Part One
Prologue
The Denerim Alienage
Rosalyn stood still, placid but defiant; her head lowered as she listened to the others tell the story. When they had finished the telling, she faced Valendrian, lifting her chin as she had when she was a child and had stolen a pie from Alarith's store only to be caught by him as she sat on the steps of her house eating it. "Vaughan's dead. I killed him," she said bluntly. It was a simple phrase she spoke, as simple as admitting she had taken the pie all those years ago. The consequences were much higher now. There was no spanking or slap on the hand; this time she was headed to the gallows.
The Grey Warden, Duncan, grew worried; it had gone well past what had been planned. "The garrison will be on their way." He looked at Valendrian, "Time is short."
Rosalyn knew what she had to do. Turning to run to her house she said, "I'll go, let me get my things."
She stopped as a young boy approached the group yelling, "The guards are here!"
"Don't panic!" scolded Valendrian, "We mustn't seem as we are hiding anything."
A force of eight guards entered the Alienage gates, fanning out to circle the small group standing near the gate. The captain stepped forward to speak, "Administrator Valendrian!"
Valendrian politely stepped up to greet him, "Here, Captain. I will assume you are here about the unfortunate events at the Arl's estate."
"The Arl's son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace! I need names!" the captain announced, his hand on his sword.
Rosalyn knew she had to do something; she couldn't let innocents be hurt for what she had done. She would take the blame so her friends would have their lives. "It was me. I killed Vaughan and his men," she admitted proudly and boldly, stepping forward.
The captain was not impressed, laughing at the prospect of a single woman causing all his troubles, "You expect me to believe one woman did all of that?"
"We are not all so helpless, Captain," explained Valendrian angrily.
The captain faced her sternly but still skeptical, finally nodding his agreement, "This elf will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns. The rest of you, get back to your houses!" Turning to Rosalyn, he commanded his guards, "Shackle her." Two men moved in and seized her arms, pinning them behind her back. Rosalyn grunted with the pain they caused but would not give them satisfaction of crying out.
Duncan had hung back during this exchange, gauging whether or not he would be able to help. With the captain's announcement, he saw his opening and sprang, "Captain…a word, if you please."
"What is it Grey Warden?"
"I hereby invoke the rite of conscription. I remove this woman into my custody."
Rosalyn turned to the human, unsure if she heard him correctly. "You want to…what?"
"You cannot have her! She is to be tried and executed!" argued the guard captain.
Duncan shook his head and stepped between Rosalyn and the captain, "It is the law."
The guard captain's face turned bright red with anger as he realized he had lost his prize, "Very well, Grey Warden, I cannot challenge you, but get this elf out of the city. Today!"
Duncan nodded his head, "Agreed."
"Let's get ready for trouble. Move on!" The captain took his men and marched out the way they came, without their prisoner. Duncan looked down at Rosalyn as he loosened the shackles that held her, "You're coming with me, child. Say your goodbyes. We must leave immediately."
Rosalyn pleaded with Duncan, "NO! Let me stay here with my family!"
Duncan grabbed her arm, holding her in a deathlike grip, "I need a Grey Warden and I found one. That conscripting saved your life is only a convenient circumstance." When Rosalyn stood her ground and prepared to fight him, he released her arm and put his hands lightly on her shoulders, speaking with a kinder, softer tone, "You did what you had to do to save your family and yourself. We need you. Say your goodbyes and gather your things, my dear. Your life here is over."
Rosalyn slowly turned and walked back to her house, debating on whether to do as Duncan commanded or to run. There was a passage through the wall that the smugglers used to move goods in and out of the area. She could disappear through it and no one would be able to find her. Yet, somehow she knew he would never let her go; Duncan had way, she could tell. He would find her no matter where she went.
Entering the house, she found Shianni dressed in a clean gown and sitting on her bed. There was no more shaking but the half empty glass of wine in her hand could also take credit for that. When she saw Rosalyn, she rose, setting down the glass and taking Rosalyn's hand. "You took all the responsibility for what happened."
"I won't let you or Soris suffer for what I did. Are you going to be okay?" Rosalyn asked, concerned.
Shianni turned and faced the wall, looking into the mirror hanging there, "I'm…all right. No one but us knows what happened." She paused, rubbing her hands over her arms, picking at her skin, remembering what happened, "I just don't want them treating me like some fragile doll." She bent down to pick up the washrag she had obviously discarded before, wet it from the basin and began to scrub vigorously at her arms and face. Rosalyn reached over and took the rag from her hand and dropped it in the basin then put her arms around her cousin from behind, holding Shianni steady as she willed her strength into her.
Shianni sighed as she gathered that strength. "I love you, Roz," she said softly. "Make us proud."
Rosalyn looked at Shianni, broken and bruised, but still fighting, "I love you too, Shianni." She hugged her tightly, afraid to let go. "Maker watch over you," she whispered in her ear. Shianni nodded, "You too."
