She sat holding herself in the dead of night, listening to the chirps of crickets and the faint howls of prowling wolves. Alit only by the soft, grey haze that shone through the moon, the woodland was alive and sang eerie tunes of a dark tale; distance separated the group by a choir of vociferous creatures that chanted to one another. Her dog lay curled by the crackling fire, snoring like a great bear and pawing at his wet nose every so often. The man that led she and her pet there had slipped into the shadows, watching over the girl and her guard dog like the Maker would his very own children, and he waited for the orange streams of dawn to rise from the hills. He heard the girl crying by the fire, but remained silent by the trees and stood vigilant for the chance of any monsters that would crawl from the blackened woods. Tears poured from her eyes like raindrops from a cloud, and she felt that her cheeks and ears were burning. Burning so wrathfully with hatred and fury.

She wondered if her dearest friend, quite simply her only human friend, had escaped the clutches of the betrayer, and thought what the last of her family had succumbed to. But he, the man in the darkness, her guardian angel of how she thought, told her there was no turning back. It would only get herself murdered. Which, in fact, he was right. The evil bastard and his men would show no mercy. But what if there was something she could have done? Could she have made them come with her? They told her to go and do something in this perilous world, to make something of herself, to become a hero. But how would she do it?

He finally emerged from the shadows of the trees and stood by the wide log, clasping his hands together and rubbing them over the flames. "There is no danger tonight," he informed. He was wise, a good man. A leader. He gave a soft look to the weeping girl next to him, then sat on the ground and rested against the log. "You need rest, my lady," he spoke quietly over the calls of night owls and the faint murmur of river water cutting through pointed stones. "We rise at dawn. And once we reach Ostagar, you shall become one of us." He offered a hand on her shoulder, to which she was enlightened to receive comfort. He gave another kind stare to the girl, then closed his brown eyes and drifted away. She, however, remained awake for quite a long time, clearing her watered eyes of the welled tears and listening to the sounds within the darkness. She thought of what the others would be like, the ones she would meet the next day. But soon she became weary of thinking and laid her head down onto the forest floor, bits of leaves and dirt clinging to her auburn hair. She, too, sank into slumber, but it was not quite the tiredness she felt that put her to sleep, but the strange anxiety of revisiting the nightmare she had earlier that night, the dream she experienced before the true horrors began.

At last, Rosemary finally made it to her father's private study. The young woman had to take all of the secret passages so she wouldn't get caught sneaking around places she shouldn't be. Her mother always said she had a knack for just "disappearing" at times… oh well, this time her curiosity really got the best of her.

She wasn't sure if she truly believed the rumors of a fifth Blight approaching. Not only from the suspicious tongues of those from afar, but also that she herself had not yet seen the demons described as such.

"Darkspawn", said one of the many commoners of the castle; he was answering her question to just what exactly these corrupted beings were. "All I can tell ya', kid, is that they're bad. Real bad. They'll slaughter anythin' in sight. They'll eat the meat that covers yer bones and gulp down yer blood like it was a pint o' ale. Don't believe me? Hehe, well, you just get out there and see fer yerself."

That's what she wanted to do. Get out and, literally, see it for herself. But could she? Could she actually slice her blades through a horde of darkspawn and feel like a hero for once, rather than the woman who organized papers and tended to boring, royal matters? She was trained in the art of dueling weapons; they all were. Just in case they needed extra recruits for battle. So, was she allowed to ride into the heat of the battle itself, too? Oh, no, she definitely wasn't. Of course, her brother was guaranteed to ride with their father out into the battle itself, taking his sword and running it through the chests of thousands of darkspawn. She pleaded several times, "Please, Father, can I please just go with you and Fergus? I wish to fight too! Give me a chance!", but his answer was always the same."Rosemary, you must stay here with your mother. You know it is too dangerous for you; your skill in using daggers isn't near what it should be to fight even the smallest and weakest of darkspawn. I'm sorry."

So every day after she would practice outside the castle, honing her techniques against a wooden dummy she made herself. 'One sword slices, the other one blocks' the girl thought in her mind as she stabbed at the chest of the dummy (or just the fluffy pillow that replaced it). Rosemary repeated the motto over and over again, attacking various parts of the fake enemy as she did so. Then, after a week or so, she would go back to her father and ask the same question, only this time explaining to him that she had been practicing for hours and hours each day.

The excited girl even took him outside and showed him how much she had improved, striking at the homemade dummy as he stood watching her, feathers spewing from slits in the cloth. But his answer remained the same. The same "I'm sorry, but no. I will admit, you have gotten better- a lot better at that. But your duty is to stay with your mother and watch over the castle while were gone." He would then walk back into the castle, leaving her there, alone and full of disappointment, leading her to believe that all that time she spent refining her skills was just a waste of time.

