AN: I had previouslly posted this story earlier in another account under another penname. However, seeing as it is better to have only one penname, I brought that story here. Follow my Warden on her adventure throught Fereldan. I'm a bit rusty with my writing, by the way. Apologies in advance if I'm not as good as I used to be, if I ever was good at all to begin with. Now I'm just rambling, carry on!


Cold. It was always cold in Fereldan. Yet the bitter wind barely even bothered her as she trotted along with her horse, a man she barely even knew beside her. Not a single word had been uttered from her chapped lips as they left Highever, her home, her life. All she felt was rage. Rage that blocked her mind and ached for blood. Howe's blood. She wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, piece by piece, as he did to her family. She would find him. The Cousland blade would taste Howe blood.

It had been a week and a half of travel, of yearning for blood. Fingers twitching as scenarios raced through her mind. How her blade would lick at his neck slowly, consuming each drop of blood. How she would grasp his disgusting throat, clenching it until no breath passed through it. How she would feed him his own—

"Calm down, Alixon. Your upsetting your horse." A deep voice came from beside her.

"Sorry." Alixon relaxed, her horse following suit.

"We will arrive at Ostagar soon."

"What will happen when we arrive?" The remaining Cousland asked, curiosity kicking in as she realized she had no idea what would happen at the ruins.

"You will meet with the rest of the recruits. You will then perform the Joining. If you sur—If you pass the test, you will become one of the Order."

Alixon merely nodded, a small town coming into her view. "Lothering?" She asked.

"Yes." The senior Warden replied. "We will rest there for a moment and gather supplies. It is still a long ways to Ostagar."

An hour later, they found themselves resting at the local tavern, its locals drinking calmly as someone played a lute. The music entranced Alixon, and she found herself looking around in search of the player. What her eyes met was not what she had expected.

Auburn hair covered a pale face, fingers delicately strumming the strings. Chantry robes covered a thin body perched on a chair at the far corner of the tavern. Pink lips were slightly parted, silently singing. Suddenly, the player looked up at her.

Ocean eyes widened, fingers faulting at the strings, an ill-played note resounding in the tavern. Maker, Alixon had never seen such a color. It was the ocean reflecting off the sky, clouds of uncertainty roaming within them. They seemed to stare at the Cousland heir for an eternity yet seemed to last for a second as the ocean's waves turned away, leaving Alixon choking at shore.

She moved on her own accord, leaving Duncan to his drink, a confused expression on his face. The Chantry sister stood quickly, navigating through the tavern as she neared the door.

"Wait!" Alixon called out. She raced outside, the cold wind stinging her face. It was too late. She looked left and right, yet the woman was nowhere to be found. She had seemingly disappeared into the shadows of the evening.

With a sigh, Alixon returned inside the tavern. What had happened to her? What was that? It had been captivating, like a spell. She had Chantry robes. How could a member of such a false religion be so…captivating?

"I thought you had left me and would have to seek another recruit." Duncan said as Alixon took her seat beside him.

"I just… needed air."

"Of course."

Alixon knew the man didn't believe her lie, but she far from cared what he thought or knew. Alixon knew she would probably never see that woman. She could probably die at the battle of Ostagar for all she knew.

That won't happen. Howe still has to pay for what he did. If I die, my family will go unavenged.

She could not deny that woman had stirred something within her, but there were more important things to focus on. Hours later, the duo rode for Ostagar, trying to ride as much as possible before the sun fell beyond the horizon.


The king was an imbecile. A childish idiot than thought of everything as a game and his men were nothing more than pawns to help him reach glory, pieces of a game in order to be seen as a hero of legend. Idiot. A leader does not act like that. A leader acts with dignity, with strength. A true leader gives strength to his men, not the other way around.

Bryce had taught her that, her father. As teryn, he was a just ruler, a fair man. He was an even better father. He had taught Alixon and her brother Fergus the way of leading justly. Fairness with the usual show of force should those under you fall out of line. Alixon knew that well. King Cailan did not. He seemed to merely—

"Oh!" Alixon exclaimed as she bumped into someone. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, dear. You seemed to be deep in thought." The woman was old, her grey hair turned white by the dancing snow that fell. Her robe was decorated with the Circle insignia in the front, a long and silver staff strapped to her back.

"You are a mage?"

"I am." She bowed her head. "Senior Enchanter Wynne."

"I am Alixon Cou—err, just Alixon. New recruit for the Wardens." Introducing myself as a Cousland is not wise. Howe could have men here. And Fergus could still be alive. "I apologize for bumping into you, Wynne. Are you to fight alongside the," imbecilic, "king?"

"Oh no, my dear. These old bones are no longer fit for such action." The mage answered, laughter swimming in her voice. "I am a healer, granting strength to the wounded and granting more mana to my comrades."

"Do you really have faith in Cailan? He acts like a child."

"A king's duty is to provide morale to his men. Were Cailan to show his negative thoughts, the soldiers would lose morale. With the Maker's blessing, the coming battle will go well."

Alixon snorts loudly, causing a grey eyebrow to raise. "The Maker? This being is false. If he were real, do you not think that he would help instead of lurk around some tainted city waiting for the shining gold to return? Why would he create something only to abandon it? Tell me, Wynne. I know little about magic but enough to know that mages sometimes craft their own staves.

You spend time creating a staff but it doesn't work as you had planned so you go make another one. This one is slightly better; your power travels through it. Yet you leave it to dust in a wardrobe as soon as you finish it. Is that a sound thing to do? You would tend to your staff, practicing your craft with it, keeping it clean of any blemish. Am I wrong?"

Wynne stood silently, her arms crossed over her chest, her stare seemingly contemplating the woman's words. After a short moment, she sighed, her arms uncrossing, collected snow falling from the thin limbs.

"The Chantry teaches us that the Maker left us. Your analogy makes a valid point. But like a staff, the Maker's creations are a tool. When the creator of the tool decides to use the item is when the crafter is ready."

"That does not make him sound any better."

"It does not. But it leaves you something to contemplate, does it not? Now, I'm sure Duncan has more important things for you. May you find victory in the coming battle, Alixon." With another bow of her head, the mage walked away, leaving behind a still Maker-hating Alixon as she watched Wynne's retreating form. The Cousland shook her head, turning.

Only to crash into someone else.

"By the Void! What is wrong with me?" Alixon cried out.

"Whoa, there! Are you okay? You seem…tense."

"I keep crashing into everyone!"

The man laughed, his brownish hair shaking slightly. "It happens to us all. When I came here, I fell face first when I bumped into one of the king's guards."

Alixon raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I'm Alistair, by the way. Junior Grey Warden." He extended his hand in greeting.

Alixon shook the offered hand. "I was looking for you, actually. Name's Alixon."

"The new recruit! Duncan told me about you. A pleasure. The other recruits and I have been waiting for you to arrive. Come, let's head to the Warden camp. The others are there."

Everything seemed organized. Each group had their respective tents, soldiers and squires going to and fro. Some tents were larger than others, the King's being the largest. Guess his imbecilic head is too big to fit in a regular tent. A though suddenly occurred Alixon.

"Hey, Alistair. Do you know if the Cousland family sent their soldiers?"

"I didn't realize you knew they were coming."

"I uh… have a friend that works for the Highever family. I was thinking of stopping by for a moment."

"Well, you're out of luck for the moment. They're camped down in the valley and we won't be going there until the battle starts tonight. I'm sure you can find your friend after the battle."

"Are you sure I can't go? There has to be a way I can go down there."

Alistair shook his head. "I'm sorry. We're going to be busy preparing for the Joining. There won't be much time for anything."

Alixon sighed. "Then let's get this Joining over with."