Her vision was blurry. Elisabeth blinked a few times to bring Alistair and Duncan into focus above her. She still felt some lingering pain, but nothing comparable to what she had felt after drinking the blood.

"It is finished," Duncan said, leaning over her. "Welcome." He took one of her hands to help her up, which she took a bit shakily. Alistair, on her other side, took the other and also supported her with a hand behind her back.

"I remember my Joining," Alistair said as he helped her up to slightly unsteady feet. "Only one died, but it was awful. I'm glad that y—that at least one of you made it through."

Duncan asked her how she felt, and Elisabeth took stock. Already, the shaky feeling was fading, and all that was left was a minor headache. She was surprised it hurt so little—surely she had struck her head when she hit the ground? She glanced over again where Jory had lain, but all that remained was his blood—they had carted away his and Daveth's bodies while she lay unconscious.

"I'm fine," she replied simply.

Alistair then presented her with a locket containing some of the blood from the chalice, calling it "tradition." She took it, feeling only slightly uneasy at the thought. Duncan also informed her that she was invited to a meeting with the king.

"Me?" she replied. "Why?"

"I'm not sure, but the king specifically requested your presence. Perhaps he means to congratulate you on your successful joining," Duncan suggested.

Elisabeth hoped that was the truth and not that the king wanted her there because of any relation to her nobility. She remembered what had been told to her—her past didn't matter anymore, and she clung to the hope that perhaps she could attempt to embrace that ideal. That she could grow into her position as a warden and not have to constantly be reminded of what had happened to her family by living as a noblewoman still.

It was selfish, perhaps. But if she could, Elisabeth would forget what had happened to her. Or, if forgetting was not possible, she would not acknowledge it. After the battle, she would deliver the news to Fergus, he would take over as Teyrn, and justice would be brought upon Arl Howe—if not from Fergus himself, then from the king as promised. She could rest assured that things would be handled in that regard.

She could not bring her parents or her life back, so Elisabeth saw no happiness in clinging to a life that was gone forever.

Duncan left for the meeting, telling her to join him when she felt able, and Elisabeth was left alone with Alistair, who seemed hesitant to walk away. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again, seeming unsure of himself.

"I'm all right," Elisabeth assured him, fiddling with the locket in her hands. It was quite nice, in a very plain way. She supposed that this would be normal for her—fewer fine things, more plain or meaningful ones. Taking in how Alistair's weight shifted from one foot to another, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you quite all right?"

Alistair waved a hand as if to wave the question away. "I'm just…well, I won't lie, I'm a bit shaken up by this Joining as well," he admitted. "Seeing what Duncan did to Jory then…I just want to be sure you know that he had no choice. Duncan's not a cold man, not a bad man. He didn't want to kill Jory."

Elisabeth saw the desperate look in Alistair's eyes at those words. "I understand that," she replied. "I don't think less of him. I wish it could have happened differently, certainly, but Duncan did what he had to do. I'm only glad that I wasn't in his position, because I don't think I would have been able."

With a nod, Alistair glanced quickly over at the bloodstain and back again. "There's no going back," he said, as if repeating a mantra. "As soon as you go into the Joining, your old life is over—it's not just when you drink of the blood. It's then, at the beginning. There was no choice."

"Are you convincing me, or yourself?" Elisabeth asked.

"It's not that, it's just…" Alistair looked up from where he stared at the ground and met Elisabeth's eyes again. "I'm sorry that your old life is over, for what it's worth."

"What do you know of my life?" she asked, the words seemingly harsh but her tone gentle. "Perhaps it's good. I might have had nothing. Daveth had nothing."

"Yes, but Jory had everything," Alistair countered. "He decided it was too much to give up. And I know, no matter what you had, it's not easy to let go of familiarity, not matter what your life was like." Alistair took a tentative step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I just want you to know that you're part of a group now where every member knows what it means to sacrifice everything."

Elisabeth nodded, clinging to a neutral expression as her chest twisted and constricted. She didn't know the other members of the Grey Wardens yet, but she had a feeling that they hadn't known quite as much sacrifice as she had in only a matter of days. The pain was fresh; it seemed that there was no end to it. She could practically still see it all, still hear it, smell it…

She took an abrupt step backwards, almost harshly jerking away from Alistair's hand. "I should be going," she said quickly, casting her gaze to the ground. "To the meeting."

"I…yes," Alistair stammered, most likely put off by her behavior. "Certainly. I'll see you and Duncan later." She didn't look up to see him walk away, only heard the fall of his boots, the familiar sound of heavy armor against stone.

