Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age Origins / Awakenings / DA2 or any of its characters.

xXx

It had been a long war for Ferelden. The Wardens numbers were vastly diminished. The army of men, dwarfs and elves were defeated and barely a handful of troops remained. The Archdemon had been at the head of its army, but had kept tauntingly out of reach. None of the bordering countries had come to their aid other than to accept refugees, though thanks to the Darkspawn they had been few enough in number. The Darkspawn raids had been happening long before the Archdemon showed itself. Grabbing women and hauling them into their underground passageways. The Wardens had realised that during the fighting the female soldiers were initially avoided, only to be dragged into catacombs while the army was fully engaged. King Cailan had quickly ordered the evacuation of the women once the Wardens had reported vast networks of caves filled with brood mothers. It was an unending nightmare.

Duncan the Warden Commander had fallen in battle not long after Ostagar; having performed the Joining with a few more recruits before his untimely death, but taking the secret of the Joining with him. Alistair held tight to his heart Duncan's final words to him. "As long as one Warden survives there is hope." Alistair had reluctantly taken command of the few Wardens who still survived and in the months that followed; as he had seen friend and comrade fall he learnt how to make the hard decisions, how to make every loss count, how to push for every advantage, every victory. Each scar that marked his body told of his journey from raw recruit to a Warden Commander Duncan would have been proud of, or so Cailan kept telling him. Alistair had his doubts.

For his part King Cailan meant every word. He was grateful for Alistair's counsel and support and thought fondly of his brother. He had also become fond of his youngest brother Anders, though accepting a mage had been difficult. Loghain had opposed any public acknowledgement of either man and Cailan had reluctantly acquiesced to his wishes. Having a mage as a brother; even a half-brother as he was, could be too much of a destabilizing element in a country already on its knees. As death began to surround them on all sides Cailan came to realise how pointless their concerns had been.

Alistair and Anders shared the same parents, with Alistair barely a year older than Anders who had just turned twenty-one. The brothers had met when Alistair had journeyed to Kinloch Hold looking for support. Anders had been captured for the seventh time and was to be made tranquil. Alistair had heard rumours of the runaway mage from Isabela the Pirate Queen, an intimate friend of Zevran's. She had whispered in his ear that Anders would make a valuable asset, not to mention she was convinced he was a son of Maric. That had sparked Alistair's curiosity and he was more than happy to invoke the Right of Conscription, much to the Knight Commanders fury. They had cleaned out the Circle of its demons and restored order, but despite Alistair's best attempts Knight Commander Greagoir still called for the Circle to be annulled. He watched helplessly as those mages they had worked so hard to save were taken away. The Knight Commander had reminded him of his Templar duty and Alistair had snarled that if this was being what a Templar meant, he was ashamed of his training. Anders, Zevran and Leliana had pulled him out before they could come to blows.

Anders had basked in his first night of freedom and had tried not to laugh at the firm Warden Commander tripping over his words as he asked about his parents. It had been blatantly obvious to the others of their company that there was blood between them, but Anders remained non-committal. However when Alistair saved his life and almost died because of it Anders told him what he had been told, that his father had been King Maric and his mother was an elven Warden. Alistair had smiled, requesting that the next time he asked him a question that he not have to be badly wounded before getting an answer. Anders had grinned and clasped his arm, an unspoken bond forming between them.

It had amused Anders that his brother had been training to be a Templar before being recruited into the Wardens. The choice to be a Templar had not been of Alistair's making and Anders had learned that he was grateful to be recruited away from that life. Anders had been a little unnerved by how impressive his brothers Templar talents were, but given the effects on the Emissaries he found himself thankful on more than one occasion that Alistair had received such training. His affection for Cailan took longer to develop, in no small part to the fact that Cailan was hesitant to recognise their blood link. Anders was used to having no family and Cailan's distance did little to disturb him, but he knew it was eating away at Alistair and so he was civil. After so much death and destruction the chasm between them had reduced and spilling their blood together had bonded the three brothers in a way not even Loghain could undo.

