As far as she's aware, Aria and Alistair are the only wardens left in the entirety of Ferelden. She's pretty sure that means it's their job to end the blight, so they've trekked back up to Denerim in search of the big glowy dragon thing from their dreams. 

It turns out that finding and killing an archdemon when all you have is a tiny group of warriors and a dog is - hard is the wrong word, however flippant she wants to be. She'd known it was going to be hard. She hadn't realized that the darkspawn were going to come out in such force that they would completely overwhelm the city, such that she had to choose between a suicidal charge through their ranks and a last-ditch attempt at evacuating the city. As fun as that first option sounds, she errs on the side of getting some people out and living to fight another day. She wonders, a little bitterly, whether it would've been different if she hadn't slain half the arl's garrison last month.

She takes her band of refugees and warriors and heads west to Amaranthine, ruined city burning behind them.

The blighted hordes barely let them go, hissing and screaming at every step they take, wicked swords swinging. 

But they do get past, the darkspawn have bigger targets in mind than Aria’s little group. 

Once they’re out of immediate danger, Sten’s face turns from all out fury into something like sadness, as much as his stern face will allow. 

Leliana cries softly, only the odd shuddering breath betraying her. 

"It's not over," says Aria, dully, when they're far enough away to walk instead of running. "There're more wardens in Orlais and more people who're bound to fight the darkspawn here in Ferelden, if we can get word to them. But we may well be the only group that made it out of Denerim, and it's likely that Alistair and me are the only wardens left in the country. We're definitely the only people with the treaties to call people to arms." She's not very sure that waving a piece of paper is going to inspire anyone to charge into that, but it's an errand to pursue, the next obvious step as long as any of them are still breathing. "We'll get the civilians to safety first, and then see where we stand."

Sten nods. “Retreat is sometimes the smarter option against an enemy that does not rest.”

“All those people,” Leliana says sadly. 

"'S a lot of people," agrees Aria. "But there're a lot of people left in the world. Don't want them all facing the same fate as Denerim."

She's not really sure whether it's going to hit her at some point that almost everyone she's ever known is dead. It might not; she'd sort of given up on going home as soon as the wardens had conscripted her. She'll have to see.

“I thought the Maker drew me to you for a reason. I thought...it doesn’t matter now.”

"Maker knows what he's doing." She sure doesn't know what he's doing, but hey, when does anyone.

"If we follow the main roads we'll hit Amaranthine in a few days' time," she tells the survivors. They're a couple dozen people, mostly but not all elves. "We don't have enough food to stay out here very long, and we're not gonna find enough animals to feed everyone, so we've gotta keep moving."

And so they move.

Leliana returns to quietly crying, but makes sure to stop and help the younger or weaker survivors navigate. 

Sten brings up the rear of the group, watching for following darkspawn, keeping everyone moving and together. 

"Could've ended up with a worse team, given everything," she murmurs to Alistair.

"I suppose we could have raided the kennels and ended up with a team entirely of dogs," he says, but there's no heart in it. "We could hardly have done any worse in the end."

"'S not the end yet," she shrugs.

They make decent time going forward, stopping for a few hours at night and leaving several people on watch at any given time. They do not, in fact, have enough food to feed everyone, and their group is both tired and hungry by the time Amaranthine is within sight.

The lands around Amaranthine don’t bear the scarred, desolate look of the Bannorn yet, but the darkspawn aren’t here in massive force yet. 

Indeed, the small (though not unintimidating) force that has come here, are mostly towards Vigil’s Keep, the ancestral home of the Howes. 

Being intimidated is for people who aren't full of rage and sorrow, probably.

She herds most of the civilians off into town. She, Alistair, Sten, Leliana, and the mabari hound can fight their way through to the keep and see what's happening there. Soris wants to go, too, but she convinces him to stay with the group in case any stray darkspawn head toward town.

Leliana wipes her tears and sets her jaw. 

Sten draws his sword, ready.

They shouldn't have trouble with the darkspawn as long as they can pick them off a few at a time and avoid running into any huge swarms all at once. She cuts her way through them to the front door and knocks loudly a few times, only half as a joke.

A darkspawn sneaks up close enough for a killing blow.

And promptly is struck down from an arrow through the eye.