Elisabeth crouched, cupping her hands over her nose and mouth as her breathing became shaky. Her heart beat fast, as though she were there, in the middle of battle, fighting for her life.

The man cut down in her door. Her sister-in-law and nephew in pools of blood. Her mother swinging a sword at an attacker's head. The piles of bodies. Gilmore running towards the doors. Her father…dying in a pool of blood in a pantry. Her father, who deserved a better and more dignified end than that. Leaving them behind and letting Duncan get her out—saving herself over them.

She knew sacrifice.

A few minutes passed as she crouched there, attempting to pull herself back together. Eventually, she calmed down enough to consider standing straight, and she dried her eyes—at some point, tears had fallen from them, though she didn't really remember. Elisabeth ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her leather armor.

Once she was put back together, she rolled her shoulders back, shook her loose hair over her shoulders, and walked off in the direction Duncan had indicated, keeping her head held high like the lady and warrior she was.

She might not be a noblewoman anymore, but she'd carry herself with the respect of one until the day she finally died.

"I don't know why he wanted me there at all, to be honest," Elisabeth said, fiddling with one of the straps on her new boot, buckling it and unbuckling it. A quick stop by the quartermaster after the meeting had seen her outfitted with some basic heavy armor—not anywhere near the quality of the custom-made pieces she was used to, but certainly better than what she had been wearing for the past few weeks. She had been assured that eventually she'd receive her own Grey Warden armor, but there simply wasn't any available right now.

Alistair shrugged, looking annoyed at the situation still. "Probably just wanted to see a brand new Grey Warden—he's bloody obsessed."

Elisabeth cocked her head to the side, curious at the bitterness in Alistair's voice. "You don't like the king much, do you?" she asked.

"Oh, I mean no disrespect to His Majesty, of course," Alistair replied, his tone just as dripping with sarcasm as before. "If he spent half as much time listening to Duncan as he did admiring the ideals of the Wardens and seeking glory for his own self, I'm sure he'd be perfectly adequate at his job."

Unable to suppress a tiny snort of laughter, Elisabeth shook her head. "He certainly has glory on his mind more than the safety of his kingdom against a Blight it seems."

"Yes, well, hopefully this plan will work for holding the horde off—nothing short of destroying the Archdemon will stop the Blight, though."

"And this Archdemon still hasn't been seen?" Elisabeth asked, trying to remember if she'd ever read about one of these monsters or heard it described in a lesson at some point. She wanted to be sure she knew it when she saw it.

"According to Duncan, yeah," Alistair said. "It's probably still in the Deep Roads, gathering the darkspawn armies. This is only a fraction of what a Blight can be."

The thought did not encourage Elisabeth. "I'm a bit skeptical of being able to even make a dent in this," she admitted.

"Well, from what I heard, we were meant to have more troops that haven't arrived," Alistair commented and Elisabeth felt her blood run cold. Of course. Her father's missing troops. She struggled to push the memories away again as Alistair continued, not noticing her reaction. "With Loghain's men providing the flanking charge, though, we should have a good chance. Won't be without many losses, though," he added worriedly.

More losses than there already had been; the thought was overwhelming. "I guess our role is rather important, then," she said quietly.

"Oh, come on!" Alistair exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Yeah, it's important, but we're Grey Wardens! We should be fighting darkspawn; it's literally our entire job! This is a role for some page or something. The Tower has been clear since we got here."

"Don't yell at me; I'm on your side," Elisabeth shot back. "I'm just as upset as you that we won't be fighting."

Alistair sighed, leaning back against the stone pillar behind him. "I know. Sorry."

Elisabeth rolled her eyes and set to gathering her long hair in her hands, readying to tie it back. "You were a Templar before this, didn't you say?" she commented. "Surely you saw some excitement in that life."

"Hardly," Alistair snorted. "I was never a full Templar—I never finished my training or took my vows. I was conscripted before that. And I've never been in anything even close to this scale." He turned his head lazily to the side to look at Elisabeth. "What about you? See any big battles in your day?"

Elisabeth froze for a split second as she was fishing a length of twine from her bag beside her. She wished the answer was as easy as it would have been only a month ago.

Burning bodies. Screaming servants. Swords clanging. Blood…everywhere.

"No," she replied quietly. "Nothing too big." She tried to tie her hair up with the twine, but found her hands shook a bit; the length fell from her fingers. "Dammit," she muttered, trying to keep her mass of hair together as she reached behind her to look for the twine.

