The Lady of Highever: The Tale of Ferelden's Hero

Part One: The Battle at Ostagar: The Futility of Men

(Ostagar/Korcari Wilds)

Duncan and Guinevere arrived at Ostagar a few days later, Guinevere naught having spoken more than five words during the journey. She was reliving the events in Highever inside her mind, trying to find some indication that her parents could have been saved. Try as she might, she knew that nothing could have been done, and she must honour her father and mother's last wish of bringing Arl Howe to justice. Guinevere, however, felt her resolve wane as they approached the King's Highway. She was unsure of how to tell Fergus.

A heavily armoured man stood with a huge grin on his face, and readily greeted them, "Ho there, Duncan!" the man embraced Duncan who was slightly taken aback.

"Your Majesty…I was not expecting—"

"A royal welcome?" the King laughed, "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

Duncan chuckled, "Not if I could help it, your Majesty."

Cailan clapped him on the back, "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!" he noticed Guinevere out of the corner of his eye and smiled noticeably, "The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit," he motioned to her, "I take it this is she?"

Duncan nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty," but Cailan waved him off and approached her himself.

"No need, Duncan," he smiled at her again, "You are Bryce's youngest, are you not?" Guinevere felt a stab of pain upon hearing her father's name, "I don't think we've actually met…"

Guinevere nodded though slightly flashed a knowing smile only the king noticed, and he winked in response, "Yes, your Majesty," she bowed respectfully, "My name is Guinevere."

He beamed at her with admiration, "Your brother has already arrived with Highever's men, but we are still awaiting your father," he glanced at her expectantly, and she lowered her head in sadness.

"He's not coming," she shook her head; "He died when our castle was taken."

Cailan's faced paled, "Dead?" his faced was filled with disbelief, "What do you mean?" when Guinevere found no words to answer he turned to his friend, "Duncan, do you know anything about this?"

Duncan took him aside, and spoke quietly, "Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, your majesty," his face darkened, "Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle," he motioned to Guinevere, "Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished." He closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought.

Cailan was shaking his head, "I…can scarcely believe it," his expression became cold and he turned back towards them with dark eyes, "How could he think he would get away with such treachery?" he snorted in disgust and pointed in the direction they had come from, "As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice," he took Guinevere's hand and squeezed it, "You have my word."

Guinevere bowed, "Thank you, your Majesty."

Cailan waved her off, as if saying that it was unnecessary to thank him and that it was his duty to help her, "No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting the Wilds."

Guinevere's face turned sad and she gazed at the king with great sadness in her eyes, "I am not eager to tell him, your Majesty," and it was true. She had no idea how she would begin to tell Fergus of his wife and son's murders…or of their parents' martyrdom. Guinevere wanted to prolong his pain, yet she knew it was inevitable.

Cailan lowered his eyes, "Of that, I have no doubt," he managed a smile and tried to sound reassuring, "You will see him again once the battle is over, I am certain," he patted her back once and started back towards his entourage glancing back at her, "I apologize, but there is nothing more I can do," he sighed and motioned out towards the Korcari Wilds, "All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being."

Guinevere grinned fiercely, her inner battle instincts were itching to spill blood, "So long as Arl Howe pays," she clenched her fists in fury, "I'm happy," Cailan seemed to be pleased with her eagerness for bloodshed. Guinevere Cousland was renowned for her skill with a blade and her warrior prowess. Cailan was glad to have her on his side, and not dead or opposing him. He shook his head and turned back to Duncan.

"I'm sorry to cut his short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies," he rolled his eyes as he turned away and started back up the path.

Duncan called out to him, "Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week!" Cailan stopped walking and erupted into laughter, he called over his shoulder.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory," he caught Guinevere's eyes and grinned with pride, "We've won three battles against these monsters, and tomorrow should be no different."

Guinevere cocked an eyebrow at the young king, "You sound very confident of that."

Cailan shrugged and chuckled, "Overconfident, some would say!" he turned to Duncan and winked, "Right, Duncan?" he laughed yet again.

Duncan did not return the king's humorous manner and spoke seriously, "Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as…" he paused as he searched for words, "quickly as you might wish," Cailan snorted and waved him off.

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," he thought for a moment, "There are plenty of Darkspawn on the field," he sighed, "but alas, we've seen no sigh of the archdemon."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?"

Cailan nodded and sighed deeply, "I'd hoped for a war like in the tales!" his eyes brightened, "A king riding in with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!" he paused, then said quietly, "But I suppose this will have to do," he sighed once more, "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!"

He turned and made his way up the hill, and Guinevere glanced at Duncan, to see him shaking his head, "What the king said is true. They've won many battles against the darkspawn here."

"Yet," she paused, "if I may be so bold, you don't sound very reassured," Duncan nodded and motioned for her to follow him down the King's Highway.

"I know there is an archdemon behind this," he sighed, "but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling."

"Then maybe we should move quickly," she was anxious to get a move on, find Fergus, tell him what happened, and go collect Howe's treacherous head.

Duncan nodded in agreement, "Yes. We should proceed with the ritual."

The two walked and as they reached the bridge, Guinevere felt her stomach grumble, "Err…a hot meal might be nice, first," she giggled slightly.

Duncan laughed as well, "I agree, and we have until nightfall to begin the ritual," Guinevere seemed confused so he continued, "Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining, in order to become a Grey Warden. The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon."

Guinevere looked out over the bridge into the Wilds; the vast marsh woodland filled with eerie abandoned structures that surrounded Ostagar, "I need to find Fergus."

"You heard what the king said; he is scouting in the Wilds and beyond contact," he started to say that there were more important things to worry about, but changed his words, "Be patient, my lady," he rubbed her shoulder gently, "He will return."

Guinevere was silent for the longest time, her expression was blank as she scanned the Wilds, and Duncan was unsure if she had heard him or not, and was about to ask if she was alright but she cut him off.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Feel free to explore the camp here if you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being," he glanced at the large Mabari at Guinevere's side, "Your hound can stay with me while I attend to some business," this earned a happy bark from the hound, and he trotted to Duncan's side, "The Grey Warden tent is on the other side of this bridge. You will find us there, should you need to. Seek out a young man called Alistair if you find yourself with the time. He is also a Warden."