They had made their last stand in Denerim. It had fallen with the Archdemon's victory and they now made camp in its ruins. The once stunning city was now rubble beneath their feet.

xXx

Cailan rolled back his shoulders trying to relieve himself of the cramp that ached in him day and night. He glanced at the men who looked as defeated as he felt. They were exhausted, battle weary and running out of supplies. All were weighed down with dark thoughts and Cailan knew he somehow had to find a way to keep them together.

Alistair was sitting in a chair; his head in his hands, exhausted and grief stricken. They had returned from another scouting trip having managed to destroy a nest of three brood mothers, all had once been Wardens. Alistair had stopped recruiting women when he had taken command, but those female Wardens who were in Ferelden had refused to leave. Alistair had argued; commanded and finally begged them to leave, but each was loyal to the cause and refused. All were now dead; including the woman he had been falling in love with, Elissa Cousland. She had saved her twin Aedan from an ogre and paid for it with her life. Alistair couldn't get the faces of Marhi, Reenia and Trenna out of his mind. He remembered their laughter, their strength and their loyalty. He shuddered, no one deserved that fate and that knowledge was the only thing keeping him going. He had to find a way to stop this, he wouldn't allow himself to fail anyone else.

Loghain leaned against the table staring at a map, though his eyes did not see it. He had no idea what to do. Each strategy had failed them; each battle plan had fallen into dust. They had been reduced to brief raids to try and destroy the brood mothers, but it was slow going. He was furious that they had remained unaided. His own daughter had married the Emperor of Orlais and she had answered none of his correspondence and pleas for support. He had even swallowed his pride and gone with a small detail not long after the massacre at Ostagar and then again after the defeat at Denerim, but he had been refused entry at the border. His country was in ashes and he was helpless to stop it. He glared at the Warden Commander not bothering to hide his anger and disgust.

The Hawke brothers Garrett and Carver stood to the far side of the room; covered in blood and streaked with mud, war having bonded them in ways they had never thought possible. They had managed to get their mother and sister Bethany on a ship out of Ferelden, Isabela had taken as many people as she could hold on her ship. They tried not to think about the number of ships the Archdemon had set on fire, praying that they had escaped, but if anyone could outrun the Blight it would be Isabela. Garrett used the last of his mana to heal a large wound on his brother's arm and sat down exhausted. They had been Wardens for little over a year and it had taken its toll. Now two of the only three Wardens left in Ferelden, they carried the devastating knowledge that for the Archdemon to be defeated one of them would have to sacrifice their life. The conflict between the brothers had fallen away as they sought support from each other to deal with the horrific nightmares and the life they had chosen. Hawke often reflected that if people knew the price it took to be a Warden, no-one but the insane would join the order. Carver had pointed out that after the year they had just had, he doubted any of them were still sane.

Oghren was looking out of what had once been a window, gazing at the blue sky wondering that a dwarf could get so used to something so strange. He flexed his arm looking at the newly acquired wound, a dubious gift from Reenia as she had tried to beat the life out of him. He shuddered at the memories of what the Wardens had become. He knew Alistair was taking it hard and that nothing any of them said would take his guilt, but he still wished for the words to ease his pain. Oghren had become very fond of the Warden Commander in their travels and despite what that pompous Loghain thought, he and most of those who travelled with them would follow Alistair into the Void itself if he asked.

xXx

Sten as usual was watching the skies. His keen sight had warned them of the Archdemon's approach on more than one occasion. He paced through the rubble, his mind ill at ease. Their recent mission had left Alistair in more turmoil than usual; it was not a trend he approved of. He had spoken to Alistair after they had left the tunnels, seeking to ascertain his state of mind. Alistair had gripped his arm and smiled warmly, but the warmth did not reach his eyes and Sten had grown concerned for his friend. He shook his head, even now thinking it strange to call Alistair such. Yet the Warden Commander had gone out of his way to return Asala his soul to him and such an act could not be easily dismissed. Sten had grown to recognise the strength of the young Commander and approved of his seeking advice, but the decisions were always his and he took that responsibility seriously. Sten glanced at the ruins of the once great City; Alistair had earned his respect, something that certain others of rank had yet to obtain.