" - neat," says Aria, trying not to think about how close that was. "North, can you like, bark or something next time that happens?" The mabari bows his head and whines. She pats his head. "I know, dude, happens to the best of us."

She steps back from the front door. "You guys doing OK in there?"

"Oh, just fiiiiiiiiiiiiine, having the time of our lives!" Says a loud, sarcastic, male voice.

"Can you stop squawking for five seconds and help them open the gate?" A man up on the ramparts calls down. 

He waves a salute at Aria and co. 

Nobody's ever taught her how to give a proper salute. She waves.

"Thanks for the assist. We've just come from Denerim. Not much of a Denerim left anymore, unfortunately."

"We got a few stragglers coming our way. We've got some forces held up in here, we were going to send them city-ward. Amaranthine, city."

The gates finally start creaking open-

Revealing one tired, dishevelled but smiling apostate-

An Antivan elf, wearing mismatched Ferelden armour-

And a large assembled force of soldiers, each bearing the crest of Amaranthine.

"Nice. City was in better shape than this area last we saw, though no promises that it's stayed that way. We left some civilians back there a couple hours ago. If you think they're in imminent danger we're happy to backtrack, but we haven't had anything decent to eat in like two days. Do you have, like, bread? Bread would be awesome right now."

"No danger that we've heard of yet, ma'am. We've been deferring to Master Nathaniel since he returned." A captain steps forward. "We were about to head out to protect the city, a contingent will remain here to protect the keep."

"Awwww, Fredricks. We'll miss you dearly."

"Yes, who else better to point out our race and class?"

"Our height and lack thereof?"

"Our-"

"Enough!" The man from the ramparts has made it down, and is sternly looking at the mage and elf.

The captain, Fredricks, looks nearly purple with concealed rage. "As I was saying. We'll be sure to gather food enough to supply the new refugees."

He pauses, and looks worried. "Is it true that Denerim is destroyed?"

"Pretty much a ruin, yeah. It's possible that some groups other than ours got out, but I think most of the city population was killed by the horde. We have some half-baked ideas on how we can hit back, but we don't have the manpower for it right now, the whole city's overrun. Love to sit down and discuss the situation over literally anything edible."

"We'll take this group inside, Captain. Gather what supplies you need and then head off." Nathaniel is clearly shaken by the news, but remains the consummate leader.

"Yes sir."

The soldiers do as they're told, but some are trying to hide tears.

Nathaniel waves Aria's group inside, and leads them to the castle.

Her own group looks pretty grim, too. Aria doesn't appear shaken, but this is mostly because she's continuing to put it off until she feels like she has the time and energy to process anything that's happened. She's pretty sure the moment isn't now, and that it's not going to come up until after everybody's eaten.

Nathaniel leads them down into the kitchens, where it takes no time at all for two elven servants to scrounge together bread, cheese, and some grapes. They start warming up broth as well, letting the group know that it will only be a few minutes.

"Please, eat." Nathaniel takes a few bits for himself.

The apostate wastes no time grabbing a handful of grapes, before lounging across half the bench seat.

The elf kicks him playfully until he moves, and then sits down next to him.

Nathaniel sighs. "I am Nathaniel Howe. The two reprobates here are Anders-" The apostate waves cheerily. "-and Zevran." The elf nods.

"Pleased to meet you all, particularly under the circumstances," she says brightly, helping herself to bread and cheese and fruit. She hands some to Alistair, who is glaring disapprovingly at both Anders and Zevran. "I'm Aria Tabris of Denerim-that-was, this's Alistair of the Grey Wardens, that's Leliana and that's Sten. Me and Alistair were at Ostagar, but that didn't work out so well. All of us were at Denerim a couple days ago, which also didn't work out so well. Third time's the charm, though. Hopefully."

"I'm sorry to hear Denerim is gone. Supposedly, when Denerim falls so will Ferelden," Nathaniel intones, gravely.

"Oh, do lighten up will you, it's only the end of the world," Anders says with a grin to Nathaniel. He does look curiously at Alistair, as if he knows him. Or at least recognises him.

Nathaniel ignores the mage. "It is good to see new faces. Proves that all is not lost."

"Not gonna write off the whole rest of the world just because my corner of it happens to be gone," she says. "We managed to recover some treaties from the wilds when we were there. Ancient ones. Apparently the wardens had treaties with the dwarves, the circle, and the Dalish. If we can get word to two out of three of those groups, plus get word to the Orlesian wardens, we'll stand a decent chance of getting some wardens close enough to slay the archdemon. Cut off the head and the rest of the darkspawn shouldn't be terribly hard to get rid of."