He crossed his arms and bowed in a salute, and started across the bridge with Briar at his side. Guinevere remained on the bridge a while longer, gazing out into the Wilds, desperately hoping that she would spot Fergus and the Highever knights amongst the trees, but saw nothing. She turned away and started across the bridge and into the main camp. She walked past a heavily armed man, whom she recognized to be a member of the Templar Knights. She was about to continue on when something behind him caught her eye.

Within the area he was guarding, were four or five mages. Magic swirled around them, but the mages were unmoving. One in particular piqued her curiosity, an elven woman with long white hair. Despite her pale hair, she was very young, with dark bronze skin. She wore robes that seemed more like those that the Chasind would wear, her appearance more earthly than her fellow mages. She took a step towards the opening in an effort to get a better look, but the Templar held up his hand in protest.

"The mages must not be disturbed whilst they are connected to the Fade. I suggest you move on, miss."

Guinevere muttered a small apology and turned to go, when a woman's voice stopped her, "Greetings, young lady. You are Duncan's new recruit, are you not?" Guinevere faced the woman, who was older, with silver hair and soft wrinkles upon her complexion. She was dressed in a plain mage's robe, entirely different from what the elf had been wearing, and Guinevere spied an intricate wooden staff propped against the wall where she stood. She nodded in response to her inquiry, earning a smile from the mage, "He is not a man easily impressed. You should be proud."

Guinevere thought about this, and realized that she was proud. Even though she had at first just wanted to extract revenge upon the Arl of Amaranthine, she found a sense of belonging within the order. Although she was not yet officially a member, Duncan made her feel like one, and she was glad to put her years of training and hard work to the highest cause; protecting the lands from the vile darkspawn.

The mage came closer to her, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king."

Guinevere saluted her with the same salute Ser Gilmore and Duncan had done to her, the salute of respect and comradery, "I am Guinevere Cousland, daughter of the Teyrn of Highever," she saw Wynne grin as she spoke.

"So you are young Fergus' sister? You are as beautiful as he described, and I am sure he will be glad to see you," she gestured to the camp, "As will most of the soldiers, I presume. Stories of your skill reach even the Circle of Magi, my dear. You are quite famous, for being so young," she laughed slightly, "At any rate, you are well met. Good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact."

"King Cailan thinks the battle will go well," she recalled the king's great confidence, and Duncan's doubts.

Wynne shrugged her shoulders, "The king must always seem confident. His behaviour affects the troops' morale. He does seem to find his enthusiasm easily, though," she paused briefly, "Reminds me of a puppy," she glanced at Guinevere and upon seeing her amused expression, added, "and I say that with both respect and affection. He is a fine man."

A group of Templars walked by, one without his helm eyed Wynne suspiciously, and Guinevere thought she saw disgust in his eyes. Wynne said nothing but held his gaze until the group passed. She turned back to Guinevere with sad eyes, and Guinevere recalled that the Circle of Magi had little freedom, and were under Templar control. She could feel the tension between the two groups, as it filled the air.

Wynne motioned to them, "To defeat the darkspawn, we have to work together," she sighed and glanced towards the Templars, "It's not an idea everyone seems to grasp."

Guinevere grew curious, "Do you know much about darkspawn?"

Wynne nodded slightly, "Some. Do you?" Guinevere had never really thought about it and tried to think of something. Wynne helped her along, "Do you know about the connection between them and the Fade, for example?"

"I know the Fade is where you go when you dream," Guinevere gazed at the mages within the hollow with curiosity. They were not dreaming, yet were in the Fade. She did not understand. Wynne followed her eyes.

"Anytime your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it's to dream or to die, it passes into the realm we call the Fade. It is also possible to enter the Fade by means of ritual," she gestured towards the mages, "It's home to many spirits, some benevolent, some far less so. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City."

Guinevere nodded, her lessons from Scribe Aldous, the sage that resided in Castle Cousland, and taught squires the history of the Cousland line. He also spoke of other regions, Orlais and Antiva being the main two, and briefly spoke of the Fade. If she recalled correctly, the Black City experienced some tragedy.

"I've heard that. Didn't something bad happen there?"

Wynne nodded, and seem greatly impressed that she knew of the Black City, "Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when mages from the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the city, it was tainted with their sin. The taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts," she shook her head and sighed, "And the Maker cast them back to the earth, where they became the first darkspawn," she shrugged and chuckled slightly, "At least, that's what the Chant of light says."

Guinevere snorted. She was not a strong supporter of the Chantry, and only put up with the Chanters in Highever's chapel because her mother was a believer. The irony of this was that she was named for the prophet, Andraste. So, it was naturally assumed, by all who knew her full name, that she believed. She turned to Wynne with an unimpressed expression.

"The Chantry says many things."

Wynne nodded, her doubts of her own words were visable upon her face, "It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering," she crossed her arms, "Or it may be true. It is as good an explanation as any, for now."

Guinevere considered her words, but decided to reflect on them when she had more time. She gestured to the sword sheathed on her back, "I'll just kill every darkspawn I see."

Wynne laughed and nodded, "A wise attitude," she smirked, "It's worked well for me in the past," she laughed again. She smiled and leaned against the pillar her staff was resting on, "I'm certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me. Our paths will cross again, of that; I am most certain," she gave a small wave and Guinevere saluted her once more, before continuing into the certain of the camp.

She stood still for a moment, taking in the different sounds and smells. She heard dogs barking from a nearby kennel and the familiar clang of swords, probably sparring soldiers. She turned and spied a lavish tent, complete with an armed guard. Her curiosity proved overpowering, and she made her way over to it. She did not get but four feet from the tent when the guard halted her.

"You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain. State your business."

Loghain? As in the Hero of River Dane? The Teyrn of Gwaren? He and her father spoke on numerous occasions, but she had never had the pleasure of meeting him personally, and had only seen him at the Landsmeet. Guinevere considered the Teyrn to be one of her main influences in her wanting to become a warrior. A poor farmer climbing the ladder to become counsel to the king and head of the Ferelden Army could be compared to the daughter of a Teyrn who is supposed to lead a sheltered life away from harm and bloodshed. Instead, she became more so a warrior and less of a noble.

"Is the Teyrn inside?" she blurted out, reminding herself of the squires back home, "What is he doing?"

The guard shifted nervously, and Guinevere could tell that he was not used to being questioned, or perhaps, spoken to, "He's inside, but…I don't think it's my place to discuss his activities."

Guinevere straightened herself, "I would like an audience with the Teyrn, please," the guard eyed her up, and she gathered that he did not wish to disappoint a pretty face.

