Moving

I'm going to leave this blog up for now, but I've decided to start posting on fanfiction.net.

For those poor souls who are actually reading this, I figured it'd be easier on the eyes to read there.

And here's the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/~reikalady

Tower and Rose

            “Get away from him, you bitch!” Marlana snarled as she slammed into the woman that Alistair had been talking to.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” He yelled. “That’s my sister!” Wondering when and how she’d gotten into his sister’s home without anyone knowing, the templar paused trying to figure out how to handle this without anyone getting killed. Not wanting to hurt Marlana, he tried to interpose himself between the two women, but doubled over in agony when he got kneed in the groin by one of them as they tumbled furiously in unarmed combat.
Were it any other women, he’d be seriously flattered that they were fighting over him. Once he got over the agony of his bruised manhood of course.
But as it was, one of those women was his sister while the other… Well the other was a sister in a different sense. Or he was going to keep telling himself that until he believed it.

Then Marlana managed to knock Goldanna down on her ass and drew her blades.

            When he saw the desire demon stand up where his sister had fallen, its furious red eyes fixed on Marlana, all pain was forgotten under the wave of sickened horror that swept over him. Then Goldanna’s supposed children shifted into undead things and started to swarm the slight woman, he drew sword and shield as he waded in to save his friend. He got to her just in time to put his more heavily armored form between her and their weapons. Since she’d made short work of the demon, it didn’t take long for the two of them to finish up the rest as they automatically fell into established fighting patterns.

            Staring at the wreckage, he realized that something seemed…off about the place. As if the edges were a little blurred and his head felt heavy as if just recovered from a long illness.

            “Name of the Maker, Marlana. What’s going on? Why did I think that…thing was my sister?” There were equal parts of disgust and panic in his tone and voice.

            She grimly sheathed her swords and decided now was not the time to ask about this sister, “You do remember the Tower, right? Where we were having a fine time cleaning out the place of demons, abominations and maker knows what else?”

            He scrunched up his face as he tried to remember what she was talking about. “Yeeees. I do. Now. But this doesn’t look like the tower…”

            “Because we’re in the Fade, we got trapped by a sloth demon.”

            “A sloth…” Suddenly his form began to shimmer and blur, “Hey! Wait! Where are you going?” Then he was gone. She sincerely hoped it meant she freed him and that she didn’t have to go drag his sorry butt out of some other section of the demon’s domain. Pinching the bridge of her nose she turned to the odd rune-covered pedestal which was the only solid looking thing in the place. Even though she’d used such things several times before since she’d been trapped in this series of nightmares, she was still a little nervous about using such things.

            Magic wasn’t for the likes of her, oh she had no problem using enchanted arms and armor, such things just were, they didn’t react any differently to her touch than those that weren’t enchanted. But the pedestal, she could feel it react to her, feel the swirl of power around her mind and soul. And she really, really disliked the slithering feeling in her mind as the magical map of the place rose up behind her eyes.

            Wanting to be done with the thing, she chose the next location. A sickening sideways shift and she was in a…Chantry? Frowning she studied the surroundings, it was indeed a Chantry, if one as insubstantial as mist with flowing, wavering walls. Not just any Chantry, either. The one in Lothering where Leliana had spent the last few years of her life. Cautiously, Marlana quietly crept down the aisle between the pews, there was no one that she could see, but she felt…something. Because it was the Fade she wasn’t surprised when it seemed to take a long time to get up to the altar. There was Leliana deep in prayer, beside her stood what appeared to be a revered mother. But not the one she remembered from Lothering.

            Another demon.

            She figured this one was going to require some sort of tact on her part since she and the bard didn’t know each other as well as she did her fellow Grey Warden. Of course, Marlana was still somewhat flustered over her reaction to the demon that had imprisoned Alistair. What had fueled her sudden fear and rage wasn’t a sisterly sort of feeling. But she decided she would think about that later, when she didn’t have a demon deciding to eat her or not.

            “Thank the Maker, you’re all right, Leliana.”

            The bard frowned at her in confusion, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

            Marlana’s stomach sank in fear, they’d managed to suppress or wipe out Leliana’s memory.

            The fake cleric frowned at her and spoke in a rusty voice, “Do not disturb the child, for she needs peace and quiet.”

            “Leliana, don’t you remember me? I’m Marlana, the Grey Warden you chose to help?”

            Was that a glimmer of memory in those pale eyes?

            “Don’t you remember the dream that you told me about? The one about the Blight?”

            The demon began to shift uncomfortably, tried to redirect Leliana with the supposed peace of this place. Privately the Warden thought it felt more like the peace of the grave than a refuge, but she knew she wasn’t seeing what Leliana was. Or maybe Leliana was finally starting to wake up as she clearly began to struggle with the situation.

            Either way, the demon chose to shed its illusion as it attacked Marlana, the two woman made short work of it. The Warden didn’t have a chance to explain the situation before she disappeared the way Alistair did before her. She knew when the damn pedestal appeared, she could feel it. What was being in this place for so long doing to her? There’d been wells of energy she’d encountered that left her feeling different afterwards, faster, stronger, more alert. Was she still herself? Or was the demon slowly changing her, slowly getting into her mind?

            Irritated at herself, she stalked over to the pedestal to free her last companion.

            She surveyed the most recent “island” of the Fade and groaned. A combination of graveyard and battlefield. Cute. It seemed so much more fake than the previous two domains. Had her actions weakened the beast who ruled this area? Or was Wynne just that gullible? The elderly mage still seemed fairly sharp, but this was like out of some silly childhood ghost story. Tired and just done with the whole ridiculous situation, she forsake her usual quiet gliding through shadows and just stomped her way to where she thought she saw a figure. The corner of her mouth crooked up in a wry grin, apparently she’d been spending too much time around Sten and Alistair if she was giving up on the subtle option.

            Seeing the bodies of slain children on the ground gave her pause, as did Wynne’s evident grief. Marlana tried the gentle tact, but as the mage continued to be morose, gave the woman a good shake. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to shock her into back into more clearheaded thought. As she finally got through to the healer, the demons masquerading as the dead children helped her by standing up and begging for Wynne to stay.

            Like the other two, Wynne quickly disappeared, even faster than Leliana.

            Grinding her teeth against the awful sensation of all the domains of her captor shifting and locking into place, Marlana used the pedestal to finally force the issue.

            The new battlefield was an open plain with little dips and crevasses, nothing as detailed or convoluted as the previous places had been. A feral smile barred her teeth. Good, she had weakened the thing. And there it was, sitting out in the open waiting for her. It was time to finally finish this. Either to destroy the thing to truly free all the trapped souls, or die in the process, her soul finally freed from its pain. She didn’t aspire to the Maker’s side as most of the faithful did, unlike most, oblivion sounded the sweetest reward so she wouldn’t have to face the dead spirits of her loved ones. She hoped she’d freed Alistair enough so that there would be at least one Warden to stop the Blight.

            She stalked up to the demon, who offered to make her much happier. Rather than give it a verbal response, she hauled off and slugged it. At its bellow of shock and rage, she felt the “island” shift and more presences appeared as she drew her swords to battle the very angry demon. Too angry to feel despair, she knew her companions had been drawn here, but figured she could deal with them later. Fortunately, they either recognized her, or recognized the demon for what it was since they quickly joined in the fray.

            Though Alistair did everything he could to try to get the demon’s attention focused on him so that they could use their usual tactics, nothing worked. Instead it continued to rain attacks down upon Marlana who simply continued to slam back into the thing. Her blades flashing faster than they had before, almost inhumanly so, yet they still moved with all the customary grace and skill of their wielder. Form after form the demon assumed, but still it battled its primary foe who would not back down.

