw an expression on his face that suggested he was lost in thought. Not wanting to cause friction (or rather, as much friction, given the personalities of some of her party members) on their first day back on the road, she decided not to point it out.

Well, not until they were in camp that night. “What were you so contemplative about?” she asked, as they sat beside their campfire.

“I was just thinking over some of the things I read in those books,” Mouse said with a shrug, “It put some things I saw while in the Fade into context, though there were other details that were completely new to me. I suppose I was just trying to sort it all out in my head.”

Amell was initially surprised, but after a moment’s reflection, she realized it made sense. Mouse’s only experience with humans had been through their dreams in the Fade. And since dreams were fragmented at the best of times, of course he’d only be able to grasp the basics, and even that was only by repeated exposure to certain ideas, like how mages were controlled by Templars or that almost everyone believed that Andraste was the bride of the Maker. Wasn’t a desire to experience human life part of the reason why demons wanted out of the Fade in the first place?

 She looked Mouse over, considering. Then, perhaps compelled by the gratitude she felt over his assistance in helping her find information about the elves and dwarves, she said;

“I’m not exactly an expert on the subject, since I’ve spent most of my life in the Circle and thus had to pick it up from books and lessons, but…I could help you sort it out, if you want.”

Now Mouse was the one to look surprised. “You’d do that?”

“There’d be limitations, of course,” Amell said, “I’m not going to give you information that you could potentially use against us. But history, philosophy, what it’s like to be human…I’d be willing to talk you through them. I suppose it’s only fair, after I’ve pulled so much information about the Fade out of you.”

Mouse’s eyes gleamed, but the smile on his face looked genuinely excited instead of calculating. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t putting on an act, but as long as she watched him carefully for any sign of trickery, she’d keep her word. She smiled back at him. “Where would you like to start?”

***

And so the two of them fell into a new evening routine. As soon as Amell had put up the tents, stoked the fire, and checked in with the rest of the party, she and Mouse would sit and discuss things, Amell letting Mouse lead the conversation. Sometimes he asked questions with easy answers, like what the purpose of jewelry was, and other times it got a little more complicated, like the nature of fear and trying to overcome it. He was a good listener, waiting until she’d finished speaking before asking another question or offering up his own interpretation to make sure he understood. Sometimes they would even get into a bit of a debate on a point, which occasionally ended with both of them confused and no clearer to finding or agreeing on an answer, but not displeased with the outcome. The conversations were clearly for Mouse’s benefit, but Amell felt like they were helping to expand her own worldview, a surprising but welcome development.

Amell felt that there was a change in dynamics with the rest of the group too. While Mouse still threw out insults and cutting remarks to the rest of the group when they were travelling, the comments didn’t have the same bite, unless his target had insulted him first, something that was itself happening with less frequency. He and the Mabari also seemed to have come to a sort of truce—they never growled at each other anymore, and while the dog kept an eye on Mouse when they were in camp, it seemed content to leave it at that. Amell wasn’t sure if the changes in attitude were due to following her example, everybody getting used to each other, or an instinctual acknowledgement that the Blight took precedence over internal squabbling, but as long as it was a reduction of conflict, she was in full support of it.

One afternoon, the group encountered a travelling merchant, and they stopped to peruse the wares and offload some of the armor and weapons they had no need of. As Amell was peering into the cart, looking for more ingredients for potions and poultices, something caught her eye. Tucked into the far corner of a shelf were four books. Squinting at the titles, she saw that two of them were novels, one was a book meant to help archers improve their skills, and one was a book about the history of the Chantry. She considered for a moment, glanced over at Mouse (who was standing at a distance, talking to Shale) then pointed to the history book. “How much?”

In the end, they spent three gold pieces and gained back one, thanks to their impressive and slightly disturbing amount of weaponry. They moved on from the merchant with lighter packs and raised morale. As a result, there was a lot of banter for the rest of the day’s journey, though Amell was only partially aware of it. Her thoughts kept drifting to the book in her pack, and she looked forward to the evening with a combination of excitement and nerves.

That night, after a lively discussion about instinct versus learned experience, Amell asked Mouse “Do you actually sleep when you go in your tent? I know you can sleep, thanks to your illness, but do you feel the need to do so most of the time?”

Obviously a little surprised by the turn in the conversation, Mouse replied “Generally not. Perhaps it’s due to the way demons are, but I don’t tend to feel tired. The human body I inhabit still responds to things like hard terrain or,” he grimaced, “cold air, but it seems to have lost the need for things like sleep, food, or water. I’m glad to be off my feet after a long day of walking, and if it’s been a particularly long day, I may doze off for an hour or two, but that’s all I seem to need. Besides, I’d rather encounter the Fade as little as possible.”

Amell nodded. “And can you actually move in your tent after I’m done casting all the protective spells, or are you completely frozen in place?”

“I can move around a little, though it takes some effort. Mostly I just maneuver myself into a comfortable position and wait until morning. Why are you asking me this now?”

 Amell reached into her pack and pulled out the book, presenting it to him. “Because I wanted to know if you’d be able to actually use this to pass the time during the night.”

Mouse took the book, looking from it to her with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. “What’s this all about?”

“There’s only so much I know on the subjects we talk about,” Amell said, “I thought, if you wanted to continue your education, you should learn from different sources. And since you’re stuck in your tent for several hours at a time, that seems like a prime opportunity to do so.”

“And there’s no other motivation in doing this?” Mouse said, still sounding skeptical.

“No. I’ve given things to the others just because I thought they’d enjoy them and to offer them a little morale boost. This is no different.”

“But I’m bound to you. By definition, that makes things different.”

“In some respects, yes, but not in all of them. At this point, I’d say you’re pretty much a member of my team. You’re just here under slightly different circumstances.”

Mouse expression remained wary. Amell sighed and shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, I’m going to insist that you give me the book back in the morning. I still don’t trust you to carry any sort of supplies.”

Mouse chuckled dryly before giving her his familiar smirk. “That helps somewhat. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Would you like to retire and start reading?”

“Yes, I believe I do.”

Amell gestured to his tent. “On your way, then. I’ll even give you two minutes to get comfortable before I start casting the spells.”

“How generous.” Mouse said, though there was a playfulness to his tone. Nodding to her, he entered the tent, and true to her word, Amell counted down two minutes before she cast the first glyph.

In the morning, Mouse presented her with the book. “Very interesting so far,” was all he said, “I hope you’ll allow me to continue reading it.”

“I don’t see why not,” Amell said, “I’m not going to discourage you from learning. And if you decide you want to try to kill or betray us, I’m not exactly going to be punishing you via withholding something you want.”

Mouse smiled. “Fair enough.” Amell gave him a faint smile in return before she tucked the book away and started dismantling the tents. As she did so, she decided that she’d keep looking for books to purchase or trade for whenever she got the opportunity. If it kept Mouse agreeable, it was worth the money and extra weight.

***

The group was about a day’s travel from the Brecilian Forest when they were attacked by bandits. As usual, the ten of them were able to defeat them with relative ease, but just as they were leaving the area, Wynne abruptly collapsed. When Amell hurried over to her, Wynne waved away any offer of assistance and stood up. “I’m all right,” she said, “Though I wasn’t certain for a moment there.”

“What happened?” Amell asked, “Are you injured?”

“Not exactly.” Wynne said. She was silent for a moment, then she sighed. “I’ll explain everything once we make camp.”

Amell wasn’t entirely happy with the evasion, but at least she was going to get answers. She nodded and started to turn, when Wynne said something she’d never expected to hear from the older woman.

“While it would be best if our conversation was private…I suppose it would be a good idea for Mouse to hear it as well. But you must order him to silence on this matter.”

Taken aback, Amell simply said “All right. Come to our tents this evening.” and returned to the group, assuring them that Wynne was fine. She didn’t say anything to Mouse, not wanting to pique his curiosity and possibly call attention to what was going on. He’d find out what was going on soon enough, as would she.

A few hours later, the party arrived at the edge of the forest, and decided to wait until morning to venture inside and try to find the elves. They set up camp, and Amell made her usual rounds, since she didn’t want to arouse suspicion in anyone. Returning to her fire, she sat across from Mouse and asked what he wanted to learn about tonight, trying not to glance across the way at Wynne’s tent and give the game away.

She should have known better than to try to fool Mouse, though. “You seem distracted. Is there something wrong?”

“No. I’m just…waiting for something.”

“And what would that be?”

Amell was spared from answering when Wynne approached and sat down on a nearby stone. Amell nodded to her. “What’s this all about?”

Wynne sighed, like she had that afternoon. “There’s something you both should know. Consider it a warning…and an apology.”

Amell and Mouse glanced at each other, equally confused. “What do you mean?” Amell asked.

Wynne gave Mouse a brief look, then focused all her attention on Amell as she explained. During the demon attack on the tower, before Amell and the others had arrived and met her, Wynne had fought off a demon to protect one of the other mages. The exertion had been too much for her, and she’d nearly died. But just before the end, a presence had entered her body and brought her back. She said the presence was one of the benevolent spirits of the Fade, one that was keeping her alive and giving her a boost to her magic. But doing so was weakening the spirit as well. “While I believe it has the strength to help me see our fight against the Archdemon through to the end, there will be times when I falter. I thought it best that you know.” Wynne finished.

 Amell nodded automatically, her mind still processing everything. Then Mouse spoke up, disbelief in his voice.

“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve spent all these months that glaring daggers at me and calling me an abomination, when you’ve been one yourself this whole time?”

Wynne finally made eye contact with him. “Why do you think I’ve kept my distance? I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to sense the spirit’s presence inside me and use that knowledge against me. Besides, you were a reminder of what I had become, and while I can now accept the differences, it took me some time to come to terms with it.”

“Is that why you’re letting him know now?” Amell asked.

“Partially,” Wynne said, “I thought it would be better if he—you—was told about it directly instead of discovering it. It gives you less to use against me.”

“The others still don’t know.” Mouse pointed out.

“I will tell them in time,” Wynne replied, “But I wanted to tell our leader first. Both because you deserve to know, and as a trial run for revealing it to the rest of the group. They say the second time is much easier than the first. In the meantime, please keep this to yourselves until I find a good opportunity and a smoother way to tell the story.”

Amell looked at Mouse. “You heard her, Mouse. This is important to her, so I’m swearing you to secrecy.”

“As you command.” Mouse said with a slight sigh.

“Thank you, both of you,” Wynne said, “I hope this won’t change the way you look at me too much.”

“As long as you’re as committed to fighting this Blight as I am, I don’t think I have any room to complain.” Amell assured her with a smile.

“I’m afraid my opinion of you has changed,” Mouse said, smiling slyly, “I’m more impressed by you now.”

“I’m so glad,” Wynne said dryly, “Earning your respect was something I always wanted to accomplish.”

“Naturally,” Mouse replied, “Though I doubt you’ll be returning the favor any time soon.”

“It is doubtful, yes,” Wynne said, “But not impossible. You did help fight that dragon in Haven, and you’ve been learning about the good of humanity instead of focusing wholly on its evils. Perhaps there is some capacity for goodness in you.”

Mouse blinked at her, and Amell realized he was genuinely taken aback by her words. The look of bafflement didn’t last long, though, and Mouse quickly smirked again. “Surely you remember your teachings? Demons are pure evil.”

“Teachings are sometimes amended when new information and experiences comes to light,” Wynne replied, “It can take some adjusting to, but I have always tried to be open-minded to change.”

Mouse just raised an eyebrow at her, and Amell decided it was probably wise to change the subject, or at least to shift it slightly. “Speaking of teaching, I believe Mouse would benefit from perspectives other than my own. Since we seem to have reached a truce of sorts, perhaps you’d be willing to help? I doubt either of you are inclined to do much speaking to each other, but if you have any books in your possession you’d be willing to lend him, we’d both be grateful.”

“I believe I have a few that would be of interest,” Wynne said, “Let me go through my things, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Amell said, “Thank you.”

Wynne nodded and stood up from the rock. As she was brushing off her robes, Mouse muttered;

“Yes, thank you.”

It was Amell’s turn to be taken aback, though Wynne gave no indication that she’d heard, finishing her dusting and then heading back to her tent. Amell gave Mouse a look, who met her eye and shrugged. “If she’s foolish enough to trust me, even a little, I might as well encourage it. Now then, based on everything that’s just happened, I believe the lesson for tonight should revolve around keeping secrets and the practice of ‘white lies’, don’t you?”

***

Next time: the group return to the mountains (to Mouse's displeasure) and a surprising discovery is made.

[Wig_Powder]

So I had plans to end this chapter at a different point, but then I had an idea that kind of ran away with me, and since I didn't want the chapter to get too big, I decided to break it up. Those who were waiting for the "surprising discovery" will have to wait for next time.

Chapter 6

While getting the elves to join in the fight against the impending Blight took longer than expected (thanks to having to negotiate with werewolves, of all things), the alliance was eventually secured. That just left one group—the dwarves—to deal with, and based on the rumors Amell and the others had been hearing during their travels, they weren’t going to have an easy time there either. It sounded like there was some sort of succession crisis (not entirely dissimilar to what was going on in Denerim, as Alistair dryly pointed out), and there was no guarantee that they’d even manage to enter the city of Orzammar. Though Mouse had a slightly different concern.

“We have to go back into the Frostback Mountains to reach the surface entrance,” he said, peering over Amell’s shoulder as she considered her map one evening, “And after my last experience there, I’d rather not go back, especially since we’re in the middle of winter.”

“In other circumstances, I’d be happy to let the dwarves sort things out before approaching them,” Amell said, “But we’ve seen an increasing number of darkspawn during our hikes, and we’ve been getting similar reports from other travellers. The Blight is coming, and soon. The more help we can get, the better, and everything I’ve read said that dwarven warriors would be a good asset.”

Mouse muttered what sounded like a curse. “Maybe it won’t be as bad this time,” Amell said, “You’ve got a cloak to keep out the cold now, and I’d be willing to let you burrow in my shoulder if the temperatures got too low for you. Besides, you’ve been handling the cool air pretty well ever since you recovered.”

“It’s different down here,” Mouse replied, “The cold isn’t as sharp, and there isn’t any snow. Maybe it’s the higher altitude that makes things worse.”

"Let’s just push through as best we can,” Amell said, folding her map, “Hopefully we won’t be there long. And on the bright side, there’s an actual path to Orzammar, so not only will the walks be less strenuous, but we should be able to cover more ground in a day.”

Mouse didn’t seem particularly comforted. Amell gave him a sympathetic nod and handed him his evening reading (a book on the royal family of Ferelden that Wynne had lent them). “If all else fails, you can try to stay in the middle of the group while we’re walking. Maybe being surrounded by body heat will help.” He gave her a dubious look but didn’t argue, instead taking the book and disappearing inside the tent, Amell giving him a minute or two before casting the glyphs.

It took the group a good two weeks to reach the Frostbacks, and even with the path, it looked like it would take another week to reach the entrance to Orzammar. Undaunted, they started heading upwards, after fortifying themselves against the cold as much as possible.

Even with her increased Warden temperature, Amell could see what Mouse meant. While there wasn’t any snow around (yet), it did feel noticeably colder as they moved upwards, even when there wasn’t a wind blowing through. Still convinced there was a chance the journey would be easier this time around, she encouraged everyone to push on, but to remain relatively close to each other to keep each other a little warmer.

On the first day in the mountains, Mouse gamely kept pace with them, though he still complained about the cold and sat close to the fire during their evening conversation. On the second day, the complaining increased, and he decided not to converse that night, preferring to read in his tent. On the third day, his voice became noticeably deeper and a little blocked, but despite the significant looks he threw her way, Amell tried to ignore it, passing it off as a product of being out in the cold air for hours on end. It wasn’t that she was uncaring about his condition, but she still wanted to hope for the best. It would be better for all of them if Mouse didn’t fall ill again, and she didn’t want him to be proven right. Once he recovered, he wouldn’t let her live it down.

When she woke up on the morning of the fourth day, though, she knew it wasn’t to be. As she started to dispell the glyphs around his tent, she heard a sharp “Kishhhew!” from inside it, and sighed deeply. When Mouse emerged, cloak and book clutched to his chest with one hand and handkerchief pressed to his nose with the other, Amell shook her head at him. “When did that start?”

“Last night,” Mouse answered, “Though my nose started itching yesterday afternoon.”

Amell reached out for Mouse’s forehead, which caused him to pull back in surprise. “I’m just trying to see if you have a fever,” she explained, “While you feel cold, your skin will be warmer than usual if you’re really sick.”

Mouse still looked uncertain, but allowed her to reach out again. She put her hand to his head, felt the heat coming off it, and withdrew her hand with another sigh. “Unfortunately, you do seem to be sick.”

“Of course I am,” Mouse said, giving her a withering look, “Why would I fake something so unpleasant?”

Amell actually smiled at that; despite being a demon, Mouse was surprisingly unfamiliar with a lot of different facets of lying. “We can discuss that at one of our fireside lessons. At the moment, though, we need to try to avoid a repeat of what happened last time. It’s possible you’ll still take a long time to recover, but I’m pretty sure our forcing you to keep pace with us exacerbated matters.”

“What do you suggest?” Mouse said, “I know all of you want to push on to Orzammar, so waiting until I recover isn’t an option.”

“We do what we should have done last time,” Amell said, “You shapeshift into a mouse and get carried by me until you recover.”

Mouse nodded. “I think I can put up with that mild indignity if it keeps my suffering to a minimum.” As if to prove his point, he sneezed again. “Hep-tchhh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, holding out her hand, “Give me the book and your handkerchiefs, and then you can transform and we can get underway.”

Mouse obligingly handed the items over, then changed forms with the usual flash of light. Amell crouched down and lifted him up, using her other hand to open the pouch in her shoulderpiece. Mouse immediately scurried inside, curling up near the entrance so the fur wouldn’t irritate his nose. Amell slipped a fresh handkerchief inside with him. “Comfortable?”

“As much as I can be,” Mouse said, “Go on, get moving. You have a hard day’s journey ahead of you.” Amell gave him a wry smile before standing up and dismantling the tents.

***

Another three days of walking brought the group to the entrance of Orzammar. To Amell’s relief, most of her predictions had proved correct. While the journey had still required climbing, it hadn’t been anywhere near as arduous, and there was barely any trace of snow or ice. And while Mouse still had a fever, it had never become high enough to require medicine (something she suspected everyone was grateful for). Perhaps they were finally encountering some good luck after everything they had gone through up to this point.

Or maybe it was just a respite. While the Grey Warden documents were enough to get them into the dwarven city, it quickly became apparent that they’d stepped into something far more complex than poisoned Arls, a war between forest dwellers, or an assault by demons. There was indeed a fight about who would be the next king, and unless Amell and the others helped settle it, the dwarves would be too busy in-fighting to contribute troops to stand against the Blight. Gritting her teeth, Amell agreed to help.

As she was discussing matters with her team, trying to figure out who to support, she heard a voice come from her shoulder. “It sounds like you need someone to do a little scouting for you.”

Amell immediately opened the pouch and looked at Mouse. “What do you mean?”

Mouse climbed out and perched on her shoulder. “I mean that like us demons, you mortals often hide who you really are from the public. If someone was to observe them when they’re alone or with their trusted subordinates, perhaps we could get a better sense of their characters, and thus, how they would act as kings.”

“Are you sure you’re up for doing that?” Amell asked, admittedly intrigued by the idea.

“If you’re worried about my health, don’t be. This isn’t exactly strenuous work, so I shouldn’t make myself too much worse. Besides, the lava surrounding the city is warming me up nicely.”

“There’s still a chance you’ll get caught.”

“I’m not worried,” Mouse said, “If I keep to the shadows, I doubt anyone will take any notice of me.”

“Yes, but there’s also the little matter of your…”

Even as Amell was speaking, she saw Mouse’s nose and whiskers twitch, and pulled the handkerchief from the shoulder pouch and held it in front of him. He grabbed a corner with his paws and pressed his nose into it. “Itchh! Kittch! Kishee!”

“…Sneezing.” Amell finished, pointedly lowering the handkerchief.

Mouse let out a tiny sniff. “I’m willing to take the risk. Besides, my sneezes in this form are generally soft enough that most people don’t notice them.” He looked at the rest of the group. “At least, I imagine that that’s the case, since none of you ever seem to remark on them when I’m like this. And I highly doubt that’s due to politeness.”

“True,” Zevran said with a chuckle, “Though in circumstances like this, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Tell me, has our illustrious Grey Warden taught you about stifling?”

Amell was pretty sure she and Mouse blinked uncomprehendingly at him at the same time. Zevran made eye contact with her and shrugged. “Assassins need to learn to move quietly, after all. And you never know where you’ll find the best opportunity to strike. Perhaps it will be in a dusty building, or a hold full of spices. Or even on a dark and rainy road.”

Amell gave a faint half-laugh. “I guess you’ve got a point. If you’re willing to teach him and Mouse is willing to learn, you two go off somewhere inconspicuous and practice. The rest of us will do what we can to gather information about Bhelen and Harrowmont.”

“Actually…” Leliana said, causing everybody to turn and start staring at her, “I believe I should assist with the lessons as well. I, too, have been in a line of work where it’s best to be discreet. And I would never want to interrupt a Chantry service if I could help it.”

Amell shook her head in mild disbelief. “Go on then, if you think it’ll help. Anyone else have experience in these matters? Was stifling part of Templar training too, Alistair?”

“Ironically, I must have been ill the day they taught us that particular skill.” Alistair said with a slight smile.

“All right then, let’s leave those three to their training,” Amell said, pulling out a fresh handkerchief and passing it to Zevran before carefully handing Mouse off to Leliana, “And I want all three of you on your best behavior. Please don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“You think so little of us?” Zevran said, putting a hand to his chest in mock pain, “I assure you, no one will even notice us!”

“We’re outsiders in a small city who are several heads taller than the inhabitants. I’m pretty sure we’ve been noticed. Let’s just try for ‘not suspicious’.”

Zevran grinned and gave a semi-salute with his hand before he and Leliana started moving towards the entrance to Dust Town. “Well then, now that I’ve sent them off on the strangest mission ever, let’s try to return to something more normal. Alistair, Wynne, and I will see if they’ll let us learn more about Bhelen and Harrowmont in this Shaperate, while the rest of you make inquiries around the rest of the city. We’ll meet outside sometime this evening.”

Everyone nodded their agreement (well, the dog barked and wagged his tail) and they quickly split up. Amell was soon lost in piles of books, cross-checking the exploits of the two contenders with other material about what dwarves considered to be good or noble. She kept a vague ear out for sounds of trouble, but her focus was on her work.