"Hmmm," he glanced towards the tent, "I suppose you have a message for him. Hold on, then," he disappeared into the tent, and emerged a few minutes later, the Teyrn in tow.

"Yes, what is it?" he started, but stopped himself. Loghain did not expect to see such a beautiful young woman, especially one he had not seen already. His guards had made a point to do some reconnaissance on the women at Ostagar, and he did not recall a woman of this description being discussed. Then, he had a realization, "Ah, you are Duncan's new Grey Warden, I assume?"

Guinevere nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Cailan's fascination with the Grey Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?"

"Yes, I've heard that," she was slightly insulted. Did he think her some common wench plucked off the streets and given a blade? She may be a soldier, but she was first and foremost an educated young noblewoman.

Loghain seemed impressed, "Maric respected the Grey Wardens," he bowed slightly, "They have an honoured place in the hearts of our people," he studied her for a moment, and seemed puzzled, "You look familiar. Have I seen you at the Landsmeet?"

"My father was the Teyrn of Highever," as she said this, Loghain's face fell, and he bowed his head.

"So you are Bryce's daughter, Guinevere?" she nodded, "You are as beautiful as Eleanor, but have your father's eyes. I met with your brother, Fergus, only a few days ago when he arrived. Have you told him what has happened?"

"No, my lord. I have not seen him since he rode from the castle. I hope to see him after the battle, when he returns from his scouting."

Loghain nodded, "I imagine you are not eager to tell him of your…misfortune. You have my condolences, dear girl. Your father was a dear friend. The king told me of his promise," he gazed at her reassuringly, "I am certain he has every intention of seeing it through," his face became worried, "I don't suppose you'll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?"

Guinevere shrugged, "I don't know," she eyed the Teyrn skeptically, "Ser, do you think me not capable with a blade?' Loghain laughed and put up his hands as if he were surrendering.

"Your capabilities with a blade are not something I doubt, Lady Guinevere. Bryce often praised your skills, and Rendon once complained to me when you beat both of his sons in a duel," he laughed but caught himself, "Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to invoke a name that causes you pain."

"No, it is quite alright. The duel with Nathaniel and Thomas is a fond memory. I had beaten them both individually, and then they decided to try and ambush me together," she laughed softly, "Poor Thomas. He is not as skilled with a sword as his father would like. Nathaniel is the better fighter, truly," she snapped back to the present, "Alas though, I do not know if I will spill blood in the battle to come."

"If Cailan has his way, you will," he wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words, and instead thought it better to return to his work, "Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort," he bowed and turned towards his tent.

"And if he doesn't?"

Loghain stopped and glanced over his shoulder, "Then simply pray."

Guinevere found herself backtracking towards where she had met Wynne, a voice halted her stroll.

"Well, you're not what I thought you'd be."

She turned to see a man watching her, a rogue sort she figured, based on his equipment. He was cute, but Guinevere was not impressed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, me and Ser knight were just betting on what the third recruit would be," he smirked at her, "Not a woman, yet here you are," he approached her, "The name's Daveth. It's about bloody time you came along. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit."

"Isn't that a little paranoid?"

Daveth laughed, "Ha! That depends on what kind of life you've led," he pointed to himself, "Me, I'm perfectly willing to accept that this joining is some kind of punishment," his voice lowered, "I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in a bit," he gestured for Guinevere to come closer, so she leaned in, eager to hear what he learned, "I'm thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds."

Guinevere rolled her eyes and stepped back a few steps, convinced that she was doomed to become comrades with a man not right in the head, "Maybe they will," she crossed her arms, her face stern, "We'll see."

Daveth snorted, "It's all too secretive for me," he rubbed his nose, "Makes my nose twitch," he shrugged, "I guess we'll have to wait and see. Like we have a choice…"

Guinevere started to walk away, "I'll watch your back if you watch mine," she called as she headed towards the stone ramp next to where they were standing.

"Oh, I'll watch your back," Daveth chuckled and Guinevere turned to see him eyeing her with great interest.

"You're a charmer, I see," she yelled, unimpressed.

"That's me!" he laughed again and pointed towards the Grey Wardens' tent, "Anyway, I expect it's to get back to Duncan. That's where I'll be if you need me," he winked and turned with a saucy grin, "For anything."

Guinevere cringed and continued up the ramp. Daveth was not her type of man; he was just too…odd. She spotted a few soldiers gathered nearby and made her way over to them. However, when she realized what they were gathered for, she quickly retreated, but her feet proved not so swift this day.

"Ah! I suspect you are one of the new Grey Wardens. Will you accept the Maker's blessing?"

Bloody priest. Guinevere turned to her with cold eyes, "I do not desire your blessing, priest. I am not a believer," the priest's face fell and she gazed at the ground.

"Oh, I see," she glanced at Guinevere, "I will say a prayer on your behalf, that no harm shall befall you during this battle."

Guinevere snorted and stormed away, but someone caught her arm.

"Greetings. You must be the third recruit we've heard about?"

"Yes, I am Guinevere."

The man's face brightened, "Ser Jory is my name. I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as knight under the command of Arl Eamon," Guinevere did not sense any oddities with this one, and any man who served under Eamon was worth conversing with.

"Ah, Redcliffe. I have never been there, but have met the Arl before. His son and wife stayed at my home frequently," the knight seemed confused and Guinevere chuckled, "I am of House Cousland, the family who owns," she paused, her voice wavering, "the Teyrnir of Highever. My nephew and Eamon's son were playmates."

Jory didn't seem to hear anything she said, "I was not aware they permitted women to join the Grey Wardens. None of those I've seen thus far have been."

Guinevere was getting irritated. A woman as a Warden; was that really a nonexistent concept, or were these people just idiots? She was sick of being chastised for her gender, "I am a warrior, just as you are."

He held up his hands defensively, "You obviously impressed Duncan, and that's enough for me. I hope we're both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. Is it not thrilling to be given that chance?"

"I wouldn't be here if I had a choice in the matter," words that were true, but somehow she did not believe them.

"I fought hard to get here," Jory's face swelled with pride, "Impressing Duncan was not easy…" he leaned close to her, "Tell me, has anyone told you what this Joining ritual entails?"

She shook her head, "It's all a big secret apparently."