Soris was nowhere to be found so she left him a short note, saying goodbye and giving him her love. She gave the note to his fiancé, Valora, who promised to give it to him. She kissed Rosalyn goodbye, promising to take good care of him, her father and Shianni. "I'm glad Soris has you. You're just what he needs," she told Valora, who bowed her head as her tears fell.
Rosalyn changed her dress, putting her blood-soaked wedding dress back into the chest for safe keeping. Reaching into her boot for the small dagger she carried there, she sliced open a cut on the palm of her left hand. Making a fist, she squeezed it, watching the blood drip out onto the front of the wedding dress as it lay in the chest, mixing with the blood of Nelaros, Nola, and the others. "I will do this for you," she vowed, "I will not forget!" She kissed the ring on her left hand to seal that bargain then stood up, washed her hands and face, dressed her hand and combed her hair.
Her last goodbye was for her father. She found him outside of the house, waiting for her. Rosalyn had never noticed the lines of worry and care that lined his face as they did now. He had always seemed so young to her. He had aged many years that morning and she knew it was her fault.
Cyrion heard her shut the door and met her, taking her hands in his, "You stood for what was right. No father could be more proud, but I fear the road you are taking will not always be what you want it to be." Her father's arms enveloped her as they had so many times before, strong and loving. His words to her were the same ones he'd told her so many times before, "Take care, my girl. Be safe. And wise. And…well, you know. We'll all miss you."
Rosalyn nodded, tears threatening to take over. "Father, I am sorry for what happened to Nelaros. I…I really think I would have been happy with him." The tears took over and she threw herself into his arms and he cradled her as he had so many times before. Cyrion stroked her hair and murmured the nonsense he always had, not letting her see how his heart was breaking.
Slowly she pulled away from him and he planted a kiss on her forehead in goodbye. "I love you, my daughter," he said quietly, "May the Maker and the gods be with you." She turned and walked back to the gate, wiping her eyes on her sleeve to keep from looking weak to her new commander. Just before she was out of sight, she turned around and waved to her father as he stood in front of the housed, alone.
Passing the Vhenadahl, she stopped and placed her hands on the tree, closing her eyes as she had been taught. She could feel the power of the tree flow into her, binding her to her home, giving her strength to do what she needed to do. Her left hand tingled and there was a burning sensation in her palm. Rosalyn undid the bandage on her hand and looked to find the wound from her blood vow healed. She whispered a little thank you to the spirit who sent the power then headed to the gate where Duncan was waiting for her.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered, her chin lifting up to face him.
"Good. Then we leave for Ostagar immediately," he said, leading the way. Rosalyn turned to look back to the squalor and sorrow of her childhood home and squared her shoulders with a new strength of will. Turning, she walked through the gates and into a whole new world.
On The Road to Ostagar
Duncan had one stop to make before leaving the city, the Wardens compound at the royal palace. The place was deserted as all had gone to Ostagar for the coming war. He led Rosalyn to a small room off the main hall and she was surprised to find the room full of every kind of weapon she could imagine. Looking over at Duncan she asked, "These all belong to the Grey Wardens?"
Duncan laughed at her surprise, "Yes, child. And now they belong to you. What strikes your fancy, hum? You'll need to be well armed for what's to come. Take your pick."
Rosalyn thought she had stumbled on a treasure worth more to gold, "This is…magnificent! We were only allowed to carry bows and a dagger in the Alienage. I had to train with wooden swords." She walked to a rack of finely made bows and picked one up, testing its strength. She replaced it and picked up another, lighter, but more powerful in its draw, she shouldered it and went to a table of daggers. Testing several, she chose two finely made veridium daggers complete with runic tracery.
Duncan watched his young apprentice as she perused the weapon racks, her eyes wide with envy and greed. He chuckled to himself as he remembered another young apprentice who had spent hours in such a room, trying every weapon to find just the right one. He still carried the dagger he'd chosen that day. "Such a pretty girl," he thought to himself, "So very sad."
Looking down, he saw an old rucksack left behind; he picked it up, slipping out and walking through the other rooms, gathering necessities she might need; soap, towels, a comb and brush, thongs to tie her hair, and a small travel kit with flint and steel. He added some rose scented water he'd found in Rohan's room, a gift for his latest paramour, no doubt. He finished the packing with some small sized clothing, some cloth, and a sewing kit and joined her in the weapons room.
She had gathered a small pile of armaments that she had placed by the door. There were daggers, throwing knives, hundreds of arrows, a sharpening kit, and tools for arrow making, a bow and quiver. "How do you hope to carry all that?" he asked, amused.
"I am stronger than I look," she replied proudly, continuing to peruse the sword rack.
He laughed heartily at her statement and was pleased to hear her laugh as well. She smiled at him then, and her face lit up, pleasing him greatly. "Here," he said, tossing her the rucksack. "Some things you might need."