"We should also see about gathering whatever forces the arls can offer. Arl Eamon in Redcliffe should be willing to help us, if we can get to him." 

He makes a face at Anders. It's a little unclear what the face is intended to convey.

"I'll send messengers to the Orlesian borders, see if we can't get someone's attention. If this is a true Blight, a few hundred chevaliers might help too. I'll also send word to the knight I was squired to in the Free Marches, no doubt he could rally some forces of his own."

Anders seems to connect two-and-two with Alistair, and seems to straighten somewhat. He continues to flash concerned eyes at Alistair.

Zevran calmly and cooly slides himself between their views, flashing Alistair a saucy smile.

"More people is better, yeah. I figure I'll probably end up taking an expeditionary force and seeing if I can get the circle's or the dwarves' attention. - Alistair, should I go ahead and invite these guys along on that or are you about to tell me that one of them murdered your dad or something."

"It's nothing," he says innocently. "Thank you for the cheese."

"Come along?" Zevran seems surprised, though maybe he shouldn't be. Aria is a fellow elf, after all, and wouldn't look down on him for that, the way the soldiers here had.

Anders seems suspicious of both Alistair's innocence and Aria's offer, and makes a big show of side eyeing them both.

"We'd be honoured to have such stalwart defenders with us," Leliana says in her usual sweet tone.

Sten says, and does nothing. Noticeably.

The cooks interrupt for a moment to hand around simple lamb broth.

She cheerfully and sincerely thanks the cooks. "If you can fight and you haven't got anything more pressing to do than saving the world, sure. You're a mage, yeah? We'd benefit a lot from having a healer along. Alistair's not a real templar, he doesn't bite." She frowns. "I guess technically I can probably conscript random people into the order, but I feel like that doesn't work so well when the might of the wardens has been reduced to two people and a dog. 'S your call."

"Does it hurt? Like, is there some dark ritual I have to perform? Must I take a hurlock to be my bride?"

Nathaniel seems to have remembered something, and is staring about the walls like he can't believe they're there.

He startles back to life at Aria's words. "I...I will have to wait until my brother returns from...oh. I'm not sure I can leave."

"I'm something of a free agent, so to speak. A worthy cause to follow? Why ever not!"

"Hurts a lot, yes there's a ritual, and no, we try not to fraternize with the uglies. I'd just as soon you didn't join the order right this second, though, I don't think that's necessary for traveling with us. Leliana and Sten haven't. We're hurting for manpower at the moment, we'll take what we can get."

"Well, count me in either way. Nothing holding me here, except of course, the gooooorgeous Nathaniel."

"I probably shouldn't. Amaranthine needs an Arl, even if I'm not one in name, I-"

"You know that being here will just mean you'll die when Vigil's Keep falls, right?"

"When? Anders, you have no knowledge of this Keep or this place-"

"Denerim fell. You think here won't? Better to do some good up close with that bow and arrow you're so fond of."

"Denerim did have more people than here," says Aria. She will just, uh, not mention the fact that she killed half the arl's garrison last month. "If you expect Amaranthine to fall in the near future then we should probably see about getting the remaining population out, maybe up to the Free Marches. That's not unimportant work, if you think it's where you're needed, but if we don't gather enough people now then the whole country falls, and from then on the darkspawn just keep taking bites out of the rest of the world."

Nathaniel thinks on this for a moment, then stands. "Excuse me, I need to have a word with the captain before he leaves. Thank you, for the advice."

He exits the kitchen.

"I think he's going to put that into action, Aria. He seems sensible."

"Sensible's good," says Aria, before yawning. For a moment she looks much less like any sort of military commander and much more like a very tired nineteen-year-old elf who's trying very hard to play a particular role right now. "Uh. Do you people have, like, beds here, maybe?"

"I've been staying in the servants quarters," Zevran says, with a gesture to his ears.

"I don't tell anyone where I sleep. That's how they get you, you know."

"If it pleases, ma'am, quite a number of the rooms upstairs are empty. Guest rooms. I'm sure the master won't mind if your group takes a few," an elven servant says with a curtsy. 