Jory looked insulted, "I never heard of such a ritual. I had no idea there were more tests after being recruited," he bent down to pick up his greatsword, "I suppose since you're finally here I'd best get back to Duncan. I shall see you there."

Guinevere snorted after he had gone. So she was going to be in the same order as the paranoid charmer and the prideful knight. She sighed and made her way back down the ramp. Duncan had said there was another Warden here…what was his name again…ah yes! Alistair. She headed towards a tent when she heard shouting coming from a nearby ruin. It sounded like an argument, and she couldn't resist going to listen in. She ran towards the voices and found that they belonged to a very angry looking mage, and a rather attractive young knight.

"What is it now?" the mage growled, "Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

The knight was smiling, "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence," the mage snorted at this and glared at the knight.

"What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens—by the king's orders, I might add!"

Guinevere was intrigued, so this man was a Warden?

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

Guinevere smiled. Finally, someone with a proper sense of humour.

The mage didn't seem to think it was funny, "Tell her, I will not be harassed in this manner!"

The knight feigned confusion, "Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

"Here I thought we were getting along so well," the knight replied with great sarcasm, "I was even going to name one of my children after you…the grumpy one."

The mage held up his hands, "Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must!" he shoved the knight out of the way, "Get out of my way, fool."

Alistair laughed, and smiled brightly when he saw Guinevere, "You know," he started, "one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Guinevere laughed and glanced towards the fuming mage, "I know exactly what you mean."

The knight moved towards her, "It's like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands," he chuckled and added sarcastically, "That would give the darkspawn something to think about," they laughed together and he looked at her curiously, "Wait, we haven't met, have we?" a somewhat frightened expression covered his face, "I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"

Guinevere laughed and shook her head, "We haven't met," she eyed him up, "You must be Alistair."

"And that makes you Duncan's new recruit, I suppose," Guinevere nodded, "Glad to meet you. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

"Please to meet you. My name is Gwen."

"Right!" he exclaimed, "That was the name," he smiled and then took a pose of thought; "You know…it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

Guinevere raised an eyebrow, "You want more woman in the Wardens, do you?" she teased.

Alistair smirked at her and said with a wink, "Would that be so terrible?" he paused and then said defensively, "Not that I'm some drooling lecher or something. Please stop looking at me like that."

Alistair thought her amused expression was a judging one, when in fact it was just merely amusement. She giggled and winked at him, and his fearful expression evaporated. Then it was replaced by a graver one.

"So, I'm curious; Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"

"No, I haven't."

Alistair's eyes grew cold and he shuddered slightly, "When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another," he shook it off, "Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's get back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."

"I look forward to traveling with you."

Alistair seemed taken aback; "You do?" he seemed confused yet excited, "Huh…that's a switch. Usually everyone avoids running with the sarcastic village idiot sort," he shrugged, "If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on!"

She nodded and turned to start down the ramp, but Alistair spoke before she got too far.

"That crest…that is the Cousland crest, is it not? You hail from Highever?"

"Yes, I lived there all my life."

Alistair inched toward her, "Is it true what they say about the Teyrn's daughter; that she is the fiercest warrior in the north? Or that she is one of the most beautiful maidens in Ferelden?" she raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, "Her brother is here somewhere, so I haven't been able to ask him. So meeting someone from Highever…well…ah, blast it. You really must think I am a lecher, now."

Guinevere smiled sweetly at him, "Not at all, Alistair," she started back down towards the ramp, but called over her shoulder, "And yes, you could say that those rumours are true. She also is unmarried, but from what I've heard in the castle, she is no novice in the bedchamber."

Alistair's eyes widened and Guinevere laughed again. She did not want to tell him who she was exactly…at least, not yet. For now, she was just a woman from Highever, recruited into the Grey Wardens. The two made their way back to Duncan, who immediately turned to greet them.

"You found Alistair, did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations," he shot Alistair a look, "Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair."

Alistair sighed in defeat, "What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me," he leaned to Guinevere, "The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army," he said with a laugh. Guinevere blinked at him, but smiled a little. He was reminding her more and more of Fergus, especially with that last comment. She didn't know what to make of him, though. He was a difficult man to categorize.

"She forced you to sass the mage, did she?" Duncan cocked an eyebrow at the young Warden, and then sighed deeply, "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us," Guinevere's ears perked at this. More ammunition? What ammunition was there to begin with?

"You're right, Duncan. I apologize," Alistair's sarcastic persona faded away and Guinevere saw a loyal and trustworthy knight bloom right before her. He had his moments when he tried to deflect things with humour, but always stayed true to his duty; just like Fergus. Duncan placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder, showing that his apology was sufficient, and then crossed over to the bonfire.

"Now then, since you are all here, we can begin," he turned to them, "You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

Daveth and Jory eyed Duncan uneasily, and Guinevere felt Alistair's gaze upon her. She, however, did not question Duncan's words. This man saved her life, and tried his best to save her family, so she owed him the courtesy of her trust. She stood firm and spoke calmly.

"And what's the second task?"

Duncan smiled at her, a glint of pride within his eyes, "There was once and Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them," he glanced towards the younger Warden, "Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

Alistair nodded and turned to his charges expectantly. Daveth and Jory still looked anxious and uneasy, but Guinevere maintained her resolve, "Find the archive and three vials of blood," she nodded, "Understood."

"The scrolls contain treaties promising support," Duncan paused and spoke quietly, "Treaties that may prove valuable in the days to come. Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely."

"We will."

"Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return."

Alistair motioned for the three recruits to head towards the gate, but he lingered behind a moment longer. Duncan gazed at him, expectantly.

"Duncan, I was hoping you could tell me more about the new recruit, Gwen. She is from Highever, yes?"

"Was."

Alistair shook his head, confused, "I don't understand."

Duncan sighed and looked towards the north, "The Teyrnir of Highever was taken forcibly by the Arl of Amaranthine only a few days ago. Almost the entire Cousland line was murdered within their own castle."

Alistair took a step back in shock. The Couslands…murdered? "Fergus didn't mention—"

"He does not yet know, Alistair."

"So…the Teyrn and Teyrna…they…they're…"

Duncan nodded. Alistair closed his eyes in an effort not to shed tears. He had visited Castle Cousland once when he was a small boy. Fergus was only a few years younger than Alistair's uncle. At the time, Fergus' sister was still a babe. He opened his eyes and looked at Duncan.

"What of Fergus' sister; the Lady Guinevere? Did she…..does she yet live?"