Rosalyn looked through the sack, smiling as she saw what he had packed for her. "All this for me?" she asked happily.
"You will need much of it. We camp rough and there are few luxuries. You should always be prepared for the worst," he answered. Rosalyn slowly took out the bottle of rose water and smiled, fingering it lightly.
"Thank you, ser…Duncan," she said softly and was rewarded with a deep bow and smile.
"Now that you have chosen your weapons, come with me and we'll get you outfitted properly." He bent to help her pick up her weapons and led her out of the room and into another room nearby. There she found another treasure trove of armor and plate, more than she could ever wear.
Duncan sized her up and began to pull things from the racks that might fit her, boots, chest pieces, gloves and a hood; all made especially for Grey Warden rogues. He selected two sets of heavily padded undershirts and breeches, telling her, "Try these on, I'll wait outside, but be quick, we should be leaving soon." He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Rosalyn quickly put on the armor, leaving some buckles that she would need help with. Opening the door, she found Duncan sitting at a table, eating some cheese he had found in the kitchen, pouring over a map. "I think whoever made this had a bit larger Warden in mind," she remarked as she walked toward him.
Duncan rose from the table and walked around her, perusing the armor and its fit. He walked back into the armor room, returning with another chest plate, "Try this instead," he suggested, helping her remove the one she wore and put on the new one.
With all the latches and buckles done, he stepped back to admire his work. "Very nice," he told her, "A proper Grey Warden now." Rosalyn smiled wide at his approval. She wanted very much to please him.
"What now?" she asked.
Duncan handed her the bow and quiver as she lashed her sword to her back and stashed the daggers and knives in their sheaths. "Off to Ostagar, we have a battle or two to fight. Are you ready?" She nodded, smiling up at him.
"Then it is time to start. You are a Grey Warden now," he said, leading the way to her adventure.
As it was late they traveled to a small inn outside of the city gates. Duncan got one room, explaining that Wardens often had to share and graciously offered her the bed while he slept on the floor. "I imagine you are very weary after your day." Rosalyn was thankful and insisted he take one of her blankets.
After a good meal in the tavern, she retired to the room for sleep but found she was unable to. She sat on the bed holding her left hand in the moonlight as it shone into the room. Nelaros' ring twinkled in the light, "like a star in the heavens," she thought. Rosalyn's eyes began to tear up as she thought about Nelaros. It would have been their wedding night, spent in a cozy room in their new home, not an out of the way inn on her way to battle. He was handsome, kind and brave and she knew she would have been happy with him in the end. He was there now, with Shartan and the old ones, at the Maker's side, safe from the trials they faced every day. There would be no prejudice there for him, only the love and kindness of the Maker's hand, she hoped. "I will remember," she told him.
She laid her head down on the cot and her thoughts turned to her future. Rosalyn knew the stories of the Grey Wardens as most everyone did. They were the heroes of the Blight, riding their Griffins into battle with the mighty beat of wings. Unparalleled warriors, heroes to be admired, she had heard. Looking at Duncan, she could see that, but what of her?
Rosalyn was a strong fighter, a near master with a bow and dual weapons along with some unsavory talents she'd picked up along the way. She had what she needed to succeed but doubt crept in; she was an elf, and a woman, a double-edged sword there. No one would take her seriously for anything unless it was as a household servant or a whore. She was neither.
Perhaps it wasn't so bad for her after all. The Grey Wardens were well respected throughout Thedas and treated well. As one of the order, she might have a piece of that respect as well. After all, wasn't Garahel, the last hero to defeat an Archdemon, an elf? Wasn't this her chance to do something better in the world; to rise above her station? It had to be better than what she would have had in the Alienage.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Duncan as he quietly entered the room, trying hard not to wake her. Rosalyn smiled at the big man, taking such care of her. "You needn't bother, I am awake," she spoke, smiling slightly.
"Forgive my fumbling around then," he said. "You are well?" he asked, concerned that she was still awake.
"As well as I can be, I suppose. It was supposed to be my wedding night, after all."
Duncan removed his chest plate and leaned it against the wall, stretching to remove the kinks from his muscles. "And here you are spending it with an old man," he remarked, chuckling as he lay down on his pallet.
"Not so old as you think, I would imagine, "she quirked, smiling.
"Old enough to be your father, I dare say," he added. After a pause he said, "Did you know I knew your mother?"
Rosalyn sat up, intrigued. "You did? My father never spoke of you, nor did she that I remember."
He snorted a bit, "I don't suppose your father would have. You mother, however, might have. I tried to recruit her before you were born. She was very interested but your father and Valendrian pleaded with me to hold off until later and I agreed. Perhaps it was for the better. It allowed me to wait until you were ready."
She smiled at his admission, and then grew silent for a while, gathering her thoughts. "Duncan?" she asked.
"Hmm?" he replied.
"What lies ahead?"
Duncan smiled, remembering a time long ago when he had asked his mentor the same question. The answer was always the same, "An adventure, child; with more wonders than you can dream. But it starts with a good night's sleep."