xXx

Anders and Zevran shifted their heavy load between them. They had been on a raiding mission to see what supplies they could forage; particularly lyrium, though they had not been hopeful any had been left, while their companions had gone on the scouting mission. Zevran's sharp eyes picked out a covered box in the corner of the Chantry and they carefully put down their chest, Zevran moving over to investigate. Anders watched Zevran with a smile on his face; drinking in his graceful stride and the wicked grin as Zevran glanced over his shoulder, aware Anders was watching him.

Anders sat on the chest as Zevran rummaged in the box, his flirting curtailed as his thoughts moved to his brothers and the rest of their assorted group. "I hate the Deep Roads, but I hate not knowing what's happening to them even more."

Zevran flashed him a charming smile. "What Darkspawn could hope to withstand Sten's Asala; or Oghren's stench, or the Great Loghain's scowl?"

Anders chuckled. "They are a force to be reckoned with."

Zevran gave up hope of finding anything useful in the box and returned to Anders, tilting the mages face so their eyes met. "Alistair will return with them caro."

"I hope so Zev; he barely sleeps anymore, he's losing himself to this grief."

"We shall not let him." Anders sighed as Zevran pressed his forehead to his. "Come; let us return with our find. It may even put a smile on Loghain's face."

"And the Archdemon may give up and go home. My bet would be on the Archdemon first."

Zevran chuckled gripping Anders arm and pulling him to his feet. "Then let us put a smile on your brother's face instead."

xXx

Cailan breathed a sigh of relief as Anders and Zevran entered the building carrying a large chest between them. They had hit the jackpot with finding a hidden cache of lyrium, healing potions and other medical supplies, but even so they would have to be carefully rationed.

Anders grinned at Cailan and Alistair, relieved to see his brothers. Cailan clasped his arm and Alistair just hugged him. Anders realised something was wrong when Alistair sagged against him. He helped his brother back to his chair and pulled aside his armour; raging at him as a blood soaked tunic was revealed, a sodden bandage beneath it. Alistair sighed and leaned back as Anders began to heal him.

"This is not a scratch Alistair!" Anders hissed at his brother's attempts to distract him from yelling at him. Alistair closed his eyes and drifted, moments later being shaken back to consciousness. "Stay awake Alistair." Anders was commanding. Alistair tried to focus, but felt himself drifting again. For one brief moment he thought he saw Elissa, her soft voice telling him it wasn't his time yet. He groaned and forced himself to open his eyes. Cailan was forcing liquid passed his lips and Alistair spluttered though managed to swallow most of it.

"Enough." He gasped. "I'm fine."

"Pull a stunt like that again and you will not be fine!" Cailan warned, his fear making him angry.

"We did not have the supplies; there was no point in saying anything until they got back."

Carver was looking at him fiercely. "My arm could have waited, you should have said something!"

"Fine, next time I will say something." Carver was not appeased and continued to glare at him. Garrett nudged him; knowing full well the extent of his younger brothers feelings for their young Commander, although Alistair was still too wrapped in his grief over Elissa to realise.

"What now?" Oghren grunted, eyeing Alistair in concern. Since Elissa's death he had become more likely to risk himself and it was not a trend Oghren wished him to continue.

The men looked at each other; there was no great strategy; no stunning plan, there was only survival and the hopes that they would get lucky and kill the Archdemon before it set its sights elsewhere.

xXx

Author Note:

This is just a story that has been running around my head for a while, so I've finally started to write it. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always appreciated.