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.