A/N: A word of caution! This arc will be more about the Dalish warden's journey than a "Let's kill the Archdemon" affair and loosely based on 'The Martyr' pre-set of DA2. But yes, she lives in the end. I'd like to think the execution matters more than the ending \( 'A' \)! Let's get right to it, shall we?

shameless plug: Ah, yes, if you want to see a sketch of this Mahariel pre-angst, go to my blog.

Disclaimer: Bioware's, not mine! Derivative work is mine though.


Alistair watched his Dalish cohort, Mahariel, walking ahead of the group with the newly acquired mabari trotting happily by her side. Morrigan, the witch, followed close behind as she gave the other warden directions. Not that he was complaining about the lack of company; he was eternally grateful to be spared from the witch's barbs and the awkward silence that accompanied the elf. The sun was almost at its peak and as Morrigan predicted, it was not even a day and the town of Lothering was already within their sights.

He found himself appraising the newest Warden. Mahariel's bearing and gait indicated none of the injuries she suffered, though admittedly she had suffered fewer wounds than him. The lesser injuries came at the cost of the traditional Dalish armor she stubbornly clung to. It was now stored in a sack, looking bulky on her back. Alistair remembered being in awe when Mahariel had begrudgingly allowed him to examine the worn armor. It was lighter and sturdier than metal but more protective than leather. Though he was no expert Alistair immediately knew that the Dalish's reputation of superb craftsmanship was well-deserved. He was almost sad to see Mahariel out of the resplendent green-dyed armor and in the battered ill-fitting leathers she currently wore. Of course, the girl had cut the toes off the matching boots, baring as much of her feet as the terrain allowed.

A girl. Once again Alistair was faced with the magnitude of their task. Not that he had anything against women, or girls for that matter. Her skills aside, it was simply that Mahariel was too young to be tasked with killing darkspawn. Alistair squinted as he looked at the girl's back; despite having facial markings and standing as tall as Morrigan, Mahariel's appearance did not belie her youth. He knew that elves generally looked younger than their age but it did not take a second glance to tell the curiously quiet elf was young. Her gangliness and the wide-eyed curiosity with which she regarded most things human, despite being so sullen, told him as much. He sighed. Ferelden's Grey Wardens, greatest protectors against the Blight were down to two new recruits who did not even have a year in the order, one of whom could very well pass as a child. "Wonderful," Alistair muttered beneath his breath.

Mahariel immediately shot him a curious look over her shoulder. Alistair could only return the gaze. The girl shrugged and returned her eyes to their path. She couldn't have heard him, could she? He looked at the girl's long ears. If Mahariel heard him speak, then their size was not just for show. The girl was a complete mystery. They had known each other for two weeks but Alistair knew nothing more about the Dalish than the day they first met. She joined the Wardens through conscription and was deadly with her bow, but that was it. Even Loghain's betrayal did not seem to unhinge her. It did not help that Mahariel spoke very little, making any conversation a one-sided affair. Perhaps she was likewise mourning the loss of their Commander. Alistair left her be.

"Look what we have here, boys, travellers!" a man announced ahead of the group.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the band of well-armed men accosting both women. The dog leaned low with his haunches raised, growling at the men. Alistair's hand drifted to the pommel of his sword as he joined his group. He could see that the band's slouchy and poor demeanor was more telling of banditry than disciplined infantry. Morrigan sneered at them disdainfully while Mahariel simply regarded the bandits with her customary wariness. Until the cheery-looking man that Alistair thought was the leader opened his fat mouth again.

"And led by an elf, of all things."

Mahariel's wary frown transformed into an angry scowl. Uh-oh, not good.

"What do you want, shem?" Mahariel drolled between gritted teeth, her accent entirely lost to the contempt in her tone. Her hands curled to knuckles by her sides, the fingers becoming white. Alistair gulped; at such close distance Mahariel was easy pickings. He stepped forward, coming between the girl and the bandit. Mahariel was stunned for a moment but discreetly took several steps back, eyes glittering with understanding.

Alistair brought a hand before the bandit leader's face but kept the other on his sword pommel. "Look, we know you're highwaymen but we're not refugees you can bully over. So if you could just move out of the way..."