After a few minutes of staring down at the bright green grass that waved through the wind's cool breeze, Rosemary had darted inside the castle. She ran into the crowd of people and up the flight of stairs that rose to the second floor. She sprinted to the end of the long hallway and to the last door on the right, the door that led to her bedroom. She grabbed the knob and twisted it, slamming her body into the wood as she did so. Her dog suddenly looked up from taking a light nap at the foot of her wide divan, the thing that she went and plopped onto the second she stepped in. Rosemary buried her face into the blankets, her legs hanging off the side of the bed; she groaned with frustration and utter disappointment. The girl felt a soft nudge on the back of her foot. She kept her face hidden and stretched her arm out, trying to find the dog's head. He walked over to her hand and licked it with his long tongue; she stroked his brown head and scratched his floppy ears.

"Oh Thaddeus", she said, sitting up on her comfy bed, crossing her legs, "why won't they let me go and fight?"

He cocked his head at the question.

"You could come with me," she continued. "You are a purebred mabari war hound, you know. The darkspawn would cower at the sight of you, I bet. And I mean that in the absolute best of ways."

Thaddeus barked happily and wagged his short tail. He really was a war hound- he wasn't meant to spend his life locked away in a huge castle.

"Maybe he'll change his mind," she murmured, jumping off her bed and getting ready for supper.

Rosemary pushed the door quietly behind her and held her breath. She pressed her ear to the wood to hear if anyone was coming. She could only make out the voices of barking soldiers and gossiping men and women, so hopefully no one had followed her trail. She sighed with relief, leaning against the wooden door behind her and taking a good look around the dark room; thank the Maker she remembered to bring a lantern.

Dust stuck to many things, especially on the large bookshelves. Complex spider webs had been weaved into each corner of the study, and the floorboards squeaked with each step she took. She wondered why a room would come to a state like this; they lived in a royal castle, did they not?

Rosemary walked to one of the glass windows that, despite being smothered in dust and debris, could still be seen through. Miles and miles of deep valleys and enormous trees enclosed the city of Highever, all except the few paths that cut through the terrain and led to the many other wonders throughout the kingdom of Ferelden. It truly was one of the most magnificent countries in all of Thedas, from what her family had told her.

She turned from the window and stepped to the bookshelf on the left side of the study, brushing her hair out of her eye. A bright color, the shade of a monotone orange, shone over many books as she waved the lantern in front of the tall structure. She slowly used her empty hand to clear away the sheet of dust that hid the titles of the novels. A grey cloud of choking matter was created as the debris was swept away, and she desperately held back the need to cough loudly. After a moment, the names of the books were revealed, and she started to search for the one she was after in particular. The lantern floated in the darkness, emitting a useful flame of light as she read book titles. Her eyes eventually gazed upon the novel she had been hunting for. She narrowed her eyes to make sure it was the correct one. The title Recorded History of Blights was stitched with fine golden material onto the spine of the book. Rosemary smiled and gently pulled the book from its place and into her free hand.

It was a very peculiar item; its pages were protected by a cover made of rough purple leather, and the pages themselves were mottled and hard. Rosemary placed the lantern on a desk near the shelves of books so she could inspect the book with both of her hands. She carefully opened the novel, her fingers barely touching the corners of the pages.

Recorded History of Blights was a book written by a group of various people who had fought in and experienced a Blight before. They had individually wrote down their own views of what a Blight was and what kind of monsters appeared with it. There were several pages, though; a hundred or more that had been left blank for someone to fill in when they experienced a Blight of their own.

The young woman turned to different chapters, some titled "The First Blight: How It Changed Us All" as well as "The Thaw: Executing the Last of Them" and others such as "Darkspawn: Every Man's Living Nightmare" and "Grey Wardens: The Heroes of Ferelden". Although these chapters were very enthralling, there was a certain page she was looking for that stood out from the rest.

A-ha, "The Archdemon". Rosemary grazed her finger over the old page. The black ink was slightly faded and the middle of the page was creased. It was difficult to read, but she could just barely make out the words.

"The Archdemon is the center of evil, the beast that leads darkspawn to destroy humanity. It is the most fearsome and ungodly creature that mankind has ever witnessed. It takes the most courageous of Grey Wardens to even set foot in the Archdemon's presence, as well as the mightiest of champions to eliminate the creature. Not only does it require powerful strength to defeat the Archdemon, but high intelligence and willpower are a keen aspect to kill the monster in order to end the Blight."