Rosalyn laid her head back, smiling at Duncan's reply, then closed her eyes and let the adventure begin.
They would be four days on the road to Ostagar. There were few travelers on the road so they made good time. Duncan had purchased her a new cloak and some blankets before they left Denerim, "It will be cold there and you should be prepared," he told her.
During the day, she amused herself, asking questions about the Wardens and Duncan himself, gleaning every bit of information she could. They began to share much with each other, something Duncan had not done for a long time. He found himself enjoying her company for more reasons than he cared to admit and she felt the same.
On the second night out from Denerim, Rosalyn was quiet, the recent events of her life catching up to her. They had camped in the woods, with a small fire, eating what they had managed to trap or kill during the day. She had been silent for a while, staring into the fire, when the tears had begun to fall, overwhelming her. Duncan had wondered when she would break and had watched her carefully for signs, knowing she would eventually. Seeing her now, he sat down beside her, gathering her up in his arms, stroking her hair as he knew her father might.
Rosalyn clung to him for the duration, finally spending all her tears and quieting. Duncan continued to hold her, feeling comforted by the touch of her himself. It had been a long time since he had felt like that. He looked into her eyes and saw the pain she felt and willed it away as he lost himself in the amber depths.
Her hand came up to his cheek and she slowly brought her lips to his, tentatively, a silent thank you for a great service given. Duncan was still, allowing the touch of her lips to his, feeling their softness and warmth. He hadn't wanted for it to happen, she was so young and he wasn't, but he felt it anyway, strong and steady, the inevitable desire that strikes a man when the woman is willing. His arms encircled her waist as he took her mouth in his, pulling her towards him. Her arms came around his neck, holding on to him, letting him have his way. His breath came heavy in anticipation and he pulled her into his lap, his hands stroking her body, feeling her come alive for him. Rosalyn shifted to straddle his legs, taking his mouth in a kiss then trailing her lips across his cheeks and neck, tasting him. He was unlike anyone she had ever met and she wanted him as he did her.
As soon as it started for them, the passion cooled slightly and they slowly pulled back, looking at each other apologetically. He spoke slowly, "Rosalyn…"
She brought her fingers to his lips, "Shhh…you need not say anything," she said quietly, "There has been no wrong here, Duncan."
"I am too old," he said, his voice tinged with regret.
"And I am too young," she answered. "It does not mean we cannot need, does it?"
He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel, "No. It does not."
"Then we will have this. We will be denied soon enough," she said. She pulled the ties of her shirt and removed it, baring herself for him. Yanking his shirt out of his breeches, he allowed her to pull it over his head. His breath became rapid as she kissed her way across his chest, her breasts and hips rubbing against him. Her mouth met his and she feasted, enjoying the power she had over him and his over her. Duncan lifted her and laid her on his sleeping pallet, pulling off his breeches and small clothes as she removed her own. He seized her mouth and showed her what need really was.
The Fortress at Ostagar
The fortress of Ostagar loomed tall in the distance as Duncan and Rosalyn approached. The day was clear and bright, the first in over a week, the guard at the first outpost had told them. They were waved through and soon found themselves at what had been the front gates of the old fortress. Rosalyn was amazed at the structure and its intricacies. She had thought the royal palace in Denerim to have been the most amazing structure she had ever seen and stopped short to take it all in.
Duncan laughed at her wonderment, allowing her a few minutes to acclimate herself to the new surroundings before placing an arm around her shoulders and drawing her away, "There will be time enough to explore, my dear. I will show you all there is to see," he promised her. Rosalyn smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead her away.
As the entered the fortress itself, Duncan stopped her with a hand to her arm. "What is it, Duncan?" she asked.
"I want you to stay within the fortress for now, love," he told her. "I worry there aren't enough troops to adequately protect us should the Darkspawn attack without warning. Arl Eamon's troops are on their way but it could be days before we see them."
"But I thought you said they had won several battles?" she asked, concerned.
Duncan looked down at her, "Loghain believes there are enough troops and has Cailan convinced as well. I wish I could make them believe they must wait. Too many troops are more desirable than not enough." He looked off in the direction of the southern wilds, "I know there is an Archdemon behind this," he said, more to himself than anyone.
Rosalyn's blood ran cold at his utterance, and she hugged herself to keep her composure. Duncan sensed the change in her and turned back, placing his hands on her arms. She looked up and asked, "What do you need me to do?"
He smiled at her, she had become a rock for him, "Explore the camp here as you wish, but do not leave it. I will prepare for the Joining and take care of some business. There is a Grey Warden in camp named Alistair. Seek him out when you are ready. Be careful, love, and I will see you later." He leaned down and kissed her, enjoying her taste and feel, trailing his lips over her cheek and neck. It crossed his mind to find a secluded spot where he could take her, he wanted her so. But there was work to do and no time, so with a last kiss, he reluctantly left her on the causeway.
