This story is based on the Dragon Age game, as if you were playing a female noble rogue. It will go through the whole game, exploring the changes in the characters, mostly focusing on the main player and the relationship with Alistair (the script is godly, I'm totally in love with the character!). Please review!

I had so very little to cling to right now... Our trip to Ostagar went without incident and Duncan wasn't the talkative type, so it had given me ample time to muse over my manic attitude at the castle. I still dreamed of those events; my hands covered in blood, my father's creased visage contorted in pain, my mother's obstinate desire to stay behind and die with him... Why did she want so much to stay with him when it meant forsaking revenge on our betrayers? I was unable to understand how she could tell ME to escape and live, leaving me utterly alone, defenceless... If I could die in a blaze of anger facing those darkspawn, saving some lives, maybe it would make it even with the Maker? Just perhaps, it would atone me, make this feeling of unworthiness at not being with my parents go away. It was ridiculous, but I resented them for finding peace, while I carried the burden of their deaths on my shoulders. So much blood and murder...

The wind tousled my red tresses, the cold bite of the Korcari Wilds bringing sting to my eyes. Duncan strode forward, intent and dedicated as usual. I couldn't deny the respect I felt for this man, who had silently held my shoulders as I cried, looking back on the burning estate that was all my life in Highever. If anything, he understood my grief and gave it release, training me in blades at camp every night until I fell on my cot, exhausted. I was drained, emotionally remote; at least those skills would ensure I made blood flow aplenty before tainted swords made mine fly free on a battlefield.

He was gone now, taking Fang with him, giving me space to explore until I felt ready to undergo what he referred to as the "joining". The king had assured me justice would be served, but would it really bring solace now, after everything was said and done already? Howe deserved to die countless times over where I was concerned, nothing else would satisfy that dark streak building inside me every waking moment.

A sigh escaped my lips as my feet brought me to the edge of the Ostagar heights. You could look so far from here, yet there was no elation at the wondrous spectacle of those wild hills and woods, no wonder shaking her heart. I used to be a noble born, the girl everyone wanted to marry for her name and heritage, although I had a mean pleasure in scaring suitors with my boyish attitudes. Last time her mother... NO! She would not cry again, she was beyond tears, her heart exhausted of this crisis. Hands balled in her green eyes, tearing away the misty pain which was about to flow, drying unshed sorrow.

All that remained was war and the release death could bring to her battered soul.

Withdrawn... That was the best word that could describe her current mood. She breezed through the encampment on silent feet, a ghost amiss all the army contingents. Lightly armoured, delicate, yet grizzled veterans admired her form, her blazing eyes and the scabbard of dagger and sword on her back. No camp lady for sure, this one! I fleetingly noticed this, yet paid no real attention. I had to keep a firm grip on my self-control; else I'd break down again like a frightened child. I owed Duncan too much to make his recruits look like adolescents, Grey Wardens had a reputation to maintain and I'd be damned before I breached the implacable leader's judgement in me.

My boots scraped the stone of some antique building, where an armoured man and a tousled mage seemed to be arguing. Polite as usual, I kept to the shadowed arches, waiting for their exchange to be over. When the puffed up spellcaster breezed next to me, muttering curses under his breath, I focused my attention back to the ancient alcove. The man was actually smirking?

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together!"

I made a doubletake on that one, a bit startled. This... man was the Grey Warden Duncan referred me to? I wasn't expecting this sort of wry humour for sure, especially considering the impending war. Maybe I had been wrong in judging the whole order on my impression of Duncan.

"You're a strange man."

That he was, although I've been known to be more tactful than this with strangers. Appearances, noble upbringing and all...

"Eh, you're not the first woman to say that."

Alright, so it slid under the carpet easily. Mental sigh of relief I hadn't offended accidentally. Grim-faced, I studied this "Alistair"; tousled hair, bright eyes, firm jaw with a bit of stubble, honest expression and boyish grin. For some reason I was reminded of my now-dead nephew and his innocent interest in swords and war. There were some of those in him... What it innocent simple-mindedness that brought him to enlist in the order where carnage awaited? I couldn't quite picture this man slaughtering monsters with a passion! Curiosity got the better of me.

"So, how did you join the Grey Wardens?"

His explanation was reasonable, although wistful. Here was an adult with a teenager attitude who longed for more, elevated among something that didn't suit him and dreaming of a different life, which he achieved. Somewhere inside, I was glad he found what he'd been looking for when Duncan conscripted him, although part of me would exchange all my personal wishes for battle in the last years for the chance to be with my family again, even if it meant being in a dress and attending tea parties I dreaded. My happiness was a fleeting thing now if it meant my family was dead, but one couldn't change the past. Still...

"I'm ready, let's go see Duncan and get this over with."