"Here, let me," Alistair offered, grabbing the twine before she could. He quickly tied it in a knot around her hair, holding it securely up. His hand brushed against hers as he drew it back and she let go of her hair.

Elisabeth pulled her hand away as though she'd been burned. "Thank you," she said quickly. "We should probably get going; the battle will be starting soon."

"Right," Alistair replied, his voice having some of the same unease as hers did. "I suppose we should." He stood first and, after a moment's hesitation, held a hand down to help her up as well.

She let him pull her to her feet. "I guess it's time to go be Grey Wardens then, isn't it?" she said. "No matter how uneventful."

"At least we'll have a good view of the battle," Alistair commented as both of them started walking towards the great bridge, where the sounds of fighting were beginning. "Should be exciting to watch at least."

They jogged up the stairs, both breathing hard, the circle mage and Stirling a few steps behind them. "This is insane," Alistair said. "The tower was supposed to be empty!"

"Weren't you just complaining that you wouldn't get to be in the battle?" Elisabeth shot back, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Weren't you?"

"Not nearly as much as you, certainly." They reached the staircase door and pulled it open. Immediately, Elisabeth began hearing that sick buzzing in her ears—the Grey Warden ability to "sense" darkspawn. It seemed there were still a lot.

Alistair heard it too. "Why are there so many darkspawn here?" he questioned wildly as the group stopped to catch their breath before charging into battle again.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. "You could try telling them that they're in the wrong place," she suggested.

"Oh, right, because this is all just a huge misunderstand. We'll laugh about this later," Alistair replied sarcastically.

With a small, almost humorless laugh, Elisabeth shook her head. "Somehow, I don't doubt that you will."

Alistair glanced over at her in surprise and, for just a moment, they seemed to share what was almost a smile. Then a genlock charged around the corner and began calling in its wordless shriek, summoning even more of its kind, and the two warriors drew their swords and dove into battle again.

"The signal is lit, isn't it?" Elisabeth asked, looking over the edge of the tower down at the battlefield.

"Burning brightly," Alistair confirmed from the spot he'd lit the flame.

Elisabeth scanned the field but she still didn't see it. She didn't see the tide turning, she didn't see more men joining. "Loghain hasn't charged yet!" she said, scanning the distance to see if she could make out his army's position.

"What do you mean he hasn't charged?" Alistair demanded, starting to walk over to where she was standing, but stopped when they both heard the buzzing begin and the door bang open. A cry of pain rang out and they turned around just in time to see the young circle mage run through with a hurlock's sword.

The group of darkspawn was upon them too quickly. Elisabeth couldn't even get her sword unsheathed before an arrow pierced her shoulder, sliding in perfectly between two pieces of armor. She cried out with the pain, feeling it radiate through her body from that spot—she fell to her knees in surprise and couldn't move her arm to grip her sword, pain making her sword arm weak.

The darkspawn were running up on her too fast—she was already injured from the battle with the ogre, and exhausted from the continuous battle up the tower—this arrow might be the last nail in her coffin, the thing that let her be overtaken by these darkspawn and slain. "No!" she heard a voice cry out, and suddenly, someone was between her and the darkspawn.

Alistair's sword clanged off of those of the genlocks as Elisabeth struggled to push herself back up and draw her own weapon. She heard Alistair yell out in pain and looked up to see one of those horrid darkspawn knives sticking out of his thigh sickeningly. "Alistair!" she shouted, concerned.

He turned towards her voice, just a split second reaction that gave a Hurlock enough time to smash a shield into the side of Alistair's head. Elisabeth watched in horror as her fellow Warden flew to the ground and didn't move, eyes closed. "No!" she screamed, pushing herself to her feet in a burst of adrenaline, intent to make it over to Alistair.

The Hurlock was on her too fast, and striking with its sword directly to her stomach. The armor gave way, weakened as it was already, and she felt the blade plunge into her. Her eyes widened as the white-hot pain spread through her body, a hundred times more agonizing than the arrow in her shoulder. The pain was only magnified again when the monster yanked the blade back out and she fell to her knees, then onto her stomach, cheek landing on the cold stone floor.

She was looking directly at Alistair's unconscious face, seeing a large river of blood now flowing from his head. As her vision started going dark, she felt a huge rush of wind come over her, and then it was almost as if she was flying, cradled in some great arms.

Was this what it felt like to die?