As the last of its power bled away, it gasped out, “What manner of creature are you, mortal?”

            As her blades slammed down into its center, draining the last dregs of its strength, she spoke coldly, “A Grey Warden.”

            They woke stiff and sore upon the cold stone floor of the Tower where the demon had ambushed them. After assuring herself that the other three would be fine, the silver-haired woman walked over to the corpse of the man clad in robes. With tender fingers, she closed his eyes while whispering a benediction, “Farewell Niall, chance met friend, may you find peace in the Maker’s embrace.” Then she scooped up the ancient scroll that had fallen by the dead mage and handed it to Wynne. Who studied it for a moment and nodded, “Yes, it is simple enough to use, even for one who isn’t a mage. I think it be best for you, Alistair or Leliana to use it because if I am in the middle of a spell I won’t be able to use the activation phrase.”

            Both the templar and bard just stared at their leader who threw up her hands, “Fine, fine. I’ll use it.” At least Wynne was right about her being able to use it, so she rolled the scroll back up and shoved it into her belt. Being back into the “real” world made Marlana feel more herself, though she found herself rather uncomfortably aware of how close Alistair was as he took up her right flank the way he always did. And it wasn’t even exceptionally close, he was at his usual distance, close enough to shield her if necessary, but far enough to let her still be able to maneuver.

Not for the first time she wondered, why was he so protective of her? Oh, he went to help any of their other allies if they were in trouble, but she always seemed to be the first one he thought of. Silly girl, she mocked herself, you’re the only other Grey Warden that’s in Ferelden, of course he’s going to protect you. It’s out of memory for Duncan, not because of what be there between the two of you.

Feeling eyes on her, she shifted her glance in that direction to see Alistair studying her thoughtfully with his warm, golden brown eyes. He flushed a bit for some reason and looked away. Neither noticed the way Wynne and Leliana studied them, then exchanged glances, though Leliana was amused, Wynne was a bit more concerned.

What they found in the next room they did not expect at all. A small pack? Herd? Clutch? Of dragonlings. Hungry dragonlings. They were quick to dispatch, but it was clear they’d been confined in that room for some time as evidenced by some rather fragrant piles. One of which the slightly oblivious warrior was about to step in, and as Marlana started to yell out, he did. And proceeded to slide in it, right into and on top of the much smaller woman next to him. She wasn’t which was worse. The feel of being smothered by metal or the stench of what her friend had just stepped in. Panic at being pinned down  had almost overcome her good sense when Alistair finally managed to lever himself up and off without hurting her any more than she already was.

Like a true gentleman, he offered her the hand that wasn’t covered in muck to help her to her feet like he did in Ostagar. Only it was different, other than the dragon shit, it was his attitude as he helped her stand, the not quite goofy grin he gave her or the way his hand had lingered on hers for just the briefest moment. Unsettled, Marlana gave him a shy smile before making a slight production of making sure she hadn’t lost anything, especially the Litany they needed so desperately against Uldred’s pet bloodmages.

Thankfully for everyone’s sense of smell and what little dignity Alistair still possessed, they found a ready supply of water to wash the muck off his armor. They were still laughing about it when they encountered the templar held captive behind a glowing wall of energy. They’d all tried being understanding to the man, but he just kept getting more and more hysterical as they tried to talk to him. Exhausted, at the end of her short supply of patience, Marlana rubbed her temples then announced she was going up to deal with the bloodmages with or without the others. She refused to acknowledge Cullen’s shrill demands that she slaughter them all. Privately she wondered if the man hadn’t been affected by the rogue mages after all.

What they came in to was the worst thing they’d seen thus far in the Tower. A mage, screaming in pain and terror, held by brilliant bands of lightning wielded by a pair of abominations standing before a slight, bald man with sharp features who looked more like a clerk than bloodmage. Marlana couldn’t hear what the one mage was saying to the one being tortured, but she wasn’t going to wait. Swiftly she drew her weapons and began to run towards the horrific tableau, shouting out the command to activate the Litany. But she was too late.

Sickened she watched as the captive’s flesh twisted, then flowed in ways flesh should never move, with strange bulges appearing as the mage was taken over by a demon and turned into an abomination. But she didn’t stop until she slammed into a wall of force, which didn’t last long when Alistair made a strange gesture with his sword hand and a blazing circle of light swept out from around him purging the area of unfriendly spells. Determined not to let them corrupt any more mages, she went for the weasely little clerk figuring him to be Uldred from Wynne’s description. He laughed mockingly at her as his form shifted and twisted.

It was massive, and ugly, and for a brief moment she thought someone had taken an ogre magnified its size 3 fold then painted it in garish colors. She directed Leliana to take out the abominations furthest from their location while she went after the closest one. Alistair had already engaged the beast while Wynne began frantically casting everything from protective spells to the odd bolt of magic. It was a long brutal fight with a thing that used magic as easily as its massive claws and horns. But in the end it was indeed the Litany that saved them from the worst of the demon’s powers.

The next few hours went by in an exhausted haze for Marlana as decisions were made and ancient pacts renewed. Apparently while most of her consciousness went elsewhere, she kept herself together to still do what she needed to as she made arrangements for much needed supplies. And best of all enough horses to mount her entire group, including a steed massive enough to carry Sten easily. Hoping that she didn’t offend Irving, First Enchanter and leader of the Circle, nor Knight-Commander Greigor, she opted to return across the lake to the inn at the docks for a much needed rest.

Before she could sleep, she desperately needed to eat. She could live with the nightmares that came from being a Grey Warden, in fact when those were her only nightmares she actually got some decent rest, unlike the nights when she dreamed of her family. She could live with the fact she only had thirty years at the most. Being able to sense the Darkspawn and not being affected by their disease were probably the only useful things she could think of being a Grey Warden, though supposedly they had other powers. Not that even Alistair knew what they were. But the fact that galled her the most about being a Warden was the amount of food she needed to consume.

The rest of their party had already retired by the time the two Wardens had finally sated their empty stomachs. Debating if she had the energy to haul herself to her room or if she could just sleep right where she sat, Marlana watched with bemused eyes as Alistair fiddled with his mug of ale. He sighed, “Look about earlier –“

“I’m really sorry I didn’t warn you sooner about the dragon muck.”

His generous laugh made gave her a fluttering sensation in her abdomen, “No, no, I’m not mad about it at all. If you could’ve seen your face when I skidded into you, absolutely priceless.”

She couldn’t help but quietly chuckle with him. Then he sobered, “It’s when we were in the Fade and you got me away from that demon…” Alistair took a gulp from his mug before continuing, “I.” He hesitated as if about to say something, then changed his mind, “I hope you won’t say anything about how easily fooled I was.”

Marlana couldn’t help but frown in confusion at him. “You, Wynne and Leliana were all taken in equally. Besides, I thought you knew me better than that. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’d like to think we’re at least friends.”

His expression brightened, “Oh, we are. It’s just…” She waited patiently sipping her wine and wondering what was going on in that complicated male mind as his expression changed and closed. Oh, she knew their assorted friends and companions would laugh at hearing the word complicated to describe the warrior that was sitting before her, but there were depths and sides to his personality that… intrigued her.

Finally, he shook his head in frustration before reaching into a pouch on his belt and held out a deep red rose in the palm of his hand. “Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?”

She stared stupidly at him for a moment, wondering if she was still caught in that demon’s trap, or she’d fallen asleep in her chair after all, “Is that a trick question?”

He grinned, “Yes, absolutely. I’m trying to trick you. Is it working? Aw, I just about had you, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes. You’re a wily one.”

His voice deepened, “Nefarious even. Muahahaha”, he ruined that evil laugh with a faint cough causing her to smile and for the first time he saw the faintest hint of a dimple in her cheek.