Four hours later, Amell had more of a sense of dwarven values, but was no closer to making a decision. When the Shaper of Memories told them that they were closing for the day, Amell obligingly returned the books, stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and back, then left with Alistair and Wynne, comparing notes. As they hadn’t gained anyone’s trust inside the city yet, they’d have to make camp outside, so the three of them left the city to find the others and start setting things up.

 Morrigan and the Mabari were already outside, having made no headway in the Diamond Quarter. Shale and Sten came back just as Amell was placing the last peg for her tent, reporting that they’d spent their time in the Proving area. They’d had a little more success in talking to people, although a lot of the dwarves had been more interested in asking questions of Shale than in answering questions. Still, it seemed that the dwarves appreciated Bhelen’s strength and drive, while Harrowmont’s positive qualities seemed to be steadfastness and quiet authority. Amell nodded and jotted down some notes, hoping reading them over before bed would allow her mind to absorb all the information during the night and help her reach a decision in the morning.

Leliana, Zevran, and Mouse (who was hiding in one of Zevran’s pouches) didn’t appear until nearly an hour later, by which point dinner was nearly ready. “Took you long enough.” Amell said, “I was starting to get worried. I wouldn’t have thought learning to sneeze silently would have required so much time to learn.”

"We thought it best to try to ask some questions in-between practicing,” Leliana explained, “It takes a while to get the dwarves who live there to open up…”

“Though a bit of coin helps with that.” Zevran chimed in.

“…And then it takes about the same amount of time to disentangle yourself from the conversation.” Leliana finished, giving Zevran a look of fond exasperation.

“What did you learn?” Amell said, pulling out her papers again and looking at them intently, charcoal at the ready.

It seemed that the Casteless (the primary inhabitants of Dust Town) didn’t have much to say about Harrowmont, but were of two minds when it came to Bhelen. Half of them thought Bhelen was a hero, someone who would change their lives for the better, while the others seemed all too happy to report the rumors that he was conniving and willing to resort to all sorts of dirty tricks to get what he wanted. The new information did seem to fit with what Sten and Shale had learned, but that didn’t mean that Harrowmont was any better. It was starting to look like Mouse’s suggestion might be more useful than Amell had first thought. Speaking of which…

Amell turned her attention to Mouse, who had climbed out of Zevran’s pouch and settled himself by the fire during the report. “And how did the lessons go? Did our rogues pass their skills on to you?”

“Let me up on your shoulder and you can judge for yourself.” Mouse answered, with a wry tone that suggested he would be smiling if he was in his human form.

Amell obligingly picked him up and opened the pouch for him, but instead of climbing inside, he stood on her fingers and rubbed his face against her shoulderpiece. It didn’t take long before he pulled away, nose and whiskers quivering. He closed his eyes, tensed his body, and then…

“Ttt!”

If it hadn’t been right by her ear, Amell was near-positive she wouldn’t have heard him. “You’re a fast learner,” she said, “Though I want to be absolutely sure you won’t be noticed. One more time, please.”

Mouse rolled his eyes, but obligingly passed his face across her pauldron again. When she saw the nose twitch, she carefully lifted him off her shoulder and set him in her lap, watching and listening carefully. She also had the distinct impression everyone else was following suit.

Once again, Mouse closed his eyes and tensed his body, but while his whole body did quiver a little as he stifled the sneeze, Amell couldn’t hear a thing. “Good work,” she said, smiling at Leliana and Zevran as she pulled out a fresh handkerchief and offered it to Mouse, “All of you.”

“I presume this means you’re willing to trust me with a scouting mission?” Mouse asked.

Amell nodded. “You have to report accurately on what you’ve seen, and aren’t allowed to take any unnecessary risks, but if you’re willing, we’d be grateful for the help.”

Mouse nodded back. “Just get me inside either the palace or Harrowmont’s estate tomorrow, and leave the rest to me. I’ll return to you in the evening with my report.”

“Where should I meet you?”

Mouse considered. “Based on what little I saw of the Diamond Quarter, there’s an area with a weapons rack relatively close to both buildings. That seems like the best place.”

“All right. For now, get some rest. I need you alert for tomorrow. Wynne, do you have the ingredients for the decongestant they made in the Circle? Mouse is going to need every advantage he can.”

“Does it taste as bad as the fever reducer?” Mouse asked as Wynne started looking through her bags.

“It’s better, though it’s still not exactly pleasant.”

 “Good. Otherwise, I’d have tried to beg off and take my chances. But then I suppose you wouldn’t allow that, would you?”

“No,” Amell answered with a slight smile. “This is too important. Besides, being caught due to a sneeze would be quite the undignified way to lose an ally, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose it would, at that.” Mouse said with a chuckle, before abruptly breaking it off to tense for another sneeze. “Ugh,” he said with a sniff, pawing at his nose before pulling a bit of the handkerchief towards him, “Useful as this stifling may be, I think I’ll return to a more normal way of sneezing after this. It just leaves me sore and my nose blocked, and it takes longer for the itch to subside.”

“Fair enough.” Amell said, laughing softly. There was a brief silence as she lifted him back to her shoulder so he could return to his pouch, and then she said;

“I appreciate your taking this risk. Even more so because I probably never would have thought of it on my own.”

“I’m happy to be of use,” Mouse replied, settling himself into a comfortable position, “Especially when it proves you’re still capable of underestimating me.” Amell just gave him a look before removing her fingers and leaving him to rest.

The next day, after dosing Mouse with the decongestant, Amell, Alistair (as Grey Wardens) and Shale (as a golem and therefore a somewhat familiar sight to the dwarves) paid a visit to the royal palace on the pretense of wanting to get more details about the whole royal family. While they were waiting to be received, Amell stepped behind Shale, pulled Mouse from her shoulder, and set him into a shadowy corner. “Good luck.” she murmured. Mouse nodded, then quickly moved off. Amell turned her attention back to fact-gathering, trying not to glance to the sides during her conversation with Bhelen’s representative. Mouse had a tough enough job ahead of him without her giving the game away. Once they were dismissed (none too politely), they returned to the Shaperate to continue gathering facts that way. But while Amell was able to concentrate and absorb the words in front of her, she would have admitted if asked that she was a little tense, always keeping an ear out for some sort of commotion. Thankfully, the dwarves apparently noticed nothing out of the ordinary, because nobody came to accuse them of anything. When the Shaperate closed for the evening, Amell took a turn around the Diamond Quarter on the pretense of stretching her legs, walking as casually as she could to the place Mouse had mentioned the night before.

Mouse was already there waiting for her, and Amell sat on a bench, looking over her notes, waiting for him to clamber up next to her. When she felt soft fur brush against her hand, she carefully picked him up, placed him on top of her papers, then pulled them close to her body. “We’ll talk once we’re outside.” she said quietly, then stood up and started moving towards the exit. Mouse didn’t protest, though she did feel his claws dig into her robes to keep himself steady.

As soon as they were out of the city and away from the eyes of the guards, Amell lowered the papers and gently curled her hand around Mouse, pulling lightly to encourage him to loosen his grip. “So?” she asked.

“Bheled’s a twhotwaefle.” Mouse answered immediately, releasing his hold on her robes and letting Amell lift him to her shoulder.

 “A what?” Amell asked, wondering if that was a dwarven term she was unfamiliar with.

“Forgive be,” Mouse said with a hoarse chuckle, and Amell realized his voice was thick with congestion, “Id’s ad old Fade insult. I couldn’t think of a better word to describe hib with.”

Amell tugged a bit of handkerchief out of the shoulder pouch. “The rumors of the Casteless were true, then?”

Mouse didn’t answer immediately, but the pause was explained a moment later. “Kipshh! TIKCHH!” Then there was a small squawking noise, followed by a sigh of relief. “I needed that. I’ve been feeling like there was a heavy weight in my nose for the past five hours.”

“Are you all right?”

“A little chilled now what I’m outside, but I’m fine. And I never came close to being caught, so you don’t have to worry about anyone suspecting you.”

“Well done,” Amell said, “But you still need to explain why Bhelen’s a…whatever you said. That’s the entire reason you went through this, after all.”

 Mouse quickly explained that Bhelen had spent the day having meetings with a variety of dwarves from all walks of life, and either bribing or blackmailing them to support him or discredit Harrowmont, or in a few cases, both. Once he’d finished his report (they’d reached the camp by this time, so the rest of the team were listening in), Amell sighed. “Well, on the one hand, he doesn’t sound particularly pleasant. On the other, the history books I’ve read suggest that most political figures aren’t above playing dirty to stay in power. Harrowmont may be just as bad. We’ll need to find out for sure tomorrow. Assuming, of course, that you’re up for it.” she said to Mouse.

“Don’t worry about me,” Mouse said, “Like I said, this isn’t particularly challenging or taxing. All I have to do is watch and listen.”

“It’s still risky,” Amell pointed out, “But if you’re willing and able, we’ll see what Harrowmont’s up to, and then we can start making forward progress again.” The others all seemed happy with that thought, and they all retired to bed shortly thereafter.

The next day played out much the same as before. Mouse drank a decongestant in the morning and was left in a corner inside Harrowmont’s estate while Amell discussed things with Harrowmont’s representative. Amell spent the afternoon in the Shaperate, learning as much as she could while bracing herself for possible discovery. And that evening, Amell went to the meeting place, though this time, Mouse wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Her heartbeat quickened, but she sat down and started looking through her notes, trying to stay calm. She couldn’t hear any sort of commotion from inside Harrowmont’s house, so perhaps Mouse was just having trouble making his way outside. If he wasn’t out within an hour, then she’d start to worry. That didn’t keep the vise off her heart, but it at least kept panic at bay.

Twenty minutes later, she felt something nudge her ankle. Glancing down, her shoulders dropped in relief when she saw a flash of brown and a hint of a long, hairless tail. She let a few papers fall off her lap, and when she bent to pick them up, Mouse was sitting on top of them, giving her a quick nod. Gathering them up, she repeated the routine from the previous day. This time, though, she thought she could feel little tremors coming from the area Mouse was clinging to, tremors that she didn’t think were being caused by him swaying with her movement.

Once they were at a safe distance, she reached down and grasped Mouse, confirming her suspicions; he was shaking, though given the heat of Orzammar, she couldn’t judge if he had a fever or not. “Are you all right?” she asked, bringing him to her shoulder and withdrawing a bit of the handkerchief in advance.

Mouse responded with a sharp sneeze, louder than they usually were in this form. “IKTSHH!” After another squeaking noise, he answered “Harrowmont seems to enjoy standing by the fire. I had to hide in a far corner that had a crack in the wall. That wall must be close to the surface, because I kept feeling drafts of cold air. Even before the decongestant wore off, my nose kept running and…itchhh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said sympathetically, “I promise, you can stay in my shoulderpiece for as long as you need to recover after this. Just tell me what you saw and then I’ll let you rest.”

Mouse’s report on Harrowmont was a little more favorable. He wasn’t doing anything openly underhanded, and his plans to gain support seemed to be about currying favor more than attacking Bhelen. There was still a chance Harrowmont was corrupt, but between the two candidates, he seemed to be the better choice. Or at least, a candidate Amell wouldn’t feel slightly dirty about supporting.

After putting it to a vote with the rest of her team, Harrowmont won by a clear majority. “It’s decided, then,” Amell said, opening the pouch on her shoulder to let Mouse warm up, “Starting tomorrow, we pledge our loyalty to Harrowmont and do what we can to get him on the throne. And then perhaps we can finally turn our attention to Ferelden’s throne.”

***

Next time: Amell and company head deeper underground to help Harrowmont, and make that surprising discovery.

[Wig_Powder]

Chapter 7

Initially, supporting Harrowmont was reasonably simple. Or rather, it involved doing things Amell and her party had become familiar with, which basically boiled down to fighting things. But then things took a turn. Harrowmont needed them to track down someone named Branka, who had taken a party into the Deep Roads. Amell had heard of the Deep Roads before; Alistair had told her that all Grey Wardens that lived long enough would wind up there as part of something called The Calling. She wasn’t thrilled to be going down there, but she tried to console herself with the thought that it might be useful when the time came to go there to meet her fate. Still, she decided not to bring Alistair with her as part of the small party that was allowed to pass into the Roads; the fewer people distracted by impending doom, the better.

Instead of Alistair, Amell had brought Shale, Zevran, and a dwarf called Oghren, who said he was Branka’s husband and could help find her. Mouse was there too, of course, though he spent the first few days in Amell’s pauldron, recovering from his cold. At least, she thought it took a few days—there was no way to tell the passage of time in the Deep Roads. The party just stopped and made a camp whenever they (which generally meant Amell and Zevran) were too exhausted to continue. All she knew was that as she woke up for the third time, Mouse climbed out of the pouch, jumped to the ground, and told her he thought he was ready to resume his human form again. Amell was more than happy to have another set of eyes to be on the lookout for darkspawn or other enemies, and even gave him permission to use magic against threats (making sure he wouldn’t be able to attack her, Zevran, Oghren, and Shale, of course). Mouse seemed pleased with the arrangement, and was even happier when Amell decided she’d let him use his mouse form to scout ahead, and then kill any enemies he found, assuming he felt comfortable enough to take them on alone. She had initially been worried he would underestimate his abilities and be overwhelmed, but apparently he was aware enough of his limitations, because there was never an incident where they had to come to his aid. Sometimes he came back in need of a healing poultice, but based on the bodies they’d find as they proceeded, he only attacked groups of three to four darkspawn (and even then, not if they had mages or overly strong soldiers), or the little creatures known as deepstalkers. If he spotted anything else, he’d return to the group and tell them what they were facing. Amell made sure to thank him or say “good work” each time, wanting to encourage him to keep being helpful.

And so they proceeded slowly through the Deep Roads, though the slow pace was due less to caution or constant battles and more due to the sheer size of the place. There were so many paths—some dwarven made, some created due to collapsing tunnels—that it was easy to get turned around. It was almost a relief when they were forced to fight something, because the bodies could be used as a point of reference. About the only bright spots to be found were that the Roads were surprisingly well lit, perhaps due to the lava that had been channelled to flow alongside the main roads, and that the aforementioned lava made things warm instead of cold. Zevran did his best to keep morale up with glib comments, but it was clear that none of them really wanted to be down here, especially as the “days” dragged on.

Even worse, it seemed the more progress they made, the more unpleasant things got. They managed to get hold of one of Branka’s journals…but not before battling huge, poisonous spiders and getting to see firsthand what darkspawn corruption did to someone. They entered a place that was much more open and with fewer dead end paths…but they got a glimpse of not only the Archdemon, but the army it was amassing to attack the surface. They got another lead on Branka…but it came at the price of learning far too much about how darkspawn were created. By the time the group actually came across Branka, Amell was under the impression they were all close to the end of their ropes. She was exhausted, sore and felt a tightening around her heart every time they needed to round a corner, unsure what new horror would await them. Zevran still cracked jokes, but it felt like he was doing it just because he was expected to, and he’d stopped commentating on the thrill of the fight or the satisfaction of a job well done. It was hard to fully get a read on Oghren, since Amell wasn’t as familiar with him, but he was taking deeper and deeper draughts from the flagon he kept by his side, and his voice seemed to be getting angrier and more frustrated whenever they took stock of their situation. Even Shale and Mouse seemed like they were getting sick of constant fighting and confusing environments. At this point, there were only two things Amell could suggest as a motivation to keep going. One, once they finally got Harrowmont on the throne and returned to the surface, she’d find some way to reward the others for suffering through this with her. And two, the sooner they got Branka to help them, the sooner they could get out of here.

Of course, it couldn’t possibly be that simple. Branka refused to help unless they helped her out first, and said help required going through a series of challenges that were even more difficult than the Gauntlet in the temple at Haven (or at the very least, there were fewer tests of intellect and a lot more fighting). It all culminated in a huge battle between them, four golems, and a dwarf who occasionally just shrugged off Amell’s spells. By that point, though, Amell was running on pure adrenaline and determination, and thanks to having encountered some lyrium veins prior to the fight, knew she had enough potions to see the fight through. Not that that made the fight any easier.

Midway through the carnage, Amell’s freezing spell once again failed to affect the crazed dwarf, and before she could cast another spell or move away, the dwarf had slammed into her with a shield, knocking her to the ground. A moment later, all the air was driven out of her lungs as the dwarf brought the edge of the shield down onto her stomach. The pain was so strong that she couldn’t move, much less cast anything. She could see the dwarf preparing for another attack, and all she could do was brace herself.

Then there was a crinkling noise, like the cracking of ice, and the dwarf was frozen in place. Amell found enough strength to roll to the side, quickly casting a healing spell on herself. When she looked up, she saw Mouse nod his head at her before shooting a blast of fire at one of the golems. Getting to her feet with a grimace (the damage may have been healed, but the pain still lingered), Amell turned her attention back to the frozen dwarf, preparing a lightning bolt as payback.

In the end, their enemies lay dead on the ground, and while they couldn’t bring Branka back to Orzammar, they did have a crown they could present to Harrowmont. After a quick detour for Shale’s sake (after all the golem had done for Amell, she wasn’t so heartless to deny a chance for it to learn about its past), they started navigating their way back through the tunnels and old roads. While it still required quite a few “days” of travel, the journey back didn’t feel quite as arduous. Maybe it was because they had some idea of where they were going, or because they knew they were close to leaving the Deep Roads. Though it could also have been because they had a lot fewer instances of needing to stop and kill things.

And then they reached the Ortan Thaig.

Just as the party passed over a bridge, they were attacked by a pack of darkspawn. Compared to some of the things they’d fought, the genlocks went down easily. In fact, most of them were stunned into submission merely by Shale smashing the ground near them, allowing the rest of the party to cut the fiends down. But just as everyone was sheathing their weapons, Amell felt something unexpected, and very unwelcome; the electric tingling of the Fade. Turning around slowly, she saw that one of the structures near where they’d been fighting, a small plinth, had been significantly cracked. Black smoke was pouring out of the plinth, reconstituting itself into something large. When she saw the spikes and noticed a streak of purple among the black, Amell’s throat tightened.

A pride demon.

As the last of the smoke faded, the demon looked down at the plinth, then over at them. “Free at last!” it said in a deep, growling voice, “Those mages were fools to think trapping me here would be sufficient. I will punish them in time, but I am also nothing if not fair. You have cut me loose, and therefore deserve a reward. What do you wish? Gold? Power?”

Amell took her staff off her back once more. “I will not be bribed by you to let you wreak havoc in the mortal world. We have enough trouble without you making it worse.”

“Then you’re as much a fool as the other mages were,” the demon sneered, “And you’ll be crushed by me, just as they will be.”

“Oh, please!” The tone of dripping sarcasm made both Amell and the demon turn in surprise. Mouse stood before the demon, arms folded and a twisted smile on his face. “I know it’s in our nature to brag about how powerful we are, but you’ve been locked up in that altar for years, cut off from the Fade. You may be bigger and stronger than the mortals, but you aren’t as dangerous as you think you are.”

“You dare to challenge a pride demon?!”

“I do indeed,” Mouse replied, “It takes one to know one, after all.”

“You? A pride demon?” the demon said, clearly torn between amusement and bewilderment, “Then why do you stay in the company of these lesser beings?”

“Admittedly, it’s not entirely by choice,” Mouse said, “But at least I have been allowed to explore this world, while you’ve been locked away.”

The demon grinned, showing off its incredibly sharp teeth. “If you’re so much better than me, you won’t mind proving it.”

Mouse turned his head slightly, making eye contact with Amell. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flashed, and she could see the anger and eagerness in them. He’d have strenuously denied it, but he was pleading with her to let him unleash his full power. And even though Amell knew it was dangerous, her curiosity over what it would be like to see two pride demons duelling each other won out. So she gave the faintest of nods as she said “Go on, Mouse. Show him what you’re made of. Just make sure not to hurt the rest of us in the process.”

Mouse’s smile widened, and he turned his full attention to the demon, uncrossing his arms as he did so. Amell took a few steps back, gesturing for the rest of her teammates to do the same. They’d jump in and help if Mouse needed it, but he deserved a chance to prove himself first. Amell found herself holding her breath, simultaneously nervous and eager to see Mouse change into his demonic form.

But the normal flash of light that accompanied one of Mouse’s transformations didn’t fade away. Nor did he start to change size and shape. Instead, the white light seemed to encompass him, gradually taking on a gold tinge, until his entire body was glowing. It was a striking sight, but certainly not what Amell had been expecting. Mouse didn’t seem to be expecting it either, because he stared at his hands, turning them over repeatedly. “What…”

 The demon laughed, the gravelly sound causing Amell to shrink back. “So, for all your talk, you’re nothing more than an enslaved spirit. Ensnared by those egotistical upstarts from Tevinter, no doubt. I appreciate your boldness and the amusement you’ve given me, but I think it’s time you learned your place.” With that, the demon curved its clawed hand and pulled its arm back, ready to strike.

“Not this time!” Amell yelled, snapping out of her shock and hitting the demon with a Cone of Cold. It froze in place, and Amell started preparing another spell. “Hurry!” she ordered her teammates, “Take it down!”

Thanks to Shale’s fists, Oghren’s axe, Zevran managing to leap onto the demon from behind, and Amell pelting it with every slowing spell she had, the creature was defeated relatively quickly. “It seems that pride certainly does go before a fall.” Zevran quipped, which made Oghren snort. Amell smiled too, but her attention was more focused on Mouse, who hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing. He was still glowing, and he was running his hands over his body, staring down at it in disbelief. Amell approached him carefully, not wanting to startle him. Who knew what would happen if she did that.

When she was an arm’s length away from him, she called his name softly.

“Mouse?”

Mouse turned to look at her, eyes wide, their mercurial blueness a stark contrast to the white-gold glow of the rest of his face and body. He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was tinged with barely hidden panic.

“What’s happening to me?”

***

Next time: Mouse has an existential crisis.

[Wig_Powder]

Chapter 8

Amell reached out and carefully laid a hand on Mouse’s shoulder, both to reassure him and to try to assess the situation. His robes felt normal under her palm, and he didn’t feel too hot or cold. But she could sense something unusual radiating from him, something that wasn’t exactly powerful in the sense of strong, but nevertheless suggested otherworldly skill and experience. “What happened?” she asked, as calmly as she could.

“I don’t know!” Mouse said, his voice rising in pitch, “I just willed myself to change into my true form, and then this happened!”

“And you don’t feel any different? There was nothing unusual prior to the transformation?”

Mouse shook his head. “Everything was the same until the moment I transformed. Then I felt lighter instead of stronger.”

“And you were feeling all right up until that moment? No illness or injury?”

Mouse was wringing his hands now, and Amell could feel him trembling. “No. And even if there were, I don’t think it would have mattered. I was in much worse shape the last time I turned, after all.”