"I'll take a floor and a blanket at this point, but wherever you think is best," she says, smiling at the servant. "We might also need, like, baths, I'm given to understand that it's sort of rude to go around smelling like darkspawn viscera."

"There's baths in the caverns, some hot springs. I'll take the ladies down, and Aren can take the boys?"

"Thank you," she says, very sincerely. "Behave," she says, mock-glaring at Alistair, and then she gestures to Leliana to indicate that she can come along with her. 

"I am behaving," says Alistair. "A bath does sound nice."

The servant girl leads Aria and Leliana into the bowels of the castle, collecting towels from an alcove as they go. "I can launder your clothes and have them ready tomorrow? In the mean time we do have some tunics and trousers, though they are the masters'. The old masters' I mean, and his son. Not Nathaniel, the- oh."

"It's okay. I ramble too when I'm nervous. I would appreciate a change of clothes. Would you mind taking my leathers, too?"

"Of course not, ma'am. I'll deliver them to the armoury for cleaning and repair."

"My armor barely even fits," murmurs Aria, before reflecting that this is probably because she stripped pieces of it off a dead soldier in the Arl of Denerim's estate. "Which means the tunics won't even really be a step down, I guess. You're being incredibly helpful, we all really appreciate it. D'you like working here?"

"I...now. Yes. Before, not so much," she says. She seems more comfortable talking informally to Aria, though she does shoot worried looks at Leliana.

"I can imagine," says Aria, sympathetically. "Nathaniel seems OK. I'm sort of inclined to say that you can't really tell in public, but it turns out sometimes you really can. My cousins and I had a terrible run-in with the son of the Arl of Denerim right before I got conscripted into the wardens. Hopefully you're not having anything like our magnitude of problems here, at least not anymore."

"Not anymore, though the..." she trails off, looking worriedly at Leliana.

"Oh, is that the baths? I'll run in ahead, I'll leave my clothes and armour by the door," Leliana says, and puts on a bit of speed.

The elven girl doesn't notice this as an act of kindness, but shrinks into the wall. "Did I offend her?"

"No, no, she's just making sure you don't feel like there're humans listening in. Leliana's pretty OK. You had problems before?"

"Oh. Well. We're not really used to that. If we offended Howe- The master...he wouldn't like that. And of late his punishments were...severe. The Arl of Denerim was as bad? I had...a friend, who went to work there years back."

"I dunno if the Arl himself was too bad. His son was a terror, though. Kidnapped a bunch of people shortly before I was conscripted, and some of us had to go and break them out. Would've gotten in a lot more trouble for it if the wardens hadn't conscripted me on the spot." She figures she should probably elide the details; there's no reason to go around telling people that her cousin was raped or that her fiancé was murdered or that she killed half the garrison getting to them. "I dunno how they were on a daily basis, though, I've never been a servant. I don't think I'm good enough at, uh - deferring to people. My dad's a tailor and my mom was a rat catcher."

"He sounds terribly like the Arl. Power must get to humans something awful." She offers Aria a watery smile. "My mum was a tailor too. Though she was moved to the Highever alienage. I miss her."

She shakes herself off a little. "Well, ma'am, would you like me to take your things? And Miss Leliana's?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll just go and see if I can wash the darkspawn gunk out of my ears, then," she says, smiling.

The girl rubs her own with a giggle. 

Once Aria is inside the baths, she takes both Aria's and Leliana's things, and disappears.

"Was she all right?" Leliana asks with genuine concern.

"She's OK now, I think. We could've done something about it if the older Howe was still in charge, but if they don't have any complaints about Nathaniel then it seems like the situation's probably resolved itself."

"I'm glad to hear the younger Howe is better than his father, though saddened that the poor thing ever had to live with a man that would cause such fear. The servants at Lady Cecile's homes always had such clever tongues."

She raises an eyebrow at this, but decides not to dive into a comparison of whose elf servants are best off. Instead, she sinks into the water and holds her head in her hands for a moment. "I'm so tired. I imagine everyone is, at this point, but - Maker."

"I do not blame you. Or me. This last month has felt like an entire age."

Leliana sinks a little lower herself, closing her eyes. "You must take much comfort from knowing your family is safe now, however."