Duncan turned to him, "She is closer than you might think, Alistair," Alistair did not seem to understand, but Duncan waved him off. He advised that he focus on the task at hand, and worry about such things at more appropriate times. Alistair nodded and made his way over to the gate, where the guard greeted them.

"Hail! I'm told you all have business in the Wilds. The gate's open for you…just be careful out there. Even a Grey Warden won't be safe in the forest tonight," the huge wooden gates slowly swung open, revealing a huge forest that spread as far as the eye could see. Gwen had never been in a forest like this, and she paused to take it all in. Though the ruins and fog gave it an eerie and grotesque feel, it was a beautiful setting.

"It's a little unsettling, isn't it?" she turned to see Alistair standing next to her, "To think that an entire army of Darkspawn is in here somewhere," his eyes scanned the tree line, and ended up upon her face.

Gwen nodded, "Even more so, that my brother is out here somewhere…and I know not if he is still alive or if he…" she trailed off, the mere thought of being the last in her family made her heart stop for a moment.

Alistair turned to her with a shocked expression, "Your brother is out here?" then he had a sudden realization, "Oh, of course! The scouting group from Highever, you mean?"

"Yes. I suppose I am only eager to be in the Wilds to see if there is any sign of him," she turned to Alistair with a soft smile, "Though the fool is probably still alive, driving Darkspawn away with complaints of the cold and dampness of this place," she laughed, "He is too stubborn to die, anyhow."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, the soldiers from Highever seemed the most capable of warriors," Alistair

"That they are," she stepped away from him and started down the path after Daveth and Jory, she kept moving down the path, remaining silent and alert. Daveth and Jory seemed skittish and unaware, and were not really paying attention to where they were going.

So you can imagine their surprise when a dagger flew by their heads, and into the torso of a wolf, mid-leap. Gwen had heard it in the brush, and had acted quickly.

"There are others nearby," she said as she yanked the dagger out of the wolf, not even bothering to wipe it clean of blood. Alistair drew his sword and put his back to Gwen's. Jory and Daveth did the same, but stood at the sides. For a few moments, there was only silence. Then a twig snapped and Gwen turned to throw her dagger over Alistair's shoulder, just as a wolf lunged out from the brush. It hit its mark, but did not kill it. The wolf howled in pain, and the rest of the pack emerged to attack the four.

Ser Jory swung his greatsword, casting half a dozen wolves to the side, and Daveth leapt upon them with his sword and dagger, slicing them open. Alistair lunged into another wave of wolves, slashing at them with longsword. Gwen also lunged, her father's sword humming with every swing. She made quick work of them, as did the others. Daveth looked around at the numerous dead wolves around him.

"At least they aren't Darkspawn, eh?" he laughed nervously as he said this. They all continued down the path, weapons still drawn, alert to the quiet forests that surrounded them. As they came to a small ruin, Gwen spotted movement and tensed her blade. She looked more closely, however, and saw that it was not a Darkspawn, but one of the patrolmen from Ostagar. She relaxed her blade and ran to him. He heard them approaching and lifted his head.

"Who…is that?" he looked them over, obviously in pain, and when he saw Alistair his eyes widened, "Grey…Wardens…?" Gwen knelt down beside him, just as he tried to get up. The result was him wincing in pain and falling into Gwen, who caught him and laid him down gently. She glanced around the area, and saw numerous other patrolmen, but they were all dead. This poor fellow appeared to be the only survivor.

"What happened here?"

The man was breathing hard through his helm and bleeding heavily, "My entire patrol…was…wiped out…by Darkspawn…" he cried out in pain, again. Gwen turned to her companions.

"Let's try to bandage him up, at least," her eyes pleaded.

Jory and Daveth stood motionless but Alistair knelt down beside her, "I have bandages in my pack," he took them out and he and Gwen both began tending to the soldier. When he had been decently bandaged, the man managed to rise to his feet.

"Thank you!" he groaned and stumbled slightly but caught himself, "I…I've got to get out of here!" he quickly limped towards the direction the four had came, and they watched him until he disappeared behind a bend. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, Jory was in panic mode.

"Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by Darkspawn!" he was frantic and stared in horror at the bodies of the men around him. Alistair stepped toward him and spoke calmly.

"Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful."

Jory shook his head and pointed to the bodies, "Those soldiers were careful and they were still overwhelmed!" he motioned to his companions, "How many Darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred?" he pointed towards the trees and shouted, "There's an entire army in these forests!"

Alistair placed a hand on Jory's shoulder, "There are Darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the Horde," Jory shrugged off Alistair's hand and gave him a skeptical look.

"How do you know?" he looked around nervously at his companions, "I-I'm not a coward," he stammered, "but this is foolish and reckless," he turned to leave, "We should go back."

Gwen caught his arm, "Overcoming these dangers is part of our test. Did you not say that you worked hard to impress Duncan? Surely admitting defeat without attempting the task would hinder your impression."

"That's...true," Jory sighed.

Alistair joined the two, "Know this: all Grey Warden's can sense Darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise," he gave a reassuring grin, "That's why I'm here."

Daveth, who had been strategically looting the dead soldiers, chimed in, "You see, Ser knight? We might die," he laughed, "but at least we'll be warned about it first!"

"That is...reassuring?"

Alistair looked at his recruits, "That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however. So let's get a move on."

They resumed their trek through the Wilds, killing Darkspawn and various hostile animals as they did so. They stopped for a quick rest as they gathered blood into their vials. Gwen then scanned the scenery again, secretly hoping for a sign, any sign, of Fergus. Instead her eyes were drawn to a flower. It was a beautiful flower, unlike any in the north. She walked back to her companions, flower in hand. Daveth noticed.

"That flower...white with the red center?" Gwen nodded, "The kennel master at Ostagar was asking about those."

"Why did he want them? Do you know?"

"The kennel master said this flower can help dogs that get sick from biting Darkspawn," Gwen immediately felt lucky to have discovered it; if Briar were to get sick, she would never forgive herself, "At any rate, he was offering a reward if someone went into the Wilds and brought him one," he shrugged, "Might want to think about it, is all."

Gwen nodded and put the flower neatly in her pack. The four then continued through the Wilds, passing old ruins submerged in water, looking thousands of years old. A time came when they had to hope on rocks to cross a small river. Daveth crossed swiftly, Jory slowly lagging behind him. Next went Alistair, and when Gwen reached the last rock she saw his hand extended for her to help her down. At first she hesitated, but he smiled sweetly at her. She placed her hand in his, Alistair's cheeks turning slightly pink from the touch. He helped her down and then they made their way up a large hill to the tower Duncan had mentioned.