Amell acknowledged the truth of his words with a nod, gently grasping his other shoulder and squeezing. “All right, Mouse, try to stay calm. We’ll get back to the surface and see if Wynne or Morrigan has any idea about what’s going on. In the meantime, turn yourself back into a mouse and stay in my pauldron. I don’t want you panicked and distracted, leading to someone getting hurt.”

Mouse exhaled hard, nodded back, and transformed himself. This time, the white light faded after the change, and when Amell picked him up to put him into her shoulderpiece, he looked the same way he always did in his mouse form. As she nudged him into the pouch, she could tell he was still shaking. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile before she let the pouch close, then motioned for the rest of the team to continue on. She was just as confused as Mouse was, though more curious than scared about it, and she hoped they’d be able to find answers. First, though, they needed to make their way out of the Deep Roads and crown a king.

***

Fortunately for everyone, it only took another two days to return to Orzammar, thanks to being able to travel along the main route and only encountering a few small groups of enemies. Once they were in Orzammar proper, it took another day (and another fight) to give Harrowmont the crown and officially install him on the throne. One of his first official acts was to promise aid against the Blight, and Amell felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. A second, bigger weight was lifted when she and the others (including Oghren, who thought he might be useful to the cause) finally emerged out into fresh air for the first time in ages. When they reunited with the rest of the party, she learned they’d been down in the Deep Roads for a little over a month, which simultaneously was longer and shorter than she expected. Over dinner that night, she let Zevran be in charge of regaling the others with their adventures, with herself, Oghren, and Shale all chiming in on occasion. But thanks to a request she’d made beforehand, he left out the battle with the pride demon; she suspected Mouse wanted as few people to know as possible for the moment.

Mouse himself had remained in her pauldron during all this, partly because the dwarves had never seen him in his human form and thus might have complicated matters. Amell suspected, however, that he primarily was keeping out of sight because he was still in shock over what had happened. He’d acknowledge her if she called his name or asked if he was all right, and occasionally she’d hear him sneeze (presumably due to getting a bit of fur in his face), but mostly he stayed silent. It worried her a bit, actually; after so many months of him being quick to respond with sly remarks or often exaggerated complaints, having him be so quiet almost felt unnatural. Clearly whatever had happened with the demon had truly unnerved him.

When dinner was over and everyone dispersed to pass the time how they saw fit, Amell approached Wynne and asked her to accompany her to Morrigan’s tent. Wynne didn’t seem thrilled by this, and neither did Morrigan when she saw them approaching. “Have you come to lecture me?” she asked, rolling her eyes, “Has Wynne been reporting on my perceived misdeeds?”

“No,” Amell said, “I need the two of you to see something and possibly offer advice. Wynne’s years of reading and experience in the Circle and your growing up with Flemeth may be able to shed some light on something that happened in the Deep Roads.”

That got their attention. Amell withdrew Mouse from her shoulder and set him on the ground. “Turn human, please, Mouse. I don’t know if the same thing will happen if you try it straight from your mouse form.”

Mouse obeyed, eyes still wide and uncertain, his glance darting between the three mages. “Show them, Mouse,” Amell said gently, “It’s the only way for us to figure out what’s happening.”

Mouse took a deep breath, and then tried to transform into his pride demon form. Once again, the white flash of light encompassed his body, making him glow gold. Wynne blinked in surprise and took a step backwards, while Morrigan leaned forward, studying him intently. “This happened when he tried to change into his true form,” Amell explained, “Do either of you have any idea what this means?”

“I think I do, actually,” Morrigan said, approaching Mouse and looking at him from every angle, “It seems your servant has shed his demonic nature and become a spirit instead.”

“Is that possible?” Amell asked.

“Why not?” Morrigan replied with a shrug, “If a spirit can become corrupted and transform into a demon, why shouldn’t it work the other way?”

Amell looked Mouse over. With this new possibility in mind, she remembered what the pride demon had said; “you’re nothing more than an enslaved spirit.” At the time, she’d thought it was speaking generally, but perhaps it had recognized Mouse for what he had become. And now that the idea was in her head, she realized that the golden glow around Mouse looked a lot like the one emanating from the spirit of valor she’d encountered during her Harrowing. The only difference was that Mouse wasn’t slightly translucent. “What do you think, Wynne? Could Morrigan be right?”

“I cannot know for certain, of course,” Wynne replied after a minute’s thought, “The books I’ve read on spirits have only spoken of corruption, never of reverting back. But if we mortals can sin and then return to the Maker’s path, it’s a reasonable assumption that spirits could do something similar.”

She paused again, stroking her chest. Then she said “The spirit inside me seems to agree with Morrigan’s assessment. It feels like its reaching out towards a kindred soul.”

Mouse, who had been standing still during all this, abruptly moved, holding up his hands and taking a step away from her. “Don’t!” he said, his tone harsh, but fearful instead of angry, “I don’t…I can’t possibly…”

“It’s all right, Mouse,” Amell said as soothingly as she could, “Why don’t you revert back to your human form, and we can go back to our firepit and try to talk about this?”

Mouse closed his eyes and nodded, the glow fading from his body. Amell quickly thanked Morrigan and Wynne for their help, then led the way to where her tent was. After stoking the fire and gesturing for Mouse to sit close to it to keep the chill away, she sat next to him and gave him a few minutes to think. When he didn’t seem inclined to speak, instead just sitting and looking at his hands, she said;

“Sometimes talking through your thoughts can get them straight in your head. Especially if there’s someone there to help tease them out.”

“How can I be a spirit?” Mouse burst out, “I don’t feel any different! I still think Leliana is naïve, that Alistair is a fool, and that I’m more intelligent than everybody in this camp! Those aren’t things spirits are supposed to think!”

“Are you sure?” Amell asked, “You’d know better than I would, of course, but what makes you so certain that’s how spirits are supposed to be?”

“I’ve observed them,” Mouse answered, “They always just seem content to focus on the one human trait they embody, or to try to help those who stumble across them, like Valor did for you. They don’t tend to have negative opinions about humans, or consider themselves superior.”

“Perhaps they do, and they just don’t share them openly the way demons do.”

“Perhaps,” Mouse agreed, “But there’s always been a sense that thinking that way leads to becoming a demon. I can’t explain how we know this, we just do.”

“Maybe it’s an instinct engrained in you. And while it may indeed help turn a spirit into a demon, that doesn’t mean it’s a guarantee. We mortals often think ugly thoughts, but are still decent at heart.”

Mouse ran a hand through his hair. “That still doesn’t explain how this happened,” he said, “How can a demon become a spirit?”

“The same way mortals become adults,” Amell replied, “Gradually. I know possessed mages become abominations instantaneously, but most things take a while to change. In your case, all this time you’ve spent helping us and learning about the mortal realm may have tempered your prideful instincts.” She chuckled lightly. “And it’s hard to remain completely egotistical after people have seen you learn how to use a handkerchief.”

Mouse grimaced, though whether it was from the memory or his current anxieties, Amell couldn’t say. He watched the fire for a minute, then he said;

“What you say may be true, but the discovery was still sudden. I’m different now, even if I don’t feel like I am, and I don’t know what that means.”

“I don’t think you’re that different,” Amell said, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “You’ve lost your demon form, but you’ve only used it once since you were bound to me. Based on what you did in the Deep Roads, you still have fire and ice magic. And you can still transform into a mouse. Most people would never notice a difference.”

“I’ll still know,” Mouse answered, and Amell heard his voice wobble slightly, “It…it feels like I’ve lost a part of myself, and I don’t know how to compensate for the loss. It’s unnerving.”

You’ll figure it out in time,” Amell said, squeezing his shoulder, “And I’ll try to help, if I can.”

“How can you help?” Mouse demanded, his voice sharp, “You can’t possibly understand what this is like!”

“As a matter of fact, I think I do.”

Mouse scoffed. “How?”

“I’m a mage.” Amell said simply.

“What does that have to…” he broke off abruptly. “Oh.”

Amell nodded. “The day my powers manifested was the day I knew my entire life was going to be upended. I wouldn’t be able to live a normal life, get married, or see my family again. It felt like my entire body had been hollowed out. Then there was the day when my father handed me over to the Templars and I had to say goodbye. And the day I entered the Circle and had to watch as the doors closed, locking me in permanently. And that first night alone in an unfamiliar place. And my first official day of study and having to learn the rules while being glared at by Templars.”

Mouse looked back at the fire. After a moment, he said hesitantly, “I’m…sorry. I hadn’t considered that.”

“It’s a normal reaction,” Amell assured him, “We mortals often get so caught up in our personal pain that we don’t consider what’s going on with other people until they remind us of them. It’s probably even more true for spirits.”

Mouse nodded vaguely. Amell gave him a minute to turn things over in his mind, then said;

“With all that cleared up, is there anything I can do to try to make this easier?”

“I don’t know,” Mouse answered, “This isn’t like an injury or an illness. I don’t know how one even begins to deal with something like this.”

“How about trying to ease into it?”

Mouse looked back at her curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, the good thing about this particular problem is that it’s only really visible when you transform into your demon, now spirit, form. So I won’t ask you to ever change into it. Unlike before, though, I won’t forbid you to use it. When you feel ready to use it and explore what that means, you can do so. Though I do request that you let me know when you’re going to do it so you don’t startle me or the others.”

“That’s reasonable.” Mouse agreed.

Amell rubbed her chin, considering other ideas. “It’s probably wise if we tell the others about what’s going on, but I’ll tell them not to mock you for it. That may not stop Morrigan, but I’ll tell her not to push the issue. As for when Leliana or Wynne asks genuine questions about being a spirit, you can decide if you want to engage in the conversation or not, and I’ll back you up if you don’t feel up for it.”

Mouse nodded, and Amell could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulder. “Do I have your permission to insult them if they keep needling me?”

“If I only occasionally stopped you when you were a demon, why would that change now?” Amell replied with a slight smile, “Besides, poking at our various weak points seems to have become a sport among this group. Why leave you out of the fun?”

Mouse gave a breathy laugh at that, which Amell took as a good sign. “Any other ideas?” he asked.

 “Plenty. While we’re still here in the Frostbacks, I’ll continue our normal routine. Evening conversations by the fire, giving you books to read once you retire to your tent and that you have to return in the morning, casting spells on your tent to make sure you don’t try anything funny during the night, that sort of thing. And since there’s a good chance you’re going to fall ill again as we make our way down the mountain, we’ll follow the same routine there too.”

Mouse chuckled again, clearly agreeing with her assumption. “But once we reach Redcliffe,” Amell continued, “I’ll start gradually lifting the restrictions on you. Fewer and fewer wards, allowing you to carry items, more free reign in battles. Hopefully when the time comes to face the Archdemon, you’ll have fully embraced what you are. And if you have once we've defeated it…I’ll break the bond and let you go.”

Mouse’s eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”

“There are still conditions,” Amell said, “I’m going to be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t have any evil intent, in which case you’re going to have to stay yoked to me. But as long as you continue to help us defeat this Blight and are more interesting in learning about mortals instead of killing or subjugating them, then yes, I mean it.”

Mouse continued to stare at her for a few moments, a combination of disbelief and wonder on his face. Then he gave her a genuine smile, with no trace of sarcasm or malice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Amell said, giving his shoulder another squeeze before standing up, “And now I think we should turn in for the night. We don’t want to tempt fate and expose you to the cold for too long.”

Mouse chucked again and also stood up. As they’d never put up a tent for him when they’d arrived, it was easier for him to spend the night in Amell’s pauldron (which would hopefully have the added benefit of reducing the chance of him falling ill). Within a few minutes, Amell was in her nightshirt and Mouse was tucked away in his shoulder pouch. And true to her word, Amell cast a paralysis glyph on her robes before settling down to sleep.

***

Next time: the fight against Loghain hits a snag, and Mouse proves his worth.

[starpollen]

I am still reading this.  Not so much for the sneezing anymore 😂 but I enjoy the characters. 

Edited April 23, 2019 by starpollen

[Wig_Powder]

@starpollen I'm glad you're still enjoying it! Hopefully you'll continue to do so as we move forward.