As she was reading about the Archdemon, a peculiar section caught her interest:

"In Darkness eternal they searched,
For those who had goaded them on,
Until at last they found their prize,
Their god, their betrayer:
The sleeping dragon Dumat. Their taint Twisted even the false-god, and the whisperer
Awoke at last, in pain and horror, and led
Them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world:
The first Blight."

-Threnodies 8:7

Rosemary was deeply interested now, fascinated even. She had no idea this is what lied within the Blight: an Archdemon that was summoned by the darkspawn and must be slain to end the Blight. But what really had her intrigued was the section of the Grey Wardens, the ones capable of destroying the Archdemon. She immediately flipped to the chapter, but before she could barely begin reading, a thin white light grew larger and larger on the opposite side of the room. She gasped and looked up from the book, only to find her mother peeking through the doorway. She quietly stepped in, unaware that her daughter was on the other side of the room.

"Rosemary?" she whispered, walking to the back corner of the study. "Are you in here, dear?"

She quickly closed the book and placed it onto the desk. The girl grabbed the lantern, shining it her way. "Yes, Mother," she answered. "Over here." The woman turned and faced her, her face alit with the luminosity of Rosemary's glass lantern.

"There you are!" she said. "I've been looking all over the place for you! Phew, an old woman such as myself shouldn't be chasing her daughter around, at least not in a giant castle!"

Her mother, who had apparently been searching high and low for her, was not as old as she described herself to be. Yes, she was in her early fifties and she had ash colored hair that flowed richly down her back, but her skin and face were as smooth and flat as an apple. Her eyes were radiant with the hue of hazel (Rosemary supposed that's where she got her eye color from and not her father's bright blue). She seemed to be in perfect condition.

"My, my", she said as she walked towards her daughter, glancing around the room, "Bryce sure hasn't been in here for a while, has he? Look at all of this dust!" She stood in front of Rosemary and gave a puzzled expression. "I suppose he hasn't had time, what with the many duties he's had to attend to these days. I didn't think I would find you here," her mother said, crossing her arms, "so what exactly are you doing?"

Her mother and father did not approve of her fighting in the battle. But they also didn't really like it when she informed herself about darkspawn or the Blight itself, either. She wasn't sure why, but she guessed that they didn't ever want her getting in a situation, such as the Blight, in which she might get herself killed. But the inquisitive girl couldn't help it this time.

Before she could answer her, Rosemary's mother noticed the book that she was trying to hide behind her. She stepped next to the desk, examining the novel about the Blight. "Recorded History of Blights…" she mumbled as she studied the book in her hands.

"Mother", Rosemary said as she studied the item, "I can explain; really, I can. There was a section about Grey Wardens that-"

She cut her off. "If you're asking to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens, then I would suspect you would know the answer, correct?"

The girl didn't know what to say. "What do you mean? I just wished to know more about them is all..." She thought for a moment. "Conscripted?"

"Save your breath, darling" her mother said, setting the book back onto the wooden desk. "Persuading your father to even let you ride into battle with he and Fergus is quite the challenge, and convincing him to allow you to become a Grey Warden is completely out of the question."

The old woman placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder and sighed. "We love you, Rosemary. Your father and I don't want you to be put into any sort of danger."

She nodded, though her curiosity was not satisfied. Why Fergus though? Why not she? She still yearned to learn of the legendary Grey Wardens. A lot more, at that. And she still longed to be in the fight against darkspawn; that she was sure wasn't going to change her mind.

"Come now", her mother said, heading to the door, "Bryce wishes to see you in the Main Hall. There is someone he wants you to meet."

Rosemary was shocked. Who would want to meet her?

"Who is it?" she asked inquiringly.

"I'm not entirely sure," her mother replied as she began to exit the room, "but I know that Arl Howe is here with your Father." She turned to her daughter. "Do hurry, dear. I hear it is very important that you get to Father as soon as possible."

After her mother disappeared from the room, Rosemary quietly slipped the large book into her hands and behind her back, then ventured up to her bedroom and placed it inside of her knapsack.

The Main Hall was full of armed soldiers of Highever Castle. A tall man at the age of about forty-five or fifty stood in front of a large fireplace, staring at the flickering sparks coming from inside the fire. He rubbed his short grey beard that covered his face, thinking about the plan for the battle.

"I trust, then, that your troops will be here shortly?" he said to Arl Rendon Howe, a gray-haired man with an exceptionally large nose who stood a few feet behind him. "I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow."