“I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, ‘How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?’ I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t. The Darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since.”

She considered the flower in his hand and figured he must have had some sort of preservation enchantment placed on that pouch considering the flower was in near perfect condition. “That’s a nice sentiment.”

“I thought that I might… give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.”

Despite herself, Marlana could feel herself blushing at the compliment. Oh, she’d been complimented on her looks in the past, but never in such a sweet manner, “Thank you, Alistair. That’s a lovely thought.”

The warrior’s expression saddened, “I’m glad you like it. I was just thinking… here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You’ve had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It’s all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness.”

As he finished speaking, he held the rose by its stem out to Marlana who could feel her cheeks turning bright red even as she slowly reached out to take the flower from him. Just as her fingers started to curl around it, he lightly touched her hand with his empty one, holding her hand between both of his for just a moment. Speechless she smiled up at him, brilliant blue eyes sparkling as they gazed into his and he could feel her pulse speed just a little in her wrist. Smiling warmly back, he let her hand go, but slowly and a little reluctantly.

“I’m glad you like it.” His hands made a nervous, twisting gesture, “Now if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it.”

She laughed and decided to play along, wondering how badly she could make him blush, “Sounds good. Off with the armor, then!”

He laughed, “Bluff Called! Damn! She saw right through me!” Then more nervously, “I’ll be… in my room. Until the blushing stops. Just be, uh, safe. You know how it is.”

Marlana couldn’t help grinning at his hasty retreat and bid his back a good night. Then the smile faded as she looked down at the rose and carefully stroked one velvet soft petal with a fingertip and wondered.

Lothering Aftermath

            Andraste’s flaming sword, they were arguing. Again. Marlana paused at the edge of the campsite with the two buckets of water she was hauling back to camp to listen. She didn’t really care about what they were fighting about, but she could hear three voices, two soprano and one baritone. Great, Leliana was getting into the daily snap and snarl now too. Having Oogie give her a reproachful look before slinking off didn’t help matters any. Fuming she stalked into camp where the three supposed adults were arguing. For all that she was just barely eighteen years of age there were days it felt like she was the only adult around.

            Before the three could react, she pitched one bucket of water then the second right behind it, soaking all three of them thoroughly. As they sputtered she put her hands on her hips and snarled, “That. Is. Quite. Enough. You are all adults, or supposedly so. I expect you to act like it. I do not expect you to be best friends, or even to like each other. But by all that is holy, I expect you to act like adults! I expect you to work together. If you can’t, I kindly invite you to go somewhere else.”

            Feeling eyes staring at her back, she snapped at the bronze skinned giant over her shoulder, not entirely taking her attention off the other three, “Yes?”

            His odd purple eyes met her blazing blue and obviously decided that silence was the better part of valor. She nodded sharply, the long braid she’d twisted her mane into bobbed along with the movement. Then her head whipped around back around to her original targets, “Do I make myself clear?”

            They muttered something at her and went their separate ways, but showed no signs of leaving. Still angry she grabbed the buckets and stomped back to the stream to refill them. The two newcomers that joined her happy little band of outcasts certainly made things even more interesting. Not that she needed more interesting things in her life. She was still convinced that Leliana, a lay sister of the Chantry, was still one Archdemon short of a Blight. That the woman got involved with whatever Morrigan and Alistair were sniping at each other about again just proved she wasn’t all that bright.

            As for the giant, she still wasn’t sure what to make of him. She’d heard only vague rumors of the Qunari, but of all her current allies he seemed to be the smartest. At least he didn’t argue all of the time. Yet, she thought blackly. She was sure that something would set him going with the others soon enough. That seemed to be the way things were going. Marlana was still bemused at the fact they were following her lead since she wasn’t exactly the most inspiring leader.

            Once at the stream she stared down at it tiredly. It’d only a couple of weeks since that disaster at Ostagar and it seemed like she was always tired. Oh, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Well, maybe partly physically, she wasn’t used to sleeping in the rough so much, but she was learning to deal. But the burden that had been laid upon her, she wanted to give it to someone else, tell everyone that she couldn’t do it, let someone else pay the price this time. But she couldn’t do it, because who else was willing to do it? They all looked to her and she saw something in their eyes. They didn’t see the young woman who was in over her head, they all saw the Grey Warden who stepped up to the line and refused to back down.

            Or so said Leliana. Damn minstrels. Damn her Cousland blood for making her responsible for things that weren’t any business of hers if she were a sane woman.

            Marlana rubbed her forehead. The time at Lothering hadn’t gone well at all. They’d found out that as Grey Wardens, Alistair and she were wanted as traitors to the crown. In fact a group of Loghain’s men had been loitering in the inn waiting for her. That part she couldn’t understand. They were completely uninterested in Alistair as another Grey Warden, that they wanted to capture her alive and kill her companions. Which meant Howe wanted her for something since it’d become clear in the rumors that he and Loghain were political bed partners. The thought sickened her. And now she understood why her brother had been sent off to scout even though he was not suited for such things.

            It was there that she added on her two newest companions, one of whom was a murderer. But she’d seen in his strange face that he truly regretted it in his own fashion so offered him the chance of redemption by fighting against the Blight. For the first time Morrigan and Alistair had actually agreed on. She wondered if that meant she’d used up all of her miracles, and if she had it was a singular waste.

            However it had taken quite a bit of persuasion on Alistair’s part to get her to accept Leliana. Oh the woman had skill in battle, but that she decided to help the Wardens was prompted by a vision, one supposedly from the Maker…

            Marlana sighed, what else was going to end up trailing after her offering their “help”.

            Other than that, Lothering had been a complete waste. With all the refugees in a town abandoned by their bann, it’d been like an overturned ant’s nest. They’d done some work for the Chantry much to Morrigan’s chagrin, but the young woman had to do something for those poor folk. It was likely there’d be more bandits, but perhaps she bought the people some time to organize to leave the area. She hated leaving them like that, but her duties as a Warden were more pressing and if she didn’t attend to them, more would suffer.

            “Is she like that all the time, Alistair?” Leliana asked quietly after watching the silver maned woman walk off like she was going to kill anything stupid enough to get in her way.

            He blinked at the red-headed minstrel blankly “Huh? Who? Marlana?”

            The lay sister nodded, the single braid in her hair swinging gently.

            “Oh, well, no. Usually she just sighs at us or makes a smart remark. I have to remember the bucket of water in the future, that was pretty slick.” He said grinning.

            Leliana stared at him, “You think that was funny?”

            “Yeah, I do. She certainly got her point across without hitting any of us. Believe me, you don’t want her hitting you. Or patching you up. It was really worth it watching Morrigan speechless for once.”

            “You are a strange man, Alistair.”

            “Funny, everyone says that.” He frowned a bit, “Well, maybe not everyone.”

            An expressive eyebrow raised, “Oh? Do tell?”

            For some unaccountable reason he flushed slightly, “It’s nothing.”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Really, it’s not. Oh! Is that a griffon I see?! Oh, no, just a cloud. Pity, it’d be nice to not have to walk everywhere.”

            The Orlesian woman just shook her head in silence, clearly at a loss for words. Alistair grinned a bit to himself, she wasn’t the first person he’d done that to.

            Fortunately when she returned to camp, things were quiet. Careful to avoid catching anyone’s attention, she simply settled the buckets down before digging out some of the travel rations to gnaw on while working on her journal. Well, her “official” journal, the one she was keeping in case something happened to her. In it she laid out her rudimentary plans, the information they’d gathered thus far and her reasoning behind what she was doing. She kept her own private journal to vent at the end of the day, and her thoughts of all that she had been through. She only updated that when alone.

