AN: This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

Grey Lines

Chapter 1

By CapAleran2

The chestnut took a slight misstep, jarring Bronwyn from her thoughts. She'd been so enthralled with excitement for the long road between the current moment and their destination that she hadn't realized it suddenly was raining. The cold water had already begun to drench her as she fumbled with the hood of her cloak. Hoping neither of the men noticed, she risked a peek in their direction in front of her.

Duncan sat looking rigid atop his bay mount. His form blocked by the massive oak shield strapped across his back. The round thing was big, though Duncan had easily handled it with seemingly no effort at all. Alistair was slouched over, resting his arm on the saddle width pommel. The reins looped down between the black's low hanging head and its deep chest. The differences between the two Wardens ahead of her were quite obvious. There was something familiar about it though. It comforted Bronwyn, especially when she thought of being homesick

Mud began to form in the dips and wheel ruts, forcing the horses to choose where they place their hooves more carefully. She knew from past experiences that horses were sure-footed, but mud could be dangerous. She shuttered.

"This rain can stop at any moment," Alistair calmly stated in a dull, sarcastic monotone. His hood covered his head and shoulders, but Bronwyn could see that he wasn't as dry as he appeared. "It's not as warm as it could be." He turned his head to glance at Bronwyn.

She immediately dropped her eyes and focused on the space between her horse's ears. Her cheeks started tingling. She mentally chided herself. She had let her mind wonder from the task at hand to stare. She just wanted to see everything. Experinces all the new faces of being a Grey Warden. She was just excited.

Her nineteenth birthday was a few months ago. Her father had given her the horse beneath her, as he knew she would be leaving. Apparently, Duncan had come to Balric a year in advance to consider her for recruitment. It's a high honor to be chosen, and to be chosen one would have to be thoroughly watched for an indefinite span of time. Essentially spied on until the characteristics the Grey Warden look for rise to the surface. Or don't appear at all.

Mere weeks before her birthday, a raid of rogue Darkspawn that survived the Blight attacked the village connecting to her family's fortress, absently killing farmers as they plucked crop from the fields just yards away from housing. Her father had been away on business, so her brother had ordered the charge against them. Unbeknownst to him, Bronwyn had desguised herself to ride out to the fight. From his camp at the edge of the adjacent forest, Duncan let the scene play out before he finally intervened and fought his way to protect her blind spots. From what he witnessed, it confirmed his instinct concerning the High Lord's youngest.

She was indeed Grey Warden material.

Just two months after that, Duncan had introduced her to the Grey Warden. Her and two other men had been intiated into the Joining. The man before her made it through. The man before him had not. She had drank the whole cup, though from the first breath and taste of it, it had taken effort. She never wanted to taste the taint again, the vile liquid. The memory of that day would never leave her.

Especially when she woke from passing out.

Her eyes opened to view a large room that looked like it belonged in a castle. She looked around, her pupils adjusting to more light. Alistair sat by the bay window with an open book in his hand. "So she wakes," he said, light and airy. "You passed out and had been for some time. Glad to see you're up." He smiled, closing the book and stood.

"That was awful." Bronwyn replied. She sat up in the bed, touching her throat. Not only did it taste unimaginable, but the pain had been unbearable. Now it only felt like she had a sore throat.

"Boy, isn't that the truth." He laughed and set the book on the bedside table. "The good thing at least. is that you'll never have to intentionally drink it again." His eyes were light, the the laugh lines around them and his mouth made him look a little older than he really was. Bronwyn liked to see him smile. It made her smile. Smiling felt good.

Bronwyn's mind released the memory of recent events and lifted the reins and moved the horse over to the right to line up behind Alistair, allowing a small cart to pass the other way. A small grey pony pulled the cart along. An old man led the pony while his grandchildren -Bronwyn assuemed- sat in the back. They shared a cloak, being small enough to fit.

When the parties met in the middle, Duncan nodded to the old man and in turn, Alistair. When they saw the Wardens they pointed, whispering to themselves and watched the three advance down the road. Bronwyn briefly smiled at the small boys. No doubt they'd have an interesting event to tell others when they arrived at their desination.

"Well they'll have some tale to tell." Alistair straightened. He peered behind, using his gloved hand to move the side of the hood.

"Yes... It's a little odd that we haven't met others yet. This is a well traveled road." Duncan's gaze scanned the horizon. He expertly watched for unusual movements, ears trained to hear sounds that gaive away positions.

"Well, it is raining. And it's almost twilight. All are probably snug at home. I'd sure like to be under a roof."