Arl Howe glanced back and forth between his two guards that stood by his side. "I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault."

"No, no", the other man said, turning to Howe and his men. "The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself."

He walked to Arl Howe as the two guards left to perform other duties. "I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!"

Howe chuckled to himself. "True", he said. "Though we both had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not…monsters." The bearded man laughed. "At least the smell will be the same."

Rosemary stepped into the Main Hall. There were many soldiers lined up receiving orders from their commanders, and she saw her father and Arl Howe standing by the fireplace in the front of the long room. She hurried over to them, eager to be introduced to the man her father wanted her to meet.

"There you are, darling", her father said as she walked to him and Howe. She smiled at the both of them. "Howe, you remember my daughter?"

He nodded at her. "I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear."

"And you, Arl Howe", Rosemary said politely.

She glanced around the hallway, looking to see if she could find his family. The only people she saw were soldiers and distressed commoners.

"Is your family here, Arl Howe?" she asked.

"Oh, no", he answered, shaking his head, "I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. They do send their best wishes."

Howe grinned at her, showing his brilliant white teeth. "My son Tomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him next time."

She smiled back. "To what end?"

"Ha!" he said laughing and looked over at the girl's father, who snickered at the comment as well. "To what end?, she says! So glib, too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that."

She met Howe's family when she was a little girl, six or seven maybe. When they would visit the castle, his wife would always bake delicious peach pie, though it wasn't as good as her mother's homemade pumpkin pie, and bring it for them to eat. Their children would come as well, and they would always play innocent games around the castle. She remembered it like it was yesterday...

A small girl hid behind a tall oak tree, holding her breath as she did so. She clutched her small fingers around the chafing bark, hoping that Delilah wouldn't find her pressed against the trunk. Her pigtails gently wavered in the wind's breeze, her long bangs brandishing in front of her hazel eyes. She looked ahead to see Tomas hiding inside a wide bush. He slowly poked his head through the leaves and stared at her, his brown hair sticking straight up. The girl giggled and motioned at him to get back in the bush, and he immediately went back inside and was out of sight. She heard a branch crack a few feet behind the tree and stood as still as a statue.

"Oh Rosemary…" she heard Delilah say, "Tomas… come out come out wherever you are…"

An exquisite butterfly appeared from around the corner of the tree. Its wings were the color of honey and the wings themselves were fairly large. It hovered in front of the thin girl's face, its antennas nearly touching her cheeks. It landed gently on her nose, fluttering its fragile wings against the tip of her nostrils. She squeaked with delight as it sat there motionless, thinking about where it would fly off to next. Delilah must have heard her laughing because she came running from where Tomas was hiding and over to where the amused girl stood.

"I see you, Rosemary!" she yelled, now only a yard or two from the tree. The girl squealed and started towards a stone birdbath. The butterfly flew from her face and back to the tree, resting on a wide branch amidst the green leaves and acorns.

Tomas crawled out of the bush and rose to his feet, sprinting ahead of his sister and over to the darting child. "Ha, she almost found me back there!" he said as they both ran to the birdbath, which was over near the entrance to the castle. The girl glanced behind her shoulder; Delilah was right on their trail.

The two were almost to the safe spot when Delilah tackled them both to the ground. The three of them nearly died laughing as they tumbled to the grassy terrain. The smallest of them sat up, sprawling her legs out as she did so. Her pink dress was covered in grass stains and dirt, and she already knew that she would be scolded. But the girl paid no mind to her actions- she was having the time of her life!

"Children!" the smaller girl's mother called from a distance. She wore a blue satin dress and a diamond necklace around her neck; her blonde hair flourished in the cool breeze. She stood by a picnic table with the girl's father along with Tomas and Delilah's parents. "Time for lunch!"

They quickly got up and skipped to the picnic table, hungry for the broad layout of hot bowls and dishes, and especially a slice of pie from the heavens itself.

The three scooted on one side of the table while the adults rested on the other. She sat on the end, Tomas sat in the middle, and Delilah sat on the other end. Their legs dangled off the bench, unable to touch the ground. The three of them reached out with their cutlery, but her mother shook her head and said "Wait, dears. We must say a blessing."

The child looked at Tomas and he shrugged his shoulders. They put the forks and spoons back on their platters and stared at the adults.

"Let us join hands", Howe's wife said, with a purr in her voice. She held her husband's hand, he held Rosemary's mother's, and she held Rosemary's father's. She stretched her arm out across the table to her father's hand. He enclosed his palm around hers, and she wrapped her short fingers around his hand.