            Just as she finished her current entry, Leliana brought out her lute as was typical for the end of the day before everyone went to their rest or to their watch. At first it had been annoying, but as of late Marlana had been grateful for the distraction the music and tale telling brought. But apparently Leliana had other thoughts this night as she tuned the instrument but didn’t start playing right away.

            “Tell me Marlana, do you know of any songs or tales you wish to share? You have a pleasant enough speaking voice and your singing voice isn’t too irritating upon the ear.”

            As the bard began asking her questions, the young noblewoman shook her head, “You really don’t want me to try to entertain anyone, Leliana, it’s not going to be pretty.”

            Wondering if her little group had come up with this plan to torment her, she realized Alistair was regarding her hopefully, Sten with a hint of curiosity and even Morrigan was watching her thoughtfully. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

            Closing her eyes so she couldn’t see the others, even though she still felt them watching her, she sang of the price of commanding in a rich alto, almost tenor, voice. Until now she hadn’t fully understood the song, though she’d always could get the general meaning. Dealing with her fractious companions, knowing that every time she went into battle with them she may be leading them to their deaths. Knowing that if they were successful with the treaties she’d be ordering even more people to their deaths… That understanding gave her performance a poignancy it otherwise wouldn’t have had.

            When she finished, she bowed her head slightly then walked away without meeting anyone’s gaze. She had revealed far more than she meant to with that song. In the darkness outside of the light of the fire, Marlana sagged against a tree. In the distance she could Leliana starting another song, one not as somber, but still a quiet one so as to not shatter the mood.

            A faint rattle of armor betrayed Alistair’s presence before he came near enough to talk. “And you wondered why I didn’t want to lead.”

            She crossed her arms across her chest, but didn’t look up at him, “I never wondered.” And trying hard to not resent you for it.

            The wince he must have made could be heard in his voice, “Fair enough.” He coughed slightly, “I, ah, did want to know what you wanted to talk about the other night.”

            As had become a habit of hers, Marlana had taken to talking to her allies individually or together, to get to know them, and also in the hopes of getting them to know each other. Alistair had proven to be particularly difficult about that, so she had given up after getting shrugged off several times. Now he wants to talk, she thought, typical male. And as awkwardly as possible, typical Alistair. The later thought was more amused then scornful.

            “Nothing important”, despite herself she could hear the tired resignation in her voice. Maybe she should let one of the others take the middle watch so she could get a solid night’s sleep, maybe then she could keep her mask in place better.

            “Maybe you should let me be the judge of that?”

            Not sure how to interpret his tone, she finally looked up, but couldn’t see his expression clearly in the shadows. Shrugging slightly, “I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk. About Duncan.”

            “Oh.” There was so much emotion in that one small syllable. His voice turned brisk, “You don’t have to do that. I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

            “I know he was important to you and while I didn’t know him for very long, it doesn’t mean I don’t mourn his death.”

            She shifted slightly so she could see him better as she spoke, to see the sorrow that passed across his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost it like that. Duncan did warn me that any of us could fall in battle. And with so much riding on us what with the Blight and all. I, I’d like a proper funeral for him once this is all over. If we’re still alive. I don’t think he had any family.”

            She spoke softly, “He had you.”

            Alistair looked away, “I guess he did. It sounds stupid, but I wish I had been there with him. At the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.”

            Her heart ached, he couldn’t have used harsher words than that. This time it was her turn to look away, “It’s not stupid at all. I understand.” Better than you know, Alistair. You didn’t fail your entire family.

            “Of course, I’d be dead then and that wouldn’t have made him any happier. He came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor. I don’t know.”

            She still couldn’t look up at him. Highever. It’d been her home once not so long ago, her responsibility. But now it was… Her mind shied away from that pain.

            He continued on, oblivious to her internal struggle, “Have you…had someone close to you die? I don’t mean to pry…”

            Her shoulders sagged, he didn’t know. Either Duncan hadn’t told him, or it didn’t register to be important enough for him to remember. Feeling raw she regretted ever saying anything. “I’ve lost enough to know what you’re going through.”

            “Yes, I… imagine you really have, haven’t you?” The sympathy in his voice was more like salt in a wound than balm. “Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”

            To her surprise she found herself offering to go to Highever with him if he ever went there. And that she truly meant it. He smiled a little, “I would like that. And I think maybe Duncan would have also.”

            He hesitated, “Is there anything you want to talk about? It seems you’re always taking everyone else’s burdens, but no one else seems to be doing the same for you.”

            Unable to speak for the moment, she slowly shook her head. How could she explain to him that while she resented the duties and burdens of being a Grey Warden she was grateful for them because the weight of them crushed her own pain and sorrow into a dark corner of her soul.

            “Just remember, if you ever do need to talk, let me know. I know I haven’t made a good showing of myself, but I want you to know you aren’t alone in this.”

            The words were a struggle to get out, but she had to say them. Because what he said did matter to her, “Thank you, Alistair.”

            “Anytime. My friend.”



Author's Note: The Price of Commanding is the song in question. Lyrics by Mercedes Lackey from her Oathbreakers novel/CD.

Not so short of a career. Or how to meet people and make friends.

“Alistair, stop being a baby and let me look at that wound.”

            “I am not being a baby, and I’m fine”, the former templar sulked at his pale haired companion and fellow Grey Warden.

She fluffed the top of her hair with her right hand in exasperation unaware of the spikes she was leaving, it was an oddly endearing look on the normally composed woman, but Alistair was refusing to let himself be distracted, “And you’re leaking blood all over the place so no, you’re not fine. And it’s going to attract attention.” Her tone turned coaxing at his rebellious look, “Look, I’ll be gentle.”

“Uh huh.”

“Fine, then I’ll talk Morrigan into treating you.”

From across the small campsite the dark haired sorceress looked up and gave the two Wardens a hot, golden eyed glare, “I will do no such thing, I’ve already told that I don’t know the healing arts.”

Marlana glanced at the bleeding man out of the corner of her eye and gave him a slightly malicious grin before turning back to the other woman, “You could make it more painful and still leave him functional.”

Both ignored his protest as the sorceress looked thoughtful, “”Tis tempting indeed, but that means touching him. So I’ll have to pass on the pleasure.”

She turned her attention back at him, “Fine, I tried to be nice, now I’m going to deal with it my own way.”

Alistair stared at her for a long moment before grumbling, “Fine, fine. I’ll let you poke at me. But just so you know, all women really are evil creatures.”

The female Warden simply chuckled as she set out the supplies that would be needed to help patch the stubborn male up. She did take a private moment to appreciate his form all the while chiding herself for that absurd thought as he carefully shucked off his armor, or tried to as his wounded shoulder wouldn’t cooperate. While the man grumbled some more at her assistance it was half hearted at best as she really was as gentle as possible.

Finally seeing the wound on the back of his shoulder made her suck in her breath in concern and sent her digging her pack for a different set of supplies. With deft gestures she mixed up what looked like a vile concoction until she shook the vial and it turned into an oddly pearlescent color. Now he regarded her warily, he’d never seen her use a poison that looked like that before, but he knew what those vials usually meant.

“Relax, it’s just going to help with the pain. I’m going to have to dig something out of that injury and I’d rather not have to find a way to hold you down while I treat you.”

He was still grumbling under his breath as she slathered the wound with the stuff, at first he jumped from how cold it was then relaxed despite himself as the pain faded. Granted he couldn’t feel any part of that shoulder, but the lack of pain was a relief. Not that he would admit it to the demon that was doing something rude to the gaping slash. Trying to ignore the rude probing, he remembered how he’d suffered the injury. As they made their way out of the Korcari Wilds to the town of Lothering where they hoped to get supplies and news, they were beset by a pack of Darkspawn. He hadn’t heeded Marlana’s warning about a Hurlock maneuvering behind him while she was busy fending off a group of squat Genlocks. He’d managed to twist away, but not before it managed to hack at his shoulder. Now he wondered how badly he was going to get butchered.