"How much further do we have?" Bronwyn asked. She tried to keep her voice from shaking. The rains were a welcome to the short dry spell, but it was cold. She was also tired of sitting in the hard saddle. There was only so much space for her butt. She wouldn't even attempt to imagine what it was like for the others.

There was no fooling Duncan. He chuckled. "Not much further. There is a small town in the coming valley with a large inn. We can have supper in the commons area. By the fire." He added.

Good. Bronwyn thought. She hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, though she was surprised she'd lasted this long without falling from the saddle. "I don't know how you two can function with the cold seeping into your bones..." Her voice cracked. Bolacs.

Alistair glanced at her, his eyes sparkling with the grin that undoubtedly held back his own chuckle.

The town was indeed small, only the essential shops. The rest was housing and barns. The people relied completely on themselves and the traders who ventured through. Duncan waved to a man he spotted walking into the inn. Light spilled out of the building. Bronwyn smelled the faint scent of bacon cooking over a fire. Smoke billowed from the tops of the building through the two chimineys the protruded through the clay roofing.

Duncan led them to the stables, where they dismounted and gathered their belongings. Alistair took their saddles and stored them on racks inside the barn. He returned just as Duncan dropped the appropriate coin into the stable manager's hand. He smiled and turned to his companions, sighing and clasped his hands together. "Now that that's settled, let's get some food."

As they made their way to the inn, Bronwyn's stomach released an audible growl. Her cheeks began to tingle, knowing she'd be embarrassed. All she wanted was to be next to the fire with a large bowl of food and a bed so she could finally rest her eyes. They burned a little. She was sure she'd have bags under her eyes as well.

There were many people in the inn's common place. Men sat around tables, drinking and laughing. A few women carried trays of food to various tables, setting the contents in front of eager mouths. A large fireplace stood at one end of the room, another at the opposite. Wild game heads were mounted on the walls, adding to the many windows. Some children gathered together in front an old woman in the back room. Maybe to tell them a story. Or maybe to get them out of their parents hair for a short time. Either way, Bronwyn thought it was nice.

They stopped at the front desk. There was no one there. Duncan glanced back at the two. Alistair shrugged.

It took a moment before a short man appeared. He looked stretched thin and busy, but he took time to smile. "Hello to you all. What can I do for you? A room?"

"Two, please."

The inn keeper checked the papers pinned to the desk with a glance and frowned. "I, I'm sorry, sir. We are extremely busy, as you can see. But you are lucky; I can put you down for the last one, upstairs on the left."

Duncan didn't miss a beat. "That's fine. It's just for the night." It looked like the three of them will just have to make do.

"Right. Well the kitchen is still open. Looks like it will for a while now, with everyone coming in on this fine night. Make yourselves comfortable."

While Duncan paid the man, Alistair touched Bronwyn's arm and motioned to the empty tables. They claimed a small one and pulled it closer to the fire. He flagged a serving wench for some food before taking off his grey cloak and sitting down. Bronwyn took off her own and set it over her chair, allowing the fire to attempt to dry it. She sat down and shivered as the heat from the fireplace started to warm her.

A server appeared and placed a plate of fresh rolls between them. They looked delicious. "There you are, the rest will be comin'. What'll you have as drink?"

Elbows on the table with his fists by his mouth, Alistair glanced up, "Two pints of ale, and..." he looked at Bronwyn.

"Do you have tea?" She assumed an inn wouldn't have tea; it was a luxury that only the wealthy could afford. But at least she would try. Alistair's mouth twitched and looked back to the server.

"Um, not usually. But I'll see what I can do." And then she was off.

"Tea. You asked for tea." Alistair said, amazed. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair to look at her, grinning.

She took a bite of the roll in her hand and sat oblivious in his gaze. "What?"

He let out the chuckle he'd been keeping locked behind his grin. "You're a Grey Warden now, Bron. I don't think they drink tea."

"Well, this one does."

Duncan appeared and sat down beside Alistair, not bothering to take off his cloak. "I took our packs to the room. It's large enough for the three of us. And I had an extra cot brought up."

"I got you a pint coming."

"Ah, good." Duncan took a roll. "The inn keeper informed me that it usually dies down a few hours after sundown. It will be quiet later."

Bronwyn had hardly noticed the noise, but all at once it grew seemingly loud. The children had come out of the room and were milling about to their parents. She guessed they would be the first ones to leave since they had small children. They wouldn't want to let the small ones see drunkards who wander in from the tavern across the street for a meal.

