Hello! I'm always coming up with little stories in my head, usually involving Alistair and my Cousland, Esme. These stories range from all over the plot of Dragon Age Origins, and I thought I'd get them down, finally. So here they are. I'll hopefully put them in order to make sense. These are just one-shots depicting my version of DA:O and some of the aftermath, and I'm calling the compilation The Light Ahead.

Reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

- EA

Alistair.

The name of the man she did not know and the name of the man that Duncan had sent her to find echoed through her mind over and over again, bounding back in forth through the numbed barriers of her stunned conscious. Esme Cousland, an orphan, picked her way through the borders of Ostagar, thinking of little else besides of how foolish the king was.

You're a traitor, she thought to herself, the rational part of her mind picking up its torn pieces and fighting desperately against the oncoming tide of bitterness. He is the king. He knows what's best.

She passed by at least twenty soldiers, kneeling and nodding their heads to the highs and lows of the Revered Mother's voice. They relied so heavily on her words, and it set with difficulty in her heart.

By the Maker, they're going to be dead by sundown; she bit her lip, tucking back a piece of red hair that had fallen from her looped braids.

Esme came to an open area, and stood, watching the activity around her. The border towers of Ostagar had turned into a massive army camp in a matter of three days, rushing busily in order to meet the threat of the darkspawn. She could feel the tension in the air.

Cailan hasn't done a good job of maintaining morale, she thought back to her father's words on morale. It was necessary, beyond all things. A low morale could defeat an army before it even reached the battlefield. He's too confident in his legends. He's too pleased he'll be fighting alongside the Grey Wardens to even consider his men.

She shook her head. Who was she, to question Cailan's motives and pretend she was all-knowing of war strategy, when she hadn't even been able to protect her own parents? She was only a teryn's daughter.

A dead teryn's daughter, she corrected herself, and quickly she pushed the oncoming tide of grief from her mind.

Find Alistair.

She stopped a man passing by her. He was dressed in magnificent armor, and obviously had seniority over the soldiers surrounding her – this was evident by the way they watched him, like dogs waiting for their next command.

"Hello," he greeted her, surprised. He was old, but the experience was evident in his eyes. "I'm Teriel. Captain Teriel, technically, but that's only for them," he jerked his thumb backwards. "You're clearly not just another soldier. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Do you know who Duncan is?" Esme asked.

Teriel's eyebrows drew together.

"Of course. I'll be damned if you can't find a man in Ferelden who doesn't know that name. Ah, you must be the new recruit he's brought in from-" the man paused, realizing her most recent past. "What about Duncan?"

"He's sent me to find another Grey Warden – Alistair," Esme said. "Would you happen to know at all where he might be?"

"Alistair would be at the top of this hill, by the tower that's fallen down," Teriel pointed. "I believe Duncan had sent him to seek out a mage of some sort."

"Thank you," Esme smiled at the old captain.

"Not a problem. Luck be with you."

She nodded at the man before passing him by, beginning her trek up the hill.

Alistair, she thumbed the name over in her mind. He wasn't just a person she would be meeting to her at that moment. To her, he was the unknown. The symbol of her fate. He was a Grey Warden, as she would be soon. If things went wrong with him, Esme knew she would regret her choice of abandoning her parents for the rest of her life. She already regretted it, but at least there was a light at the end of the tunnel. As a Grey Warden, she could avenge her parent's death. Arl Howe would be killed within a year, and that gave her more satisfaction than anything. But if the Grey Wardens' turned out to be a mistake … Esme had no idea what she would do with herself. And for some reason, she had piled all of her fate and her hope on this one man, a man she had never seen. She only knew his name.

She finished the walk up the hill, and granite stairs with an even landing came into view. Sure enough, tower rubble surrounded the area. Off-handedly, she wondered what had happened to the tower. Something less devastating than what would occur tonight, she decided.

Two men stood on the landing, obviously arguing with each other. The first was tall, dressed in what she had come to recognize as Grey Warden armor, and a crooked smile was playing across his face. The second, considerably shorter and darker skinned, was dressed in long, golden robes that were clearly meant for mages. He was doing most of the arguing, that was for sure.

"…..What is it now?" the mage was saying, tiredly. "Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"Yes, well, I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence," the man said, his crooked smile disappearing and his eyes turning earnest.

"What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me," the mage rubbed his face with his hand. "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add!"
The crooked smile reappeared.

"Should I have asked her to write a note, then?"

Esme bit back a laugh.

"Tell her-" the mage's eyes flashed. "Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner."

"Yes," the man replied dryly. "I was harassing you by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

"By the Maker, I thought we were getting along so well!" the Grey Warden shook his head, regretfully. "And I was going to name one of my children after you, too! Alas, 'twill never be."

"Enough. I will speak to the woman if I must," the mage turned, and glared at Esme. "Get out of my way, fool." He shoved past her.

"Your rudeness does you no credit," the man said, a little too loudly. He turned to Esme, and paused. "You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together."

"Clearly, because everyone is getting along just so well," Esme said, giving him a hesitant smile and gesturing after the mage.

"You know, you just can't please everyone. Mages included. No, especially mages. I find most of the Circle to be extremely…thorny," the man added. He paused. "Wait. We haven't met yet. Please tell me you're not another mage."

"What if I told you I am?" Esme asked, and the crooked smile reappeared.

"I'm not sure I would believe you."

"And why is that?"

"You don't look like the mage-y type. Too much blood on your armor. Mages like to keep themselves tidy," the man pointed out, and she snorted. "Hold on. You're the new recruit Duncan brought in, aren't you? I'm sorry, I should've recognized you earlier. I'm Alistair. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

Despite the situation, despite the pressure and despite her parents having been betrayed by a man who practically raised her, she felt a little hope seep into the darkness that had surrounded her. Alistair was a nice start to the bleak road ahead of her.

"I'm Esme Cousland," she responded, taking the proffered hand, and smiling up at him. "Nice to finally meet you."