When they entered, Gwen felt the sensation of being watched; an instinct imbedded into her from years of secret exchanges with Roland. Alistair checked his map and then pointed towards the staircase.

"The cache should be right around there," they moved closer, "There! That crate!"

Gwen slowly made her way towards the cache, and peered inside. It was empty.

"Well, well...what have we here?"

The four whipped around, but only Alistair and Guinevere drew their weapons. A woman, probably slightly older than Gwen, was standing at the top of the staircase. She had wild, black hair, and vividly golden eyes. Her clothing was very revealing, and she carried a Chasind looking staff in her hand that was much different from Wynne's but Gwen guessed it served the same purpose.

Whoever she was, she was obviously familiar enough with the territory to follow the group unnoticed. She cocked an eyebrow as she descended the stair.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" she pointed towards the broken and empty cache, "A scavenger poking amidst a corpse, whose bones were long since cleaned?" her eyes darkened as she reached the bottom, and was now face to face with Guinevere, "Or merely an intruder, coming into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine, in search of easy prey?" she ran her eyes over Gwen and her companions.

The woman then pointed her staff at Gwen's neck, and leaned close, "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

Gwen held her eyes and did not flinch, "I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower," her words seemed to satisfy the woman, who lowered her staff and circled the group.

She gestured towards the ruins, " 'Tis a tower no longer," her gaze fell on them once more, her expression suspicious, "I have watched your progress for some time now, 'Where do they go?' I wondered, 'Why are they here?'"

Gwen opened her mouth to answer, but Alistair cut her off.

"Don't answer her," he said as he eyed their questioner, "she looks Chasind, and that means others might be nearby."

He tensed as the woman laughed and waved her arms in the air, "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she laughed again.

"Yes...swooping is bad," Alistair scanned the tops of the columns for anything that might swoop.

Daveth grabbed Gwen's shoulder, "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!"his eyes widened in excitement, "She'll turn us all into toads!"

This earned an amused snort from the woman who lightly laughed as she shook her head, "'Witch of the Wilds'? Such idle fantasies, those legends," she pointed at Guinevere, "You there; women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Guinevere sheathed her sword and slowly walked forward, placing a hand over her heart, "I am Guinevere, a pleasure to meet you."

The woman raised her eyebrows in astonishment, "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds!" she reciprocated Gwen's body language, "You may call me Morrigan," she smiled at Gwen and then turned to look at the others, "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest?" she gestured to the empty chest with a smirk, "Something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer'?" Alistair's brow furrowed in annoyance, "You stole them, didn't you? You're...some kind of...sneaky...witch-thief!"

Morrigan stared at the young Grey Warden, obviously not impressed, "How very eloquent," she took a step forward, "How does one steal from dead men?" she challenged.

Alistair snorted and muttered to Gwen, "Quite easily it seems," his gaze returned to Morrigan, "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

"I will not for it 'twas not I who removed them," she narrowed her eyes, "Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you must. I am not threatened."

Alistair opened his mouth, nothing good about to come out of it, when Gwen silenced him with her hand and addressed Morrigan, "Then who removed them?"

Morrigan smirked once more, "'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Can you take us to her?"

Morrigan smiled and nodded; "Now there is a sensible request! I like you."

Alistair leaned to her ear, "I'd be careful. First it's 'I like you', then ZAP! Frog time."

"She'll put us in the pot she will, just you watch!"

Jory shot a glance at Daveth, "If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change!"

Morrigan gestured to an overgrown path behind her, "Follow me then, if it pleases you," then she turned and disappeared into the brush. Alistair and Guinevere exchanged glances, and despite Ser Jory and Daveth's expressions of anxiety, followed her. The trek to Morrigan's mother was not long, but the silence that enveloped the area made it pass by ever slowly. The tree leaves were damp and cold, and the ground moist; signifying their transition from the wooded part of the Wilds, to the wetlands.

Eventually, the overgrown path cleared and revealed a torch lit path to an old run-down hut situated in the middle of the marsh. As they approached, an old woman with silver hair emerged from the hut and waited for them. Morrigan waved slightly and motioned behind her, "Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—"

Her mother cut her off, "I see them girl," she examined them quickly, her golden eyes lingering over Guinevere the longest, "Mmm," she glanced at her daughter, "Much as I expected."

Alistair raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

The old woman's golden eyes narrowed on the Grey Warden and her voice snapped at him, "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe," she gestured with a hand over her eyes," Shut one's eyes tight," then she extended her arms, "or open one's arms wide," she shrugged, "Either way, one's a fool."

Daveth's nervousness became too much to bear, and he blurted out, "She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!"

Jory whipped in his direction, "Quiet, Daveth! If she really is a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

Morrigan's mother chuckled softly, "Now there is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides," pointed at Daveth, "Believe what you will," then she turned and walked up to Guinevere, "And what of you? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?"

Gwen found herself at a loss for words. Did she believe this woman was a Witch of the Wilds? There certainly was something odd about her, but she could not place it. Unsure of how to answer, she simply was honest, "I am not sure what to believe," as soon as the words left her mouth, the old woman smiled.

"A statement that has more wisdom than it implies. 'Be always aware,' she furrowed her brow in confusion, "Or was it oblivious?" she exchanged a glance with Morrigan, who shrugged, "I can never remember," she turned to Guinevere, her golden eyes feeling as if they were peering into her soul, "So much about you is uncertain..." she whispered, "Yet, I believe...do I?" she paused a moment and then smiled, "Why, it seems I do!"

"So..." Alistair laughed, "This is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?"

"'With of the Wilds', eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it," Morrigan groaned and covered her face with her hand, "Oh, how she dances under the moon!" the old woman began laughing hysterically.

Morrigan uncovered her face, and when her mother had ceased laughing she turned to her, "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, mother."

"True. They came for their treaties, yes?" she disappeared into the hut for a moment and then emerged with a pile of parchment, tied together with a faded and frayed blue ribbon, "And before you begin barking," she shot a glance at Alistair, "your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You—"Alistair started, but then realized what she said, "Oh. You protected these?"