"I mean it's better than them not being safe. If they even are, apparently the darkspawn are just running wherever they please now. Denerim's a pit now, though, which I imagine isn't super great for anyone's morale." She sighs. "Any thoughts on the three guys who may or may not all be joining us? Nathaniel seems OK and obviously knows how to use his bow, and having a mage along will be a help, so I guess it makes plenty of sense to invite them. I dunno that we know anything about Zevran."

"Oh, he had me pegged from the second I walked in. As did I for him. One assassin knows another, after all. Those knives he carries are certainly not for show."

"Well that's lovely. As long as he doesn't knife us in the back, I guess. I imagine he's pretty keen on the world sticking around, though. I think most people manage to find something of value in it when it isn't a darkspawn-infested wasteland."

"He did seem the most willing to lend a hand. One does wonder what a possible Antivan Crow was doing so far from home, however."

"Yeah," she agrees, and then thinks about it for a second. "Uhh, what's an Antivan Crow, exactly?"

"A shadowy assassin organisation, based in Antiva. You could say they are Antiva, as much a part of the city as bricks and mortar. Not like the bards of Orlais, who serve at the feet of nobility."

"Well. As long as you have an eye on him, I guess," says Aria, before attempting to rinse the rest of the darkspawn blood off of herself. Eventually she decides that she's passably clean, and steps out of the bath to dry herself off.

"He won't get a single chance," Leliana promises, and does the same.

The servant has left two neat piles of clothes, and they will notice their boots have been scraped of mud and blood.

She is really tremendously grateful for the lack of mud and blood. She dresses herself and then heads off to sleep in a proper bed, for the first time in far too many weeks.

The servant girl guides her and Leliana to two rooms close to each other, smiling at them both before bowing and taking her leave.

Later on, Sten and Alistair are shown to rooms opposite.

She'll just stay in this room and sleep, then. And maybe cry really quietly, for a bit. It doesn't count if nobody sees or hears you, you can still go back to being a serious and competent Grey Warden in the morning.

She's up before sunrise the next day, wandering around the kitchens in search of more bread. She decides to let her companions sleep in, on the theory that it'll leave them better equipped to travel later on.

Zevran is in the kitchens when she wakes, and it's clear from the way his face falls from an easy smile to vague concern that Aria's eyes are still a little puffy. 

"Sleep well?" He offers instead of sympathy. He's not sure if she would appreciate that.

"Yeah! Dirt is not remotely underrated as a sleeping surface, it turns out beds are actually far superior. You?"

"Like any man hell-bent on keeping himself alive mid-apocalypse, like a baby."

He offers her a slice of the apple he's cutting. "Merina will be back in a moment, she's checking on someone's armour."

"The servant girl? I forgot to ask her name, she's been incredibly helpful with getting stuff cleaned up. Darkspawn blood, also not remotely underrated." She accepts the apple slice and tells herself that if it were poisoned that would be super out of left field. And also liable to get everyone in the world killed. Possibly this is the sort of reasoning process that should inspire caution, but she's hungry.

"...your bard friend told you what I was, I take it?"

"She's sure about the assassin bit and guessing you're an Antivan Crow. I have only the vaguest understanding of what that even is. Something something killing people."

Something very much like relief blossoms on Zevran's features. "I guess assuming an Orlesian assassin is a bard is much like assuming an Antivan a Crow. She's not wrong, however. I will admit killing people are rather large part of it."

He cuts himself a slice of the apple and eats it rather pointedly. "If it soothes you, I will forever be in the dark as to who my target was. I was to go to Denerim and meet Arl Howe, who originally hired us. Whoever I was supposed to put a knife to lives on freely. Possibly."

"Well, if you'd caught me a month ago I'd've had to be all judgmental about your life choices, but half my companions are murderers and I think I might have 'em all beat for body count anyway. Nothing like a blight to make you put up with that sort of thing, for better or for worse."

"Yes, Nathaniel had something of the same reaction upon my confession. Which I certainly appreciated, though I had still planned to convince him in...other ways. I've been told I have something of a gift," he says with a slow smile and a wink.

Nothing like flirting to diffuse tension. 

Aria does not seem particularly less tense now; she blushes a little and looks away from him, not smiling. "Uh. Whatever works for you, I guess."

Ah, blushing. Adorable. "I suppose the Blight has not left you much time for recreation, what with fighting every step of the way. Have you had a chance to rest properly since-" Vague hand gesture. "-all this?"