She smiled, watching him walk away, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin and the warm sun on her face.
The fortress was unlike any place she'd been before and yet just the same. Rosalyn found herself mistaken for a servant or laborer too many times to count. The last straw had been the quartermaster. He had been apologetic but she berated him about his treatment of his servants, explaining she was a Warden and should be treated as one. It wasn't all bad though; as a result, she got a discount and a better price for the items she sold.
A Chantry sister was kind enough to give her a bowl of soup and some bread as she hadn't had anything since they had broken camp that morning. She and Duncan had been too occupied with each other to make breakfast and she had only grabbed a quick meal of cheese and bread.
She sat at the makeshift Chantry they had set up along with several other soldiers and workers, eating and listening to the sisters at their worship. It was pleasant enough and reminded her of home. Her father would be at services now, reciting the Chant with the others, sending his prayers to the Maker for her safety. Rosalyn sent her own prayers for his protection, Shianni's recovery, and Soris' safety. She found herself beginning to miss Duncan's company as she sat, and smiled, remembering their time together. Finishing her small meal, she thanked the sisters with a few coppers in payment and set off on her hunt for the other Warden.
Alistair proved difficult to find; everyone she asked either didn't know him or hadn't seen him. Her mood was fouling as in the end she was forced to conduct a campsite by campsite search, finally locating him in an old temple near the mages' camp.
There was yelling coming from the temple as she approached so Rosalyn thought it wise to wait until it had finished. Waiting quietly at the top of the stairs she looked at the parties involved in the one-sided argument playing out before her.
The mage seemed to be doing all the yelling. He was a middle sized, medium weight, average man, which did nothing to boost the man's confidence, she was sure. His target however was anything but average.
He was tall, a warrior who had trained long and hard; with muscular arms and legs from wielding a heavy sword and shield. His hair was the lightest brown with blond, combed back from his face, and he had the bluest eyes Rosalyn had ever seen. An intricate tattoo encircled his right eye, very similar to one Duncan had. Her pulse rose rapidly as she realized this was the long searched for Alistair, and even more surprised at the first words she heard him utter to her once the mage had departed, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."
Rosalyn blinked twice. Once for the man and once for the phrase he uttered. "Yeah, right," she said, sending him into a longer version involving something about holding hands with Darkspawn. Just as quickly, he moved on to asking her if she were a mage, which she denied, thus assuring him of his safety. "Wait, I do know who you are. You're the new recruit, the elven rogue. I'm sorry, I didn't notice."
She nodded at him, searching for her words.
"I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden," he replied, awkwardly. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"I'm Rosalyn," she said a little brusquely.
Alistair looked closely at her for a moment, as if memorizing her for future reference, or for lunch, she couldn't tell, "That was the name. I was wondering do you know why there aren't more women in the Grey Wardens?" he asked thoughtfully, regretting his words the instant they were uttered.
Rosalyn had no idea how to answer him. He was a handsome man and if she was to work with a shem, at least he was easy on the eyes; she could only hope he wasn't as stupid as he was sounding at the moment, "Probably because we're too smart for you," she answered, insulting him.
His eyes opened just a bit as the surprise wore off, but his reply was on par with hers, if not a little cautious, "Still, if you're here, what does that make you?"
"Just one of the boys, I guess."
"Sad, isn't it?" he replied, smiling down at her. Rosalyn was relieved, "Not stupid at all," she thought.
Not stupid was the rest of the conversation, involving fighting Darkspawn and battles, all serious subjects of interest to both of them. At the end, she admitted to him that she did like Duncan very much, though he had no idea how much; she was pleased to meet him and that she could handle the Joining Ritual even though deep down it terrified her. When he asked if she were ready to find Duncan, she agreed, admitting to him that she looked forward to traveling with him. Surprisingly, he was stunned at her admission, making Rosalyn wonder if she had said the right thing.
Alistair let her take the lead as they walked back to the campsite to meet Duncan and the other recruits, enjoying the view as they walked.
At the Warden campsite, she was introduced to Daveth, an admitted cutpurse from Denerim who told her he should have spent more time in the Alienage if there were beauties like her there. He was joined by a knight from Highever, Ser Jory, who groaned at Daveth but was polite enough to her. She thought Jory a bit of a snob and Daveth a little much but both seemed harmless enough for shemlen.
Their task was simple enough, go into the wilds to collect vials of Darkspawn blood for the Joining ritual and assist Alistair in retrieving some documents that were located at an abandoned Grey Warden outpost nearby. Understanding their mission, they departed, Alistair leading. As she left the campsite, Duncan stopped her, "Be careful," he whispered, his hand on her arm. She nodded, running to catch up with her companions.
They battled wolves and Darkspawn from the first, more than Rosalyn had thought they would. She had no trouble with the wolves, having honed her skills on the packs of dogs and the rats that periodically terrorized the Alienage.