With the utmost concentration the young woman delicately picked out the shards of the Darkspawn blade that had shattered when it hit him. Once she was satisfied that she’d dug out all of the foreign matter, she began to stitch up the gash and wondered what her mother would say at the use of the tedious sewing lessons the Teyrna insisted her daughter learn. Once done she tied and cut the thread before putting a pad of cloth to keep his armor from reopening the injury. “I’m sorry, Alistair, this is going to scar, but this is the best I can do. Maybe if we can find a healer at Lothering or the Mage Tower they might be able to do something about it.”

Alistair shrugged his non-wounded shoulder trying not to admit that he did feel a lot better, thought better of the fact and as non-grudgingly as possible said, “Thank you, Marlana.”

When she looked at him in surprise he felt somewhat like a heel as she said, “You’re welcome and I’m sorry for threatening to sic Morrigan on you”, before she went to wash his blood off her hands. Just as Morrigan started to protest at being used as a threat she tossed off an apology to the other woman who settled down muttering to herself.

Crouched at the small stream after she finished washing up, Marlana rested her face in her still wet hands. And wondered once again what happened to all the diplomacy her father had taught her, not to mention the leadership skills he taught her. Using her two companions against each other like that… While she may be exhausted and heartsore, she knew Alistair was in the same situation and how she treated him just now was inexcusable. Since he was the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden, it was even more inexcusable.

That was the rub though, wasn’t it? She was a Grey Warden of all of two or three days and she was the one saddled with the task of rallying the forces to replace the one lost at Ostagar to Loghain’s treachery. Not only was Alistair a Warden longer, granted it was only six months, but that was six months longer than she, he was also at least five years older. Maker’s breath! She’d only just reached her age of majority just a month before this nightmare began and now this.

A Grey Warden. She never wanted that, it was going to be trial enough to run Highever in her father’s absence. But now her family was dead, including her brother, her House all gone save for her. Tears slowly slipped down her cheeks, her father had said he knew she would continue the family name if the worst came to pass, but this was so much worse than even her father had anticipated. A Warden couldn’t inherit lands and titles, but there were no other Couslands left, the treacherous bastard Howe had seen to that. Yet the duty as a Warden outweighed her duty as a Cousland. If she survived the Blight then she would let herself consider retaking her family lands. And screw the Wardens if they didn’t understand her duty to Highever.

Yet making matters even worse was the betrayal of Loghain Mac Tir at the battle that had occurred the day before. To have gone through the horrors of the Tower to get to the beacon to signal the Teyrn’s forces, only to have one of the country’s greatest heroes abandoned his king and the king’s forces on the field of battle. Not just his king, but the son of his best friend and husband of his daughter.

Now it was up to her to use the treaties Duncan had sent them to retrieve only two days before since Alistair flat out refused to take up the burden of leadership. Seeing a grown man panic like that had soured her opinion on him, but she tried to give him some slack considering the loss he just suffered. “Oh papa”, she whispered in despair using a title she hadn’t used in years for her father, “If ever I needed your good advice, it’s now. But you’re not here because I failed you when you needed me the most. So I’ll try to remember everything you told F-Fergus and me. I’ll try to make up my failure at our home. I-I hope you don’t hate me too much wherever you are.”

Despite her determination not to let her heartache get the better of her, the tears continued to pour down. During her flight from her home with Duncan, the elder warden had repeatedly told her that there was no shame in grief, as long as you continued ever onwards. Yet she did feel shame at what she perceived to be weakness, now was not the time to indulge in weak emotions.

And now she had a bitchy apostate mage as an ally in addition to everything else. Granted the woman was clearly skilled with combative magics and her knowledge of the wilds were useful, but she wondered why Morrigan really was accompanying the Wardens. Not that she was going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, if only because she’d probably bite, but she didn’t think the sorceress was doing this just to help end the Blight. And definitely not out of the goodness of her heart. Or even that her mother had told her to go. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the concept that Morrigan’s mother was Flemeth.

Supposedly THE Flemeth of the old tales. There was on tale she knew particularly well. The lord all the stories told of that caused Flemeth to become the terrible force she supposedly was had been the lord of Highever. Then a minor bann, but when Connobar was slain by Flemeth, Sarim Cousland had taken over castle and lands. By all accounts Sarim had been considered a major improvement over the late and unlamented Connobar. That had been over 400 years though, if this was the same Flemeth… She didn’t want to think about that.

Or why Flemeth had saved her and Alistair from the Tower when they were overwhelmed by Darkspawn. Supposedly “plucked” out of the tower by Flemeth in the form of a giant bird or so said Morrigan, whether that was true or not, the fact remained that they were indeed alive. As well as healed of their terrible wounds by the same person who “plucked” them. If the old woman really was the Flemeth of legends, and if any of the legends were true, Marlana wondered at the irony of the woman saving Sarim’s descendent.

Shaking off the thoughts of old legends, her thoughts turned to the present and her troublesome companions. Predictably Morrigan and Alistair got on as well as oil and water which only added to her burdens. At first she couldn’t understand why they both looked to her to lead, but she couldn’t imagine either one listening to the other. So she was a “safe” third party. Lucky her.

Hearing the crump of booted feet approaching her, Marlana hastily splashed her face with water to dash away the tears. Alistair studied her for a moment, noting the slightly reddened eyes, but decided to err on the side of caution and not remark on the fact. With forced cheer he said, “Just making sure you didn’t get eaten by some awful beastie.”

Somewhat dryly she responded, “I should be so lucky.”

The former templar paused, not sure how to answer her and wondered if she was being sarcastic or serious. Before he could say something, she rose to her feet as Oogie came crashing through the underbrush wanting to see what was going on. The former noblewoman absently patted the massive animal’s shoulder before returning to camp. Without thinking about it, she ordered Morrigan to first watch, Alistair to third and she would take second before she curled up on her bedroll near the fire with her dog at her back.

Apostate and templar stared at her in astonishment then complied deciding not to argue. Particularly after seeing how she had killed one of the Darkspawn emissaries by first lopping of a hand so it couldn’t spellcast anymore then took it’s head off with a back handed swipe of her sword. Her attack had been brutally fast and neither wanted to see what Marlana was capable of when truly angry. So they settled down for the night and wondered what Lothering would bring on the morrow.

A short career?

Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten... and that one day, we shall join you.

Her world had become nothing more than pain as an unclean flame raced its way through her blood and bone and flesh. Then it reached heart and mind and everything went black. What should have been welcome unconsciousness was anything but as her world turned into a nightmare full of shadowy, twisted beings ruled over by some great monstrous thing whose wings stirred pestilence and death with each great beat. Then it turned blind white eyes that could still see and screamed its hateful welcome. In voiceless terror she fell to her knees then began to try to scuttle away on all fours because she could not get to her feet and run away the way a still rational human could. When she saw the vanguard of the loathsome horde, a terrible keening made its way out of her throat. Her father and mother, sister by marriage and her nephew, her brother shuffled forward, puppets of some terrible force. But worst of all, Gwendolyn Faolain, her best friend and heart’s sister, with her dead babe cradled in her arms. Gwen’s once glossy black hair was a matted mess, her face covered by some sort of terrible black lesions and dripping sores. The once bright green eyes now filled with an unclean light. Her dead loved ones reached for her, accusation in their slack faces and a horrible hunger in every movement.

