It kept him awake all night. This feeling, this taint, the pollution that surged through his veins, twisting him. He saw them, the creatures, as they swarmed around their master. Vile creatures they were, with vicious fangs, blotched faces and hearts black as tar. They snarled, they roared, as their master addressed them. Sometimes, he even thought he could understand them. But for Samuel Cousland, the snarls of darkspawn left nothing but restlessness.

He wondered if Alistair ever felt this way. Probably not. Alistair was strong. Experienced. And Samuel was completely new. Completely fresh. If only Duncan were still around.

Samuel exhaled loudly, willing himself to sleep. Above him, the stars were sprawled across the sky, peaceful and timeless. Was Duncan up there? Was his mother and father? His brother? How Samuel missed them. The last few weeks were taking their toll and all he could do was lie here, wishing he could find some solace in sleep. He felt a deep sadness in his heart, an ache that spread to his limbs, slowly consuming everything about himself.

He remembered his last summer in Highever. He had just turned of age and finally, his mother had allowed his brother and father to intoxicate him. He had spent an entire night laughing, dancing and singing beneath starry skies outside of the city in the family orchards. He remembered the beautiful smile of the daughter of the Bann of Amaranthine City, Zira, and the depth of her eyes. The laughter of his nephew as he danced and danced and danced around the mesmerizing flames. Most of all, he remembered the feeling of passing out, of finally letting himself go after hours of joy and song, knowing that the Maker had truly blessed him.

But those times were over. The Maker, it seemed, had deserted Samuel. Of course, there were those that would argue with the zealotry of the Chantry that the Maker had blessed him with a purpose; conquer the darkspawn and save the world. But as Samuel witnessed, did the world really need saving? Or deserve it?

The King lie dead, the Grey Wardens hated and civil war was brewing within the Landsmeet. And all because of one man. Teryn Loghain.
Did the fool think to banish the darkspawn himself? Or did he simply not understand the gravity of the situation? That this was not just some stray darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds but a full-blown Blight? To Samuel, nothing made sense anymore. Except the treaties.

"Oooh, a shooting star!" Alistair murmured playfully, "Quick Sammy, make a wish!"

Samuel managed a soft smile. "Nope. You're still here," he jested.

Alistair let out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh Sammy, you hurt me! Here I was thinking that we were the bestest of friends."

A booming laugh erupted from Samuel and he could feel Morrigan's eyebrows lifting from her tent on the other side of camp. In the background, Bodahn Feddic let out a loud snore, sending Alistair and Samuel into a fit of suppressed giggles.

"We better watch it," Alistair warned, looking seriously into Samuel's eyes, "Lest the Witch of the Wilds turn us into frogs."

This sent Samuel roaring with laughter as he imagined Morrigan glaring at the two boys. "True. But at least you'd get an improvement!"

"Ouch," Alistair feigned hurt.

Samuel grinned and tapped Alistair on the face. "Don't worry, you're a big boy, you can handle it." He paused. "But, I think we should sleep. Tomorrow, the Brecilian awaits us. And the elves."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Not that that isn't fascinating but it's ruining the slumber party."

And with one last chuckle, the two Grey Wardens fell asleep.

On the other side of camp, Morrigan watched silently as the Grey Wardens laughed and joked with one another. Such things seemed strange to her. These two, ultimately, were the leaders of a war against demons whom were tipped to destroy everything but here they were, laughing about ruined slumber parties.

But then again, she realized, Samuel had been having trouble sleeping and now, he slept. Perhaps they joked to make it easier to deal with? Regardless, it seemed stupid. The behaviour of fools.

She thought of her restless nights in the Wilds with Flemmeth. When she would sneak out and assume the form of a great spider or bear to simply sit amongst the Wilds and exist. Oh, she could think still, but she didn't have to. It was her own private world. She could walk with the animals and know them, knowing full well they could not know her, but she could just be. Right now, for some absurd and nostalgic reason, she wished she could do that. She wished to assume the form of a great eagle and take flight away.

But for some reason, she didn't. Something within her being told her to stay. If not to fight the darkspawn and save a world she never really cared for, then to learn more about the world. A noble cause, indeed.

A small spider crept across her arm, skittering on eight uncertain legs. As if to realize its terrible mistake, the spider attempted to run off Morrigan's arm but she held it in place.

"Why hello, old friend," she whispered softly. "I am pleased to meet you."