The girl giggled as Tomas gently held her right hand. He smiled at her, blushing as he did. He then took his other hand and held Delilah's. They bowed their heads, awaiting Arl Howe to say the prayer.

"See what I contend with, Howe?" her father said chuckling. Rosemary looked up from staring at the ground, the memory she was revisiting now an instant blur. "There is no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

"Quite talented, I'm sure," Howe commented. "One to watch."

She smiled, though she wasn't quite sure what he had said. The old memory of a day with the Howe's still lingered in her mind. She thought of how much she had aged, how tall she had gotten, how large and stout she had become. The innocence of her youth had now faded away. She was very fond of that reminiscence, so much so that she could still feel the breeze of that day, feel the blades of grass licking her ankles as she tossed through beds of flowers...

"At any rate, pup," her father said, binding his hands behind his back, "I summoned you here for a reason. You know that while Fergus and I are away I am leaving you in charge of the castle, correct?"

She nodded at him, still somewhat upset about the situation. "Yes, Father. I'll do my best."

"Now, that's what I like to hear", he said patting her on the back. "Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Rosemary chuckled, as did Arl Howe. She guessed that watching over the entire Castle of Highever instead of riding into battle wasn't so bad. She got the position to 'keep peace in the region'momentarily, that is.

"There's also someone you must meet", her father said turning to the gates of the castle. "Guards, please…" he instructed to the men, "show Duncan in."

She was instantly filled with even more excitement (she thought she was all full up), wondering just who this person was that wished to meet her…her! The youngest of Teyrn Bryce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland! She wasn't very special or anything like that. Fergus, now that was another story. He was an exceptionally skilled fighter as well as the oldest. He was married, too, so perhaps that would make him seem more mature and important. But her…Rosemary Cousland?

A man stepped through the gates of the castle. He was older than her, that was for sure, but not as old as her father. He had jet black hair that was tied in a tight ponytail on the back of his head, and a dark colored beard that covered some of his face. He had two large daggers equipped- they were much more intimidating than the ones she had stored in the sheaths tied on her belt. She pondered who this could possibly be…

A guard accompanied him over to Father, Howe and she, then went back to standing in front of the huge gate.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said as he stood next to Father and Arl Howe. Rosemary stood in front of them, nervous to say anything at all.

"Your lordship," Howe stated to her father, a subtle hint of confusion and frustration in his tone, "you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

"Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced", her father explained to Howe. "Is there a problem?"

Howe shook his head. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol." He bit his lip. "I am…at a disadvantage."

In her head, Rosemary was jumping up and down, overjoyed that she was standing right in front of a Grey Warden! After today, she never even thought that she would get to read about them. But here she was, in the presence of one!

Her father turned his head to look at her. "We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true. Pup, do you know anything about Grey Wardens?"

She remembered that right before her mother walked into the study she skimmed a part of the chapter entitled "Grey Wardens: The Heroes of Ferelden". She didn't read much, but she knew a thing or two about them.

"They're an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn long ago," she answered.

Her father nodded. "They are the heroes of legend, who ended the Blights and saved us all". He looked back at the Grey Warden and said "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow wardens in the south."

Right when Rosemary thought he was going to propose that she go with them, he stated "I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Her hopes were discouraged. She should have known he wouldn't have recommended her. After all that time she spent working her-

"If I might be so bold", Duncan said, setting his dark brown on eyes Rosemary, "I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened agape, and she looked to her father. He narrowed his eyes at his girl as her face beamed with a joyous grin.

"Honor though that might be," her father said assertively, "this is my daughter we're talking about."

Rosemary decided to voice her opinion. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I rather like the idea, Father."

He crossed his arms. "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle." He gave Duncan a worried expression. "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?"

Duncan shook his head. "Have no fear", he said. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

She stared at her father, a discouraged look upon her face. His eyes purged with a bit of regret, though he hid from her by quickly turning away, facing the burning fireplace behind him.

"Pup," he said quietly, "can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

She stared at the Grey Warden, his soft brown eyes looking into hers.

"Of course", Rosemary replied. Duncan smiled at her answer.

"In the meantime", her father said, turning back around so he showed his face, "find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

"But", she murmured, "I'd like to stay and talk to Duncan."

The Grey Warden shook his head. "We may speak later", he said. "I advise you do as your Father says."

Rosemary nodded at him respectively, though she masked her feelings of disappointment. He went on. "I will see you at dinner tomorrow, if not sooner."

"I look forward to it, sir."

"As do I."

"Rosemary", her father instructed, "Fergus is likely upstairs in his chambers, spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson." He smiled. "Be a good lass," he said. "We'll talk soon."