            Finally she did find her voice to scream out her denial of everything in that corrupted place. She managed to get to her feet and somehow her blades were in her hands, the only clean shining presence in that…filth. Even though she was slicing away at her own soul, she fought the corruption even though she knew it would win, would drown her, be her death. If not worse than her death. She would fight it with everything that she was. If Marlana Cousland, possibly the last scion of House Cousland, was anything, it was that she would never bow, never break by any enemy.

            If anything would be her doom, it would be those she loved.

            In silence two warriors watched over the prone body of their new sister. The grim, grizzled warrior whose dark beard was starting to grey for all that he didn’t seem to be that old. His much younger companion that was lighter in demeanor and appearance, but still no less a capable fighter, though at the moment there was none of his characteristic laughter as he watched the unconscious woman with the man who was his mentor and adopted father. The slim, almost tiny, figure with long silver-white hair clad in midnight blue leather armor with silver chasings, the big blue eyes closed as she fought whatever terrible dreamscape she found herself in, writhed in a way that made both wonder if she would survive the Joining after all.

            “Be careful of this one, Alistair”, warned the older of the two men.

            Alistair looked up with a faint frown, “What do you mean, Duncan? After seeing her fighting Darkspawn in the wilds earlier, I’d hardly call her fragile.”

            Duncan shook his head, “Not fragile, but she is volatile. I had to Conscript her to save her life from Howe’s forces. And yes, the irony is not lost on me.”

            Frowning, Alistair studied the young woman as she began to make the most heartrending keen he’d ever heard out of a living being. Or even a dying one. “Jory mentioned that he was surprised to see Bryce Cousland’s youngest as a recruit, but he assumed that she was doing it for the glory of it all. She didn’t say otherwise, but I got the impression she never wanted this.”

            Sighing tiredly, Duncan nodded, “It’s true she didn’t. I don’t know if you’ve been told the details, but all the inhabitants of Castle Cousland are dead. Marlana and I only escaped because her parents bought our escape at the cost of their lives. Though in Bryce’s case he didn’t have very long.”

            Horrified Alistair stared at his mentor, “Maker’s Breath! You said Howe’s forces. As in Arl Rendon Howe of Amaranthine?”

            “Yes, Howe betrayed the man who considered the Arl his best friend. It seems the Blight has brought more than just Darkspawn corruption. And it looks like she’s waking, we can talk later.”

            Pain woke her, a mixed blessing. That she was freed from the seemingly unending nightmare of being the one to slaughter her corrupted kith and kin over and over and over again. That she was alive…she wasn’t sure if that was all that welcome. Blearily she blinked open her eyes to see the two warriors peering down at her with concern. Great, she thought, they’re obviously wondering if I’m going to live, yet they didn’t have the decency to take me off the cold stone floor. She ached in every joint, muscle and tissue in a way she never did before, not even when she accidentally inhaled some deathroot extract vapors. Carefully she managed to sit up, but even that was an effort as her head began to swim and her stomach threatened to empty its contents. It was through sheer stubborn pride that kept her from vomiting. For one thing she didn’t either man would appreciate her spew on their feet and for another she really didn’t want to taste that poison coming back up.

            To her surprise, Alistair leaned down with a look of sympathy and offered her a hand to get to her feet, which he did so with the utmost courtesy since he could have easily picked her up by the scruff of the neck like a week old kitten. That was even when she wasn’t feeling that completely and utterly awful. Even feeling wretched, she still remembered the manners her mother had drilled into her so long ago and quietly thanked him.

            Gravely, Duncan studied the newest Warden who was the only survivor of her joining, “It is finished. Welcome.”

            Alistair was still subdued as if the events just past still bothered him, “I’m glad at least one of you survived the Joining. In mine, only one of us died. But…it was horrible.”

            Duncan gently cleared his throat to get her attention, “How do you feel?”

            She rubbed the back of her head, and since she couldn’t think of a polite answer decided to address the killing at the brief ritual. That someone in the distant past had come up with that gruesome rite then willingly inflicted it on themselves and on others… “I can’t believe you killed Jory.”

            Duncan looked saddened, “He was warned, as were you all, that there was no turning back. He forced my hand when he drew his blade and I took no pleasure in ending his life. The Blight requires sacrifices from us all. Fortunately, you’re being here means they are not all made in vain.”

            Despite her aching skull, Marlana made herself think that over, then reluctantly nodded her head. And instantly regretted the action as her skull pounded with more pain and a thick, greasy nausea threatened to overwhelm her. The newly made Warden decided that Jory was the lucky one.

Watching her with concern the oldest Warden said gently, “Take some time to recover. When you’re ready, I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king.”

            It took a moment for his words to sink in, “Meeting? What kind of meeting?”

            “The king is going to discuss the strategy for the upcoming battle. Though I’m not sure why he wishes for you to be there.”

            “I…see.” Though she didn’t. Not really.

            “Please attend as soon as you are able to.”

            She carefully dipped her head in acknowledgement, using her shoulders more than her neck for the movement. At least that didn’t make the aching throb in her head even worse.

Once the two men were finally out of sight, Marlana went to the side of the ruined temple and noisily lost the contents of her stomach despite her resolution not to. At least she was able to hold it until they gone. It tasted worse coming up than it did going down, but she felt a great deal better. At least the headache had receded enough for her to think a bit better. Already she could feel the difference the Taint in her blood made, such as the pressure of the approaching Darkspawn horde. Shivering from everything that had happened she took a careful sip of water to rinse out her mouth. Then a few slow swallows to ease her dry throat and hoped she hadn’t screamed out loud the way she did when caught in the poisoned nightmares of the Joining.

She studied the blood red pendant on the simple silver chain that Alistair had given her as the last part of the ritual. The fact they stored Darkspawn blood from the ritual in a pendant served as an interesting insight to the order she was now a member of.

To remember the ones that didn’t survive.

            For the first time, there was something about the Wardens that she could accept without pause and slipped the pendant on. With it, two more names added to the list of her fallen. Jory may have been idiot glory hound, but he still deserved to be remembered for his sacrifice. Daveth on the other hand she did regret his loss. They may have come from very different backgrounds, but the pickpocket had understood what was at stake and had the courage to face the coming darkness.

            Enough brooding she decided. There was work to be done, a great deal of it. Trailed by a large, tawny, four footed shadow she slowly made her way to the war council being held by the king. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in such a council; her father had her attend similar sessions since he felt both children should be trained equally. Part of it was in case something should happen to Bryce and Fergus. The other was that if her mother did finally succeed in finding a match, at least one of them would be properly trained to lead in peace and war.

            But to be in such august company…

            Even though she was now fairly disillusioned about said company.

            Cailan was a good man, who clearly meant well, but at the same time had never grown up and made a truly rotten king. When he had met Duncan and Marlana upon their arrival at Ostagar she suddenly understood why her parents were so careful about how they spoke of him. The way he had eyed her made her realize why her father wouldn’t bring her to court after Cailan’s wedding with Anora. Greatly sobered by that meeting, she wasn’t pleased to have the “pleasure” of encountering Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. Who had apparently heard more of her than either of them cared for. His dismissive attitude towards the loss of her family put her back up. Instead of reacting with hot anger, she used a cool response. In true contrary male fashion, he was amused and dryly advised “Keep up that spirit and spine since both would be greatly needed in the days to come.”

            When he asked her to pray that the king be amenable to wisdom, she readily agreed.

            Now she stood before her king and his general at Duncan’s side and tried not to feel despair. Loghain had come up with a simple enough plan, but in war you wanted to keep it as simple as possible, especially with someone like Cailan in charge. As the Teyrn laid out the plans for the two parts of the army and the beacon that would be used to alert his troops, Cailan announced, “As for the beacon, the Lady Cousland will take Alistair to the Tower.”