"Aha! But that's where you're wrong, ser!" the bandit declared haughtily before thumbing over to his band. The two farthest to the back were armed with crossbows, while the two just behind him each had a sword and shield. The hulking fellow beside him had a maul strapped to his back. "We outnumber you two to one." Alistair had to smirk; the poor sod apparently did not count the mabari guarding Mahariel. The bandit continued with a shrug. "Anyway, all we ask is ten silvers, and you can be on your merry way."

Alistair was just about to reach for his coins when Morrigan piped up in her usually smug tone. "Why should we give these brutes our coin? I say teach them a lesson."

"I'd like to avoid bloodshed if possible," Alistair countered then shook the purse heavy with silver; why and how darkspawn carried coin he would never know. "Besides, we have plenty of coin." He looked to Mahariel and waited for approval. A slight nod of agreement was her only answer. "Anyway, here's your..."

The bandit leader smirked, leering with avarice. "Plenty of coin, you say?"

Oh, bollocks. Alistair shook his head, feeling infinitely stupid. "We've agreed on the price, ten silvers it shall be."

The bandit had drawn his sword, tapping its flat to his palm as he smiled arrogantly. "I don't think you really have much choice if I said everything in that purse, do you?"

"I tire of this," Morrigan said, as if regarding a redundant chore. Before any of them could move Morrigan had already thrown a bolt of lightning at the bandit with the maul, knocking him off his feet. The smell of scorched leather and flesh filled the air. Alistair was just about to lean into his combat stance when he heard the familiar whiz of arrows fly past him. The two archers dropped to the ground, each with an arrow stuck between their eyes. The next arrow landed with an audible 'thunk' on one of the swordsmen's shield, the death of his fellows having given him time to gather his bearings. His shield did little to protect against Morrigan's magic, however, as a burst of cold encased him in ice. Alistair had only to slam his shield against the bandit icicle to turn the odds to an equitable two against one.

Only the leader and the swordsman remained, drawing a smile from the senior warden. To his credit, the bandit leader lost none of the bravado he presented earlier, crouching low in preparation for an attack. The remaining swordsman trained on the two women at the rear. Morrigan's low mana was none too encouraging. I thought that lightning bolt was too strong, Alistair told himself, resisting the urge to turn his gaze behind him as a flash of metal flew towards his neck. The bandit's blow glanced off the wooden shield and Alistair drew his shield arm back, readying to pound the other man with his aegis. He almost did not notice the dagger sneaking beneath his defenses, the slice thankfully missing a notch of his splintmail armor by barely an inch. Alistair thrust his sword forward, but the bandit proved faster, hopping back with a satisfied grin on his face. The senior warden scowled. The mage would just have to rely on Mahariel's mediocre swordplay at the moment.

Then the distinctive snarl from a mabari erupted behind him, followed by a surprised yelp from the swordsman. Desperate, pained screams along with the sound of torn flesh made Alistair wince. The senior warden almost felt sorry for the lone bandit, as he moved his gaze away from Alistair to watch in horror as his fellow got mangled. Alistair was about to take advantage of the moment by lopping the bandit's head from the neck when the latter suddenly fell on his knees.

"Wait, wait!" the bandit leader cried and held his hands up in surrender. "I give up! I surrender!" Alistair kicked the man's daggers away from him before pointing his sword at the other man's neck. He hung his shield back on his back as the others joined him, collectively watching the grovelling man at his feet. "Please ser, let me go! I was just trying to make a living."

"So you can waylay us the next chance you get?" Morrigan sneered. "I think not."

Alistair ran a palm over his face as he groaned. "Morrigan..."

"What?" the witch made a bored shrug. "He would've killed us for a few bits of coin, dying by our hand is just what he deserves."

"No, no, I won't! You'll never see me again!" The bandit kept looking at Alistair with desperate and watery eyes, making his stomach lurch. He did not want to see a grown man sniveling by his feet but neither was he willing to decide the bandit's fate.

"What do you think?" Alistair asked as he turned to his fellow warden, who was regarding the bandit with an intense glare. The elf did not reply, keeping her cold gaze upon the bandit.

The bandit took the cue and shifted his grovelling to the junior warden's feet. "Oh please, please kind elf!" He kissed Mahariel's bare toes, causing the scowl on the girl's face to deepen. "Spare me! I swear I'll be kinder to your kind if you do!"