WARNING: This chapter contains some SPOILERS for one of the big events late in the game.

~~~

Chapter 9

After the party left Orzammar, things went relatively smoothly for a time. They still had to fend off some attacks by darkspawn and there was one encounter with a group of bandits, but with all the treaties fulfilled and the knowledge that they were about to confront Loghain about his misdeeds, things felt less overwhelming. It almost seemed to Amell that they were moving faster, covering more ground than usual. Even if it was just an illusion, she appreciated the sensation.

Everyone else seemed content as well. There were still insults and pointed questions thrown about, but they were accepted with good humor. Leliana regaled them with upbeat songs and stories, Amell’s Mabari made each of the party members throw a stick for him to fetch, and even Oghren’s bafflement and occasional contempt about the “surfacer world” was amusing, mostly due to the way he phrased his statements. Even Mouse seemed to be in good humor, though whether that was due to their progress, his impending freedom, or the fact that they were leaving the Frostbacks, Amell couldn’t say.

To absolutely no one’s surprise (not even Oghren’s), Mouse fell ill five days into the journey, though at least it had taken a little longer for the symptoms to strike this time. As soon as she heard him sneeze, Amell shook her head and held out her hand for his pouch of handkerchiefs. “Fade creatures really don’t like the cold, do they?”

“It seems not.” Mouse said, handing over the pouch before turning into a mouse. Once Amell had placed him in his pouch, he continued, “Though I suppose it’s possible it’s related to the body I took over. Do you remember if he was prone to illness?”

Amell tried to think back. “I do remember some of Prescott’s friends joking that they knew when winter was coming because he tended to fall ill around the same time that the temperature started dropping. But I don’t remember him being ill multiple times in a winter.”

“Ah, so I got the worst of both worlds,” Mouse said, as she tucked a handkerchief into the pouch for him, “Perhaps the Maker was punishing me for my audacity for passing through the Veil.”

“Well, on the bright side, it only seems to really cause problems when the temperatures get too low. Just stay away from the mountains, and this shouldn’t happen as frequently.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mouse said, before pulling a corner of the handkerchief to his face, “Hikshh! Tiktchh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said with a slight chuckle, closing the pouch, “And since we’re almost out of the mountains, I hope that will be particularly true in this case.”

***

Fortunately, staying in Amell’s shoulderpiece and returning to slightly milder temperatures allowed Mouse to have almost fully recovered by the time they arrived back at Redcliffe Castle. Amell did insist that he turn back into his human form when they went to greet Arl Eamon—given the previous unpleasantness the Eamons had dealt with when it came to denizens of the Fade, it was better for them to think Mouse was an ordinary mage—but since they got a few days of rest while Eamon assembled his men and prepared to head to Denerim for the Landsmeet, she didn’t think it slowed Mouse’s recovery any. It also meant that he had to get his own room instead of sharing one with her, but Amell just saw it as a chance to put her plan of lifting his restrictions into motion.

Since it would be baffling and a little suspicious if she was casting spells on one of Eamon’s rooms, Amell found some interesting looking books in the castle library and set them on Mouse’s bedside table, suggesting he take advantage of his bedrest and hoping he’d be too busy reading to get up to any trouble. During the day, she looked in on him every hour, ostensibly to check on his condition, and kept an eye and ear out for any signs of strange things happening in the castle. But Mouse seemed content to stay put and read, though he did greet her with a knowing smile whenever she poked her head in the door to his room. She returned it with a smile of her own as well as a nod, acknowledging her intent while also praising him for behaving himself. By the time they were ready to depart, Mouse was back to full strength, had read all four books Amell had lent him, and hadn’t caused any trouble. It was enough to convince her both that Mouse was sincere and that her strategy of gradually giving him more trust was working.

]The trip to Denerim passed without any serious incident, and Amell’s entire party was happy to discover that they’d get to stay in Eamon’s estate instead of camping just outside the city limits. Mouse in particular was delighted to hear that the estate had a library, and was even more delighted when Amell gave him permission to spend all his free time there. Of course, they had barely settled in before things became complicated once more. First, Loghain showed up with two of his loyal minions to posture at them, and barely an hour after he’d left, a woman showed up claiming to be the maid of Anora, Loghain’s daughter and current ruler of Ferelden. She insisted that Anora had been kidnapped by Arl Howe, the more weaselly of the minions, and that Amell and the others needed to rescue her before she was killed. Amid some minor grumbling that she had to do everything around here, Amell called Mouse, Zevran, Leliana, and her dog and set out for Howe’s estate.

While they were able to get guard uniforms and enter the estate without incident, they were eventually caught out and had to resort to fighting. On the bright side, they were able to free some prisoners (including another Grey Warden), found Anora alive, and killed Howe, which appeared to ultimately be a good thing if the remarks Amell had heard from Eamon and the prisoners was any indication. With Howe dead, they were able to break Anora out of the room she was locked in, get her a guard uniform as a disguise (both Mouse and Zevran pointed out that that had worked so well last time, but Anora was insistent), and try to make their way out of the estate. Amell had thought it would be easier getting out than in, since they’d killed most of the guards, but someone must have run for help, because a lot of soldiers were waiting for them by the front door. They were led by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain’s other staunch supporter, and she didn’t seem particularly inclined to listen to what Amell had to say. Amell had thought that revealing that Anora had not only been kidnapped by Howe, but was actively here at this very moment to corroborate the story might have swayed the Guardswoman, but Anora accused Amell and the others of kidnapping her instead, leading to a fight. Given some of the things she’d faced, Amell had thought they could battle their way out of this situation, but the constant rain of arrows and the soldiers attacking her from all sides eventually proved too much for her, and when one of the soldiers hit her from behind with their shield, she blacked out.

***

When Amell finally came to, she made several realizations at once. First, the back of her head was still throbbing. Second, she could feel the stone floor against her bare skin. Third, her staff and pack were missing. Fourth, the air smelled foul, a combination of human waste, blood, and smoke. And fifth, she could hear the faint sounds of screaming.

Opening her eyes to take proper stock of the situation, she found herself in a prison cell, stripped of her gear, with a bearded man looking at her curiously in the next cell over. After explaining how she’d wound up here, the man told her that she was in Fort Drakon, a combination of a garrison and a prison, where she would probably be tortured and then executed. Amell considered the situation, and then made a sixth realization; the soldiers who had brought her here might have taken her staff and lyrium potions, but they had neglected to drain her mana. Clearly, none of Denerim’s “best men” had ever had Templar training. With a wicked grin, Amell decided to press the advantage.

She lay on the ground, clenching her stomach and moaning, while her fellow prisoner called for help. When a guard came in to see what the trouble was, she froze him solid with Cone of Cold, then knocked him out with Stonefist. A quick search of his armor allowed her to locate the key to the cell, and she let herself out (locking the guard in for good measure) before freeing her adjoining cellmate as a thanks for his help. Of course, she was still dressed in nothing but her smallclothes and deep inside what was almost certainly a heavily populated and armed stronghold, so while it was a satisfying first step, she needed to lay out the rest of her plan before she proceeded. Trying to get her pack back was the obvious next step, but finding where it was hidden, especially without getting caught again, was going to be difficult.

“Ah, I should have known. You’re not the sort to give up easily.”

Amell blinked in surprise before quickly scanning the ground. It didn’t take long for her to spot Mouse’s tail. He was moving towards her in an odd way, his back to her as he dragged something along the ground. She moved over to him and saw that he was clenching a string in his mouth, which was attached to a brass key. Amell knelt down and picked it up, giving Mouse a wry grin. “I take it this will help me get my things back?”

Mouse spat the taste of the string out of his mouth and nodded. “They’ve locked everything in a chest in the armory, probably with the intent of going through it later to see if there’s anything they can use.”

“Are the other three here?” Amell asked, “Are they being kept in a separate part of the prison?”

“No, they’re safe, as far as I know. The guards were more interested in the Grey Warden than her companions, so Leliana and Zevran worked together to cloak their escape, and Anora and the dog followed their lead. I, on the other hand, figured I was in an advantageous position to keep an eye on you, and followed them in this form. Fortunately, they loaded you up into a wagon instead of walking or using horses; I’m not sure I’d have been able to keep up otherwise.”

Amell picked him up and placed him on her shoulder. “Your efforts are deeply appreciated, I assure you. What am I facing out there?”

“At least two dozen soldiers and several Mabari. There’s also a room full of these large wooden devices that I’m guessing are either used for torture or weapons. Best not to pick a fight in there if you can help it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Amell said, walking towards the prison exit and wincing as Mouse dug his claws into her shoulder to steady himself, “But I’m going to have to fight my way out until I get my items back. What’s waiting for me directly outside of here?”

“One guard and two Mabari. Only time I was really worried about being caught, really—one of the dogs barked at me and drew the guard’s attention, but I sat on the key and he called the dogs off, saying it was ‘just a mouse’.” Mouse chuckled. “Nevertheless, I decided it was best to find a hole in the wall and get to the cells that way than risk drawing further attention to myself.”

“Good work,” Amell said, gesturing to the door, “Care to help me out here? It’s best for me to keep some mana in reserve until I get my potions back, and this way you can show them how you’re more than ‘just a mouse’.”

“With pleasure.” Mouse said, letting Amell pick him up and set him down on the ground again. Several seconds later, he’d changed back into his human form, and after they’d nodded to each other, Amell threw the door open, her hands already generating another Cone of Cold.

With Mouse on hand to deal a little more fire and ice damage, it only took two minutes to kill the guard and dogs. Amell did feel a twinge of regret at that, but she couldn’t risk them coming to and raising the alarm. Mouse, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed, and gestured for her to follow him. “Your things are in a room upstairs. Follow me.”

Amell obligingly followed him into a room full of suits of armor and a few weapon racks, and immediately spotted the huge chest in the middle of the leftmost wall. The key Mouse had acquired slid into the lock easily, and Amell quickly grabbed her pack, rifling through it for a lyrium potion. As she located one and popped the cork, she saw Mouse considering a nearby suit of armor. “What?” she asked, before downing the potion.

“I was just thinking that you might want to wear this and try to bluff your way out of here.”

Amell raised an eyebrow at him. “Weren’t you making fun of Queen Anora for trying that just a few hours ago?”

“Firstly, I have no familiarity with her, so I didn’t know if she was capable of pulling off the deception. Secondly, she’s a queen, and probably doesn’t have much experience of combat, and thus of passing herself off as a soldier. And thirdly, based on what I’ve seen, most of the guards here are absolute morons. Just stride around purposefully and nod and grunt if someone greets you, and you should be fine.”

Amell couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “So much for my assumption that this place was staffed with Denerim’s best and brightest. All right. We’ll give it a try. If it allows us to get through at least one section of the fort without being attacked, I’ll consider that a success.”

After putting her robes and staff into her pack, Amell changed into the suit of armor, which was much heavier than her normal attire but not unbearably so. Once she’d attached everything and slung her pack over her shoulders, she looked at Mouse. “What about you? Are you joining me in this masquerade?”

Mouse shook his head. “Better to stay as a mouse so I can make a quick getaway if necessary. And while you may be somewhat accustomed to armor, it’s far too heavy for my tastes. That one suit I wore while trying to sneak through Arl Howe’s home was more than enough for me. Just stick me in that ridiculous decorative shoulderpiece, and I’ll direct you where to go.”

Amell nodded, and Mouse changed back into his mouse form, allowing her to pry part of the armor open so he could slip inside. “It’s a tight fit,” he admitted, “So let’s try to be quick.”

“I make no promises,” Amell said, as she headed for the door, “Besides, a lot of it depends on your directions, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Mouse answered, “Now give me a moment to get my bearings. I wasn’t quite so high up last time I was in this hallway.”

He poked his head out of the pauldron, head moving from left to right, then pulled it out of sight again. “Just go through the door across the way. There are some guards standing by the door at the far end who want a password, but just say ‘Rabbit’ and they’ll let you pass. That door will lead you into that room I mentioned earlier. Just keep walking in a straight line from there, and we’ll eventually be out of here.”

“You picked up a lot before you found me, didn’t you?”

“I had nothing else to do. Let’s get moving.”

Squaring her shoulders, Amell walked to the door Mouse had indicated, nodding at the men inside as she marched to the guarded door. Sure enough, the guards stepped aside once she said the word “Rabbit”, without even questioning where she was planning to go. As she continued to make her way through the fort (spotting the devices Mouse had mentioned; she wasn’t entirely sure what they were either, but she seemed to remember seeing a painting of them surrounded by soldiers, so she suspected they were weapons of some kind), the guards all gave her respectful nods, wishing her luck. Some assumed she was going out on patrol, others figured she’d been given some sort of mission, and one apparently thought she was heading to Denerim’s brothel to pass a pleasant evening. She always nodded back at them, realizing that Mouse’s assessment of them had been right. With crack troops like these, it was a wonder the city hadn’t already fallen to the darkspawn.

Less than five minutes after she’d given the password to the guards, she found herself outside. Nevertheless, she forced herself to walk at an even pace until the entrance to the fort was out of sight, not wanting to draw attention to herself. It was only when she glanced behind her and saw that the lower part of the fort was completely obscured by other buildings that she removed Mouse from the pauldron (so as not to inadvertently crush him), held him gingerly in her hands, and broke into a run. She moved in as straight a line as the streets would allow, hoping they’d eventually lead her to the marketplace, where she could get her bearings. Her lungs began to burn and the armor’s weight made her muscles ache still more, but she wasn’t about to risk being captured again.

When she finally spotted the marketplace up ahead, she leaned against a wall and took several gasping breaths, each inhale tasting almost coppery as she fought to regain her composure. Just as she could feel her heartrate starting to slow, Mouse piped up.

“You’re not going to die, are you? Because I’d really prefer those hours spent wandering around the fort trying to rescue you not to have been in vain.”

That got a laugh out of her, even if it was raspy and caused her to cough a few times. “You can’t…get rid of me…that easily,” she said between pants, “And I…refuse…to die…like this. It’s too…undignified.”

“Good. Now put me down so I can turn back into a human. Someone needs to vouch for you so you can get into Eamon’s estate. Unless you want to try changing back into your robes in public…?”

Amell shook her head and crouched down to set Mouse on the ground. He immediately ran around the corner of the nearby building, and Amell saw a brief flash of light before he returned, human once more. “Shall we, then?”

“I think so.” Amell said, taking a much steadier breath and stepping away from the wall. Mouse moved into the square, walking alongside her nonchalantly, as if he was a citizen asking a question of the city guard. They walked in silence for a minute or so while Amell finished catching her breath, and then Amell looked over at him.

“Thank you, by the way. For the rescue. I’d probably could have made it out of there myself, but you made it much easier.”

Mouse smiled. “You’re welcome. Truth be told, I almost enjoyed it.”

“And I think we might be able to use this event to our advantage,” Amell said, smiling back, “Not only can we throw the fact that we broke out of Fort Drakon in Loghain and Cauthrien’s faces, but we can use the inadequacy of the guards to weaken the people’s faith in Loghain. Plus…” she rapped her breastplate, “We’ve got a new suit of armor. If we can’t use it, I’m sure someone would be happy to buy it, and we can put the gold to something more useful.”

Mouse laughed. “You’re surprisingly wicked at times. Can I attribute that to my influence?”

“If it makes you feel more important, go ahead and think that,” Amell said, “Now come on, we need to get back to Eamon’s before our team mounts an unnecessary rescue mission.”

***

Next time: The party barrels towards their confrontation with the Archdemon.

Also, fun fact; when replaying this section of the game to make sure I had the layout of the fort right, I discovered completely by accident that you could stealth your way out (the first time I just fought my way through) and decided that was much better for the purposes of my story. While playing through that option, I found a sneezing character in the game. If you'd like to enjoy it for yourself, here's a video someone else made (sneezes at 1:50-1:54 [faint], 2:15-2:17, and 3:12-3:14, complete with buildup);

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VO-Nm5xJ4mM

 

[Wig_Powder]

WARNING: This next chapter contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for events that happen late in the game. Absolutely do not read this chapter (and probably the next one, just to be safe) if you want to play this game for yourself and want to be surprised by what happens.

Chapter 10

Everyone at the estate was understandably astounded when Amell showed up at the doorstep, in a suit of armor no less. She enjoyed telling them the story over dinner, and the combination of the laughter, applause, and food allowed the lingering anxiety from the experience to settle. By the time she set down her knife and fork, she was ready to continue working on the matter at hand.

 The next few days were spent gaining support from other nobles, battling what turned out to be a group of slavers in order to get further evidence of Loghain’s bad behavior, and convincing a reluctant Alistair that a political marriage to Anora would give them more support in the Landsmeet. In addition to the more straightforward methods of preparation, some of her teammates took it upon themselves to find alternate ways to get people on their side. Zevran and Leliana wandered the marketplace, gossiping with the stall owners and the shoppers and subtly spreading rumors. Oghren planted himself in the tavern and did something similar in-between drinks (which admittedly made him less subtle, but his being drunk and in a bar meant nobody raised an eyebrow at this). And Mouse’s library reading centered around anything to do with Ferelden politics and social graces, in the hope of finding some obscure rule or law that could be used against Loghain. Amell wasn’t sure how helpful any of this was, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless.

The day of the Landsmeet finally came, and Amell, her entire party, and Eamon went to the royal palace to plead their case. While Amell suspected she wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, she felt she made up for it by speaking with verve and passion whenever her turn to present evidence came. Thanks to their various efforts, it seemed that most of the nobles were willing to vote to oust Loghain and put Anora and Alistair on the throne. Loghain, of course, called everyone traitors and refused to step down. Everyone in the room was tensing for a fight when a voice spoke up by Amell’s side.

“We can’t afford to waste men, not with this Blight. May I suggest invoking the option to settle disputes via a public duel?”

As the nobles started murmuring in agreement, Amell turned to look at Mouse in disbelief. “That’s an actual rule?”

“According to at least four different books, it is.” Mouse said with a shrug and a slight smile.

“If both aggrieved parties are willing to resolve the matter in this way, the Landsmeet will abide by the decision of the victor.” One of the nobles declared, “What say you?”

“A Mac Tir does not back down from such a challenge!” Loghain declared, glaring first at Eamon, then at Amell and her group, “Can a traitorous Grey Warden say the same?”

 “I haven’t been backing down from challenges since I became a Grey Warden,” Amell replied, before looking around at the other nobles, “I accept.”

“Then clear a space,” the noble from before said, “And let the fighting continue until one of the combatants is unconscious, dead, or willing to surrender.”

Everyone around Amell immediately started backing away to form a fighting ring, though her teammates all whispered words of encouragement as they did so. Amell and Loghain immediately began circling each other, sizing each other up, before Loghain reached for the sword behind his back. Amell immediately seized her own staff and froze him in place with Cone of Cold. She then hit him with a series of primal spells—Stonefist to try to knock him unconscious, Flame Blast to try to cook him inside his armor, and Lightning to shock him with the melted water from her first spell. It drained her mana rapidly, but it had the desired effect. Loghain was left reeling after the assault, and Amell took a gamble. Grasping her staff in both hands, she ran up to Loghain and swung it at his legs, hitting him in the back of his knees and sending him crashing to the floor, barely catching himself with his hands. Amell took advantage of the opportunity to grab his sword, immediately pointing it at him. “I believe it would be best for you to yield, ser.”

Loghain rose into a kneeling position. “You fought more valiantly than I expected. I will yield. Do what you will with me.”

“Have him executed, then!” Alistair declared immediately, “Make him pay for what he’s done!”

It was at that moment that the Grey Warden Amell had rescued at Howe’s estate, Warden Riordan, stepped forward with an alternative solution; have Loghain join the Grey Wardens. If he didn’t survive the initiation, then the endpoint was the same. If he did, then they’d have more aid against the Archdemon, someone skilled in battle and strategy, no less. Amell was inclined to agree, which infuriated Alistair. Amell tried to persuade him to see reason.

“How is this any different from some of the others who have joined our cause? Zevran tried to kill us when he first met us. Morrigan is the daughter of the Witch of the Wilds. And we can’t forget everything surrounding Mouse.”

“I’d be hurt if you did.” Mouse said, smiling slightly.

“You were equally uncertain about them accompanying us,” Amell continued, “Yet all of them have pulled their weight and proven they value the good of Ferelden over their own personal interests. Given the things he said here in this Landsmeet, Loghain will almost certainly be the same way.”

Alistair folded his arms and glared at her. “I’ve questioned your decisions at times, but always accepted them because I could find some way to justify how they’d be helpful against the Blight. But you’re going too far this time. Either he goes, or I go.”

“What of the crown?” Eamon asked, “Your agreement with Anora?”

“I never wanted either of them!” Alistair growled, “Let her keep her throne! I wash my hands of the whole business!”

“What about the Blight? Your duty to the Wardens?”

“Apparently we don’t need to worry about the Blight if we have Loghain on our side!” Alistair spat, “And if Loghain can betray his king and country and still be allowed to live, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to follow his example!”

The words stung, but months of basing her decisions on what would best allow them to stop the Blight had hardened Amell’s resolve. “Very well, Alistair. I clearly can’t stop you. But if it helps…I’m sorry. And I’ll always be glad to have you back at my side should you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Alistair responded coldly, “Not as long as he lives, at least. Best of luck with the Archdemon.”

 With that, he stalked out of the room, and by the time Amell and the others returned to Eamon’s estate, Alistair had packed his things and left the city. Everyone did their best to assure Amell that she’d made a reasonable decision, but that didn’t stop her from quietly crying in her room that night. Losing an ally and a friend this close to the end of their fight had just opened her mind to the possibility of how much more pain and death she might have to experience before this was all over. She’d swallow the grief and soldier on for as long as she needed to, but after everything she’d been through, she thought she’d earned one night to let down her guard.

***

It had been decided that all of the armies Amell had helped gather would meet at Redcliffe to prepare for the assault on the Archdemon, so just a day after the Landsmeet, the whole party set out again. As it turned out, Loghain did survive the Joining ritual, so at least Amell’s decision hadn’t completely backfired on her. She was a little worried about what would happen to the group dynamics with their former enemy in their midst, but her comrades surprised her. While Morrigan, Oghren, and especially Wynne weren’t particularly welcoming, Sten and Shale seemed more curious than anything, Leliana’s charitable nature (and love of stories) made her more inclined to talk to him, Zevran was his usual irreverent self, and Amell’s dog was quickly swayed to Loghain’s side due to Loghain being an easy mark for treats. As for Mouse, he made a few pointed comments, but he was mostly polite to Loghain, perhaps due to them having a forced recruitment and distrustful allies in common. Amell herself did what she could to get Loghain to at least respect her, especially since she needed to consider the future. Assuming they both survived the battle with the Archdemon, they’d probably have to work together to rebuild the Grey Wardens. And she suspected it would be hard to create loyalty in the troops if the two senior Wardens were at each other’s throats. Her efforts seemed to be paying off; by the time they reached Redcliffe, Loghain would greet her in the mornings with a nod that felt more friendly than curt, though she wouldn’t go so far as to say it was particularly warm. At the moment, she’d take what she could get.

Unfortunately, the Archdemon was smarter than anyone had given it credit for. It had gone to Denerim with most of its forces, but sent a large contingent to attack Redcliffe in an attempt to weaken its opposition. After a long battle to reclaim the town, Amell’s party and the heads of the various armies met in Eamon’s estate to discuss battle plans, before agreeing they’d have to send the armies on a forced march to reach Denerim before it was burned to ashes. They would, however, spend the night in Redcliffe in order to get as much rest as possible. Amell’s party was about to retire to do just that when Riordan called her and Loghain aside, citing Grey Warden business. Tired as she was, she agreed, assuming it was some sort of plan that could help make the impending battle easier.

Instead, she listened with increasing horror as Riordan admitted that the reason Grey Wardens were necessary for stopping Blights was because one of them needed to be on hand to kill the Archdemon…giving their own life in the process. There was no other way to defeat it, he said—a Grey Warden’s power thanks to the Joining was the only way to stop the Archdemon’s corruption from transferring to another darkspawn. He promised that he would try to be the one to make the killing blow, but she and Loghain would have to prepare for the worst. Loghain immediately said he would take up the sword if Riordan fell, but Amell refused. “We need to consider what happens after the Blight ends. You have military experience,  know how to lead and command men, and still have a reasonable amount of good standing, especially since your daughter is to be queen. I’m a mage who’s somehow been lucky enough not to have her decisions explode in her face. Of the two of us, you’re the better choice for rebuilding Ferelden’s Grey Wardens.”

