Disclaimer; I don't own Dragon Age or it's characters.
I was bitten by the writing bug and wrote this in about 15 minutes. Forgive me for any spelling/ grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy :)
Mild spoilers from the DLC Return to Ostagar.
The walls glistened with ice. Her breath came out in little clouds, she felt like death had taken her already. Her skin was cold, blue tinged and tight; her bones jutted out from hunger and the cold caused them to ache constantly. She knew she would die here, frozen or starved with no one to know except a madman and a mute. When she had arrived at Ostagar it had been early fall, and unseasonably warm. The fields and trees had been green, the sky an endless optimistic blue. If she had the energy to cry the memories of those days before the battle would cause a flood.
She had arrived with a group from the circle, lead by Wynne. First Enchanter Irving had assured her that her capacity as a healer would keep her far from the battles. Safe inside the camp, they had said. What did she have to fear? How could she be harmed with Wynne, the charming King Cailan, and the awe inspiring Grey Wardens to protect her? Those days she had felt important, like she was making a difference. She had revelled in the (limited) freedom being outside the tower gave her. Then that night fell and the forest that she had delighted in turned black and twisted.
She had been in the infirmary tending the injured when the battle was met. At first all she could hear was the roars of the hoard and the cheers of the allied army as the darkspawn crumbled under the first wave. But then she heard screams from within the camp itself. One of the Ash warriors who were guarding the camp came running into the infirmary carrying his hound which was obviously dead; face pale, blood coursing down his chest from a stab wound to his shoulder. "They're everywhere! They came from the ground! All will die!" he screamed hysterically before collapsing into a head with the corpse of his dog and began weeping. She had backed away from the quivering mass of man and dog. Then everything erupted in a panicked frenzy as the roars grew closer. Her mind had frozen then. She can remember turning and looking up at the tower of Ishal. The beacon was gleaming in the sky like a beacon of hope. And then she was running. The darkspawn were everywhere by that time. She ran through the fighting and the carnage.
She can remember someone screaming to her for help; the man encaged near the infirmary awaiting execution. It shamed her to remember that she hadn't even slowed her pace. She had left him to be devoured by the darkspawn, with no way to defend himself. She has no idea how she made it across the bridge without being killed. She had only the most basic battle magic, the majority of her training and talent laid in healing magic's, but somehow she made it to the tower court yard without incident. Once there however she found that the grounds were littered with spawn battling a few guards and a severely injured Warden. One Hurlock took notice of her and charged; cracked and bloody teeth barred and a bone chilling gleam in its eyes. She stumbled and fell back with a scream. It raised its axe and then... black blood sprayed her face. The Hurlock crumpled to the ground and the young guard yanked her to her feet. "The battle is lost, King Cailan is dead!" he screamed over the sounds of battle. Then she was being pulled through the courtyard. The guard paused long enough to grab the Grey Warden so he could pull him along with them. It was obvious by now that the Guards were losing. They entered the Tower only to be met my blood spattering the walls. They ran down the hall, her heart pounding. If the tower had fallen then she would die, she had no doubt of that. Then they came upon a hole in the floor, and her blood ran cold. The darkspawn had broken through, come up from underneath.
As they stared despairingly at that tunnel they heard it. An unnatural keening screech. She clapped her hands over her ears; it felt like her head had been filled with needles. "What is that?" she screamed, eyes streaming. "A dragon" The warden was a terrible grey color. Blood streaming from the wounds covering his body. He was near death she knew, but his eyes looked like they were already dead. "Is it the Arch demon?" the guard asked earnestly. "I do not know"
She stared at the two of them. What should they do? What could they do? She was a healer; she had never even left the Tower before! Her only companions were a half dead Warden and a guard so young that this had to be his first battle. She spied a room just past the tunnel. It was a large supply room. "Quick! In there!" She and the guard had barricaded the door. She didn't know if it would hold but it was better than nothing.
It did hold. She heard the din of battle slowly fade away and knew that her friends, her companions were dead. She had abandoned them to an unimaginable evil. They had spent the next few months rationing the food in the stores. She had been able to heal the Warden for the most part, but there was something wrong with him. She didn't know what. He rarely slept, and when he did he screamed and lashed out at anything near. He spent his waking hours muttering to himself about blood and bile and evil and death and an architect and secrets and someone named Alistair. His skin was turning a mottled grey and the color of his eyes had turned black; they still held that unnerving dead gaze. She could not heal him any longer, he felt not right and something in him rejected her magic.
The guard, who had initially been so optimistic and resourceful, had lapsed into a melancholy. These days all he did was sit and stare at the wall. He never spoke and ate only when forced. Not that she blamed him. The food had long since gone bad. Part of her thought that she would gladly accept death if it meant she no longer had to eat mouldy bread and rancid water. She longed to be outside once more, to feel the breeze in her hair, the sun on her face and smell the waters of Lake Calenhad instead of the stomach turning smell emanating from the corner where they did their business day after day.
At first she had been sure that someone would come. Someone would want to collect the Kings body wouldn't they? They would want to collect the important documents left at the camp wouldn't they? But no one came. She had lost hope. Now she was sure she would die here, buried under the snow and death, listening the ravings of a mad man. No one would brave the hoard and find them. No one would return to Ostagar.