Darkspawn were a totally different thing altogether. They were like humans and elves in that they fought as she did but that was where the similarities ended. Darkspawn were just as able as and more likely to kill you if they were injured than if not. "Don't get the blood on you," Alistair warned her, pulling her back from her latest kill, "It burns. Get it in your eyes and you'll go blind, Warden or no." she switched to her bow for the rest of the mission, by far her better weapon and a safer bet.
They found the Warden outpost, surrounded by a band of genlocks, so Rosalyn headed for high ground and began to pick them off, one by one; injuring others so they could be quickly dispatched by her comrades. Alistair was impressed with her skill, "Where did you learn to shoot like that in the Alienage?" he asked, amazed.
"My cousin Soris and I used to sit on the roof at night and pick off the rats and dogs that came to feed on the trash behind our house. I just pretended they were rats," she admitted. Alistair laughed out loud at that, making Rosalyn a little angry with embarrassment. When he had turned to lead them on, Daveth leaned in and said, "It's a compliment, Rosalyn. He likes you." She narrowed her eyes a little, watching Alistair walk ahead of her, but soon nodded, eliciting a wink from Daveth.
Entering the outpost slowly, they fanned out to locate the document chest, finally locating it on the back wall, smashed and broken. As she bent to examine the chest for clues as to what had happened, there came a voice she would never forget hearing the rest of her life, "Well, well, what have we here?"
Her name was Morrigan, tall and slender, with an ample bosom and eyes like a cat. She came slinking down the stairs at the back of the tower, barely wearing a garment that could only be called a rag. There was an air of sexuality about her that even Rosalyn, as the only woman, could not claim to be immune from. Even Alistair's outrageous utterance of, "Swooping is bad," couldn't faze her.
Rosalyn convinced her to lead them to her mother, who Morrigan had informed them was the current keeper of the scrolls they desired. The old woman was equally difficult to understand and could only be considered a "nutty old bat;" but despite everything, managed to give up the scrolls and get them back to the fortress. Rosalyn was sure it was not the last time she and the women would cross paths.
Duncan was waiting for them to return, his gaze lighting up at the sight of Rosalyn with noticeable relief. He allowed them some time to prepare themselves for the Joining, and Rosalyn took the time to clean up and get something to eat. At dusk she made her way to the old temple where she had met Alistair earlier in the day, finding Jory and Daveth arguing about the ritual and its need for secrecy.
Alistair was waiting for them there, his gaze smoldering as he took her in, causing Rosalyn to blush from the intensity of his scrutiny. He nodded towards her and smiled, and she nodded back, and then focused on the duty at hand.
When the time came to start, Duncan entered the temple, welcoming them to the ceremony, explaining the ritual and its history and purpose. Alistair spoke the words of comfort, spoken at every Joining: "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."
Daveth was first, taking the cup of Darkspawn blood in his hands and drinking, so sure was he of what he was doing. Rosalyn watched him succumb, his eyes turning white and his body collapsing to the ground in convulsions. She had never seen anything that struck so much fear into her and she found herself shaking from emotion and fright, nearly fainting herself.
Jory was terrified and appalled at what he'd witnessed, deciding to draw a blade on them rather than give in to their wishes that he drink. Alistair drew his sword and stepped forward to stand in front of her as she was unarmed, his hand on her arm in reassurance as she watched Jory die by Duncan's hand.
With her fellow recruits lying dead at her feet, Duncan looked to her next. Alistair squeezed her arm and nodded to her, indicating she should take her turn. She looked into Duncan's dark eyes and saw concern and worries but also something else she had never seen burning so brightly, conviction. He knew that what she was about to do was right. Looking first at Alistair then into Duncan's eyes, she took the chalice and tipped it to her lips, drinking a mouthful of the foul concoction.
What happened next was always fuzzy to her. She saw images of people she knew and those who had passed to the Maker's side. Her mother was there, and Nelaros came to her with promises of greatness and temptations the flesh. The real test was the dreams and she said no to the demons in favor of life. At last she began to return to consciousness, Alistair's voice guiding her as he spoke soothing words of comfort.
Rosalyn woke in Alistair's arms, her head aching and her body throbbing with pain or ecstasy, she knew not which. Duncan was there, her hand in his, helping her to her feet. She shook her head to clear the thick cobwebs that had formed, only to have them replaced with new ones. Looking down at her hand, she found she held an amulet of gold in the shape of the Grey Warden crest, pulsing in her hands like her heart. She knew she had changed and that change would come at a high price.
Duncan had told her that she had been summoned by the king to a meeting and had given her some time to gather her thoughts before joining him at the war council. Alistair had taken her hand in his, welcoming her as a sister in the order. His hand felt warm and good in hers and she found herself staring at it, marveling in the feel. When she looked up, he was watching her, his gaze thoughtful, with something else she didn't recognize, but felt good to see and feel. He squeezed her hand, holding on a moment longer than he should, then dropped it and turned to return to the campsite. Rosalyn's cheeks were red from exertion and the awkwardness of the situation and she lowered her head to hide it from him. He smiled and walked on and she knew he had no idea what affect he had had on her.