Loghain protested, but Amell held firm, and he eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. They were allowed to return to their rooms after that, but Amell’s heart felt cold and heavy. She was prepared to make the sacrifice if it meant saving Ferelden, but that didn’t mean the prospect of death wasn’t terrifying. She stumbled to her room, barely aware of anything around her, trying to console herself that she’d had more freedom than most mages did, and that perhaps the tale of a mage who’d stopped a blight would grant other mages more respect in the future. At the moment, though, that didn’t provide a lot of comfort.

When she entered her room, she was surprised to find Morrigan there. She was even more surprised when Morrigan told her she was aware of another way to stop the Archdemon. It required dark magic and Morrigan conceiving a child with a relatively new Grey Warden (in this case, Loghain), but that way, no one would have to die. It would, however, mean that Morrigan would eventually give birth to a child that had the essence of an old god inside it, and she stated quite clearly that she would hide the child away and raise it as she saw fit. Even though Amell had felt an almost overwhelming wave of hope when the offer had first been proposed, she forced herself to think it through. She had done much for the sake of stopping the Blight, and made some choices out of necessity that would have been looked at askance in peacetime. She’d spared the life of an assassin, a general who had betrayed his king, and a demon, all of which were well on the path to redemption. But somehow, this was a step too far. There was no telling what the consequences of this would be in the future, despite Morrigan’s assurances. In fact, given that the idea had originally come from Flemeth, a woman who had no compunction about killing in order to get her way, that made Morrigan’s words even less reassuring. So even though her heart twisted painfully, Amell gave her answer.

“I’m sorry, Morrigan. I won’t ask Loghain to do this. I can’t stop you from asking him yourself, but I suspect he will refuse.”

“Then you are both fools,” Morrigan spat, “Why not save yourselves? This way, there will be more of you on hand to rebuild the Grey Wardens and make the future of Ferelden even more secure!”

“At least until your child is grown,” Amell said, “Unless you can give me your word that your plans for the child will not harm Ferelden or the rest of the world, my answer is still no.”

“I see,” Morrigan said coldly, “Then I believe my presence here is no longer required. I shall leave you to your battle. Perhaps I may even be inclined to mourn you. But that is all you may expect of me.”

Before Amell could make any sort of protest, Morrigan had transformed into a wolf and slipped out through the door. Amell felt the weight of everything crash down on her once more, and she fell across the bed, too numb to even cry this time. She merely lay on her side, watching the shadows of the fire flicker across the wall, aware of nothing except the anxiety of everything that was to come the next day. Sleep eventually came, but it was not a very peaceful one. Then again, how could it be?

***

Next time: The final battle against the archdemon.

[Wig_Powder]

A reminder: there are SPOILERS in here for the end of the game. They're not as blatant as they were in the previous chapter, but I'd avoid reading it if you're interested in playing the game and experiencing it fresh.

Chapter 11

Amell said nothing to anyone the next morning about what Riordan or Morrigan had said. She feigned ignorance as to the reason behind Morrigan’s disappearance, allowing her party to decry Morrigan’s deceit or possible cowardice but not quite joining in herself. Instead, she tried to concentrate on the battle ahead, focusing on the small details and trying not to think too much about the final moment. Being surrounded by warriors, complete with the clank of armor and determined singing, made that slightly easier than expected.

There was only one time when a strong reminder of her impending death crashed in on her. At one point, after a particularly rousing marching song, Leliana began talking about the ballad she would write about this Blight, outlining what she would say about each of the members of Amell’s band. Welcoming the distraction, Amell listened to the descriptions, and even managed to be amused by some of the “exaggerations for dramatic effect” (as Leliana put it when questioned). But Leliana had been describing the party in the order they’d joined the fight, so just as Amell’s anxiety began to subside, Leliana began talking about Mouse, “The demon who learned to care for the cause.” Mouse seemed pleased by her descriptions of him and his heroics, though he did comment that he’d expect her to leave out his numerous illnesses. Amell, on the other hand, was abruptly reminded that Mouse was still bound to her. In a way, he was her only loose end; it would be hard for her family not to learn what happened to her, and while the Circle would no doubt mourn her, she would never be able to return there even if she did survive. But then she remembered what she’d read of the binding spell, which said that the second most common way of breaking it (other than the master deciding to let the spirit go and doing it themselves) was upon the death of the master. Since she had been planning to set Mouse free after the battle anyway, it didn’t seem that much would change. She just wouldn’t be granted the opportunity to hear Mouse’s thanks. And really, given the way he was, she wasn’t sure if she could have expected one anyway.

While that settled the matter in her mind, it did make her heart twist and the tightness in her chest return full force. Taking a drink from her water pouch to cover up her nervous swallow, she focused her eyes on the horizon and her ears on Leliana’s words, hoping it wouldn’t be much longer before Denerim came into view and the rush of adrenaline would temporarily distract her from facing the inevitable.

***

Another six hours brought the armies to the outskirts of Denerim. After a rousing speech by Queen Anora, Riordan led several contingents to fight their way to the Archdemon, while the rest of the men, elves, and dwarves did what they could to secure the city. As Amell had hoped, slicing her way through hordes of darkspawn allowed her mind to go blank to everything except fighting and survival, and while she wouldn’t say she was enjoying herself, it was a familiar scenario, and therefore easier to deal with than her looming fate.

Just as they’d cleared out the area where the marketplace had stood, a runner came with news that Riordan had fallen, but had managed to slice the Archdemon’s wing such that it could no longer fly. It had landed on the top of Fort Drakon, and thus a Grey Warden needed to get there immediately. Amell nodded grimly, and quickly selected Loghain (backup), Shale (muscle), Wynne (healing magic), and of course Mouse (since she’d always brought him along, it would be suspicious if she didn’t do so now) to come with her. Saying her goodbyes to the rest of her team, including a joking apology to Leliana for not being able to witness the Archdemon’s defeat personally, the five of them began making their way to the fort.

Thanks to Loghain’s (and to a lesser extent, Amell’s) familiarity with the fort’s layout, they were able to fight their way to the door to the roof with only moderate difficulty. While they knew time was of the essence, they took a few minutes to heal their injuries and replenish their mana or stamina. As they did so, Amell decided it was as good a time as any to make her final goodbyes.

“If the worst happens,” she began, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m grateful to have met all of you. You’ve all broadened my horizons in ways I never expected, especially after I was sent to the Circle. I hope your lives are peaceful, or at least satisfactory, when all of this is over.”

Loghain gave her a sharp look, but tempered it with an understanding nod. Wynne expressed pride in Amell and all their accomplishments. Shale merely commented that the odds were better since they had a golem on their side. But while Mouse smiled, she saw a familiar intent look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given her at the end of her Harrowing, when she’d recognized him for what he was, or rather had been. “Before we drown in sentiments, perhaps you could help me apply a poultice to my back? One of the darkspawn archers got in a few lucky shots.”

“Of course, Mouse.” Amell said, taking the pack of herbs he gave her. But instead of turning his back for her, Mouse moved off around the corner. Suspecting there was a reason for this other than self-consciousness, she followed. Once they were in relative privacy, Mouse turned around for her to apply the poultice, and then spoke quietly.

“Are you sure you don’t want Loghain to make the final sacrifice?”

Amell blinked. “How did you…?”

“I suspected Riordan wasn’t going to give you good news, so I decided to listen in. You were too stunned by the revelation of your impending death to notice a mouse by the doorjamb.”

“I should have known,” Amell said, pressing the wet herbs against Mouse’s injuries, “But to answer your question, yes, I’m sure. If you heard the conversation, then you heard my reasoning. It’s the smart choice.”

Mouse gave an almost affectionate sigh. “Then I suppose a mere spirit won’t be able to talk you out of it.”

“You’re right. Though I’d consider you much more than just a ‘mere’ spirit at this point.”

“Very well,” Mouse said, turning to face her, “Then let me say that I am grateful for all you’ve done for me. Without you, I would either be dead or back in the Fade. I’m glad to have had these experiences…and to learn I was capable of change.”

“I’m happy to have helped,” Amell said, giving him a genuine if still strained smile, “But we need to go, before the Archdemon decides to bring its tail through the wall.” Mouse nodded, and followed her back to the group. Once everyone affirmed that they were ready, Amell took a deep breath, then pushed the doors open.

The Archdemon was huge, a mass of reddish purple spikes in the shape of a dragon with an unearthly screech and the ability to spit blue fire. It had an intimidating presence, but the sight of Shale and Loghain immediately charging forward to attack was enough to quickly shake Amell out of her stunned staring. Yanking her staff off her back, Amell set to work.

For what felt like an hour, they chipped away at the Archdemon’s hide. They had some help from their allies (the mages were particularly effective, Amell noticed with pride) and Loghain’s knowledge of how to work the ballistae placed at the corners of the roof allowed them to pound the Archdemon with heavy boulders for a time. But it was still a hard fight, made harder by the swarms of darkspawn that eventually arrived to assist their leader. However, thanks to Wynne’s healing abilities, Loghain’s familiarity with the terrain and knowledge of battle tactics, Amell’s various paralysis spells, Shale’s fists, and Mouse’s freezing powers, they held their ground.

At last, the Archdemon collapsed to the ground, its legs too weak to support it. It was still defiant, bellowing and shooting out jets of flame, but it was obvious that this was the moment to strike. Her heart pounding in her ears and her blood running cold, Amell picked up a nearby sword…

…And found herself unable to move. For a moment, she thought the Archdemon had something to do with it, but as the shock subsided, she saw the familiar pattern of a Paralysis Glyph beneath her feet. As her eyes darted around, looking for the darkspawn emissary who had cast it, the sword was removed from her hand with a sharp tug. Her eyes immediately shifted right, and then her shock returned anew.

Mouse was by her side, surrounded by the glow of his spirit form. Perhaps it was the darkened sky and the situation they were in, but the glow seemed brighter and purer than it had been the last time she’d seen it. “I’m sorry,” he said, hefting the sword experimentally, “But I think the world would be poorer for losing a mage like you rather than a spirit.”

“You heard Riordan,” Amell said, her stomach churning, “It has to be a Grey Warden. Otherwise, its essence will just jump into the closest darkspawn.”

“The legends say that the corruption that creates the Blight came from the Fade,” Mouse said, giving her a knowing smile, “And I am from the Fade. Perhaps that makes me qualified to stop the Archdemon.”

“Or it means that its essence will jump into you, and we’ll both be killed. Mouse, please…”

Mouse shook his head. “The glyph lasts for two minutes. That should be enough time for me to slay the Archdemon, but not enough time for a hypothetical transformation to take full effect. I think that should make killing me a little easier, if it comes to that.”

“Don’t do this!” Amell begged, “That’s an order!”

“I’m afraid you’re not in a position to stop me,” Mouse said, “And besides, that order’s not very clear. ‘This’ could mean anything.”

Before Amell could clarify her order, Mouse pressed the fingers of his free hand lightly against her mouth. “Keep your wits about you, mage.” he said, his voice warmer and kinder than it had been the last time he’d spoken those words. Then he dashed forward to where the Archdemon was lying, looking for all the world like a falling star.

“Mouse!” Amell yelled after him, but it was too late; Mouse feinted when the Archdemon’s head lunged at him, and was able to crouch down and slice its throat. Then he stood up and plunged the blade into the Archdemon’s head. Immediately, a beam of white light shot into the sky, but Amell could still see Mouse, struggling to drive the sword still deeper into the Archdemon’s skull. His golden glow pulsed several times, and then began to turn black. Tears came to Amell’s eyes as she watched his body start to grow spikes of its own, twisting and contorting his shape back to that of a pride demon, or worse. His sacrifice had failed, and while she could feel the glyph dissipating around her, there wasn’t anything she could do to stop what was happening.

But there may be one way to make this a little easier, she thought suddenly, and as the last of her paralysis faded, she tightened her grip on her staff and cast a spell. Before she could see if it had had the desired effect, there was an explosion that knocked her backwards, and she felt a wave of energy pass over her head. She laid there stunned for a few moments, but as she came back to her senses, she heard…cheering. Pushing herself to her feet, she saw the soldiers on the tower raising their arms in triumph. A moment later, she was able to pick out some of the individual statements.

“We did it!”

“The darkspawn are retreating!”

“Thank the Maker!”

A spark of hope flickered in Amell’s chest. If the darkspawn were on the run, then perhaps that meant the Archdemon had been properly killed after all. Or perhaps the new Archdemon hadn’t yet collected itself enough to start giving orders. There was only one way to find out.

Keeping a firm grip on her staff, Amell stumbled towards the Archdemon’s corpse. While the slabs of stones surrounding the body had been heavily damaged, they were still mostly intact. She peered at the ground, waving away the smoke, and finally found what she was looking for.

Lying near the Archdemon’s wing was a jet black mouse, its body twitching slightly. Amell touched it gingerly, and could feel the power radiating off it. But it didn’t seem to be growing in size (or sprouting spikes), and the cheering around her was getting louder. Was it possible that Mouse had been right?

Even as she thought it, Mouse’s eyes snapped open. Amell braced herself, waiting to see if his being conscious would cause the darkspawn to rally. Instead, he looked up at her, then got to his feet (or paws), glancing around. She saw him tense his body several times, and then he turned his attention back to her. “What have you done?!” he demanded, his voice still the same as it had always been, though it did seem to be echoing slightly.

“I cast a shapeshifting spell,” Amell answered, “You’re locked into that form and unable to use your other abilities until I choose to lift it. And since you now seem to have the power of an Archdemon, that’s not going to be any time soon.”

“Minimizing the damage I can cause. Very clever. I presume you’re going to be killing me now?”

“That depends on one thing.”

“And what would that be?” Mouse said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He sounded so much like he had when he had first joined Amell’s team, and it made her heart ache. But she kept her voice steady as she answered;

“Bite your tail.”

Mouse scoffed. “What could that possibly…”

“That’s an order,” Amell said as calmly as she could, “Bite your tail, now.”

Mouse’s eyes widened, but he immediately grasped onto his tail with his paws and sank his teeth into it, growling in pain as he did so. “Good,” Amell said, relief washing over her, “Either the Tevinter binding magic is stronger than I thought, or your spirit energy negated the worst of the Archdemon’s power before it began to corrupt you. Either way, I’m ordering you never to issue orders, requests, or pleas to the darkspawn, be it to help you or to attack others. And you’re forbidden from trying to kill or hurt me or anyone I deem an ally. If you do somehow manage to go against these orders, I will kill you.”

“Why take the risk of keeping me alive?” Mouse spat at her, “Are you hoping to harness my power? All that will accomplish is giving the Chantry more reason to…”

He broke off abruptly, and Amell tensed, wondering if it was signaling a surge of power. But then she saw his nose and whiskers quivering, and had to stop herself from laughing as his head snapped downwards. “Rit-shh!”

“Well then,” Amell said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice, “It seems absorbing the power of an Archdemon can’t stop you from falling ill. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what caused it.”

Mouse glared balefully up at her, even as he sniffed and pawed at his nose. She picked him up and started to bring him to her pauldron, only for him to start clawing at her hands. “I will not suffer that indignity! Order me to do so, and I’ll find a way to rip your robes to pieces!”

“All right,” Amell said calmly, “Pack it is, then.”

With that, she carried him over to where she’d dropped her pack just before the start of the fight and shoved him into a glove, stuffing a handkerchief in there for good measure. She could hear him swearing as she closed the top of her pack, but ignored him as she slung the straps over her shoulders and moved to find her teammates. As she did so, she answered Mouse’s question inside her head.

Maybe this is a mistake. Almost everybody would tell me so. But you shed your corruption once. Perhaps, given enough time, you can do it again. And I’ll do all I can to help with that, for as long as the tainted blood inside me will allow.

***

A question for my readers. This isn't the end of the story, but this is definitely what I would consider the end of Part 1. So I ask you, would you rather I continue this as one story, posting the next part as Chapter 12 here in this post, or label this "Complete" and start a different thread/entry/post/what have you for Part 2?

No matter what you choose, I hope you've enjoyed this first part! It's certainly been fun to write.

[Wig_Powder]

After thinking about it, I decided to keep the story in one thread. Just consider this the start of Part 2.

Warning: these next few chapters will contain SPOILERS of varying degrees for the expansion Dragon Age: Awakening.

Chapter 12

The next few months were an interesting time. Everyone was relieved that the Blight had been ended before it had taken too many lives, and many were in awe of the power of the Grey Wardens. They’d even come to call Amell the Hero of Ferelden, and while she appreciated the title, she felt it was only partially deserved. But since she doubted anyone would appreciate, much less believe, the true story of how the Archdemon had met its end, she kept her mouth shut.

After a day or two of celebration, most of her companions said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Sten was returning to his homeland; Zevran was hoping to track down his former group of assassins in order to “cut ties” with them (Amell knew better than to ask for details); Leliana also had unfinished business to wrap up in Orlais; Oghren was joining the Ferelden army; Shale was returning to Orzammar to help clear the darkspawn out of the Deep Roads and help the dwarves regain some of their lost lands; Wynne had been offered a position at court; and Loghain had been sent off to try to recruit more people for the Grey Wardens. Even her dog was going to be temporarily separated from her, as the royal kennels were hoping to breed him. At a loss for what she herself would do, Amell finally decided to do some travelling. Her reason for that was threefold—it would allow her to truly feel like she had a break from all the responsibilities she’d shouldered during the Blight, she could explore the world she’d been cut off from once she’d been forced into the Circle, and the relative solitude might allow her to begin the task of helping Mouse shed his corruption. Though that last one was very much proving to be an uphill battle.

Angry at being unable to access his newfound power, Mouse had apparently vowed to make life as difficult for Amell as possible. He refused to speak to her, and when he had to follow her around, he’d lag behind as much as he dared. Attempting to carry him only resulted in him scratching up her hands. Knowing better than to stick him in her pauldron and feeling silly carrying her pack around the castle (with the added suspicion that Mouse would start damaging the items in there), Amell commissioned a hip pouch, something that was large and solid enough for Mouse to comfortably shift position in while also resistant to damage from his claws. It would also allow him to be hidden from sight unless he poked his head out of the top of it, so he wouldn’t have to engage with anybody unless he wanted to. Mouse gave her a scornful look when she explained its purpose, but she informed him that it was either this or a heavily charmed cage. Only then did he reluctantly climb into it, sitting sullenly at the bottom while Amell went about making her preparations for their trip. At night, she would set the pouch on a table before casting multiple wards and glyphs, just as she had when Mouse was first bound to her. She hated to do it, but with that much power inside him, she wasn’t taking any chances.

There was one small ray of hope, however. To try to soothe her conscience, Amell had opened a book of philosophy and set it by Mouse on the first night before casting the wards, a peace offering of sorts. When she woke up the next morning, the pages were covered in tiny holes, and she’d initially assumed Mouse had started tearing the book up as well. But then she looked closer and noticed that the book was open to page thirty, instead of page eight, the page she’d opened to the night before. She knew it wasn’t wise to call attention to it, and just left the book on the table for Mouse to continue reading every night. She even delayed leaving the palace until he’d finished the book, not wanting to add another reason for him to be mad at her.

The travelling was simultaneously rewarding and frustrating. She saw some beautiful things, both natural and manmade, and she now had the luxury to spend nights in inns instead of always having to camp. In fact, she often got free or discounted nights thanks to her new heroic status. There was still the occasional group of bandits or a few scattered darkspawn that she had to fight, and from time to time she came across people who instinctively flinched when they saw the staff on her back, but for the most part, it was all very pleasant. There was just the little matter of Mouse.

If Amell was being honest, Mouse actually wasn’t that much of a burden. He sat in his pouch, never helping her with things but never getting in the way either. It was just that he still refused to talk. While this did mean he wasn’t getting her in trouble by insulting innkeepers or shop owners, it also meant she wasn’t making any obvious headway on removing his corruption. She tried engaging him in conversations about the human condition, asking if he had any more questions for her, but he either ignored her or rolled his eyes and made a huffing noise. It grated on her, and she suspected he knew it, but she did her best to remain calm. Instead, she talked at him, picking a topic she thought he might like and then relating everything she knew or thought about the subject, asking rhetorical or hypothetical questions in lieu of Mouse contributing to the conversation. There was a good chance he was just tuning her out, but if there was even the slightest possibility that he was listening, Amell thought it was worth the effort.

She tried to reach out to him in one other way, too. Whenever they came across a trader or a town, Amell would look through the wares to see if there any books that Mouse might enjoy. When she found one, she’d buy it, and on the nights when they stayed at an inn, she’d set both the book and Mouse’s pouch close together before casting the wards. She’d also find excuses to stay in town until the book was finished, whereupon she’d leave it behind for the next guest in order to save some weight. She only hoped they wouldn’t mind the pages being covered in tiny claw and teeth marks.

***

Six months after the end of the Blight, a messenger tracked Amell down in Wulverton, presenting her with a letter sealed with the sigil of the Grey Wardens. When Amell opened the letter, she discovered to her absolute shock that the First Warden, the leader of all Wardens everywhere, had named her as Ferelden’s Commander of the Grey, tasking her to go Amaranthine and take control of Vigil’s Keep, which had been designated the new Warden headquarters. Baffled as to why the First Warden had chosen her instead of Loghain, Amell nevertheless wrote a quick response thanking the First Warden for the honor, and saying she was on her way to Vigil’s Keep. Then she pulled out her map and tried to find the quickest way to Amaranthine.

During the week and a half it took her to travel there, Amell began to see signs of trouble. She’d been keeping to the more populated areas of Ferelden, figuring there was more to see there. Here on the fringes, she was seeing a lot more groups of darkspawn, even though most of them should have returned underground, at least according to reports on previous Blights. But according to the people she talked to, they had mostly disappeared for a month or so, then returned to harass the populace. Some claimed they were more organized than ever. While Amell was almost positive this had nothing to do with Mouse having absorbed a lot of the Archdemon’s power and corruption, she nevertheless proceeded to give him a series of commands, carefully worded to prevent loopholes, telling him to cease and desist anything he might be doing to influence the darkspawn. He didn’t respond with anything more than a roll of the eyes, of course, but if she had the power to stop this, she was certainly going to use it. If it turned out he was the cause of all this, she’d do what she should have done back on top of Fort Drakon. She only hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

When she was two days walk away from Vigil’s Keep, she was met by a soldier who was hoping to join the Grey Wardens and who in fact had already spent a little time at the Keep. The soldier, Mhairi, treated Amell with a combination of respect and awe, and while part of her enjoyed the praise, she was a little afraid all her interactions with people were going to be like this from now on. Though at least she had a reminder at her hip that she wasn’t infallible and that not everybody loved her.

Evening was falling when the three of them came in view of the Keep. It was an imposing sight, but before Amell could fully take it in, she heard the sounds of distant fighting, and it didn’t sound like a mock battle for training purposes. She got confirmation of that a second later when she saw a jet of flame shoot out from one of the towers, and she pulled her staff off her back and quickened her pace, Mhairi on her heels. Shortly thereafter, they ran into a man fleeing the Keep, who informed them that it was under attack by darkspawn. Amell sighed, hefted her staff, and told Mhairi “Get ready for some on-the-job training.” Then she ran towards the Keep, already generating a Cone of Cold in her hand.

It took at least two hours to clear out the Keep, though Amell had some unexpected help. First, there was a dwarf who seemed to have a talent for explosions. Then there was the semi-familiar face of Anders, a mage she’d seen in the Circle but never really spent a lot of time with, since he passed his Harrowing two years after she arrived there. She mostly knew him by reputation, the mage who kept escaping the Circle. The Templars had been in the process of hauling him back yet again when they’d wound up in the middle of this fight, and had been slaughtered by the darkspawn. Finally, once they were inside the Keep proper and trying to clear out the halls, they ran across Oghren, who like Mhairi had come to the Keep with the intention of becoming a Warden. Remembering his propensity for drinking, Amell wasn’t entirely sure he’d be suited for the job, but given how thin the Warden ranks were at the moment, she knew beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, he was good with an axe, and if he could help them clear out the darkspawn in the Keep, he’d be more than welcome to try his luck at the Joining.

When the four fighters (and one reluctant tag-along) reached the Keep’s roof, they were confronted by something Amell had heard rumors of, but hadn’t wanted to believe. There was a darkspawn there who was clearly in charge of this current horde…and it was talking. This was completely unprecedented, and Amell didn’t know what that meant for the future. In the here and now, though, she and her companions proceeded to kill it after several minutes of rough fighting. At least it didn’t seem that much tougher than a darkspawn alpha or emissary.