Ack, why can't they go back to talking about killing people -

"Uh. Not as such. We're sort of busy, with the saving the world and the watching cities crumble and the almost being killed."

That sobers Zevran somewhat. "Ah, indeed. I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, I've always had a penchant for the dangerous and the beautiful, and I can be quite incorrigible."

He pauses, seemingly deep in thought. "I am sorry for the loss of your Denerim. I would not know how I would bear to see my Antiva City destroyed."

"'S'fine," she says, still pinker than she's supposed to be, and then immediately regrets it because she is not actually sure whether it's fine. "I'm - sad about it, sure, but that's not gonna bring anyone back, and moping about it is gonna do the opposite of help me save anyone else. As soon as everyone else is up and rested, I think we're gonna head west again and see if we can meet up with the circle."

"If your offer still stands, I know I would appreciate the chance to leave. And to help your noble cause. You can always use a second assassin watching for threats."

"Sure. Like I said, we're hurting for people, any help on that front is appreciated." She fidgets for a moment. "I should go, uh - make sure someone fed the dog," she settles on, which is not a terrible excuse to go in that it is actually important and she should've done it yesterday.

"Merina took care of that, she adores dogs. She used to sneak down to the kennels to play with them, before Arl Howe began his rampage."

He looks up at Aria through his lashes, smiling rather suggestively. "You are so eager to flee from me? I would be insulted, if not for that lovely tinge of colour in your cheeks."

"I have stuff to do," she says, hoping that if she ignores the blushing enough it'll just go away. (Doesn't feel like it's going away.) "If we're going to head out as soon as the others are up, then I should be checking on the Denerim refugees and making sure none of them have any urgent unfulfilled needs that Amaranthine isn't equipped to support. You're welcome to come along if it means so much to you, and you're welcome to stay here for the next few hours if it doesn't."

"No, no, far be it from me to get in the Wardens way. I'll make my own preparations," he says, raising hands in surrender. His smile is very self-satisfied.

"Thank you, again, for allowing me to come along."

"No problem," she says, doing her best to approach her previous level of seriousness. "Be ready by lunchtime, then."

She'll check whether anyone else is up yet before she heads out; she doesn't expect the path to Amaranthine to be particularly dangerous, but there's no reason to take unnecessary chances.

She bumps into Merina on the way out, who hands over a small and hearty breakfast first, and informs her that Sten and Leliana are out in the courtyard. 

Anders hasn't emerged, but he could just be hiding from Alistair.

Nathaniel is listening to a report from a scout in the main hall.

She's gonna ask Sten if he wants to come check on the refugees. You know who's not going to bother her with weird questions that make her stop trying to channel Duncan most of the time? Sten. He's dependable like that. Probably she and Sten and North can handle whatever's out there. She'd ask Alistair, too, but Alistair's still sleeping, and she doesn't super blame him for that.

Sten nods at her as she approaches.

North barks excitedly, and runs to her upon seeing her.

"Hey boy!" she says, petting the mabari's head and looking about as delighted to see him as he is to see her. Dogs: also dependable. "We're gonna go make sure the refugees from Denerim have everything they need before we head out. You wanna come along, Sten? On the off chance that we run into more darkspawn and have to cut our way back here?"

"You would not rather take the whole group?"

"Some of them are busy and some of them are sleeping and some of them are making it annoyingly hard to keep acting like Ferelden's acting warden commander. I don't actually think it'll be very dangerous. We can take Leliana if you want, though, I don't think she's doing anything."

Sten gives her a hard, searching stare, but eventually nods.

Leliana appears, like magic, at the mention of her name.

"You're going into Amaranthine?"

"That was the plan. I think we need to give everyone else a chance to finish sleeping or regrouping, and it'd be good if we could take that opportunity to make sure the refugees have access to everything they need. Food, shelter, anything in the way of medicine for the wounded, that sort of thing."

"It would be wise to see if we can get them out with the Amanranthine residents. Perhaps Nathaniel's knight in the Free Marches could help with that."

"Probably. I guess we should talk to Nathaniel about that before we go, make sure he knows what his plan is and whether it has space for extras." She sighs. "I'll go do that, be back in a bit."

Off to see Nathaniel again.

