Pain is a terrible thing to wake up to, and this time is no different. The right side of my ribcage is easily deduced to be full of fracturing, and my right leg feels as though it had just been sawed off and sewn back on. Groggily leaning to one side, I underestimate the size of whatever cot I was on and fall onto the ground in a heap. I clench my teeth to keep from screaming, but couldn't help the groans from escaping as I stand back up. I fight through the pain in my right leg to support myself, and hold an arm across my, then realised bandaged, ribcage.

"Mother shall be pleased," a voice says. As my vision clears, the silhouette of a rather scantily clad woman comes into focus.

Out of habit, I reach my arms back in pursuit of my daggers. Remembering that I am not exactly armed, I realise just how underdressed I am. Several layers of bandages are wrapped around my chest and ribcage, but my stomach is still on display. Thankfully, I have a pair of leather trousers on. Even despite my lack of dress, though, the woman is wearing much less with only a couple drapes of violet fabric and an abundance of raven feathers protecting her.

Regaining my bearings, I look the woman straight in her golden, excessively powdered eyes. "Where the hell am I, who the hell are you, and what the hell happened?"

The woman chuckles to herself, a laugh blatantly laced with pity. "You maean you don't remember?"

I close my eyes and focus. I escaped the alienage. I caused some mayhem. I got caught after being betrayed by that stupid merchant. The little shit. I was in a room with the knight commander. I was going to be executed. I ran. Then… what was his name? The big guy with the sword? David? Nah. Duncan.

The Grey Warden Commander.

The Grey Wardens.

I'm a Grey Warden.

The battle.

Ostagar.

"Shit," I hiss, pushing past who I then realised is Morrigan with a limp. She looked as though she had the intention of saying something, then stopped herself with a shake of her head. I fight through the pain and out of the room, and then out of the hut. Thankfully, the human fool is sitting in front of the house. Alive.

Alistair. Templar. Well, ex-Templar. Grey Warden, now, I thought. If the whole order is dead, does that mean the title still exists? That was cold. I should not have thought that. This man, no, this boy, just lost everything. And watched it happen. He could blame it on me. I mean, I obviously failed him, and everyone else. Duncan, the King… they were all dead, and I didn't do anything to stop it. I was weak.

I just stand in the doorway for a second, my mouth hung open slightly and an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Go talk to him, girl," Morrigan's mother whispered, appearing from behind me and pushing me forward.

I spin around towards the old woman. "And say what? Sorry I totally failed you and your entire order. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry you lost everything."

"He hasn't lost everything," she says. "He still has you."

"Oh yeah, like that has ever done anyone any good in the past," I start, but am quickly interrupted by a twig snapping behind me. Turning back around, Alistair stands several feet away from me. He looks just as bad as I probably do, with bandages wrapped around the entirety of his left arm. The bags under his eyes lead me to believe that he obviously hadn't slept since the battle, and the redness and swelling implied what he had done as an alternative.

"Rhys," he whispered. I was no longer Rhysa the alienage elf, or even Rhysa the criminal. I'm Rhys the (ex?)Grey Warden. "You're alive. I can't believe it, I mean-" he started, then continued to cut himself off by limping towards me and throwing his arms around me neck. Completely taken off guard by the sudden affection, I just stand there, arms at my sides, being choked half to death.

"Well isn't this just charming," Morrigan's sarcastic voice called from the door. Noticing the compromising situation he'd thrown myself into, the boy quickly lets go and blushes.

"I-I'm sorry. I mean, that was uncalled for, and uh, yeah I'm sorry, I guess," Alistair whimpers like a puppy.

"What's your name?" I ask Morrigan's mother, realising she had yet to imply such a thing.

"No respect," Morrigan sighs, a hand on her forehead. Her mother just cackles to herself.

"I have many names, girl. But, the Chasind folk call me Flemeth. If you must refer to me as something, it may be that."

Alistair's eyes open wide. "The Witch of the Wilds?" I recognise the name, from tales I'd always gotten too bored to finish.

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snaps. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served us both well. Has it not?"

So she's a witch. Such a thing is not a mystery to me, I know my share of mages and was fully aware of the societal stigmatisation of them. The Circle, apostates, Templars… and now, this woman and her daughter

Looking to Alistair and reminded of his emotional trials, I glare at Flemeth. "Why'd you save us?"

"Are you not thankful?"

"No, actually. I've only been a Grey Warden for a couple of days, and yet you decided I was worth saving? You should have saved Duncan, or for shit's sake, King Cailan!" I snipe.

"I did what I could, girl. Don't disrespect me, and be thankful for what I have given you."

"She's right," Alistair cuts in. "This way, we can go after Loghain!" He says, reminding me of the betrayal I had witnessed at the battle. Loghain just left, leaving the Grey Wardens and the King to die. I realized what Alistair thought would happen now. He thought we would team up as a little duo of heroes and get revenge and save the world and be noble and heroic.

"I-I can't," I say, picturing Falathae in my head. I can't leave her now, even after everything. I was free, I could go after her. Seeing the sadness sweep over Alistair's face, and the guffawed look shared between Morrigan and her mother, I turned away and started running.

I did that a lot. Ran. The thing is, not matter how far you run, you'll always have your memories. You'll always have the people you've left behind burned into your mind like reminders of the mistakes you've made. You can't run away from your problems and you can't run away from the world. The world's a fast son of a bitch and it will always catch up to you.

The other fast son of a bitch?

Alistair.

"You know, I think I overestimated you, Rhys!" He shouted. "I thought you cared! I knew about you and what you'd been through, but I thought maybe we could become friends! But running away like this? That was the one thing I didn't think you'd do!" The boy tackles me from behind, and the two of us land on our backs in the forest. I could hear the pop of my injured leg, and knew that I'd failed. Again.

"You don't get it, do you?" I screamed, feeling tears develop not because of emotions but because of pain. "I'm not some bound by honour hero. I'm just some bitch who knows her way around weapons. The heroic one? That's you. You can go save the world. That story? It's yours, not mine. My story… there's a little girl I need to find. That's my story."

Alistair was panting beside me, sweat dripping down his forehead. "That little girl you need to find? She'll be dead soon! Just like Duncan. The Blight will kill her! Don't be so selfish!"

He was right. I knew he was right. I wasn't going to admit it, but I attempted to stand up. Of course, standing up is never easy with a severely injured leg.

The second I stepped my right leg, I fell onto the ground. Any normal person would pass out from the pain at that point, but of course, I am way too foolish to consider such an option.

"You're hurt," Alistair stated, and I snicker at his rather obvious remark. He stumbles over his words for a second, before giving me hand and helping me back to my one foot. The boy put an arm around my waist, and my arm around his shoulder. Slowly, the two of us made our way back to the hut, where Morrigan and Flemeth didn't look the slightest bit surprised to see me.

"I make no promises," I manage to make out. It's not like I can try running again.

Flemeth chuckles. "That's a start."