Although Amell was assured the Keep was secured for the moment, and was now exhausted from both the trip to get to the Keep and the fight to reclaim it, she wasn’t allowed to rest until the Joining had been undertaken and a few official matters had been taken care of. Oghren and Anders (who had been talked into joining the Wardens so he wouldn’t have to keep running from the Templars) survived, but Mhairi sadly succumbed to the darkspawn corruption. Then Amell had to be officially sworn in as the new Warden-Commander and leader of both Vigil’s Keep and Amaranthine, introduced to captain of the guard Garevel and Warden treasurer Mistress Woolsey, and bombarded with questions about what had happened and what she planned to do next. She eventually convinced the assembled soldiers and civilians that she needed a day’s rest so she could think clearly, and was led to her room, where she only just had enough energy to drop her pack, place Mouse’s pouch on the nearest table, cast the usual glyphs, and then fall across the bed. She was asleep as soon as her face touched the mattress.

The next morning, she decided to leave Mouse in his nest of wards and explore the Keep on her own. Based on everything she’d been told the night before, she wouldn’t be getting much in the way of privacy for as long as she held the title Warden-Commander, so she might as well take advantage of one of the last opportunities she’d have to be on her own. Mouse gave her an annoyed look when she walked past him without dispelling the wards, but she just blinked blandly at him and left the room.

For a while, she wandered the halls, waving off any servants she ran into who asked if she needed anything and poking her head into the various doors, making a mental map in her head. It seemed the main body of the Keep was mostly composed of the throne room, a great hall for eating, as well as bedrooms for guests and important figures (such as herself). There was also a staircase heading downstairs that presumably led to the kitchens, servants quarters, and hopefully a small armory in case the main garrison was overrun. Amell figured she’d look that over later, but wanted to finish her examination of the upper level first.

Rounding a corner, she came across a stretch of rooms that apparently existed for the entertainment of guests. The first room was full of chairs and tarps covering what were probably instruments. The second room had a large window with a view of the countryside and was full of plush seating, probably a place where people were encouraged to drink tea and gossip. Amell was expecting the third room to be a place to gamble—all the aristocracy seemed to have such a place in their homes, if novels and the occasional history text were to be believed—so had merely been planning to poke her head inside and then continue on her way. Instead, her eyes widened at the sight before her, and she felt her heart give an excited leap. Nevertheless, she forced herself to finish her tour, then tracked down Seneschal Varel and asked for his help on a personal matter before she officially began her duties as Warden-Commander. He was a little confused by her request, but nodded, allowing her to return to her room.

Mouse was where she’d left him (he was supposed to be, of course, but she had had the concern in the back of her mind that he’d find some way to break the glyphs), and glaring at her even more for leaving him trapped. Amell knelt down by the table, the better to make eye contact with him.

“Listen to me very carefully, Mouse. I found something here in the Keep that you might appreciate, and I’m willing to let you have it. But you have to be willing to be on good behavior, which means doing some talking. You decide if it’s worth it.”

Mouse remained silent, but she could see a quick glint of curiosity in his eyes. Encouraged, Amell dispelled the wards, then picked up the pouch and held it in her hands rather than attaching it to her hip, carrying it back to that room.

When she pushed open the door, she looked down, wanting to gauge Mouse’s reaction. She saw his eyes widen just like hers had, head turning slowly to take in the rows of bookshelves that made up the Keep’s library. Smiling, she let him drink in the sight for a moment before jostling the pouch to get his attention. Glancing towards the fireplace, she indicated the three servants, who were looking at her curiously. “I’m going to let you stay here instead of in my room, Mouse,” she said, “The servants have been instructed to remove any books related to magic, but otherwise, you’ll be allowed to read whatever books you wish. You’ll still have to come with me whenever I leave the Keep, and I’ll be putting wards on the door so no one can enter or exit until I dispel it, but you’ll have the run of the place. These three will be on hand to fetch you new books and turn the pages for you whenever you tell them to, so you don’t have to waste time trying to do it yourself and running the risk of poking a hole in a key sentence. They’ll rotate out every eight hours, during which time I’ll make sure you aren’t getting into any trouble. Does that sound all right?”

She could see the three servants glancing between themselves, now looking slightly concerned. She could understand why; to them, it looked like their new boss was talking to a common mouse and treating it like a human. The fact that she was a mage probably wasn’t helping matters either. Even the promise she’d given through Varel that they were going to be given more pay and easier work wouldn’t be as appealing when faced with something like this.

She looked down at Mouse to see what his reaction was. His eyes were flicking from the servants to her to the bookshelves and back again, and she knew he was weighing things in his mind. The possibility of being surrounded by books and having a lot more freedom to move around must have been tempting, especially since he’d also have people to boss around. But if he kept his silence, he’d make Amell look like a fool and possibly undermine her authority, making her life difficult. She honestly wasn’t sure which impulse of his would win out.

At last, he jerked his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes, and spoke for the first time in months. “I suppose so. Just try not to interrupt me when I’m in the middle of a particularly engaging chapter.”

The three servants all stared at him, their confusion returning full force. Amell smiled and set the pouch down on one of the end tables that had been strategically placed next to the plush reading chairs. “I’ll do what I can, but darkspawn and matters of state sometimes requite a quick mobilization.”

She looked at the servants. They were undoubtedly going to have questions, and she hoped she’d be able to tell them a believable story without revealing the whole truth. First, though, there was an important question to answer. “Which one of you wants to take the first shift?”

***

Next time: Amell starts to earn Mouse's respect again.

[Wig_Powder]

Chapter 13

Amell spent the next two days settling in to her new job. She learned about her expected duties (passing judgment on minor squabbles that happened in her territories and delegating resources, mostly), finished her tour of the Keep, and started giving orders to fortify the walls and create better armor and weapons for the Keep’s soldiers. Along the way, she picked up a new Warden recruit; Nathaniel Howe, the son of the man who had once ruled Amaranthine and who had been the one holding now-Queen Anora captive back in Denerim. He blamed Amell for the death of his father and the loss of the Howe’s lands and respect, but accepted her offer of joining the Wardens in lieu of being executed. Varel gave her a questioning glance when she made that declaration, but she calmly said “The more Wardens we can acquire, the better. Besides, I’m used to having allies who don’t entirely like me.” Varel didn’t push the issue, and instead made preparations for another Joining ritual.

In the midst of all these orders and requests, Amell made sure she visited the library three times a day, as promised. The three servants tasked with looking after Mouse—Gilles, Thera, and Amista—still seemed uncertain about their new duties, but given that they were being paid a gold piece a week to be locked into a library and turn pages for eight hours, they didn’t seem inclined to complain. As for Mouse, he would acknowledge her presence with a glance whenever she entered the room, but dedicated most of his attention to his current book, which he would have propped up against the arm of one of the chairs to make it easier for him to read. Every two minutes, he would snap “Page!” and whichever servant was on duty would hurry over and flip the page for him. It was a comical sight, but Amell knew better than to laugh.

On the third day, Amell decided she needed to head to the town of Amaranthine, both to get a sense of the place and to follow up on some leads that might help shed some light on what new force was controlling the darkspawn. She told the three new Wardens to accompany her, then went to the library to fetch Mouse. Gilles was already waiting by the door, but Amell shook her head. “You and the other two will have a few days off. I have business in Amaranthine.” Then she smiled reassuringly. “You’ll still be paid in full, of course. Make sure to let the others know.”

Gilles beamed and thanked her before departing, and Amell dispelled the barrier she’d cast around the room, walking inside. “Sorry, Mouse,” she said as soon as she’d closed the door behind her, “Duty calls. I’m heading to Amaranthine, and you’re coming with me. You can finish the pages you’re on, but then we need to go.”

Mouse sighed, but obligingly finished his reading and made his way back to his pouch. Amell picked it up and attached it to her hip, then told Amista to have a pleasant day before heading out to meet up with her team.

Amell hadn’t spent a lot of time with her fellow wardens since taking command of the Keep, but hadn’t thought much of it. While she wasn’t on good terms with Howe, she knew Oghren wouldn’t much mind her being busy and Anders would probably enjoy both being away from the Templars and the thought that there was a mage in charge of both the Keep and the Wardens. If she had spared a thought for them, she’d figured that leaving them to get to know each other and come to terms with their new abilities and responsibilities without her breathing down their necks would be a benefit rather than a drawback. It was only as they were walking through the courtyard of the Keep that something occurred to her that she hadn’t considered. Oghren had known all of her companions when they’d been combatting the Blight. And when he was drinking (which was often), he had a tendency to talk.

She realized her mistake when Anders said “Is it true that you’ve got a demon under your control? Without being possessed yourself, I mean?”

“Am I allowed to speak for myself?” Mouse asked from his pouch, “Or do you intend to silence me?”

Amell sighed. “I can’t exactly stop you at this point, can I?”

“So it is true,” Anders said, and Amell couldn’t tell if he was impressed, horrified, or a bit of both, “How did you manage that? Better yet, how did the Templars not cart you off immediately?”

“She resorted to underhanded tactics, and she just made sure they didn’t know about it. As far as I know, they still don’t.” Mouse answered, and Amell could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.

“But you’re harmless, right?” Anders said, “She wouldn’t bring you along unless she trusted you, after all.”

“On the contrary, she drags me around with her because she doesn’t trust me.”

“I’ve got him in a position where he can’t do much harm to anyone,” Amell cut in, “But there’s always a chance he’ll find a way to cause damage, so I bring him with me so I can force him to stop. Oghren can tell you that he never caused any trouble during our previous travels.”

“Yeah,” Oghren said, “But he was more like a spirit then. Given that I haven’t seen him outta his mouse form since you defeated the Archdemon, I have to guess something went wrong. No telling how things will go now.”

“You’re not helping, Oghren.” Amell said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What? I thought Grey Wardens were all about nobility and honor and dung like that.”

“Oh, like the warrior caste you were a part of when you lived in Orzammar?” Mouse asked faux-innocently.

“Watch it, nug-spawn!” Oghren growled, “Keep this up and they might find you floating in a barrel of ale!”

“No they won’t. You’ll probably wind up drinking the evidence, too drunk to notice the change of flavor. Maybe you’ll even like it better that way.”

Amell kept her gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead, wondering if it was too much to hope for another group of darkspawn to attack the keep. Or better yet, if all their activity in the Deep Roads would disturb the surface and cause the ground to open up underneath her.

***

It took them three days to reach Amaranthine, and Amell was pretty sure she only spoke about ten sentences in that time. Then again, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise, with all of her companions sniping at each other. Oghren and Anders kept insulting the other and the overall way of life of dwarves and mages; Mouse made constant jabs at Oghren’s past and drunkenness while Oghren shot back with remarks about Mouse’s helplessness; Anders questioned both Mouse’s power and Amell’s decision to keep him around while Mouse mocked him for never being able to properly escape the Circle until now. Howe was the only one who mostly stayed out of it—he never really rose to Anders’ bait, Oghren seemed fairly respectful of him, and while Mouse poked at the sensitive subject of Arl Howe and his actions, Howe would shut down the conversation after a bit of back-and-forth, clearly knowing it wasn’t wise to let tempers rise too much. If it wasn’t for the fact that he still blamed her for the death of his father and loss of his family’s esteem, Amell would have tried to reach out to him. At the moment, however, she figured it was best to keep her head down.

When they finally came in sight of Amaranthine, Amell took control of the situation by barking “Everyone shut up! We’re Wardens, and we need to give these people faith that we’ll keep them safe. Let’s try to refrain from bickering until we’re in the city proper, shall we?”

Everyone agreed, with only Mouse sounding actively reluctant. Straightening her shoulders and raising her head high, Amell climbed the hill, looking like she at least had the appearance of knowing what she was doing.

After talking to some of the refugees outside the city gates about what was going on (and learning about a tunnel that seemed like a likely place to search for this new breed of darkspawn), Amell and her group finally gained access to the city itself, learning from the captain of the guard that the town was dealing with a smuggling problem. Having been propositioned by a shifty looking man who had mentioned something about finding a good business opportunity at the inn, Amell decided that would be their first official stop, after they’d had a look around the main streets. That actually went pretty smoothly; they found a bustling marketplace happy to barter with them, got more information about the trade caravans that had gone missing in the Wending Wood, and even found Howe’s sister, who went a long way towards making Howe realize the extent of his father’s bad behavior. Amell didn’t think he’d be trusting her anytime soon, especially not after watching her give up on keeping order during the trek to Amaranthine, but perhaps it would be easier to talk to him now.

Just before they entered The Crown and Lion, Amell decided to take a chance. “Mouse,” she said, “Once we’re in the inn, I’ll talk to the innkeeper and see what he knows about the smugglers and other goings on. While I do that, I want you to head upstairs to the rooms and poke around, to see if you can find anything that’ll help. In particular, I want you looking for information about the smugglers, the caravan attacks, the new darkspawn, or the missing Grey Warden Kristoff. If we can, we’ll come up to join you, but if not, we’ll wait outside the inn for you, and you’ll come back to us as soon as you’ve finished looking around. If you take more than an hour, though, I’ll find a way up there, and I will expect a good reason for your taking so long. You’re to report on anything you find in regards to those four subjects truthfully, accurately, and concisely. Stay out of trouble, hide or run if threatened, don’t attack anyone, and don’t talk to anyone who isn’t myself, Anders, Oghren, or Howe. Have I made myself clear?”

Mouse sighed heavily, then nodded. “Good,” Amell said crisply, “Then let’s go.”

“But…” Anders began. Amell shot him a glare, and he shut his mouth and followed her inside.

Once Amell had taken a look around the place, she moved towards the fireplace in the corner and deliberately dropped her coin purse. When she knelt to pick it up, she whispered “Go.” to Mouse, and he slipped out of his pouch and hurried into the shadows. Straightening up, she approached the bar, bought a round for the four of them, then engaged the inkeeper in conversation. He didn’t know anything about the smugglers (though Amell noticed the dwarven bartender move a little closer to their end of the bar during that part of the discussion), but he did confirm that Warden Kristoff had taken a room here, and had given every intention of coming back. He was even kind enough to give them permission to take a look at Kristoff’s room, and pointed them in the direction of a waitress who had been pretty friendly with Kristoff before he’d gone missing. Amell thanked him, slipped him some extra silver in thanks, and then took her party off to a corner to finish their drinks before heading upstairs.

Anders took advantage of the opportunity to finish voicing his earlier concern. “Was it wise to give so much responsibility to that demon? How do you know he won’t betray us?”

“Why do you think I gave him such specific orders?” Amell answered, “It gives him less wiggle room to cause trouble. And if I give him more responsibility, he’ll be less inclined to dislike us, and more inclined to cooperate.”

Anders still seemed skeptical, but gave a shrug. “You’re the boss. Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing.”

He took a swig of his drink and turned his attention to tweaking Oghren for the size of his swallows. Amell sipped her own drink, resisting the urge to glance towards the stairs leading up to the rented rooms. What she’d told Anders was true, but there was more to it than that. Letting Mouse scout around and have a bit more freedom would hopefully be another step towards getting him to trust her again and possibly starting to lose some of his corruption. In addition, if he followed her orders, it would show the other three that she did indeed have control of him, which in turn would make them have faith in her leadership abilities. Of course, it all depended on Mouse doing as she’d asked, and while she’d tried to avoid any potential loopholes, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t find some way to do as he pleased. She could only hope she’d made the right call.

Once they’d finished their drinks, Amell led the way upstairs. First, she chatted with Sorcha the waitress, both to get some more information on Kristoff and to give Mouse a little more time to explore on his own. Then, when Sorcha went back downstairs to tend to her customers, Amell immediately headed for the first door, which wasn’t Kristoff’s room. When Howe gave her a questioning look, she just said “I’m the new overseer of these lands. I have the right to go where I please, as long as I have a good explanation for doing so. And in this case, we need information.” Howe’s lip actually quirked upwards at that, and she got the feeling that he approved. Feeling a bit of hope that things were starting to look up, she walked into the room.

The first room didn’t offer up anything of interest, and there was no sign of Mouse. The second room was Kristoff’s room, and while Mouse wasn’t there either, she did find notes on where he was heading, a place called Blackmarsh. Glad to have another lead but starting to get concerned about Mouse’s whereabouts, Amell moved on to the third room.

The first thing she noticed was that this room must have been one of the deluxe ones, since it had what appeared to be a private bath.  The second thing that got her attention was the small furry figure sitting next to the bath. “There you are,” she said, stepping forward, “Did you hear us coming and just decide to sit and wa…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Mouse leapt at her and swiped at her ankles, ripping a long tear down her sock. Even as she yelled “Mouse!” she whipped her staff off her back and fired a Cone of Cold, while an Arcane Bolt streaked past her and hit Mouse simultaneously. Mouse let out an almost pitiful screech and collapsed on his side, before his body exploded, spattering the bottom of Amell’s robes with blood. Heart racing, Amell’s eyes darted around. Even with his powers limited by his mouse form, Mouse had taken in a lot of the essence of an Archdemon. If he’d found some way to bypass her orders, he surely would be able to take more damage than that. He was probably hiding somewhere else in the room, waiting to make a more deadly strike. “Spread out and search the room!” she ordered, “And be on your guard. He’s small enough to be anywhere.”

“I’m out here.”

Immediately, another Cone of Cold (courtesy of Anders this time), an arrow, and a Stonefist all were shot at the door of the room, all of which landed on empty floor. Amell heard a yelp, soon followed by Mouse’s indignant voice. “What was that for?”

“You know very well what it was for!” Amell said, “I don’t know how you got around my orders not to harm me or my allies, but since you did, I’m going to keep my word and put you down.”

“What are you talking about?” Mouse said, a note of confusion in his angry tone, “I’ve just come back from examining the back rooms.”

“Liar! You attacked me, and when I fought back, you left a dummy body that exploded!”

There was a brief pause, and then Mouse said “I knew I sensed something off about that room, which is why I decided to hold off on looking inside. Whatever happened in there, it wasn’t me who attacked you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Put a paralysis glyph on me and leave one of your illustrious party members to keep an eye on me. You and the other two can then proceed into the back room, where you’ll find several huge barrels of ale, bags of foodstuffs…and right at the very back, a locked trapdoor. That’s probably where the smugglers are operating from. If I’m lying, come back here and do what you want with me.”

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Amell signaled for Howe to accompany her out of the room. Stepping out of the room, she saw Mouse right by the doorjamb, watching her just as warily as she was watching him. She promptly surrounded him with the paralysis glyph, told Oghren to stay and keep watch, then took Howe and Anders with her to confirm what Mouse had said. Sure enough, she saw all the “landmarks” Mouse had described, and bafflement began to mix in with her anger and anxiety. It was still possible Mouse was playing a trick, but if he was telling the truth…what had just happened back there?

“I told you so,” Mouse said triumphantly, as they came back into the main corridor and Amell signaled for Oghren to loosen his grip on his axe, “I’m innocent.”

“That remains to be seen.” Amell said curtly. Crouching down next to him, she dispelled the glyph and then immediately grabbed him tightly around the abdomen, causing him to yelp again. Carrying his squirming form into the room, she thrust her hand downwards so he could look at the remains of the body. “You’re telling me you had nothing to do with this?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Mouse replied, his voice still indignant but with just a hint of concern lurking in there, “I still have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“As much as I hate to defend him,” Anders piped up, “There is another way to corroborate what he’s saying. I can cast some spells to see if the magical energy of this corpse matches his. If it is a duplicate he created, it should be at least fifty percent similar, even if he tried to cover his tracks.”

Amell nodded, and Anders knelt down and started waving his hands over the body. After a few seconds, it started glowing a sickly yellow color. Then Anders stood up and did the same thing to Mouse, who was soon surrounded by a black aura. “They aren’t the same,” Anders concluded, lowering his hands, “Not even close.”

“There, you see?” Mouse said, “Would you mind putting me down now? I think your nails are about to draw blood.”

Amell jammed him into the hip pouch, still unprepared to come down from battlestations. “If you aren’t the one responsible for this, then what is going on? Ordinary mice don’t explode when they die.”

“Depends on how you kill them.” Anders piped up cheerily.

Amell shot him a quick look before she continued “We didn’t use any sort of spell that would have that effect, so there must be something going on here. Search the room for clues.”

Anders headed for the desk, Howe made a beeline for the chest near the bed, and Oghren started opening drawers. Amell carefully skirted the remains of the other mouse and took a look in the bath. It was hard to see among the dark stones, but after kneeling down to examine them more closely, she could detect traces of blood.

“Commander!” Anders called, and when Amell stood up and turned to him, he was waving some papers. “Whoever rented out this room is an apostate. He’s got letters talking about Circles and various spells.”

“And based on what I just saw, he’s a blood mage,” Amell said grimly, all the pieces coming together in her head, “That mouse must have either been his familiar, or some poor beast he enchanted to ward off intruders, complete with exploding upon death. Anders, give us a Group Heal in case there were any other nasty surprises in that thing. Then let’s get into that trapdoor and deal with the smugglers. Once we’re done with that, we’ll see about finding this blood mage. We’ve got enough to deal with without one of those lurking around.”

Anders nodded reluctantly and cast the spell. While they all waited for the magic to fade, Mouse spoke up.

“You really were about to kill me, weren’t you?”

“You sound surprised.”

“After…you chose to spare me, I thought you were blinded by sentimentality. Apparently I was wrong.”

He left it at that, but Amell had heard something in his voice she hadn’t expected to hear for a long time; respect. For her. It didn’t mean he was on the path to redemption, but perhaps his coldness towards her was starting to thaw. There was even a chance he’d start speaking to her properly soon. As long as they didn’t have another close call like this, Amell would welcome this new development.

Once Anders had given them the all-clear, Amell led the way to the trap door, where a combination of Cone of Cold and Stonefist broke the lock and allowed them access to a tunnel. Two minutes later, they emerged into a grotto, full of crates and at least a dozen men, who immediately attacked them. Unfortunately for them, the incident in the inn had put Amell’s team on edge, and taking it out on smugglers was the ideal way to release their stress. Once they were all dead, Amell started searching them for anything she could bring to the guard captain. As she was doing this, she heard Oghren pipe up from somewhere behind her.

“Hey, lookie here. There are some more mice down here with us. Can you understand them, Mouse? You may not have access to most of your powers, but maybe being in that form allows you to understand other pathetic critters.”

Mouse didn’t say anything, and Amell thought maybe he wasn’t going to dignify it with a response. But then he said “Why, yes, I can understand them! They’re wondering what foul plague has invaded their home, because they’re suddenly smelling the scent of death! The only question is, are they picking up all of your body odor, or just your breath?”

“Big talk from someone I could have cut in half back in the inn.”

Amell rolled her eyes and continued searching the bodies as Mouse made a retort. Well, at least things were going back to normal.

***

Fun note: the incident in the inn actually happens in the game. However, not only is the mouse listed as a "ferret" when it's clearly using the mouse model, there is no explanation given for why it attacks you/explodes. However, it fit perfectly with what was going on in my story, so I took full advantage of it.

Next time: New allies are found, Mouse confronts his past, and the story justifies being here by including some sneezing.

[rockbell]

I'm absolutely loving this!

[Wig_Powder]

@rockbell I'm so glad! It's been a lot of fun to write, and I'm glad it's (hopefully) equally enjoyable to read!

WARNING: This chapter pretty much summarizes the main quests of Awakening, so there are a lot of SPOILERS, as well as a reference to one of the most dramatic and creepy moments in Origins. I would advise against reading it if you haven't played the games but are interested in doing so without being spoiled.

WARNING 2: As a partial result of Warning 1, this chapter is kind of huge. My apologies.

Chapter 14

Amell, Mouse, and the three other Wardens spent two days in Amaranthine, clearing out the smugglers and other potential dangers, including not one, but four apostate mages. They also had a brief reunion with Wynne, who was glad to see Amell, politely greeted Oghren, and even gave a hesitant nod to Mouse, who didn’t respond verbally but did flick his ears in her direction. Once Amell had decided they’d completed all business that was either of potential import to the Wardens or a risk to the town, she declared they would head back to Vigil’s Keep to give a report and check in on things before heading to that darkspawn tunnel. Perhaps they could discover the source of the trouble there, which would resolve some of their other problems, like the attacks on the trade caravans.

The walk back to the Keep was much the same as the journey there had been. Mouse, Anders, and Oghren continued to trade insults with each other, with Howe being smart enough to mostly stay out of it. Amell, meanwhile, made a mental note to request that Oghren and Anders be transferred to different garrisons as soon as this current crisis was over. It would get Anders away from the Templars, but more importantly, it would make her life a little easier.