Alistair studied her features as they walked back in the camp. Here was a... woman willingly joining the wardens and she looked nothing like what he had imagined. When Duncan had sent word ahead to expect a female recruit, he hadn't been able to picture anything else than a desperate girl with coarse features for some reason. But, here was a grown-up girl, walking with practiced grace, gentle steps and a smooth face. Despite her armour and the washed out blood splotches here and there, as well as the obviously used weaponry she dragged along, he would have seen her in fine gowns, at some noble's court instead of as a possible warden.

Her eyes were alight, but neither with joy nor excitement. Something had happened to her to make her like this. Fugitive assassin, former maid, who knew? Still, he couldn't indulge his curiosity (he didn't have a clue how to broach the subject) although his mind popped up various scenarios. The templar sighed, clenching his jaw and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

The Korkari Wilds... A dreadful swamp from the looks of it, littered with human and darkspawn corpses alike, smelling of death and worse. Finding blood meant finding stragglers of the blight forces and it wasn't long before they would find some. The company she had should have made her fidgety, what with the silent archer and the easily-scared knight, but it only contributed to her mounting anger. Faenya felt irritable.

I'm either going to find my death here in some forgotten ditch, or come back with what Duncan asked us to retrieve. Either way, closer to release...

An arrow sizzled close to a bush at her right and the reflex came automatically. Before she knew it, she had her blades in hand. At last! Not thinking straight, relying on instinct, she rolled amid the scattered, damp leaves, going around a tree and barely avoiding a missile. Daven was raining arrows on their foes, but while she could do the same with her short bow, she felt the need to engage them head on, see those darkspawn up close, and finally understand what her new life was bargained for by her dead family.

Silent, guiding her senses with her companions' war cry and stomping charge, she came face to face with one of the dreaded creatures. Nightmarish, twisted features convulsed with rage. Smirking tauntingly, she swept her wrist in their deadly dance, hacking into the fray. Ugly bastards!

Sensing an opportunity to feel a quivering life, imagining Howe's turned back on her, she savagely jumped on Alistair's target from behind, sinking a dagger in its ribcage, twisting it savagely. Yanking it free, she crossed the templar's gaze with grim determination, met his shocked eyes and turned around in search of more carnage.

Hours later and many corpses lying in the wilds, dead at their hands, they crossed a hill toward more ruined structures. Surely the Warden outpost lay just ahead... At the front, Alistair glanced through the bushes, trying to spy if more enemies waited in ambush. Not that he was worried they would be felled, after the savagery they had left in their wake.

Who would have believed that the strongest of our little troupe isn't the burly knight or this... fellow from Denerim? A little fear is healthy and I can understand their doubts in our safety, but her... Woah!

To him, it was as if all her targets were a personal enemy. But didn't she mention she had never seen any darkspawn before now? So that wasn't the source of her torment. Even though he was a seasoned fighter, he had balked in his first encounter with them, but she looked them fully in the face with determination and hacked their heads off as if it was nothing important. It chilled his blood, but also made him admire such courage.

Hopefully you survive the joining...

Their way back to the camp with Morrigan's amused smirk in their direction did nothing to balk her emotions. Meeting this implacable, unafraid woman and her mother had been disturbing to say the least, but the wary respect between her and those wild females had put her at ease. It was almost as if the old woman saw through her, into the very core of her pain and grudgingly accepted why she was so upfront.

The witch turned on her heel when they closed in to the barricade, not speaking. Her and Faenya exchanged a look, the wild mage nodding to her once in a respectful farewell before vanishing. No need for words between them, all was said in that single glance.

They reported to Duncan by the fire and then prepared for the joining ritual. She had no idea what kind of ceremony was in store, but Alistair's words resonated in the silent air of the ruins, echoing with her. Drinking blood enchanted to give them a taint? It soon proved fatal to Daven, who died in agony at her feet. Grim, she contemplated a similar faith.

I can't die like that, but I can't run from it either...

Watching blood fly in the crisp air as the coward was deftly skewered by Duncan's blade, she felt unafraid. Yes, this was death she brought to her lips, but she couldn't let herself be drawn in by this darkness. The fire in her mouth increased, her guts twisted in knots as the magic of the blood had its way with her, but she refused to relent. Vengeance wasn't served; this would be a meaningless way to go to the great beyond. With a groan, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

Hearing her rasp in pain brought unpleasant memories of his own joining to mind, but he couldn't let that affect him. Chin covered in blood, skin clammy, she convulsed on the paved ground while his mentor, Duncan, watched with a hopeful expression.

Did I look like this too when I went through this?

Alistair shivered; the poor girl looked like she had been struck by lightning, shaking madly, eyes white, moaning in gasps mingled with agony. He didn't want to watch but couldn't tear his eyes away. And then, it was over, she simply stopped moving. He feared she might have succumbed too, all their efforts to wasted, but her eyes opened slightly with a confused gleam.

"It is done."

There you have it, more on the way as I go through my current playthrough! Please review!