The scout has left, and Nathaniel is seated at the foot of the, for lack of a better word, throne, that commands the entire room. He looks up as Aria approaches.

"The scout was confirming what you already told us, and that there was one other group of survivors that got out after yours."

"Better than none," she says, solemnly. "I was just making sure that you had a plan to evacuate Amaranthine and the Denerim survivors, if you don't think you can hold the city indefinitely. Planning to ship people off to the Free Marches?"

"They got out of Denerim. They were found on the road to Gwaren, first by the darkspawn."

Nathaniel puts a formal demeanour back into his posture, straightening up. "Yes, I did plan for your refugees too. We've managed to co-opt a few pleasure crafts as well as trade vessels to get everyone out. I've offered to let the soldiers leave with their families, but most seem intent on staying to protect the farmers."

She takes a second to process the first part of this speech, but she's back to at least pretending to be confident by the end. "Good for them, then, we're gonna need people. Have you decided where you're going to be?"

"Yes, and I think I can do more good alongside you than I can here. Here, it simply a case of getting the vulnerable out and shoring up defences. All of that can be done by the soldiers, all of them capable. I'll let the Seneschal in charge, he has also insisted on staying."

He seems a little awkward. "That is, if you'll have me. I can promise I am skilled with a bow, though differently to Leliana."

"We'll have you, then. Your servants vouch for your character, and the saving my life thing speaks to your usefulness in a fight," she says, smiling. "How soon do you think you can wrap up your business here?"

"Within a few days. Hopefully that will give your people time to rest and gather supplies. You're welcome to our armoury here, Zevran certainly made use of it," he says, with an almost fond smile.

"Fine by me," says Aria - she'd rather leave sooner, but hey, they need to get the people out.

She announces to the rest of her group - including Alistair, once he wakes up - that it'll be a couple days before they set out. She does, afterward, return to Amaranthine with her companions and check in on how everyone is doing. They're not doing well, but they're coping, mostly, and they cope better after they're more certain that they're not going to immediately run out of food. She intends to spend the next couple days on rest, combat training, and processing her feelings at her dog, the only entity around who she's pretty sure doesn't have the capacity to judge her for them.

On the third day, Nathaniel comes to find Aria. “Ships are ready. Once we’re all ready to leave, we’ll head to Amaranthine to see them off and...and head to the circle.”

Aria is super ready to leave!

She says goodbye to Merina and goodbye to her own departing family. Her father informs her that he is devastated but incredibly proud of her, and that her mother would have been the same. 

And then they leave - refugees north for the Free Marches, ragtag bunch of misfits west for the circle.

Leliana, Sten, Nathaniel and North keep pace with her, Anders brings up the rear to avoid Alistair as much as possible. Zevran remains back with him, the two trading banter easily. 

One day out from Amaranthine, Aria and Alistair will sense a group of darkspawn heading their way. 

"Company up ahead, the ugly kind," she announces. If there are twelve or fewer she's inclined to just fight them - make Ferelden a little safer for whoever else is walking these roads right now - but if it's a massive group then they'll need to get out of here as quickly as possible.

It is a small group, and far enough from the main horde that it won't be alerted.

Then they fight. Melee fighters on the outside, Anders and the archers in the center.

These darkspawn are clever, and concentrate on the weaker members of the party.

"Oh- Maker! Yep, that's a bit too close for comfort!"

Alistair gets to Anders before Aria does, plunging his sword through the nearest darkspawn. He sets himself up between Anders and the bulk of the group, keeping the darkspawn mostly off his back.

Well that's very responsible. She'll have to tell him so later.

She sizes up the group and sees that Zevran has two enemies headed for him; she beheads one before it gets to him.

Zevran is a quick and clever fighter, he leaps nimbly aside to avoid a slash by the creature, and follows through with a killing thrust.

Nathaniel fires arrow after arrow, aiming for eyes and throats.

Sten stays back to guard the archers, killing anything that gets too close.

The last few darkspawn seem to get more aggressive with each of their fellows deaths.

Then she can get more aggressive right back. When there are only two or three it won't be any trouble to kill the last few.

When they've dispatched the last of the darkspawn, she turns to the rest of the group. "Nice job, all. Anyone injured?"

“I can help if so!” Anders holds up glowing palms.

Leliana cradles a good sized scratch on her shoulder, and heads to Anders, though a little apprehensively. 