"Tomorrow after breakfast we'll get a move on," Duncan continued. "And we should arrive there sometime in the afternoon."

"Arrive where?" Bronwyn asked.

"A village we now use as a central base for Grey Warden. Though we have no home, it is a good place to hone skills and relax without the need to be vigilant. It has a long way to go, but it's better than nothing."

The serving wench came up with their drinks and plates. The plates were filled with chunks of potatoe, carrots, and a thick slab of beef. She set down another plate of rolls and set down the drinks. She addressed Bronwyn. "One of the cooks had a crate of herbs that could be used to make other sorts of drinks, but he made a dark brew for you."

"Thank you." Bronwyn sipped the drink. It tasted like the tea she had at the castle. Only it was a little sweeter. "It's very good."

The woman smiled. "I told him he should make it more often."

Alistair's grin widened when Duncan snorted after the server left. He couldn't believe his eyes. "You ordered tea?"

"What's wrong with that?" Bronwyn said, scowling at the two of them.

"Have you never had ale before? Mead?"

She shook her head. If she was honest with herself, she was scared to try it. Her older brothers loved it but experience with them told her that if too much is ingested -depending on the make- it made a person act like a fool.

Alistair slid his pint in her direction. "Got to try it sometime."

"Why are you smiling?" She couldn't help but be a little suspicious from the way he asked the eariler question. He shook his head, still smiling, and held the glass on the table in front her of plate. Duncan shovled a potato into his mouth as he watched.

She took it from his hand. It smelled stale and faintly of piss. Why people choose to drink this was beyond her. She sipped and immediately regreted it. Her face contorted as she swallowed the liquid. Alistair leaned back in a small laugh while Duncan tried not to choke on his pint.

"That's terrible! Why do you drink that?" She watched Alistair laugh. Her face couldn't hold the scowl and she laughed as well.

"It's definitely an aquired taste. But it's better than tea."

Later that evening after they had finished their meal and watched a few of the townsmen arm wrestle to settle debts, they went up to their room. Most of the people had already went home or gone to their respective rooms for the night. Duncan opened their door and stepped aside to let the others through, then closed the door and locked it.

Their packs sat in the corner by the window and small table. On it an oil lamp was lit, giving off a large amount of light. A chair sat in the corner by the door. The bed was large enough for two people, but there were two cots set up on either side. Duncan sat in the chair and started to take off his boots. Dried mud chipped off onto the wood flooring. "I'll sleep on a cot." He said.

"Right," Alistair sat on the cot on the window side of the bed. He leaned all the way back and closed his eyes. "I haven't been able to do this without a watch in a long time."

Bronwyn's muscles ached. Her feet felt like they throbbed in her boots. They were her brothers, and a little too narrow. She hoped there would be a chance to buy or trade for new ones that fit her. She looked over to her pack. The sword she carried was also her brothers. It was a clean cut short sword, with a thick hilt that went over the scabbard when sheathed. If for some reason she'd have to carry another one other than this, she would save it for herself as a keepsake.

"I'm sorry we could not have gotten another room. But we'd best make do." Duncan said casually. He looked at her before he sat down on his cot. She knew he was talking about privacy. She was technically a lady forced to sleep in the company of two strange men. Under other circumstances she would have been opposed to the idea, having been brought up in a castle all but a princess, but seeing as she was now a Warden... She'd have to get used to it.

At least they were indoors.

Duncan lay on his cot facing the wall. He had set his pack by him as security. Seeing that Alistair hadn't moved from where he laid, Bronwyn went to douse the lamp. Alistair awoke at her steps. "Didn't expect to dose off that fast." He gave a growl that was supposed to be a chuckle and removed his shirt to use as a pillow, his cloak as a blanket.

She stared at him, marveling at his muscle tone. It looked as if he had no amount of fat on his body. She noticed a leather cord haning around his neck. The leather wrapped around the top of a long tooth. It had to have been from a rather large animal to have one that long. "I have two blankets if you want one." Bronwyn offered before turning the knob on the lamp.

"No, no, it's ok. I have my trusty cover." He grinned as he held up the cloth, then spread the cloak over himself.

The light extinguished and the night enveloped the room. When he didn't move, she took off all the unnessary items on her person down to her tunic and trousers and unpinned her braid from its bun and crawled under the bed's wool blanket. Her body instantly relaxed under the warmth. The tension in achy muscles would eventually unkink themselves. But the day would bring even more aches.