Feeling able to continue her duties, she left the temple to walk to the council area only to run into Duncan, waiting for her at the foot of the steps. He took her hand, pulling her to the shadows and into his arms, kissing her as he had in the nights they had been together on the road. Breathless with want and desire, he released her. "You…are alive. I was worried. The Joining can be so….," he trailed off, instead showing her his concern by taking her mouth, his hands running over her, assuring himself of her wellness, while inflaming their desire.
"Duncan…?" she uttered, not able to speak through the emotions that warred in her.
He released her slowly, gathering himself for his duty, to her, the Wardens and his king. "Later, love," he said. "I will come to you." She nodded and he turned and headed for the war council, Rosalyn following.
The king was in an argument with Loghain as he was every time the two met. Rosalyn quietly walked to the rear of the group, standing just behind Duncan. The strategy of the battle was laid out for all present, and depended on the lighting of a single beacon from the Tower of Ishal on the far side of the fortress complex. Loghain offered his troops to handle the task, but the king desired the Wardens and assigned Alistair and Rosalyn to the task. She stepped forward to accept the duty on her and Alistair's behalf.
Later, she sat at the fire in their campsite, stomach reeling from dreams, nerves and Darkspawn blood. She had already been to the bushes twice to empty her stomach, and so far had managed to keep down the bread Alistair had given her and half the cup of tea. "It's the only thing that worked for me," he said, apologizing for the tea. "Cooking isn't my best skill," he explained. Rosalyn wondered out loud just what his best skill was, causing a chuckle from him and a small smile from her which ended in choking and Alistair pounding on her back until she stopped him.
She set her sleeping pallet away from the fire, finding a secluded spot in the shadows. She laid her sword and bow down within reach, noticing that Alistair had moved his pallet a short distance away from her. She watched him as he laid it out then rolled to her side and closed her eyes, falling asleep in minutes.
Duncan came to her after the others had gone to bed, his hands on her, searching. She gave him what she had, and took what he offered, reveling in the feeling of being needed and wanted. It was power and she craved it for what it gave her, the satisfaction and the ecstasy. It was more addictive than lyrium and infinitely more desirable. She cried out, her face buried in his shoulder as he spilled into her, his mouth finding hers. Almost as soon as he was there, he was gone from her with words of endearment and an apology and she was alone again. Rosalyn looked over to see if Alistair had heard, and saw the crystal blue eyes, shining in the dark.
The morning came too quickly for anyone, especially Rosalyn. She was awakened from her sleep by Alistair, "Put on your armor and follow me," he told her earnestly. She rose and donned the armor, aware that he was nearby doing the same and could no doubt see her state of undress. Remembering why she was in that state, she blushed, knowing Alistair knew too. He said nothing, finishing his dressing, asking her to fasten some buckles and adjusting her breast plate when he felt it needed it. Satisfied, they headed to the fire, where Duncan waited on them.
"You will go to the Tower of Ishal, where you will light the beacon, signaling Loghain's men to charge," was the order.
"I'm to be left out of the battle again?" Alistair asked angrily.
"It is the king's desire that you undertake this task, a vital link in the communication chain. It is not for you to decide what you can and can't do here," Duncan rebuked him.
"So if the king asks me to put on a dress and dance for him, I'm supposed to do that too?"
Rosalyn's eyes opened wider as she contemplated his statement, "I think I'd pay to see that."
"I'd dance for you for nothing," he said, winking at her. Rosalyn smiled slightly at his regard and Alistair was pleased, realizing that he'd gotten her to smile. Duncan groaned, bringing them both back to the business at hand.
"You have your orders, head to your station," Duncan continued, "May the Maker watch over you both."
Alistair donned his helmet, answering his commander, "And you, Duncan," he said, turning to go.
Rosalyn stood still for a second, watching Duncan, then flipped up her hood and followed Alistair. She had gotten a few yards when she heard Duncan call her name. "Wait here, I'll be right back," she said.
"Hurry," was Alistair's reply.
She ran back to the fire and Duncan was waiting for her, "I wanted to tell you thank you," he said, struggling with the words.
"Why? I should be thanking you, I think," she replied, smiling at his fumbling.
He took her hand in his, "You gave me back my manhood," he answered.
Rosalyn felt the tears well up in her eyes at his admission. "You're welcome," she said, putting her other hand on his chest, near his heart.
Duncan suddenly became very earnest with her, taking both her arms tightly in his hands, forcing her to look at him, "I want you to hear me, Rosalyn, and hear me well. Stay with Alistair, don't lose him. He will protect you. Do you understand? You must stay together!"
"I…I understand, Duncan. Please tell me what's wrong," she pleaded anxiously.