When they finally arrived at the Keep, the other three retired to their rooms, while Amell headed to the throne room to give her report. Mouse kept shifting around in his pouch and making exasperated huffing noises the entire time, which everyone ignored as best they could. At last, she was finished, and Seneschal Varel told her there were some matters that had come up while she was gone that required her input. “Gather all the—supplicants?—here in the throne room,” Amell said, “I have a few matters to attend to before I meet with them.” Then, as she started to walk away, she added, “Oh, and tell Thera to report to the library.”

“About time.” Mouse muttered as she left the room.

“My responsibilities are to the Wardens first, the people of Amaranthine second, all of Ferelden third, and you a distant fourth. There may even be a few others who take priority over you and your desire to read books.”

“Isn’t bettering oneself an ideal we should all strive for?” Mouse responded, “It’s why you’re keeping me around, isn’t it? Hoping I’ll change?”

“Maybe so, but we need to be alive in order to better ourselves. In order to do that, I have to deal with matters of state.”

Mouse just made a dismissive noise. Amell brought him to the library, where they found that the book he’d been reading was right where he’d left it. Amell set his pouch on the nearest end table, and Mouse quickly hopped down onto the easy chair, tsking in disapproval. “They didn’t even turn the page in preparation for my return. Very sloppy.”

Amell flipped the page for him. “I wouldn’t advise annoying them, Mouse. If they complain, I may decide to reduce their shifts to six hours instead of eight, and leave you to muddle through those last four hours on your own. Maybe I’ll even force you to leave the library entirely.”

“An idle threat,” Mouse replied, standing up on his hind legs and starting to read, “By your own words, I’m not a priority.”

“Try me, Mouse.” Amell said, “Just remember how quick I was to act at The Crown and Lion.”

Mouse seemed to pause for a moment, then gave an approximation of a shrug. “Perhaps.”

Thera arrived at that moment, and Amell left the room to erect the barrier, knowing she couldn’t linger. After all, she had a public appearance to make, and still needed to freshen up after being on the road. She could only hope that the people coming to her for decisions would be more agreeable than her teammates had been lately.

She spent the rest of that afternoon listening to various grievances and requests, deliberating each case with Varel, and finally pronouncing judgment. She tried to be fair, but given the current darkspawn situation and her unfamiliarity with the people and customs of the region, she wasn’t always sure she’d made the right choices. It didn’t help that she’d been told that the First Warden was taking an interest in how she handled being in charge of Amaranthine. If the people respected the job she and her Wardens did here, the Wardens all across Thedas might gain some standing, which would be helpful when another Blight inevitably came along. When her judgements were finished and she was allowed to retire, she wondered idly how she kept winding up with so much responsibility on her shoulders. Really, there were only three good things to come out of this. She wouldn’t spend her whole life in the Circle; she’d be able to keep her mind and body sharp; and she could safely say that her life wasn’t boring.

***

Amell and her team spent a full day in the Keep, dealing with a passage they’d found in the basement that wound up leading straight to the Deep Roads as well as talking with some of the craftsmen who had come to strengthen the Keep. This was also when Amell discovered that Anders had acquired a kitten he’d named Ser Pounce-a-Lot. He seemed to genuinely care about the cat, but given the “joking” comment he made about “having another line of defense against possession”, Amell suspected an ulterior motive. To that end, she made it very clear that Ser Pounce wasn’t allowed to eat Mouse. He (the cat) would have to stay in Anders’ pack or quarters, and would never be allowed anywhere near the library, even with supervision. Anders promised to control Ser Pounce as best as he could, but as he pointed out with a grin “Cats generally aren’t ones to be controlled. Perhaps that’s why I like them; they’re free spirits.” Amell just sighed, figuring she’d done all she could.

Mouse, of course, had a few choice words on the subject when she came to fetch him the next day in preparation for heading to that tunnel. “Flattered as I am that he’s intimidated by me, this is crossing a line. I’m holding both of you responsible if that…thing comes after me. And I expect you to make sure both it and Anders know their place.”

“Who’s bound to who here?” Amell said, tying Mouse’s pouch to her waist, “I’ll do what I can, but Anders is going to enjoy threatening you with it. Then again, given the back-and-forth you two are capable of, I’m sure you can find some way to get back at him. Think of it as a challenge.”

Mouse rose to that challenge very quickly. They were barely out of sight of Vigil’s Keep before he briefly stunned Anders into silence by saying “You know, I once saw a desire demon take the form of a cat. It looked a lot like yours, now that I think about it.” Oghren roared with laughter, Howe sighed deeply, and Amell took advantage of everyone’s distraction to smile.

It took a little over a week to get to the tunnel, with things playing out much the same as they had on all their prior travels. The one difference was that after spending some time with his sister and recovering the family bow during their trip to the Keep’s basement, Howe had softened towards Amell considerably. The two of them were able to chat while the other three were bickering. He seemed interested in what had gone on during the Blight, and Amell welcomed any advice or experience he had with Vigil’s Keep and Amaranthine. And if nothing else, it passed the time a little better than just listening to multiple variations (albeit creative ones) of the same insults.

To Amell’s slight relief, her group stopped poking at each other once they reached the tunnel. Part of this was due to realizing the seriousness of the situation, but some of it was because they quickly gained a new companion. Her name was Sigrun, a dwarf who belonged to the Legion of the Dead, a group tasked with eliminating darkspawn. Her comrades had either been killed or dragged away, and while she had run away to avoid meeting the same fate, she was more than willing to go back and deal with them now that she had backup. Since Anders was mumbling about being claustrophobic, Amell assigned him to guard the entrance, and took the other four down into the Deep Roads once more.

It didn’t take long for things to start playing out the way they had when Amell and her companions had gone through the Roads surrounding Orzammar. Numerous routes and dead ends, an inability to judge the passage of time, travelling and fighting until they were too exhausted to go on. But things were somehow even worse this time. Occasionally, they caught glimpses of what seemed to be ghosts, replaying the last moments of the Thaig before it fell to the darkspawn. There was a new creature to fight, a large grub-like beast that moved surprisingly fast and could do a lot of damage if it managed to jump on someone. While they saw evidence of darkspawn fighting each other, both sides seemed happy to put aside their differences and attack any outsiders who came upon them. It was extremely unpleasant, and all Amell could do was hope they could get through it faster than they had in Orzammar.

It didn’t help that Mouse had decided to engage in a bit of psychological warfare. Amell didn’t know if he was doing it as part of his campaign to rile up Oghren, get back at her for locking him in his mouse form, or something else, but she had to admit he’d known just where to strike. During the first day, they had been on a surprisingly long stretch of road without encountering any enemies. They had also just seen their first ghosts, so there was a feeling of tension in the air, especially whenever they spotted a bend in the road. The group was going around one of these bends when Mouse had spoken up. His voice was quiet, but due to the combination of the acoustics of the stone and the echo Mouse’s voice had developed after absorbing the Archdemon’s power, everyone heard it loud and clear.

“First day they come and catch everyone…”

“No,” Amell said immediately, “If you ever start doing that again, I will throw this pouch against the wall, hit you with every paralyzing spell in my arsenal, and then I will let Oghren pound you into paste.”

“Let me do it now!” Oghren snarled, “I don’t even need my axe, I’ll do it with my feet!”

“We can’t kill him for being an ass. If that was all it took, I’d have been justified in killing him, you, and Anders before we even reached Amaranthine.”

Oghren had given Mouse a murderous look and started muttering obscenities under his breath, but had obligingly stalked away. Sigrun and Howe had exchanged confused, nervous looks, but then continued walking. Mouse had merely fallen silent, knowing his work was done. And Amell resumed walking and scanning for enemies, but now the poem Mouse had begun reciting repeated itself over and over in her head. Given Oghren’s increased ferocity when fighting the darkspawn and his overall foul mood, Amell suspected the same thing had happened to him.

 In the end, they successfully cleared the Thaig of both factions of darkspawn (hearing things about “The Mother” and “The Architect” along the way), found a shortcut out of the area, and convinced Sigrun to join the Wardens. Emerging into the daylight was an immense relief, both because they were in more familiar territory and because Amell could finally banish the poem from her mind. Oghren also calmed down once they were outside, though perhaps that was due to being able to distract himself by insulting Anders. Mouse, meanwhile, turned his attention to trying to find Sigrun’s weak spot, but she was more curious about him than anything, so he didn’t find much success. After the stunt he’d pulled, Amell was glad of it.

***

After returning to Vigil’s Keep and putting Sigrun through the Joining (she survived, happily), Amell and the others spent two weeks tending to matters in the Keep and Amaranthine, before setting out to the Wending Woods to see what was happening to the trading caravans. This time, Amell brought Anders, Howe, and Sigrun, partly to allow Sigrun to explore the surface and partly to allow Oghren even more distance from Mouse. Oghren had stopped initiating conversations with Mouse, and when Mouse tried, Oghren would respond with swearing and threats until Amell told both of them to knock it off (though she always scolded Mouse more than Oghren). Time apart could only be beneficial for all of them, as far as she was concerned.

Initially, dealing with the woods was far easier than fighting through the Deep Roads. Sure, they still had to fight darkspawn, and now there were wolves and moving trees that came after them, but there was more room to move about and it was a lot easier to see what was coming. They even found the primary source of the caravan attacks; it wasn’t the darkspawn after all, but an elf convinced that humans had killed the rest of her clan. When Amell finally got the elf, Velanna, to calm down, she provided proof (gained during one of the periods when the group had gotten lost and were wandering blindly around the forest) that it was the darkspawn who were responsible for the death of her friends and family. Convinced that her sister was still alive, Velanna begged to join them in tracking down the darkspawn who had done this. Amell agreed on the condition that Velanna leave the woods entirely once they had finished so the caravans could pass in peace, and the group eventually discovered the darkspawn entering and exiting an old silverite mine. Leaving Howe outside to stand watch and pick off any darkspawn who approached, they descended into the mine. They’d barely gotten out of sight of the entrance when they were trapped in a glyph, and caught a brief glimpse of a tall, skeletal figure above them before they were forced to fall asleep.

When Amell awoke, she found herself on the floor of a cell, her gear stripped from her (though she was in simple clothes rather than her smallclothes this time), and her companions in the same cell. Well, almost all of them; it didn’t take long to discover that Mouse was missing. Amell wondered if he’d taken advantage of the opportunity to escape, since she highly doubted he’d be coming to her rescue this time. She just hoped she’d be able to find him. Not only was it unwise to leave him to his own devices, constantly yelling “Mouse, get back here! That’s an order!” would draw too much attention to themselves.

Since they had three mages in the group, Amell had figured they could work together to blast their way out. It turned out to be far easier to escape than that—Seranni, Velanna’s sister, gave them the key and begged them to flee before running off. Of course, Amell wasn’t about to let the darkspawn escape, especially after they’d tried to capture Grey Wardens. Since Sigrun was of the same mind and Velanna wanted to get her sister back, the group agreed to proceed deeper into the mine. Before doing that, however, they poked around the prison, looking for their old equipment. Going through a set of double doors, they were met with a surprise. Instead of the torture chamber Amell had half-expected, the room was full of bookshelves and tables covered with vials and miscellaneous objects. As she was looking around in bewilderment, a familiar voice piped up.

“I was wondering when you’d finally show up to rescue me.”

Just as Anders started to groan, a mew distracted him, and he rushed over to the tables, where Ser Pounce-a-Lot was lying in a small cage. There was an even smaller cage next to it, and when Amell walked over, Mouse was staring at her through the bars. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Mostly,” Mouse acknowledged, shooting a glare over at Ser Pounce, who Anders was now cuddling and cooing over, “That beast kept swatting at me and shaking the cage, and I think the darkspawn extracted some blood from me, if the soreness in my side is any indication.”

“Did you see anything that could help us?”

Mouse shook his head. “I only came to briefly, and the room was empty when I woke up properly. After that, I was distracted by the cage rattling every thirty seconds.”

 Amell sighed. “It was worth asking. Clearly there’s something going on here, and the faster we can get answers, the better. I guess the only way to find them is to head back into the mines.”

She picked up the cage and some twine from the desk and started to attach it to her hip. “Couldn’t you just let me out?” Mouse asked, “It’s not particularly comfortable in here.”

“Anders already let Ser Pounce out, and doesn’t have a place to put him. Do you really want to be loose at the same time the cat is?”

Mouse shuddered. “You have a point. Just let me out as soon as we get my pouch back.”

“I might,” Amell replied, “But then again, I’m still not happy with what you did in the Deep Roads. Maybe having to stay in there will teach you a lesson.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

She was pretty sure Mouse was glaring at her, but he fell silent and allowed her to finish hanging the cage from her hip. Once she thought the cage was secure enough, she motioned to her team. “Let’s take a quick look around here to see if we can find any clues, and then we’ll get moving.”

It soon became clear that someone was experimenting on darkspawn, which would explain their being able to talk. Said experiments also involved blood, which made Amell a bit nervous; if they had a sample of Mouse’s blood, there was a chance they had some of the Archdemon’s essence. To be on the safe side, she had everyone gather up all the vials in the room and set them in a pile on the floor. Then they walked to the double doors, and Amell cast a fireball at the vials before shutting the doors behind her. Everyone seemed satisfied by the destruction, which at least was good for morale.

Several bouts of fighting eventually got them their gear back, and they took turns hiding behind a corner to change. When it was Amell’s turn, she told Mouse that she’d put him back in his pouch once they’d left the mines, just to show him that she was capable of carrying out her threats. “And I’ll be keeping the cage and key,” she added, “Just in case you start acting out in the future. Keep that in mind whenever you start going a little too far with your jibes.”

Mouse grumbled, but the message had clearly been received, because he kept relatively quiet for the rest of the time in the mines. Along the way, the group caught another glimpse of the skeletal figure, now revealed to be the Architect, before he sent two dragons after them. By the time the dragons had been killed, the Architect had vanished, along with Seranni. Velanna all but begged to be allowed to join the Wardens in order to rescue her sister, and Amell agreed, since doing so would swell the Wardens ranks, stop the attacks on the caravans, and possibly soften Velanna’s attitude towards humans. They made their way out of the mine, reunited with Howe (who had been concerned, but told them they’d only been gone for a day), and started looking for the main path that would lead them back to Amaranthine. And true to her word, Amell finally let Mouse out of his cage, making a show of putting the cage and key in her pack. While he gave her another glare and made sure to prick her with his claws as she transferred him to his pouch, he did stay quiet for a good part of the walk. It was only when Anders started fussing over Ser Pounce again that Mouse decided to start up his insults once more. “At least I was deemed important enough to take blood from. They were probably going to use that creature as a test subject. Or perhaps for food.”

Anders gasped, pressed Ser Pounce close to his chest, and gave Amell a pleading look. “Can’t you put him back in his cage for being so cruel?”

“Somehow, I don’t think that would shut him up. Besides, why would I deprive both of you of your favorite way to pass the time?”

Anders sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Don’t listen to the meanie, Ser Pounce-a-Lot,” he added, speaking in the sing-song tone Amell had sometimes used on her Mabari during the peaceful moments at camp, “You’re much bigger and handsomer than he is.”

As Mouse responded with “And I’m handsomer than you. What’s your point?”, Amell caught sight of Velanna grimacing, clearly wondering what she had just gotten herself into. Amell gave her a sympathetic look, but decided not to say anything. Given Velanna’s temper, she’d be getting into the swing of things soon enough.

***

After another week of dealing with matters in the Keep and in town, Amell figured they should head to Blackmarsh to see if they could track down Kristoff, since no one had seen or heard from him in all this time. For this excursion, she brought Howe (familiarity with the area), Velanna (knowledge of nature), and Sigrun. She had no particularly good reason for choosing Sigrun over Anders or Oghren—none of them had skills that looked like they’d help in this particular situation—but given that Sigrun didn’t rise to Mouse’s bait, Amell was hoping there was a chance she’d get a break from endless bickering. While she did get some amusement out of the back-and-forth, she’d appreciate the opportunity to have a normal conversation every now and then.

Her efforts turned out to be semi-successful. While there were stretches where she was able to talk with Sigrun about surface life, Howe about Amaranthine life, and Velanna about magic, Mouse made sure there was at least one part of the day dedicated to trading barbs with Velanna. He’d figured out quickly that she had a myriad of weak spots, and clearly took delight in figuring out which ones were the best to poke at. Velanna alternated between insulting him right back, spluttering in rage, or threatening to set him on fire. Despite that, Amell believed it was the most peaceful walk she’d had in a long time.

Things turned more serious almost as soon as they entered the marsh. Both Amell and Velanna immediately detected heavy amounts of magic in the air, and as they walked through the marsh and the long abandoned town within, they came across greenish barriers that almost crackled with Fade energy. Howe said that there were stories of magic killing the town, and Amell could absolutely believe it. Even so, she somehow didn’t prepare herself for what happened shortly thereafter.

While looking around the outskirts of the town, the group came across the body of a human, and when Amell saw that he had papers with the seal of the Wardens on it, she knew they’d found Kristoff. She’d barely said as much to the rest of her team when a darkspawn showed up, speaking of “The Mother”. Before any of them could move to attack it, it released a ball of energy that seemed to blur their vision and freeze them in place, and when Amell discovered she could move again, she realized immediately that they had been pulled into the Fade. On the bright side, the darkspawn had come along with them, which it clearly hadn’t been expecting. Amell and Velanna immediately threw spells at it, but Howe and Sigrun were still trying to get their bearings, so it ran off and left its minions to deal with them. Once they’d killed said minions, Amell looked around and realized there was a recreation of the marsh town in the distance, looking well-kept and inhabited. It seemed as good a place as any to try to find answers and a means of escape.

Along the way, they found themselves having to fight a group of wraiths. Upon defeating them, Velanna dusted off her hands, then called over her shoulder. “Offended that I’ve just killed some of your kind, demon? Or happy that you have less competition?”

Mouse didn’t respond, which Velanna considered a victory, so she moved on down the path. Amell, on the other hand, looked down at him to take stock. Mouse had run his mouth so much in the past month that not answering suggested something was very wrong.

Sure enough, Mouse was huddled in a corner of his pouch, his whole body compressed to try to make himself as small as possible. His eyes were screwed closed, and his ears were flicking back and forth, apparently trying to pick up every noise. When Amell looked closer, she realized he was shaking, and since the Fade was its usual comfortable temperature, she knew it didn’t have anything to do with cold. “Mouse?” she said softly. Mouse flinched, but otherwise didn’t answer her. Amell decided not to push the issue at the moment and continued on, only peering into the pouch after every battle to make sure he was still there.

Upon reaching the town, pieces started to fall into place, at least in regards to what had happened there. Long ago, the town had been under the control of a mage known as “The Baroness”. This Baroness had taken to stealing children to preserve her youth and strength, and when the town rebelled against her, she’d used her magic to pull them all into the Fade. Confronting her seemed like the best way of returning to the mortal world, so Amell and her group made their way towards the center of town.

It seemed that they weren’t the only ones who had had that idea. A spirit was rallying the townsfolk outside the gates to the Baroness’ manor. When questioned, he explained he was a spirit of justice, and had finally decided to intercede on behalf of the town. Amell was happy to join in his cause, but when he suggested kicking the gates down, Amell held up her hand.

“We should be careful. If she’s been locked in there for decades, who knows what sort of traps or Fade creatures she’s gathered to protect her. We could rush inside only to be slaughtered.”

“What do you suggest, then?” the spirit asked.

“We get someone to scout the perimeter for us. And I know just who to use for the job.”

“No!” Came a frantic cry from her pouch, causing everyone, including her teammates, to stare at her hip in surprise. Amell looked down and saw Mouse staring up at her, shaking even harder, eyes wide with fear. “Please…” he said, softer this time, “Don’t…”

“What’s wrong, Mouse?” Amell asked, “The Baroness is undoubtedly powerful, but I think we’ll be able to take her. Besides, I never thought you of all pe—things would be afraid of something like this.”

“I’m not afraid of her!” Mouse snapped immediately, a bit of his old self returning.

“But you’re afraid of something,” Amell said, “You’ve been dead silent ever since we entered the Fa…”

It all clicked at that moment. Amell smiled reassuringly and reached into the pouch. Mouse squirmed away and scratched at her hands, but she still caught hold of him and pulled him out, lifting him up so he could look her directly in the eyes.

“Mouse,” she said gently, “Scout the outside of the Baroness’ manor. Peer in the windows if you can to get a sense of what’s inside. We’ll wait right here for you until you come back. Report what you saw accurately, and you have my word that we won’t leave the Fade without you.”

Mouse stopped struggling, and looked at her intently, even as his body continued quivering. “Your word?”

“As a Grey Warden and the Hero of Ferelden.”

Mouse took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he nodded. “All right.”

Amell brought him up to the gates and stood on her toes, placing him on the decorative whorl in the gates that was the easiest point of entrance. “Good luck.”

Mouse looked back at her. “Keep your word.” he said, and then vanished from sight.

The spirit looked at her curiously. “I sense familiar energies from that creature. He is a demon, is he not? And yet he seems tied to you. Why would you ally yourself with such a fiend?”

“It’s complicated,” Amell responded, “But rest assured, just because I have a bond with a demon doesn’t mean I don’t want to do what’s right. I will help you and these people get justice.”

“That remains to be seen,” the spirit said, “It is hard to trust someone who keeps company like that. However, I shall give you a chance to prove yourself.” Amell nodded her thanks and sat down near the gate to wait.

Since it was hard to tell the passage of time in the Fade, Amell didn’t know how long Mouse was gone. All she knew was that after a relatively long stretch, she heard a voice overhead call out “Warden.” and she looked up to see Mouse perched on the whorl. She stood on her toes again and brought him down. “Well?”

“There are no glyphs or other traps outside as far as I can see or sense. I got a look inside, and the Baroness has two ash wraiths, a human, and that darkspawn that brought us here with her. That’s all I saw, though there could be more.”

Amell nodded. “I think we can handle that.” She looked over at the spirit. “We should be ready now.”

As the spirit gave a speech to rally the townsfolk, Amell looked down at Mouse with a smile. “Well done.”

“Just put me back in my pouch.” Mouse said curtly.

“If you really want to make sure you’re not left behind, why not my pauldron? It will be easier for me to tell if you fall out of that. In fact, it’ll probably be harder for you to fall out of that.”

Mouse hesitated, then nodded. “Very well.”

Amell pulled the pouch open for the first time in months, and Mouse climbed inside. Just as she released her grip, the spirit kicked the door open, and the assault on the manor was on.

After a bit of posturing on the Baroness’ part, Justice engaged in combat with her, while Amell, her team, and the townsfolk went after the darkspawn and wraiths (the one human went down within seconds). In the end, the Baroness, realizing she was outnumbered, drew on the darkspawn’s essence and cast a spell, knocking Amell to the ground and obscuring her vision. When she felt a blast of cool air against her skin, she knew they’d returned to the real world. When she felt something move inside her pauldron, she knew Mouse had made the journey back with them, and smiled in satisfaction.

Mouse wasn’t the only Fade denizen who’d made the trip, however. The spirit of justice had apparently been caught in the Baroness’ spell, and because spirits needed bodies to survive outside the Fade, he’d shot straight into Kristoff’s corpse. Despite being confused by his situation, he focused his attention on his task; the Baroness had returned to the human world as well, and he suspected her time in the Fade had twisted her into a pride demon. He wanted to deal with this situation before it became a bigger problem, (especially since there were now active rips in the Fade that the Baroness could potentially draw from) and Amell was inclined to agree. Sigrun was rattled from her experience in the Fade (since dwarves didn’t have the same connection to it that most races did), so Amell agreed to let her return to Kristoff’s camp and compose herself while the rest of them dealt with the tears in the Fade and then took on the Baroness.

The Baroness was back by the remains of her manor, gloating over having reached the mortal world and how she planned to subjugate it. She spotted Amell and her team and declared that they would be the first to fall. Before any of them could respond to that, Mouse shot out of Amell’s pauldron and perched on her shoulder. “I’d like to see you try.” he said, and Amell felt her blood run cold. She’d mostly grown accustomed to the echo in his voice, but there was a new note in it now, something that tapped into the supernatural power he’d absorbed. Furthermore, his voice was dripping with venom. Even at his most bitter, he’d never had that tone when talking with Amell or any of her teammates. Now that the danger of being left behind in the Fade had passed, his fear was clearly being replaced by anger, and it was probably for the best that he used the Baroness to expend it.

The Baroness laughed. “Do you expect me to tremble at the sight of you, little rodent?”

“Not at the sight of me,” Mouse conceded darkly, “But the feel. You don’t deserve the title of pride demon if you can’t sense the power of those around you.”

The Baroness’ eyes narrowed, then widened in surprise. “You are indeed more powerful than your form would suggest. You may even be as powerful as me.”