The woman snorted, "And why not?" she placed the treaties in Guinevere's hands, "Take them to your Grey Wardens, and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"

Guinevere ran a hand over the old parchment, and looked into the golden eyes of the Witch of the Wilds, "Thank you for returning them."

She smiled her expression soft and motherly, "Such manners! Always in the last place you look...like stockings!" she laughed and then waved off their confused and slightly frightened facial expressions, "Oh do not mind me," she laughed again, "You got what you came for."

Morrigan motioned towards the path, "Time for you to go, then."

"Don't be silly, girl. These are your guests!"

Morrigan sighed, "Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods," she grabbed her staff and weaved through them, "Follow me."

Soon, the four were back in the dark ruins of Ostagar. They were walking back towards the Grey Warden camp when a man stopped them.

"Greetings," he said, "Are you one of the Grey Wardens that went into the Wilds?" Gwen nodded and he continued, "Did you happen to see any white flowers?"

"You must be the kennel master. My companion here told me you were inquiring about the flower," she reached in her pack and held up the white and red floret for the man to see. The kennel master noticeably brightened when his eyes met the blossom. He fumbled around his person until he found his purse, and eyed the contents, soon turning to her with a modest visage.

"I don't know for sure that the flower will aid my poor hounds..." he trailed off as he eyed the sick hounds and Guinevere felt a pang of sadness for the dogs, "I have...let's see...twenty silvers to offer as a reward for it?"

Guinevere frowned slightly, as her pride was telling her that she did not need to accept anything to help this man's cause. Yet, she examined herself and realized that she needed this offering. She had no home; her position in the social hierarchy was questionable. With the death of her father, and the possibility of her brother perishing in the coming battle, it seemed likely that the Teyrn of Highever would remain with the Howes. She mustered a small smile, "That should be fine."

He dropped the coins into her pale hand, and thanked her as she slipped them into her purse, "Thank you for your assistance, then," he regarded the hounds with an expression of hope," Perhaps we will not lose as many hounds as I'd feared."

The four then made their way back to the Grey Warden camp, where Duncan was tending the bonfire, heaving a large piece of a wood into the flames as they approached. He wiped his brow and then turned his gaze on them, apparent relief that all four had returned was all over his face.

"So you've returned from the Wilds. Have you been successful?"

All four nodded, but only Guinevere answered, "We have."

Duncan smiled slightly and gave a firm nod, "Good. I've had the Circle Mages preparing. With the blood you retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately," Daveth and Jory looked uneasy and a scant bit uncomfortable, and Alistair never took his eyes off Gwen, who merely unblinking looked at Duncan.

"I am ready."

Duncan smiled warmly and softly touched Gwen's arm, "Excellent. You will need that courage to face what comes next."

"Courage?" Jory interjected, "How much danger are we in?"

Duncan let his hand fall from Gwen's arm back to his side, and turned his gaze on the fire, "I will not lie," he said after a long pause, "We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are," he sighed and swept his gaze back over the recruits, lingering on Guinevere, "Fate may decide you pay your price now rather than later."

"Is that why the joining is so secret?"

"If only such secrecy were unnecessary, and all understood the necessity of such sacrifice," his eyes flickered towards Jory, "Sadly, that will never be so."

Daveth stepped forward, "Let's go, then," he glanced at the vial in his hand, "I am anxious to see this Joining now."

"I agree, let's have it done," said Jory with an expression that did not agree with his words.

Duncan nodded, "Then let us begin," he started to walk towards the Mages' camp, "Alistair, take them to the Old Temple."

Alistair nodded, and motioned for the three to follow him. They walked in silence, and as they were just about to turn the corner to climb the ramp to the ritual, they heard the sound of an armoured figure approaching. They all turned, each as equally shocked as the next to see the king bounding towards them.

"I apologise for interrupting you as you escort your charges, Alistair. I just needed to speak to Lady Guinevere a moment," Cailan said as he locked eyes with Gwen.

Alistair seemed taken aback that the king addressed him directly, and by name. He blinked at him and finally replied, "B-but of course, your Majesty. We shall wait for her within," he waved Jory and Daveth up the ramp, glancing back at the king and his charge as he followed them.

Guinevere and Cailan stood silent for a moment, before Cailan stepped forward and embraced her, "Gwen, I have missed you so."

She embraced him back, happy to finally be able to acknowledge her dear friend, "Cailan, you have not changed a bit, have you?"

The king pulled back and grinned at her, reminding Gwen of when they were children, "I would never in my life treat you differently than you deserve, you know that," Gwen nodded at this. She did know; how could she not? He had been in love with her since she was a child, and had been her betrothed before she convinced her father that marrying Anora to Cailan would be a wiser political move. Bryce was astonished that an eight-year old was giving him political advice, even more so because after consideration he agreed that her logic made sense.

Cailan's smile fell a bit and his eyes grew concerned, "Are you alright to be here, after what happened in Highever?"

Gwen turned away to stare towards the north, and Cailan put his hands on her shoulders, softly massaging them to comfort her. For moments, they just stood there in silence, Guinevere gazing to into the tangled and foggy Wilds as Cailan gazed at her.

"Honestly, I don't think I'm alright to be anywhere. My heart is broken and withered; frozen by the desire for revenge," she turned to him, and crystal tears slowly teemed down her cheek, "I'm afraid, Cailan. I fear that I may not be able to avenge them, or make them proud. I'm not strong enough, "she looked at the ground, fists clenched, "If I was strong enough, they'd still be—"

She was cut off by Cailan turning her towards him and his mouth crushing into hers. Gwen was taken aback, and who wouldn't be? The King of Ferelden was kissing her passionately, and she couldn't surmise why. Then it hit her. He still loved her, even after all the years of being betrothed to Anora, marrying her, ruling beside her; Cailan still loved Gwen.

For a moment, she was tempted to give in and let him have his way with her. Then her eyes shot open and she threw him against the nearby wall, her angry glare fixed on his face.

"Take a good, long, hard look at me, Cailan," she paused as his eyes ran over her face, "I am not the little girl chasing after you and Fergus in the courtyards of Highever, and I am most certainly not the confused young adolescent who used to kiss you in the hall when we both ought to have been in the Landsmeet."