Duncan looked off in the distance and his eyes were suddenly very far away, as if he had traveled to a distant place. Just as quickly they returned to her, "It is nothing, love, I hope. Just remember what I said."
"Of course, stay with Alistair."
"Be safe, love. Maker watch over you. Go now, Alistair waits for you." With that he took her in his arms, kissing her with all the passion and need he could muster, pulling back slowly to rest his forehead on hers. He released her and she turned to leave, shouldering her bow. When she turned back one last time to look at him, he was gone.
Alistair watched her as she approached him, noticing the tears in her eyes. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concerned.
Rosalyn put out her hand to touch his arm, changing her mind at the last moment and wiping her face on her sleeve, "Yes," she replied, swallowing her sadness, "Let's go," and headed towards the tower, flicking up her hood as she walked.
Alistair looked back towards the campsite and shook his head, sighing, the pieces coming together at last.
The battle had begun with the first charge by the time they reached the causeway. Alistair and Rosalyn stopped at the edge, watching the ballistas as they fired volley after volley into the horde as it charged the fortress. The army was outnumbered at least four to one that she could see.
Alistair suddenly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her aside, sheltering them against a wall as a fire bomb shot from a Darkspawn catapult hit right in front of them, exploding into flames that licked and burned everything within a twenty foot radius. He held her close as the flames dissipated, sheltering her with his body, and then held her face in his hands as he checked her for wounds. Rosalyn was weak-kneed as he held her, due to the possibility of death and his nearness to her. Convinced she was okay; Alistair gave her a hug of reassurance, and taking her hand in his, they worked their way across the causeway, avoiding the flames and ballistas.
When they reached the tower they found it was overrun by Darkspawn who had come up from the field below through an unknown tunnel in the tower's walls. With the help of the remaining guards they fought their way to the tower's entrance and found themselves in a floor by floor battle to reach the top and the signal flame.
"How did they get up here?" Alistair asked as they finished cutting down the latest wave to come from the tunnel.
Rosalyn let off another arrow, watching as a genlock dropped in front of her. "This is the same man who was complaining about being left out?"
Alistair laughed at her sarcasm, "A silver lining; I wouldn't have expected that." She smiled a little at his comment and he smiled broader.
Each floor became progressively worse as they went on, with more and more Darkspawn around each turn. As they opened the doors to the top floor, they found themselves face to face with a Darkspawn ogre, three times their size and four times Rosalyn's. She had never been so frightened, "Alistair?" she asked quietly, slowly inching her way to him.
Alistair's hand reached out and took her arm, more to reassure himself than her. Their companions, a guard and a mage, were slowly backing away along with them. Alistair sized the situation up, "Take the mage and attack from the right side, we will try to distract him long enough to let you do the work." She nodded and began to inch her way to the right, looking for cover behind some stacked barrels. "Be careful!" hissed Alistair, giving her a smile that steeled her resolve.
Unfortunately the ogre decided not to cooperate with their plan, heading straight for Rosalyn and the mage. She shot arrow after arrow, exhausting her store of poison. The ogre had slowed his attack, when Rosalyn noticed that Alistair had placed himself directly in its path. The beast reached out, knocking the guard away and pulled Alistair into a deathlike grip from which he was unable to escape.
"Alistair!" she screamed, letting off a volley of arrows into the ogre's neck, causing it to pause long enough for the mage to shoot a massive bolt of electricity, slowing it even more. Rosalyn shouldered her bow and reached to her belt for the last fire bomb and threw it at the ogre, setting it ablaze and releasing Alistair from its hold. He fell to the floor, dazed and coughing, and she grabbed the back of his breast plate and pulled him away as the mage froze the creature dead.
Helping him to his feet, she passed him the water skin, encouraging him to drink to clear his burning throat and checked him for wounds. The mage cast a healing spell on him in case he had other injuries they were not aware of. "H…how did you manage that?" he croaked, coughing.
Rosalyn gave him the water skin for another drink, "It's just like fighting the Carta back home," she said, handing him his sword.
"That's a story I want to hear," he remarked, giving her one of his near dazzling smiles.
"Perhaps," she said, heading for a large fireplace against the wall. "How do I….?" she asked. The mage stepped up and cast a short burst flame at the tinder and it went up, seeping quickly up the chimney to the beacon above. "Amazing," she said, looking up at the fire climbing to the top of the chimney.
Much of what happened next ended as a blur to Rosalyn and even Alistair had little memory of it. The Darkspawn had begun to retake the lower floors of the tower as they had proceeded up, effectively trapping them on the top floor. The door braces were failing so they started to take positions of cover to gain an advantage. Rosalyn got halfway to her hiding place when the doors gave way and the Darkspawn surged in, more than they could possibly fight.
The last things she remembered were the sound of arrows being loosed and the pain of a dozen arrow wounds. She fell to the floor, looking up to the sky only to see the flames of destruction and the shadow of a dragon.