Alistair thinks one of the hits he took might have shattered something in his shield arm. He doesn't look happy about heading over to Anders, but in fairness, that might be the broken arm.

Anders is also not happy about having to be near Alistair, but he is a healer and so heals him completely. 

He hisses as the bone knits itself back together, but then he's fine.

"Yep, that's better. Weird! But undeniably better. Thank you."

Anders regards him suspiciously. “You’re welcome. Can’t have you not able to use your shield.”

"Naturally not. Can't have darkspawn skewering our unprotected mage."

“Yes, hopefully you’ll take all the skewering on my behalf.”

He then gestures to Nathaniel and Leliana. “My mistake, all of our behalf’s.”

"Yes, yes, that's what I'm here for," he says, with something approaching cheerfulness.

“If no one else needs healing, shouldn’t we head on?” Nathaniel sounds a little irritated, and is avoiding looking at Anders. 

"Seems best," says Aria, neutrally, and leads them on.

Nathaniel follows, still not looking at Anders. 

Zevran walks beside Aria, and while he doesn’t say anything, she could probably guess what he would be saying just from looking at the smile on his face. 

Aaaa.

She is moderately more capable of remembering how to be a sensible grey warden type person while she's leading her little band of misfits, but she avoids looking at Zevran just in case that's the sort of thing that's likely to make her forget. 

"You're very skilled. And quite flexible. Such fighting styles aren't usually seen outside trained groups. How did you learn?"

"My mother taught me. Mostly."

"Your mother was a rogue?"

"She knew how to handle a sword," she says, shrugging. "I suppose her style had a bit more dodging and a bit less headlong charging than mine, but in fairness I never got to see her fight darkspawn."

"A tricky opponent, to be sure. She did make a good fighter out of you, though I have to admit, I am curious to see how much better you would get under a master of the sword."

"I'll keep my eyes out for fencing grandmasters that take elven apprentices and don't have anything better to do than follow me halfway across the country."

"You convinced Nathaniel, you can convince anyone. I was, rather, referring to myself. Or Alistair, he seems a capable sort."

"Alistair is definitely very capable. I am not sure that he qualifies as a master of anything in particular. Haven't given up on getting Sten to spar with me, though. We don't have any proof that he's not secretly some kind of renowned Qunari martial arts teacher."

"You'd rather lug around a giant sword?"

"The better to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies!" she says, grinning. "But I acknowledge that there might be advantages to mastering multiple styles of combat."

"I have to say, the thought of you swinging around a weapon that formidable, it does strike a thrill of fear in me," Zevran laughs.

"I only hope that the darkspawn are as sensible as you."

"I'm very rarely sensible. You've caught me at a terrible moment."

"Unfortunate. You'll never live it down."

"That, of course, implies you're going to keep me."

"Well, you know. The world might not make it much longer. It'd be a waste of precious time, getting your replacement up to speed."

Zevran grins, obviously pleased. "It is so good to find employment, even during a blight."

"Well, as long as you're meeting your career goals."

"I can think of worse things I could be doing. Cleaning, dying horribly and slowly from the blight."

"Cleaning probably has a higher survival rate." She doesn't mention that they're probably gonna end up doing that second thing.

"A little optimism would do you a world of good, my dear."

"Maybe it would," she says, smiling. "I just have this tragic condition where seeing hundreds of people die makes me aware of my own mortality. But I'm glad if there are those among us who are immune to it."

"There will be many sad times ahead of you, dwelling too deeply on them may only hurt. Remember, learn."

"S'not the sadness that worries me." And then she's back to bright and cheerful, because arguing about how miserable they ought to be is, in fact, painful. "If you're still interested in sparring by the time we make camp tonight, we can totally do that."

"I'll look forward to it. It has been some time since I faced an opponent of any skill."

"Well, I hope I live up to your expectations," she says, grinning. 

They don't make camp until pretty late into the evening - saving the world, and all that, can't afford to set a leisurely pace. She sets up her own tent, assists Alistair in setting up his, makes sure her dog has been properly fed, and then goes off to check whether Zevran is less than completely dead on his feet.

Zevran seems all right as he stretches, his legs in a split.

"So how does this work, where you come from, are there rules?"

"To duels? Generally speaking, don't get hit?"

"I assume we stop before we literally kill or permanently maim each other."