For a moment it looked like Mahariel would draw the unsoiled dagger on her back and gut the sniveling fellow, and the intensity on the girl's face did not incline Alistair to intervene. Much to his surprise, however, the elf nodded towards to the other end of the highway.

"Run," the elf mumbled.

"W-what?"

"I said run," Mahariel repeated, shooting the bandit a deadly glare. She then gestured towards Morrigan. "Unless you want the mage to kill you."

On cue, Morrigan's hand crackled with electricity. Terror filled the bandit's face as he bolted away from them as fast as he could, leaving a trail of fluid in his path. Alistair chuckled and turned to address Mahariel but found his words caught in his throat.

The elf had drawn an arrow, bow held high as her eyes and aim followed the retreating bandit. Before Alistair could say anything, the taut string released with a 'twang', sending the arrow flying into the air. His head comically bobbed as he followed its movement. Morrigan followed the arrow more discreetly, only using her eyes. As the arrow arced down, caught in the edges of his vision was the scrambling bandit, none the wiser of the deadly projectile upon him. A gasp escaped Alistair as the bandit fell. For a moment he thought the bastard only tripped, until several moments passed without him getting up. Alistair looked to Mahariel then back to the horizon where the bandit fell. "Maker that's very...far." A thought then struck him and he jerked his head to face the elf. "Wait, I thought you were sparing him!"

"I didn't say that." Mahariel shrugged and began rummaging through the corpses. "Besides, he took his weapons."

At that, Alistair turned to where he kicked the weapons. Indeed, the daggers were gone. He frowned. "So? It doesn't mean he'd bother us again."

The young elf tilted her head as her eyes widened, looking at him as if he missed something obvious. "He would've hurt more people."

Alistair could only gape at Mahariel as the latter moved on to the next corpse. He ignored Morrigan's cackling, for once unsure if it was directed to him or the elf. He supposed he should be impressed that Mahariel cared about the other people the bandit might hurt. That its mere possibility became a certainty to her unsettled him, but he found himself smiling at the thought. They need that certainty right now, seniority be damned.

Mahariel walked up to him with a small pouch of coins in hand. A slight smile tugged on the elf's face when the mabari bounced before her, a discarded helmet in his mouth. He likewise smiled, but not because of the dog. Smiling suited the girl, to say the least. And suddenly she was all business again when she offered the pouch. "Here's all their coin. Silvers, mostly. Almost a sovereign's worth." Mahariel almost looked proud; the Dalish apparently had little use for coin in the forest and the senior warden had to give the girl a crash course on currency during their trip to the quartermaster. It was easy enough to explain bits, silvers, and sovereigns to Mahariel and it had been amusing to watch the elf make her purchases with guarded excitement. Though 'amusing' wouldn't be the right word for the wary elf. Alistair noticed the impatient pout on the girl's face. His smile grew wider. He decided on 'cute'.

Alistair took the pouch and by weight alone, he knew Mahariel was correct. Then he shook his head and offered the coins back to the elf. Mahariel's expressive eyes asked the question for her. "As you already saw, my coin-handling ended up quite badly."

"An understatement," Morrigan quipped, looking quite bored as she leaned on a nearby pillar.

"Anyway, keep it,"Alistair said and ignored the witch as he gave Mahariel a reassuring smile. "You'll be doing me a favor, really. Merchants always shortchange me, perhaps you'll fare better." Alistair clasped his hands together and mock-pleaded with his junior. "Come on, please? I'll even air out your armor for you." Mahariel continued to regard him cautiously until she reluctantly took the coin purse.

"Very well," the elf said as she slipped the pouch into her pack, then nodded towards the stairs leading to Lothering. Morrigan and the mabari were soon at their sides. "Shall we proceed?"

Alistair shrugged and followed behind Mahariel's step. It was a first step and he was not proud of it. Pride was a luxury, one that neither Alistair nor Ferelden could afford at the moment. They needed certainty, which he as senior warden did not have. He kept staring at the elf's back, taking in the lithe and slender form. Mahariel's narrow shoulders seemed so fragile. Soon, he would be dumping upon those fragile shoulders the burden of leading against the Blight. He felt smaller, but pushed the feeling back.

Mahariel would just have to do.