Author's note: This is my first fanfiction. I realize the story of the Warden has probably been done a thousand times already, but I still hope I can offer my very own take on it.
I apologize for any misspellings. In fact, I would be very happy if someone could point out my mistakes - I am not a native english speaker and will likely need a little help with my use of language.
The story is mostly about male Cousland and Zevran, but it is likely that all important characters from Dragon Age: Origins will make an appearance. Some characters may not exactly behave like their in-game counterparts.
I have rated the story as M mostly for future chapters.
Obviously, story and setting are owned by Bioware.
Please read, and pretty please review! I very much hope you enjoy it!
1 - Prelude
The world had darkened. Even here, in the Korcari Wilds, where things did not normally change much. The great cities could fall in chaos or rise in glory; it was all the same to the multitude of creatures dwelling here. They were tangled up in the ever-steady struggle of primitive life, hunting, being preyed upon, a circle of ending and renewal. It was a place where one would learn the value of power. And in times like these, power was needed more than anything.
The witch slowly paced through the undergrowth. She knew exactly where to place her foot, how to avoid the dangers that lurked about. These were her wilds, after all. Patiently, she stalked the four men who had just come from Ostagar. The fortress towered high above the wilds, it's mighty walls a monument against time, but, it was not often that Fereldans would descend and set foot into the unclaimed lands. Certainly not in a time of Blight.
The four were well armed, but a rather desperate sight compared to the masses of Darkspwan that crept through the vicinity. They had to be of the Grey Wardens, the witch concluded. She could clearly see them avoiding larger mobs of Darkspwan, and intently making their way deeper into the wilds, where there was an old ruin, a deserted outpost of the Grey Wardens. She knew what they were coming for.
As the humans slowly approached their destination, the witch intensified her stare, still hidden in the thicket. There was something... odd. Her attention focused on the man who appeared to be leading the small group, and she could not help but raise a brow.
He was not an exceptionally tall man, yet he somehow stood out.
He was not the strongest-built of the four, but he had an inexplicable air of danger around him.
He was not what one'd call handsome, but perhaps only because one might be inclined to use a word more explicit.
The witch watched him as he recklessly assaulted a darkspwan, a blood-drenched blade in each hand, and with one smooth, almost dance-like motion decapitated the creature. A hunch of excitement rose in her stomach. She had seen her share of fighters, but this one displayed a certain grace and effectivity in his killing that made her lips fashion a rare smile. Elegance and death were not always as contradictory as it would seem.
The humans were now getting close to the ruin. No further darkspawn in sight, they sheathed their weapons and fell into a slightly more relaxed step. The witch, however, shifted in her hiding place and was getting just the least bit uneasy. She was not one for nervousness, but she had not spoken to any strangers in quite some time, much less someone who might actually be worthy of her attention. Soon, she would have to show herself. What they were searching for was here no longer.
The leader of the four unhesitatingly stepped into the ancient ruins, prowling, staring, searching. He was now very close, still being eyed curiously by the hidden witch. His face featured a strange pattern of stripes, a tattoo, bestowing him with a naturally grim expression, but his skin was soft und flawless. He seemed much younger than she had expected, although the impression of youth was somewhat contradicted by his sheer deadliness and his broad shoulders.
His companions followed him into the ruin. They were all quite young, but appeared at least a few years older than their leader, which made it all the more surprising how obvious their acceptance of his authority was. The witch felt all uneasiness in her body fade as she finally got ready to face the strangers. She found it much less tiresome to deal with men or women who commanded some semblance of respect and power. In fact, this could even be interesting. Yet it was not to be an exercise in social graces. It was crucial that she persuaded these men the treaties they had come for were in her possession, or rather her mothers, anyway. They had already discovered that the ancient chest which was supposed to hold the valuable documents was empty.
The which let out a soundless sigh. Grey Wardens. She could feel a hint of sympathy for them, always fighting and struggling against the odds in the attempt to save mankind and whatnot from oblivion and the utter madness that was the Blight. Surely, this experience must have opened their eyes and freed them from the merrry chains of illusions and self-imposed unfreedom most people were so eager to adhere to, especially the followers of the chantry. At any rate, the Grey Wardens did what was necessary, no matter the cost, and this alone proved some deeper understanding on their side, the kind of deeper understanding the general populace was so distinctly lacking.
Feeling no fear at all, she stepped out of her concealment and into the sight of the supposed Grey Wardens, fully aware of her own beauty and the striking impression she usually provided.