Opening Authors Notes: I'd like to start off by saying I'm sorry for the long-winded Authors Notes, no other chapter will have this long. This a newer idea that I just fell in love with and decided to run with it. I'm not sure what it could be classified as, maybe AU, but I don't really know, so I just won't classify it as anything!
This story is written in the First Person Perspective style of writing, and the chapters could be considered 'vignettes' or 'snapshots' as I normally write much longer chapters on chapter'd stories.

Apologies in advance for any grammatical, punctuation or spelling errors, since I'm currently without a beta, it's just me and I do try to catch everything I can.

I don't own Dragon Age, or any associated media that deals with it. I just own Layleth and a bag of Doritos here by my side.

Without further adieu, I give you, Trip the Darkness.


"Why can't you just be happy for me?" I complained, following my father closely; as he wove about the soldier's camp. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit him so hard I knocked him to the ground. It was impossible to me that he could be so cold, so…unfair about this! This was important to me! Was I being bratty, or a pain in the ass? Perhaps, but he was proud of Anora on her big day, here's mine and he couldn't care less.

"Enough, Layleth…" My father, the lauded Loghain Mac Tir; stopped suddenly and whirled on me, his eyes burning with anger at my insolence.

I stared my father down. "Why can't you just say you're proud of me? I'm going to be a Warden for Maker's sake! Don't you know what kind of honor for me that is? All I've ever done was try and make you proud…"

I could see him visibly clench his teeth behind his façade of calm and controlled anger. He was going to blow up at me any second now. I always had pushed him to his limits parent-wise.
"The Wardens are useless and outdated, we don't need them! And yet, Duncan thinks you are just so well suited to the position! Haven't you ever noticed how the stories your mother told you never ended with the Warden's dying of old age!" He roared and took several steps towards me, to which I held my ground. Even with him seething with anger, I could see the slight twinkle of pride in his features that I wasn't going to back down. That he had taught me to never back down: and I certainly wasn't. I wanted my damned congratulations.

"You'd be proud if it was Anora!" I regretted the words the second they left my mouth, as it struck my father across the face like a slap. "I mean…well…" I stumbled, biting my lip. It was the only thing I could bite, as my fingernails were protected by my leather gloves. Yes, I know, it's a horrible habit.

"You mean you're sorry?" He asked, suddenly he wasn't in my face anymore, and was standing a bit farther away, towards the entrance to his tent. I realized with no small degree of embarrassment that our argument had taken us through the entire camp. When I had first arrived here with Duncan after days of travel from Gwaren, I ran off to tell my father the good news: that I had been chosen to be a Grey Warden! That Duncan had been in Gwaren and looking for recruits, and he saw me at the Tourney held for him to judge willing volunteers, he said I was skilled. It was only later when we got in a bar-fight and him and I stood back to back brandishing chairs that he decided that I just had to be one.

I realized this too late apparently though, as I just cost him face with his men no doubt. Shit…

Father sighed, and turned to the entrance of his tent. "I am proud of you both, Layleth. Of Anora and of you; but you can't ask me to be happy that you're going to be…one of them." And with that, he stepped inside his tent. Blowing a stream of air out from between my lips, I stood there, debating whether or not to continue trying to strong-arm him into telling me he was glad. Somehow, I knew I would get farther trying to kick the door down to the Black City itself and screaming, 'On the floor, assholes!'.

I heard a voice from behind me sound. "I trust that you're done speaking with your father…"

"Apparently so, Duncan." I turned to my now superior, standing maybe ten feet back from me, hands calmly folded behind his back. I wondered somewhat at what he had heard. I sincerely hoped that it wasn't anything bad, Maker knows my father has a booming voice, and the last thing I need is for Duncan to hear my father refer to him as something other than human.

"Go see Alistair: he's over on the other side of the camp, once you find him; bring him over to me, and we'll begin the process of making you a Warden." I nodded quickly, biting my instant barrage of questions back before they could come spurting out: didn't want to annoy the head Warden in Ferelden.

It was often rather strange dealing with Duncan, he was often quick and brisk and all business, but behind his eyes, there dwelled an enormous capacity for stupid humor and slapstick situations. It was comforting to know that he was able to relax, so unlike my superiors at the War College, but on the other side of the coin, I had to wonder when he was joking and when he was serious. Now, I could see was serious.

"Duncan – may I ask why this…initiation is so secret?" I didn't think it was a particularly out-of-place question. I was to be a Warden anyway, why couldn't I know? Seriousness aside, I think it was a rather good, intuitive question.