Mouse laughed, and Amell’s skin crawled at the sound. “Spoken like a true pride demon,” he said, “Convinced of your superiority, but too arrogant to admit when someone has the potential to best you. I’m better than you, and I always will be.”

“Then prove it, rodent,” the Baroness said, her expression haughty but a clear note of hesitation in her voice, “Let us fight for control of this realm.”

“Would that I could,” Mouse said, “But I don’t believe I’ll be given that chance. Besides, it’s almost more satisfying to see you destroyed by the very mortals you belittle.”

“What do you…” the Baroness began, then let out a shriek of pain. It was only then that Amell realized that the justice spirit had crept around behind the Baroness while she’d been distracted by Mouse and had plunged his sword into her back. She was too powerful for that to kill her outright, but before she could recover from it, Amell and Velanna both threw spells at her, and Howe let loose a volley of arrows. The Baroness died before she could even attempt to transform into her demon form.

As soon as the spirit pronounced her dead, Mouse rushed down Amell’s body and hurried to the Baroness’ corpse, looking straight into her lifeless eyes. “Roestin Hael, batchor.” he intoned, the unfamiliar words causing Amell to shudder and gooseflesh to rise on her arms. Then he spat in the Baroness’ face and turned back to Amell. “Shall we go?” he said, his voice returning back to his usual slightly sarcastic tone.

Amell picked him up immediately and placed him into her hip pouch, not wanting him to direct that sort of ire at her. “What about him?” Howe asked, gesturing to the spirit in Kristoff’s body.

“I don’t think there’s any way for me to return to the Fade, especially since we closed the tears,” the spirit said, “Perhaps I can remain here and clear out any remaining demons, to ensure the curse of the Baroness is gone for good.”

“Or you could come with us,” Amell said, “You’ve taken over the body of a Grey Warden, and those are in short supply at the moment. You say you have some of Kristoff’s memories; perhaps you can use that to see how our goals and your align.”

The spirit considered, then nodded. “I can. If you will have me, I will join your fight against these darkspawn.”

“Welcome to the Wardens, then,” Amell said, “Though I believe we should call you something other than Kristoff.”

“Justice will be sufficient. It is what I embody, and it will do for a name.”

“Very well, Justice. Come along with us; if the information I’ve found here in the marsh is correct, there’s some magic connected to a dragon skeleton that we should probably dispell before we go.”

***

Dealing with the dragon was a tough fight, and by the time the group emerged triumphant, night was falling. It was decided the group would spend the night in Kristoff’s old camp, and then set out for Vigil’s Keep in the morning. Still full of adrenaline from the fight, Amell agreed to take first watch.

For about an hour, things were quiet. Then Mouse spoke up from his pouch.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Amell responded, already suspecting the answer.

Mouse climbed out of his pouch and sat on the log beside her. “Why didn’t you leave me behind? It would have made sense to relieve yourself of me. Anyone else in your position would have done so without a second thought, but it seems like that never even crossed your mind.”

“You’re smart, Mouse,” Amell said, “I think you can figure out some of the reasons why.”

“I suppose I can,” Mouse said, “But…I think I’d rather hear them directly from you.”

“All right,” Amell said, “In the first place, releasing a pride demon with at least some of the power of an Archdemon or old god inside it back into the Fade sounds like a very bad idea, both for the Fade and for the mortal world. Secondly, the minute I broke the bond with you, there was every chance you’d turn into your pride demon form and go after us for all the ‘humiliation’ you’ve suffered. Perhaps you’d even have sided with the Baroness to rub it in.”

Mouse chuckled. “I suspect I would have been tempted, yes. I’d almost certainly have turned on her immediately afterwards, though.”

“Thirdly, even if the first two weren’t concerns of mine, letting you go would be like giving up on you. And you should know me well enough by now to know that I can be very stubborn.”

“Which I still insist will be your downfall.”

Amell smiled. “Keep insisting; it helps prevent me from making that fatal mistake. There’s one more reason I didn’t do it.”

“And what would that be?”

“Even if the thought had occurred to me, I’d have pushed it away the second I saw your reaction. You were terrified, so much so that you were actually willing to beg. And I try not to do things that will cause my friends pain.”

“‘Friends?’” Mouse repeated skeptically.

“Allies, if you prefer,” Amell said, “But I think we were friends once. I keep hoping we can get that back.”

Mouse chuckled again. “Unlikely. Although I would have said my becoming a spirit was unlikely as well. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

A gust of wind blew through, and Mouse shuddered. A moment later, Amell saw his whiskers quiver in the firelight. “Ipshii! Tikshh!”

Now it was Amell’s turn to chuckle. “Swift healing.”

Mouse groaned and climbed back into his pouch. “I hope your watch ends soon. The chill here is seeping into me, and I’d rather avoid getting a cold if I can help it.”

“You’ll have a better chance of warding off the cold if you go back into my pauldron.”

Mouse shook his head. “That was from a different time. I wouldn’t feel comfortable there.”

“If you insist,” Amell said, turning to stoke the fire, “But I think I’ll keep that pouch around. I’ll save it for a friend.” Mouse just scoffed, but she would almost have called it affectionate instead of dismissive. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Unfortunately for Mouse, the cold and the emotional swings he had been through had taken their toll. By noon the next day, he was sneezing every two minutes, and a quick touch confirmed he had a slight fever. Even though Velanna had the skills to craft a fever reducer, they didn’t have the ingredients for it, so Mouse would have to cope without it (though given his hatred of the taste, he didn’t seem inclined to complain). The best Amell could do was stick a handkerchief in the pouch for him and then cover Mouse with a glove from her pack to provide a little extra warmth. Everyone else in her party seemed surprised by the amount of care she was showing to him, but knew better than to question her.

When the group finally returned to Amaranthine, Amell’s first order of business (after an extremely awkward encounter with Kristoff’s wife in the courtyard) was to order a fever reducer made and a vial of it sent to the library. Telling Varel that she would tend to any matters of state or Warden business in an hour or so, she then told him to call Gilles, Thera, and Amista before heading straight for the library. When she arrived, she stoked the fire until it was at full blaze, then set Mouse’s latest book on the end table and sat down in the chair, undoing the hip pouch and setting it in her lap. “How are you doing, Mouse?”

Mouse sniffled thickly. “Just fine. Can’t you tell?”

Amell reached out and lightly pressed a finger to Mouse’s head, grimacing at the warmth she felt. “Of course you are. Though I’m sure you won’t mind if I give you some things to help make sure you keep feeling fine.”

“I don’t think I can stop y-you,” Mouse said, voice stuttering before he put his nose to the handkerchief, “Hipchh! Hifshh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, “And in this case, you’re right.”

The three servants arrived at that moment. Amell instructed them to go through the keep and gather up any clean and warm scraps of cloth they could find, then pile them up on the hearth. Since this was a relatively normal order for them, they obeyed without hesitation. Shortly after they left, another servant arrived with the fever reducer. Mouse groaned at the sight of it. “Just drink it quickly,” Amell said, “And then hopefully you won’t have to take it again.”

Mouse sighed, but allowed her to bring the vial to his mouth. Four deep gulps later, the vial was empty and Mouse was coughing violently. It only ended when he was forced to sneeze again, the sound a little louder than it normally was as a result. “Hit-CHISHH!!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said sympathetically, “Do you want to do some reading?”

“Yes, but my head’s sore and fogged at the moment. I’m not sure how much I’d get out of it.”

“I can help with that,” Amell said, picking up the book and settling it on her lap, “You left off at the top of the left page?”

“Er…yes.” Mouse said, clearly a bit confused. Amell gave the pouch a reassuring pat and then started to read aloud. Once he realized her intent, Mouse shifted position so that his head was resting outside the pouch, close to the book, only pulling his head in briefly to catch his sneezes in the handkerchief. Amell smiled at the sight and kept reading.

Four pages in, the servants arrived with the cloth she’d asked for. Asking Amista to stay and dismissing the other two, Amell gave instructions to make a nest from the scraps, with the largest piece to be set aside as a blanket. Amista set to work, and Amell glanced down at Mouse to see what he thought. Mouse lifted his head just enough to see what was happening, then gave a brief nod and put his head back on Amell’s leg. She nodded back and resumed reading. Not two pages later, Mouse stopped sneezing, and when Amell glanced down at him, she saw that he’d fallen asleep. She smiled again and set the book aside, waiting for Amista to finish.

When the nest was ready, Amell gently pulled Mouse out of the pouch and brought him over to the hearth, setting him inside the cloth pile and placing the handkerchief beside it so he’d have access to it when he woke up. “Better stay on duty just in case,” she told Amista softly, “Who knows when he’ll wake up. If he doesn’t seem up for reading, read to him.”

“Yes, Warden-Commander.” Amista said with a bow of the head before moving away. Amell began to cover Mouse with the “blanket”, then stopped and squinted at him, feeling a tiny spark of hope in her chest. After confirming what she saw, she put the blanket over him, then stood up and left to freshen up before holding court, that spark warming her veins.

It was entirely possible that it was just a trick of the firelight. But Amell would have sworn that she had seen shades of brown among the black in Mouse’s fur.

***

Next time: We cover the end events of Awakening, with Mouse (and some sneezing) along for the ride.

[rockbell]

awwwwwww MY HEART OMG AMELL AND MOUSE ❤️

[Wig_Powder]

@rockbell I'm so glad you're enjoying this story and the dynamic between Amell and Mouse! That's the heart of this fic, and reactions like yours tell me I'm doing something right. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm!

Warning: This chapter contains SPOILERS for the end of Awakening.

Chapter 15

Amell had assumed she could spend a week at Vigil’s Keep to allow Mouse to recover before they decided what to do about the darkspawn. After all, one advantage of being in charge of both Amaranthine and the Keep was that she could find plenty of excuses to stay in the Keep if she so desired as long as there wasn’t an obvious crisis that required her attention. Given the upheaval Ferelden had been going through, however, she probably should have expected a crisis to arise.

Three days after returning from Blackmarsh, Amell was presiding over an assembly of nobles who wanted to know what she was planning on doing about the increasing number of darkspawn in the region. Just as she was trying to calm down the current speaker by saying that panic would get them nowhere, a woman, with perfect timing, burst into the assembly and announced that a darkspawn army had been seen marching towards Amaranthine. It would be impossible to mobilize all of the Keep’s forces in time, but a small group could probably hurry there and do their best to minimize the damage. With little time to lose, Amell selected Justice, Howe, and Velanna to accompany her, then rushed off to the library to retrieve Mouse. In other circumstances, she might have taken a chance and left him behind to continue convalescing, but as there was no telling how this fight would turn out, it was safer to keep him by her side. Even with the evidence that he was starting to lose his corruption, it was better not to take chances.

Rest and warmth had done a lot to improve Mouse’s health, but it was clear he hadn’t returned to full strength. Not only had the servants reported that he would spend part of their shift sleeping, but he was still sneezing fairly frequently. On the bright side, the fever reducer had done its job, and he hadn’t required another dose. His head had also cleared enough for him to be able to read, because when Amell threw the door open after dispelling the ward, Mouse was sitting on his usual chair, paws pressed against his book. The only indications that he wasn’t entirely well were the handkerchief set next to the book and the “blanket” that had been fashioned into a semi-cloak so he could move about and still stay warm.

“Amaranthine’s under attack,” Amell said by way of explanation when both Thera and Mouse looked up in surprise at her abrupt entrance, “We’ve got to go, now.”

Mouse sighed, but obligingly stepped away from the book. Amell snatched up his pouch, attached it to her hip, then quickly set Mouse and the handkerchief inside it before rushing out again. “I wouldn’t suggest keeping this pace up,” Mouse said, “You’ll lose all your strength before you’re even halfway to the city.”

“We’ll slow down once we’re on the road,” Amell said curtly, “And why do you care? You’re not the one walking.”

“I just don’t want to be crushed if you collapse from exhaustion,” Mouse replied, “It wouldn’t be a particularly dignified way to…dipshh! Ikshh!” Amell shook her head and didn’t bother with a response, instead rejoining her team and giving orders to set out.

By moving at a quick but steady pace, Amell and her group managed to reach Amaranthine in a day and a half, arriving just as the sun began to go down. They were greeted by the captain of the guard, who reported that the city had already been swarmed and was in bad shape. As if that wasn’t bad enough, one of the talking darkspawn appeared, saying it was an emissary from the Architect. It claimed that the forces attacking the city came from the faction led by the Mother, and that she had sent a second army to attack Vigil’s Keep. The Architect had sent the messenger in order to gain the trust of the Wardens. The captain of the guard and Captain Garevel, the guard captain of Vigil’s Keep, both suggested hurrying to protect the Keep and burning Amaranthine to ash to deal with the darkspawn inside, since they thought the city was beyond saving. Amell was horrified by the suggestion, and forced herself to think about it for a minute. They only had the word of this darkspawn and the Architect that the Mother was attacking the Keep. The Keep had been fortified and armed, and had three Wardens there to defend it, while Amaranthine had much less protection. Above all, she not only had a responsibility to this town, but to the Wardens; if she let the city burn, people would probably think the Wardens only cared for themselves and not for others, and their reputation would be tarnished again. When she considered it in that light, there was only one choice to make.

“We stay in Amaranthine,” she said, “I have faith in the people of the Keep to defend it.”

Velanna and Howe initially disagreed, but Amell was able to convince them that this was the right choice. The darkspawn messenger also didn’t agree with her, but she silenced it with a curt “You want me to trust you and the Architect? Then you abide by my decision. And to further prove your good intentions, you’ll fight alongside us to take back this city.” It reluctantly backed down, and Amell gave orders for everyone to fan out and start bringing down the darkspawn, with the messenger accompanying her team so it wouldn’t be mistaken for one of the enemy.

As they entered the city and headed for the marketplace, Mouse spoke up, having been quiet throughout all the deliberations. “I’m not sure if I should applaud your ruthlessness in leaving your fellow Wardens to die or abhor your nobility in fighting for a lost cause.”

“Make up your mind after we’ve tried driving out the darkspawn,” Amell answered, not even bothering to glance down at him, “Perhaps your opinion will change if we succeed.”

“And what of the messenger? Shall he be joining our ragtag group as…hikshh! Ipshh!”

“I doubt it. I have my hands full as it is. Now be quiet and let us try to win this lost cause.” Mouse obligingly shut up, just as they came in view of the market and spotted a group of darkspawn.

To everyone’s surprise (including Amell’s, though she never would have admitted it), the small handful of forces on hand were able to kill all the darkspawn in the city. There was news that another wave were on the way, but they at least had a day to rest and prepare. Once Amell and her group had looked over the fortifications and made plans, they went to the Chantry where the other survivors had gathered to try to get a few hours sleep (though the darkspawn messenger was told to stay outside). While there, Howe spoke with his sister again, and Justice managed to help Kristoff’s wife come to terms with what had happened to her husband. Amell, on the other hand, cast a few healing spells on those who were only mildly injured, then found a relatively quiet corner. She removed Mouse’s pouch and cast a paralysis glyph on it, then lay down and almost immediately fell asleep.

She was awoken not three hours later by a commotion; a soldier burst into the Chantry and reported that the darkspawn were entering the city via the smuggler’s tunnel they’d discovered in the Crown and Lion. Astonished and irritated that the city guard had dealt with the smugglers but not the tunnel itself, Amell groggily roused herself and prepared to fight again. As she was assembling her team, Howe said “It’s started to rain, Commander. You may wish to find something to shield your…companion.”

“Why, Howe, I didn’t know you cared.” Mouse said, as Amell started looking around for something to cover the top of the pouch.

“I don’t,” Howe responded, “But if it keeps you from complaining about the cold and wet, and reduces the chance of your illness getting worse and your complaining about that, I’ll find a way to help.”

Mouse huffed, but it sounded almost amused. Amell found a tattered cloak and tore off a large strip with no holes in it, wrapping it around the pouch in such a way that would hopefully minimize the amount of water that fell inside. Then she picked up her staff and gestured for the other three to follow her to the inn.

Four more hours of fighting finally saw the group victorious. The townsfolk had suffered quite a few losses, but it was nowhere near as bad as the captain of the guard had initially thought. As Amell was listening to the various reports, a runner came from Vigil’s Keep to confirm what the darkspawn messenger had said; it was under attack. Since the messenger had also told them the location of the Mother, Amell decided to send Garevel and his men back to the Keep, while she and the other Wardens confronted the Mother. The messenger was released to report to the Architect that Amell was wary, but more inclined to listen to anything he had to say, and after replenishing her supply of poultices and ingredients for lyrium potions, Amell and her group set out for a place called the Dragon Bone Wastes.

Some ways into the trek, the rain finally stopped. Once Amell was sure it wouldn’t be returning in the near future, she untied the strip of cloak from around Mouse’s pouch. “How are you holding up, Mouse?”

“I suppose I could be worse,” Mouse grudgingly admitted, “I’m somewhat warm and relatively dry.” He then sneezed twice and added “I can’t say the same about this handkerchief, though.”

Amell cast a drying spell on both the handkerchief and the pouch, then turned her attention back to the road. As she tucked the bit of cloak into her pack in case she needed it later, Mouse spoke again, only this time it was soft enough that only she could hear.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised you won. If you could defeat the Blight, saving a city is nothing in comparison. I still think you’re a fool, though.” Amell just chuckled and shook her head.

***

It took two and a half days to reach the Wastes, and the journey there was simultaneously peaceful and tension filled. While everyone was apprehensive about what they would find there, they didn’t run into any darkspawn on the way. Furthermore, that apprehension kept Amell’s companions from sniping at each other, so they could focus their attentions on moving quickly rather than coming up with retorts. Even Mouse was quiet, though Amell wasn’t sure if it was because he felt the same as the rest of them or if it was related to his illness. He wasn’t showing signs of fever, but he was still sneezing, and his voice was noticeably congested whenever he spoke. But as long as he wasn’t causing trouble, Amell was content to leave him to his own devices as she prepared herself for whatever lay ahead.

When they finally found the Wastes, they also discovered why the walk had been so quiet; all of the darkspawn had been called back to defend the Mother. They also found themselves battling a dragon at one point. Even so, the four Wardens were able to cut through their opposition and make their way deeper into the Wastes…at which point things somehow got even more complicated. First, Velanna found her sister again, who praised the Architect before disappearing once more. Then, the Architect himself appeared, asking to parley. After what she’d told the messenger, Amell felt compelled to hear him out. He explained that he was attempting to end the cycle of Blights by giving the darkspawn minds of their own, though he needed Warden blood in order to do so. The Mother was the result of one of his experiments gone wrong, and unquestionably needed to be defeated. He had gathered enough Warden blood from his attack on Vigil’s Keep (a misunderstanding, he said, swearing he had had nothing to do with the most recent assault) that he could go underground and continue his work for some time, assuming Amell would allow him to do so.

Amell had to consider the matter carefully. Trusting darkspawn wasn’t in the nature of Wardens, but the messenger had kept its word. And the possibility of ending the Blights for good was a tempting one. The only question was, would it be worth taking the risk of the Architect’s creating another Mother, or the whole thing being a lie?

Then Mouse’s pouch vibrated against her hip as he shifted position, and it reminded Amell of all the choices she’d made over the past two years. Sparing an assassin who’d been sent to kill her. Turning Loghain, her initial enemy, into a Grey Warden. Taking on anyone who was willing to become a Warden for the sake of bolstering the order. Above all, she’d not only bound a demon to her to gain his knowledge of the Fade and the Blight, she’d kept him alive after he’d absorbed the power of an Archdemon because she thought he could be saved. With that in mind, the answer was clear.

“All right. Go. We’ll take care of the Mother.”

Justice was displeased by this, though Velanna was in favor and Howe didn’t say anything one way or the other. The Architect bowed his head to her. “Thank you,” he said in his whispery voice, “You are as reasonable as I hoped your brethren would be.” Then his eyes flicked to the side. “If I could ask one more thing of you…”

“You can’t take any of our blood,” Amell said immediately, “We need to be at our best if we want to have any chance of defeating the Mother.”

“No,” the Architect said, “As I said, I have enough blood to sustain my experiments. However, there was one avenue of exploration I wanted to pursue.”

Amell heard a quiet “Fuck.” from her hip, and suddenly knew exactly what the Architect was about to say. Sure enough, he gestured at Mouse’s pouch and continued;

“Your companion has a great deal of power inside him, as well as corruption. Perhaps using his blood would yield better results. I never got the chance to test this, as my initial sample was…destroyed.”

“No.” Amell said flatly, putting her hand over the pouch and taking a step backwards, “You aren’t taking him with you, and I’m not letting you take another sample. His power is too volatile to be trusted with anyone else. Putting it inside darkspawn could only lead to disaster.”

“I would take every precaution…” the Architect began.

“I said no,” Amell said, her tone becoming sharp, “Get out of here before I change my mind on allowing you to leave.”

“Very well,” the Architect said, “Good luck, Commander. I shall watch from one of these towers to make sure the Mother has been defeated. Perhaps I will even be able to offer some aid. When she is dead…then I will go.”

With that, he used magic to lift himself to the higher level of the ruins they were in, and then disappeared through a doorway. Justice continued to mutter about letting him go, but obligingly followed Amell as she moved towards the lower exit. Mouse, on the other hand, bumped Amell’s palm with the top of his head just before she lifted her hand from his pouch. “Thank you,” he murmured (Amell suspected he was keeping his voice low so no one else would hear him expressing gratitude), “I hate to ibagine what he would have done with be.”

Amell smiled. “I doubt it would have done your cold any favors.”

“Probably dot,” Mouse agreed with a faint chuckle, before sneezing. “Hikshh! Yitchh!”

“Swift healing,” Amell said, before raising her voice to address the group at large, “Come on. Let’s try to end this once and for all.”

***

It took a long, difficult battle, complete with tentacles, the grub-like creatures that had been dubbed Childer, and glyphs that negated Amell and Velanna’s magic, but the Mother was eventually defeated. The Architect had even pitched in from a distance, sending down a rain of fire directly on top of the Mother. Amell wasn’t entirely sure that made up for the revelation about him the Mother had reported (that his experiments had led to the last Blight), but he otherwise appeared to be on their side, and there wasn’t much she could do about it anymore. Instead, she and the others healed their injuries, then set out for Vigil’s Keep, hoping there would still be something left of it by the time they got there.

Despite their anxiety, Amell had them make camp midway through the return journey, not wanting them to collapse from exhaustion, since they’d been operating on nothing but adrenaline and various potions and spells for at least a week. Unsurprisingly, once given a chance to rest, everyone except Justice (who as a spirit felt very little fatigue) slept for twelve hours. It did them all good, though; their steps were more energetic as they moved towards the Keep. Even Mouse finally seemed to be on the mend, though given the occasional sniffle Amell heard from his pouch, she suspected he wouldn’t fully recover until he got at least two days of rest in a warm, comfortable room. The only question was if a warm, comfortable room even existed in the area.

When the Keep finally came into view, it was simultaneously a comforting and an unnerving sight. The buildings were still standing, but the walls surrounding the Keep were black and full of holes. As they got closer, they heard the faint sound of shouting, and then, gradually, the sound of cheering. Eventually, they crested a ridge and discovered a group of people, from soldiers to servants, standing outside to greet them, clapping and whistling. Captain Garevel was the first one to break away and approach them. “Thank the Maker! We were sure the Mother had been defeated when the darkspawn abruptly broke off their attack, but we weren’t certain if you’d survived!”

“Wardens don’t go down easily,” Amell replied, “How is the Keep?”

It turned out Amell’s instinct had been right. Thanks to the fortified walls and the armor she’d commissioned, the Keep had held for a little over a week before a concentrated darkspawn force broke through. Even so, they’d lost quite a few people, including Sigrun, and others were seriously injured, like Varel and Oghren. As for the buildings, most of them were damaged in one way or another, but all of them were salvageable. Relieved at the mostly good news, Amell dismissed the other three to rest or celebrate, while she took a tour of the Keep to assess its condition for herself.

Perhaps because she was afraid of what she’d find (or of Mouse’s reaction), Amell saved the library for last. The rest of the main building’s interior had been thoroughly overturned, with some rooms at least partially burned and others covered in blood, so she wasn’t holding out a lot of hope for a room full of flammable objects. When she reached the room, she discovered that the door had been blasted off its hinges, which wasn’t a good sign. The inside, however, wasn’t as bad as she’d been expecting. A lot of books and a few bookcases had been knocked to the ground, there were torn scraps of paper everywhere, and the chairs and tables were beyond saving, but a good number of the books were intact. Even so, the room wasn’t going to be useable for a while. “Sorry, Mouse,” she said, “You’re going to have to stay with me until this place gets cleaned up.”

“I’ll survive,” Mouse responded, “I’m more annoyed at the fact that the darkspawn destroyed the book I was reading. I was only two-thirds of the way through it.”

Amell grinned, despite herself. “Tell me what it was called. If I can spare someone, I’ll send them to another region to get you a new copy.”

“Does that mean I’ve become a higher priority?” Mouse asked, a knowing smile in his voice.

“I did say ‘if I can spare someone’,” Amell said, “You may be waiting a long time. But rest assured, you’ll get your book eventually.”

“I can wait,” Mouse said, “Compared to being stuck in the Fade or a test subject for the Architect, being deprived of a book is a trivial problem.”

“I’m glad you’re able to put things in perspective,” Amell chuckled, “Now let’s see if we can find a bedroom that’s still got a useable mattress. I think a bath and then some more rest is in order for both of us.”

***

Next time: Life goes on, Amell helps with rebuilding efforts, and then makes some important decisions.