            Protests erupted over that announcement as Marlana’s dismay increased. Loghain was justifiably incensed over the insult to his men at the tower where the beacon was kept. The mage representative was upset at not being used, clearly he’d been hoping to burn stuff up which of course set off her holiness. Duncan was the only one who remained quiet until the disagreement was settled by an irritated Loghain. Once again she wondered at the relationship between Cailan and Alistair. The fact he called her Lady rather than Warden had been telling to her, but she wasn’t sure why. And feared for the worst since there’d still been no word of her brother Fergus since her arrival.

            Not surprisingly Alistair protested being kept out of the fighting.

            Even though the king had commanded it, Marlana still agreed with Alistair, “I know, Alistair, I didn’t agree then and I don’t agree now, but the king did command it.”

            Duncan nodded, “It is as his majesty commands. Since he wants Grey Wardens to light the beacon, Grey Wardens will do so. And he chose the two of you.”

            Alistair sucked in a breath then let it out in an exasperated huff, “I get it, I get it. But just so you know, if he asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line.”

            The mental image his words conjured caused Marlana to laugh softly, “I think I’d like to see that.”

            He smiled at her, “Well for you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress.”

            She grinned back and tried to sober under Duncan’s sigh. The two exchanged glances as Duncan reminded them to uphold the honor of the Wardens. All three bid quiet farewells before going their separate ways.

            No longer laughing, the two chose to travel as lightly as possible, taking only the bare necessities along with their arms and armor. Then they were on their way. What had seemed like a quick walk the day before to the female Warden now took an eternity to cross. The span across the gorge separating the two parts of the ruins was now treacherous between the wind and rain from the sudden thunderstorm as well as the hurtling fireballs from the Darkspawn catapults. By the time they arrived outside of the tower, Loghain’s men were in disarray due to an unexpected incursion of Darkspawn. It took longer than it should have to rally the fighters and by the time they’d gotten the men gathered, more than half had been killed.

            Once regrouped, Marlana found herself in charge of a small group consisting of herself, Alistair, one of Loghain’s soldiers and oddly enough one of the mages. Oogie of course refused to be separated from his human’s side.

            The inside was far worse than any had anticipated, as they battled through packs of the ravening monsters, they found a large pit that lead to tunnels that none wanted to investigate very closely. As they continued to fight their way up the tower, Alistair exclaimed, “Maker’s breath! What are these Darkspawn doing ahead of the main horde? There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here.”

            Marlana rolled her eyes, conscious to make sure he didn’t see her expression, “And here you were complaining you wouldn’t be allowed to fight.”

            “You’re right, there is a silver lining to this after all! Anyway, Teyrn Loghain is waiting for us to light that beacon, I’m sure we’ve missed the signal by now.”

            Getting more and more desperate the group fought through the rest of the tower as quickly as possible. Though she still felt ill, Marlana refused to let that slow her down though she knew she’d pay for it later.

            Finally they reached the top of the tower. They expected more Darkspawn, but not what they did find. Crouched down feasting the dead bodies of Loghain’s soldiers was a massive grey thing with a pair of twisted horns rising above its bestial face. Alistair paled at the sight, “Oh Maker! Ogre!”

            The thing bellowed in rage at the sight of the humans spraying thick spittle, bits of bone and flesh. Even though it was still a distance away, the carrion stench of its breath wafted over the group. Its lowered its head so the wickedly sharp horns were pointing straight out as it visibly braced itself and charged.

            “Don’t let it grab you!” Alistair yelled as they scattered  out the thing’s way. Only the soldier wasn’t quick enough and they all got a good chance to see what an ogre could do to a man. Even one in armor. After it crushed him, it ripped a handful of his innards and stuffed them into its mouth as it began to rush towards Alistair.

            Soon Marlana, Alistair and Oogie had worked out a method of getting the ogre to chase after one while the others did what they could to whittle the thing down and the mage stayed at a distance lobbing various unpleasant magical attacks. For all that it didn’t wear armor, it had an incredibly tough hide, not to mention far faster than anything that big had a right to be.

            Then it was over. While the mage made sure the corpse of the ogre burned and Marlana kept watch with Oogie, Alistair lit the beacon.

            As the massive flames bloomed, a small sea of Darkspawn swarmed up the steps to top of the tower. The mage went down first, then a hail of arrows flew through the air striking down the humans.

            Before the darkness consumed her, Marlana’s last thought was that she must have had the shortest career of any Grey Warden that survived the Joining.

Author's note: whew, that took forever. Hopefully the rest will be easier to write.

The way to a man's heart really is his stomach.

            “So what are you up to?”

            Hearing Alistair’s boyishly cheerful question made Marlana’s head jerk up in confusion causing the long flood of her silver-white hair to come tumbling out of the leather strap she’d been using to hold it out of her face. Since the last time she saw him in deep conversation about something with Zev she hadn’t expected him to wander over so soon so she’d indulged in allowing herself to concentrate on the book she’d been slowly reading on and off. As was usual for her the last few weeks, seeing the warm smile on his ruggedly handsome face was more than a little distracting.

            Because she was more annoyed at her reaction to Alistair than the fact he managed to startle her, Marlana’s answer was more curt than she intended it to be, “Reading.”

            To buy herself a moment to think as she retied her hair she glanced around the campsite for something to distract him and froze. Off on the opposite end of the usual evening campfire Zev was apparently entertaining not just Leliana, but Wynne as well with one of his outrageous stories. Since Wynne was normally not very pleased with the ex-Crow that she was laughing at his tale was disturbing. Even more disturbing was seeing Shale and Sten talking with Morrigan in the distance where the dark haired sorceress normally set up her own small fire. She firmly decided she did not want to know what they were up to.

            Using the young woman’s momentary distraction, Alistair swooped down and grabbed the small book off her lap, “I could see you were reading. But more to the point, what was it that required such concentration. You can usually hear a rabbit running a few hundred yards off, much less me stomping up to you” His warm golden brown eyes glinted with the mischief that shown so brightly in the smirk he wore.

            Keeping a finger to mark the spot she’d been reading, he closed the book to read the title and gave a whoop of laughter cause their other traveling companions to turn and look in their direction. Their reactions caused her to slouch down somewhat while her cheeks flushed with color from embarrassment.

            “The Traveling Cook, huh? I knew you could be a saucy wench, but this really does take the cake.” Grinning at her exasperated expression, he flipped open the book to the page he saved, then frowned at what he read. Still keeping the place marked he flipped through a few more random sections.  Watching his growing confusion, Marlana’s annoyance was quickly replaced by a growing amusement.

            “Maker’s Breath! A cookbook, ‘Lana? Really?”

            As he stared at her, she took the opportunity to snatch her book back.

            “Yes, a cookbook. If I must eat like my brother did at my age I want to eat something edible”, while she spoke she marked the latest recipe she was learned with the scrap of fabric she’d been using as a bookmark. Curious, Alistair carefully settled down on the log next to her. Even though he was wearing plain traveling clothes at the moment, he was still solid enough to be careful about what he sat down on. Especially when Marlana was involved because she weighed less than half than he did and tended to choose perches that couldn’t support his bulk. When the log didn’t even creak in protest, he relaxed.

            “Can’t stand anymore of Morrigan’s wildwood stew?”

            ‘I don’t have any problems with her cooking, but I seem to be the only one. Everyone else seems convinced she’s going to poison us all. Or worse. Except for Zev, but he says that danger tends to give life a certain spice.”

            With her big blue eyes sparkling with amusement and her generous mouth curved up in a grin at the templar’s pained expression, she was unaware of how lovely she looked in that one brief moment where she wasn’t a Grey Warden and simply an 18 year old woman laughing with a friend. Even more unaware of what it did to that friend’s heart. He gave himself a mental shake before he put his foot in his mouth around her. Again.