"Layleth…go fetch Alistair…" He inclined his head slightly, and gave me this look. It reminded me too much of the look that my father would give me when I was young and would ask too many questions about politics, or swordplay, or why Arl Howe was such a creep.

I nodded stiffly. "Where is he?"

"Over near the Mage's side of the camp, last I saw him. He'll be the only one not in Templar plate or mage robes, I'm sure."

I hadn't been, or even seen that side of the camp, and walking over, I realized just how many people were actually here, and how many people looked past hope. They were battening down the hatches.
How many people truly believed we could win this war?


I liked Alistair from the moment I saw him, mostly because he was giving sass to a Mage, which I thought almost everyone should do at least once in their life. Not that I'm a mage hater, it's just that my nanny was one, and she was a real bitch.

Biased? You bet your ass.

The mage brushed past me, completely indignant to myself or my title, not that I was going to go flashing the 'Teryn's daughter' card, that was too much of an 'Anora' thing to do, and one of her was more than enough. However, I almost liked this small show of anonymity, Duncan had told me on the trip between Gwaren and Ostagar that Wardens gave up their titles, their names. I would just be Layleth.

That was a strangely comforting idea.

Alistair caught sight of me, standing by the ramp of the ruined tower.

When he turned fully to face me, I saw more of him, and noticed first and foremost that he was quite a bit taller than I was. Sighing inwardly at my less than impressive height, I started up the ramp.

"Oh hi! Sorry, sorry!" He called, walking over to meet me, "Sorry about all that, mages tend to hate me on sight, you aren't a mage…right?" I chuckled slightly, nodding my head no.
"And what if I was, would that dampen your whole day?" I joked, turning slightly.

He smiled at me, like he was happy to find another person with an actual sense of humor. "No, not really, maybe a little sprinkle, but not enough to dampen."

"Right, well…Duncan wanted me to fetch you." I nodded matter-of-factly.

He looked surprised and then suddenly, understanding flooded his features. "Oh right, you're the new recruit aren't you! Nice to meet you! When I heard we were getting another recruit, and that…Duncan had recruited you during a bar-fight, I had just assumed you'd be a man."

"What, you don't think I can't swing a bar-stool around like a barbarian? You've got another thing coming." Was I laying it on a bit thick? Perhaps, normally I wasn't so…peppy, but he seemed to be and I wanted him to like me. It wouldn't do to join the order and find out that people thought I was a stick in the mud.

"I hold no delusions, my lady. Now please, allow me an actual introduction, I'm Alistair."

"Layleth." I smiled and nodded somewhat. I felt the tug to do a curtsy, like I always had too back in Gwaren when someone asked my name, but I squashed the force-of-habit. Just Layleth now, just Layleth.

"No last name?" Did I want him to know I was a Mac Tir? It was a rather nice change not to be lauded about as the daughter of a Teryn. It had always made me feel uneasy, to have people waiting on me, to have people who wanted to say they shook hands with me. For the longest time, since I had been 'launched on society' as Mother put it, I never really took to it. Anora did of course, but she was…well…Anora would be Anora. Father used to say I was too much like him, hard-work and the sweat of the brow mattered to me, not the pretty dresses and perfumes that mattered to Anora, I should've been a farm-girl, Anora and I both should've been.

"It doesn't matter, Alistair. So…can you fight?" I made of show of looking him up and down like my old drill-inspector at my War College. I would know this look, I was given it often. 'What do you mean you think you can fight, you're less than 6 feet tall!' Three broken bones later in sparring practice proved my unspoken point.

"As good as any Templar can, maybe a bit better, who's to say? What about you?"

"With actual weapons or a barstool?" He gave a throaty laugh. "Either or, it doesn't matter." I shrugged somewhat, "I'm good with dual-wielding daggers and single sword combat. And surprisingly, I can actually use a warhammer to good effect, but when I was being trained, I was told that warhammers are not a 'lady's' weapon, and so, I was banned from using them. I think mostly people were just wary of having their heads knocked off." He nodded somewhat, a dashing smile gracing his features.

"Well, we better go see Duncan, he'll worry like a mother hen if we don't show up soon, I'm sure." He winked and started off past me. I kept step with him, "I look forward to working with you, Templar, assuming you can use that sword." I elbowed his hip slightly, avoiding the grip of his blade. He just chuckled and shook his head somewhat, "I…hope you make it, Layleth."

This stopped me for a second and I cocked my head slightly. What was that supposed to mean?

"It's just an initiation ritual, Alistair. I'm sure I'll be fine." I chuckled humorlessly, suddenly wary of what I was about to face. He turned back to me…and nodded somewhat. I swear, for just a second, he looked almost…sad.