"Gwen, I don't underst-"

"I AM NOT YOUR QUEEN!" she roared, her eyes flaming and her grip tightened on his shoulders. Cailan's face paled and his eyes widened at her fury. She leaned toward s him and through clenched teeth growled, "I convinced my father to break our engagement because marrying you to Anora would yield results for Ferelden that I could not provide," Gwen lowered her eyes briefly, "I couldn't be the shining star by your side, gazing at you with love," she raised her eyes again, "Because I did not, am not, nor ever will I be in love with you, Your Highness. You have no idea, how deeply sorry I am for that; how that had become a disease that has gripped my very soul. I cannot love any man, because my heart belongs to just one."

With that, she let go of her King, and turned towards the stone ramp, unaware that the fate that awaited her would forever change her life. Her mood was now soured, and she had no patience for the incompetent fools that she encountered in the old temple.

Jory was glancing around all nervous-like, rubbing his hands together it what could be described as excitement or perhaps even regret, "The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it."

Daveth rolled his eyes and shot him a look, "Are you blubbering, again?"

"Why all these damned tests?" he retorted, "Have I not earned my place?"

Daveth shrugged at the knight, "Maybe its tradition," he leaned against a pillar overgrown with vines and moss and cocked an eyebrow, "Maybe they're just trying to annoy you!"

Guinevere crossed her arms and snorted at the pair, "I swear I'm the bravest one here," she threw her hands in the air, "And I'm a woman!"

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way," Guinevere turned from Jory as he said this, so as to not let him see the deep expression of pain that crossed her complexion, "If they had warned me..." he trailed as he glanced at his companions, "It just doesn't seem fair."

"Would you have come if they had warned you," Daveth's voice was low, "Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?"

"Including sacrificing us?" Jory looked terrified and less like the brave knight he so wanted to pretend to be.

Daveth thought carefully and then responded, "I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it'd end the Blight."

Highever, family, sacrifice, the bloody Wardens, the Blight; she couldn't take it anymore. Guinevere whipped around and hissed, "Will you both shut up?"

Jory took a few steps back, Gwen's outburst startling him. Daveth merely chuckled and glanced towards Jory again, "Yeah, Ser knight, try not to wet your trousers until the ritual starts."

The Redcliffe knight lowered his eyes in slight shame, "I-I've just never met a foe I could not encounter with my blade."

All responses and retorts where bit back as Duncan and Alistair appeared from the other side of the ruin, and they regarded the three with stern and serious expressions, well, at least from Duncan.

"At last, we come to the Joining," as he said this, he placed a large goblet on a stone altar, along with the three vials of dark black Darkspawn blood, "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of extinction. So it was; that the Grey Wardens drank of Darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint," he gestured to the vials.

Guinevere nodded in comprehension. So that was how they were essential to battling the Darkspawn, for they had some sort of connection with the creatures. Daveth merely stared at Duncan, eagerness on his mug. Jory, however, did not take the news so well.

"We're…going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?"

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory."

Alistair stepped forward, trying to hide his worry, "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the Darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon," his eyes scanned over the recruits, lingering on Guinevere. She flashed him a small reassuring smile, causing him to turn slightly pink.

"Let's get on with it, then," her eyes snapped back onto the tan Warden.

He nodded, "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first," without removing his gaze from the recruits, he motioned to the younger Warden, "Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair bowed his head and closed his eyes, "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 one day; we shall join you."

As the oath ended, Duncan spoke, "Daveth, step forward."

The rogue approached Duncan cautiously, and looked almost frightened when the large goblet of blood was placed in his hands. Staring into the dark liquid, he hesitated only a moment before bringing the cup to his lips. Once he had finished he looked at Duncan, who was regarding him with slight uncertainty. Gwen was sure he had passed, and then the goblet fell from his fingertips onto the cold stone floor.

In an instant, Daveth's skin grew pale, his veins like black markings all over his neck, arms, and face. His eyes glazed over a hazy white, as he fell to his knees. He was gasping, choking on the taint as it coursed through his body.

Jory gazed at the sight in horror, "Maker's breath..."

Daveth reached out towards Duncan, his expression pleading and pained.

Duncan stepped back out of his reach, softly mumbling, "I'm sorry Daveth," as the man became still on the ground. As soon as he did, Duncan's eyes flashed to the knight, "Step forward, Jory," and the knight paled in fear, slowly backing away from the dark Rivaini Warden.

"But...I have a wife...," he stammered, "A-a child...had I known...," his eyes fell on Daveth's limp body on the cold hard stone floor.

Duncan shook his head and took a few steps toward him, arms extended with the goblet towards Jory, "There is no turning back."

"No!" Jory yelled, unsheathing his greatsword and pointing it threateningly at Duncan, "You ask too much!" he lunged at Duncan with a great cry, but his sword was parried by Duncan's swift hands that had produced a dagger in mere seconds. Jory attempted to lunge again, but Duncan dodged to the side and with a few quick strides closed the distance between himself and the knight. His eyes were wide in shock, but soon rolled back in his head as he fell to the side; Duncan gazing at him with great pity and sadness, the goblet of Darkspawn blood still in one hand, whilst the dagger in the other, fresh crimson drops slowly dripping off of the blade.

"I'm sorry, but the Joining is not yet complete," with that he walked to Guinevere and placed the goblet in her hands, which she took without hesitation, as if it was the most natural thing for her to do.

Alistair was gazing at Ser Jory's body on the ground, watching in silence as his blood made a path along the stone towards Daveth. He then snapped his eyes to Gwen, fear apparent in the light brown eyes as the recruit clutched the goblet in her slender hands. She looked down into the dark liquid, and could almost swear she heard whispers in the air; but she could not understand the words.

Duncan was watching her intently, the blood soaked dagger still in his hand, "You were called upon to submit yourself to the taint, for the greater good," as the words were spoken, Guinevere brought the goblet to her lips and drank the cold, black blood. As she finished, the whispers returned; louder and more intense. She brought her hands to her head as images flashed through her mind; a collage of her own life and the Darkspawn horde, so perfectly blended together as if the memories of her family's murder and the visions of the Blight belonged together.

She pressed her palms into her temples, as the images flashed faster and faster. Then, her body jerked back, her head to the sky, arms stretched behind her; and as her pale face reflected the moonlight, her brown eyes turned white as the snow of the Frostback Mountains. The last thing Gwen remembered was falling to the ground, Duncan and Alistair rushing to her side. She would never remember the blood curdling scream that emulated from her throat that echoed through the ruins, causing Cailan to emerge from his tent in great alarm, and fear that he had lost her for good.