            “Well, we all know that Zev prefers not to cook which is a good thing. But what about Wynne or Leliana?”

            “Wynne is kept busy enough with keeping us alive despite ourselves. And after the time she mixed up a potion she was brewing and dinner… No. As for Leliana, did you really want bread and steamed vegetables again?”

            He thought that one over and visibly shuddered. It wasn’t that it was bad, it was just not a very filling meal for either Warden. Like many other things that were never explained to either of the last Wardens of Ferelden they both had increased appetites that required something more substantial to keep them going. Alistair was unphased about it for the most part, but he was also a warrior who needed the energy that meat provided. Marlana still wasn’t resigned to the fact she was eating more than when she entered puberty, but being a practical soul just dealt with it.

            Neither of them mentioned about his infamous lamb and pea stew. The supposed stew was an experience no one else in the group was willing to repeat. A thick, greasy, grey-brown sludge no one, not even Alistair, had been able to choke down more than a mouthful. Even Oogie, Marlana’s bottomless pity of a mabari hound, had flat out refused his mistress’s uneaten portion.

While Sten wasn’t an awful cook, but his idea of cooking was to stick whatever they happened to hunt that day on a skewer and roast it. Which not only could get tiresome quickly, if it wasn’t fully cooked someone could get sick. Marlana didn’t care to have a repeat of that situation, even if Wynne’s healing magic was able to cure the worst of it.

            “Besides, you seemed to like what I made tonight.”

            Since it involved meat, potatoes and vegetables swimming in cheese, he’d of course loved it. Well, he didn’t care about the vegetables, but he liked the meat and cheese. Especially the cheese. Judging by how it was devoured by everyone else, it’d apparently had enough to appeal to everyone. The mabari was put out at having to eat his regular food since there weren’t any leftovers for him to have.

            Alistair looked at her in amazement, “You made that, really?”

            Still amused she nodded. “That and dinner for the past week.”

            “Huh. I noticed that there’d been an improvement lately, but I didn’t realize it was you.”

            Then he looked at her with concern, “You don’t really have to do that you know. There’s so much else that you’re doing, you don’t need to do that too.”

            She crossed her arms, trying not to glare at him, her amusement fading, “This is my contribution to camp duties. I may have ended up leading this menagerie, but it’s not fair to let everyone else take care of camp.”

            He wondered if he knew that was part of why the “menagerie” followed her. At first it had been a mutual desire to stop the Blight, or in Shale’s case, to see the world and squish soft fleshy creatures. What kept them together and smoothed all the jagged edges to make them a unified whole was her obvious care for people she had come to consider friends. 

Not for the first time he wondered what she truly thought of him beyond being a fellow Warden and fighting partner. Because when they were in battle, be it Darkspawn, bandits or abominations, the two fought as a unified whole, neither having to think about what actions the other were going to take on the battlefield. He’d charge their enemies to keep their focus on him while her blades flashed with lethal grace from behind. They even seemed to generally have the same outlook on life, though she was sometimes more cynical.

            “So you are the reason why everyone else seems to give me a hard time about doing anything in setting up or breaking down camp.” The slight edge in her voice jerked his thoughts out of his speculation. Damn, he had managed to put his foot in his mouth again with her.

            He placed one hand over his heart in mock hurt, “Perish the thought. As if I could get away with ordering anyone around. Particularly Morrigan.”

            Marlana couldn’t help herself, the image of Morrigan actually listening to Alistair made her laugh, unaware that the sweet, velvety sound made his knees weak and very grateful to be sitting down. He shifted a little closer to her on the log. At her questioning look he made a broad gesture at not just the camp, but the world beyond it.

            “So all this time we’ve spent together… you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battle and the whole Blight looming over us… Will you miss it once it’s over?”

            Wondering where he was going with the sudden change in topic, she responded lightly, “It makes me tear up just thinking about it.”

            “Ha!” He shook his head slightly, “Eh, there’ll be no more running for our lives… no more Darkspawn… Ugh. And no more camping out in the middle of nowhere.”

            Clearly amused at his last comment, “You know, for someone who lived in a monastery for most of his life, you sure do you like your creature comforts.”

            “Hmph, shows just how much you know about life in the monastery. We had things like beds with pillows and proper baths. While we had to use an outhouse, at least it wasn’t the bushes.”

            As he intended she laughed hard enough to make her hold her stomach and caused odd glances in their direction. He abruptly got to his feet and began to pace restlessly, not letting himself look at her closely, because otherwise he’d be undone. In more ways than one if he’d made the move he wanted to and she wasn’t receptive.

            Concerned and slightly dizzy from watching him for a few moments, the slight woman gracefully got to her feet and lightly touched his arm, “What’s the matter?”

            Seeing that they had an audience when he didn’t answer right away and figuring that there was something private that needed to be discussed she came to a decision, “Right, let’s take a walk.”

            Instead of relaxing once out of the immediate line of sight of the others, Alistair seemed even more nervous. Concern quickly changed to worry and wondering what she may have done to upset him she reached out again to him again. Before her hand touched his arm, he stopped and gave her a shy look without speaking. She looked up at him, sapphire eyes gone dark with worry, “Alistair, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

            Finally he spoke, his entire manner strangely hesitant, “I…know it might sound strange, Lana. Considering that we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’ve come to… care for you. A great deal. I think maybe we’ve gone through so much together.” His voice softened, “I don’t know. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever”, he lightly tapped his chest, “feel the same way about me?”

            Listening to his hesitant speech ripped at her heart, the hopeful yet guarded expression in his eyes and the slightly self-deprecating smile kept her speechless for a moment. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she whispered, “I, I think I already do.”

            All she could see was the sudden joy that lit his face as he moved in on her. He cupped her face in his warm, calloused hands that were surprisingly gentle considering the strength in them and he practically purred, “So I fooled you did I? Hm, good to know.”

            Then he kissed her. He’d obviously intended to be a light chaste kiss, but as his lips met hers, it felt like she was filled with a fluttery warmth that spread from her center and out through her whole being. One of his hands slid up along her cheek to cradle her head as the other slid down her side to wrap around her waist and pull her close. Not stopping to think she wrapped her arms around him as the kiss deepened and she let go of everything except she was in the embrace of the man who made her feel alive.

            When they finally came up for air, she staggered slightly against him, he held her still and asked hoarsely, “That, that wasn’t too soon was it?”

            Trying to gather her wits about it, she blinked up at him, eyes gone blurry and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. For the first time since the templar had met her, he could see the sharp mind that was constantly ticking over was stopped in its tracks. She coughed slightly, “I think I need more testing before I can tell you.”

            Giddy from the emotions running through him he smiled, “I guess I’ll have to see what I can arrange then. Maker’s breath, but you’re beautiful. I am a truly lucky man.”

            He reluctantly started to disengage but paused as she quietly said his name.

            This time she looked away shyly as he looked down at her, “I’d like to ask a favor.”

            “Anything that is within my power, my dear.”

            “Will you hold me? For just a little while?”

            “That is a pleasure, not a favor.” He held her close again and marveled at the fact she fit just perfectly under his chin. Indulging himself just a little, he buried his face in the silken hair that shimmered in the brilliant moonlight.

            Marlana sighed in contentment, glad for the moment to forget about her worries and responsibilities. For the first time since her life turned into a waking nightmare she had something, someone, to make it all worthwhile. And so she let herself dream just a little bit on that beautiful early summer night that was lit by the full moon overhead that maybe things would end up okay after all. And held tight to the man who had captured her heart.