Kaetryn yawned as she trudged up the stairs leading to the North Tower of Weisshaupt. She wasn't sure if she was heading in the right direction, but the Elven girl who had been sent to fetch her, had been clear about two things. First, that Kaetryn was to follow the spiral stairs until she could no longer walk in the upwards direction, and secondly, that only Council members, as well as those who they summoned, were permitted to climb to the top of the tower. She stopped to take a break from the endless climbing and leaned on her staff, listening for the footsteps of others on the polished granite stairs. Hearing nothing, she continued onwards, noticing the cold freshness that hung in the air of the higher reaches of the tower. She yawned again, smiling at the memory of a joke she had shared with Colin. He had been unable to give her any clues as to what to expect from the Council, but curiosity spurred her forward, despite being tired from the previous night's revelries.

It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to reach the very top of Weisshaupt, and the plain, wooden door that sat at the top of the stairs was almost non-sequitur compared to the domineering grandeur of the rest of the fortress. She stood outside of it for another minute to catch her breath, and listened for sounds from within, unsure if she should knock or just enter. The guttural noise of a throat clearing and the quiet rustle of paper were the only sounds that she could detect. Straightening out her grey and white robes, she pushed on the black iron handle and was surprised to find it locked. Wondering why there would be a need for a lock made her uneasy. She knocked three times, and a few heart-pounding moments later, a tall man with dark skin and greying black hair opened the door.

"Ah, greetings, sister. Come in and take a seat," he said as he gestured inside the room.

She looked around in awe. The room contained a large, annular table with twenty or so men seated around it, scribbling on notes or peering at her with expectant curiosity, and the room itself had a high, rounded ceiling, with circular walls intermittently broken by many openings that lead to larger, cavernous alcoves. The alcoves in turn tapered off, and became long platforms that protruded out into the sky. The man who had opened the door noticed her bewildered stare and laughed. "Back in the glory days, this was the Aerie where the griffons would roost," he said with a faded Orlesian accent.

Kaetryn's eyes widened. She had been a Grey Warden for three years, but the legends of the old Wardens still enraptured her like a small child; her favourite parts had always been when the Wardens would swoop down out of the fog of war, the griffons with their ivory-white wings and talons of steel bearing a Warden brandishing their infamous Silverite amour.

"I am Teris, head of the Council of Wardens. I am given to understand that your name is Kaetryn," he said warmly.

"Ah... yes, ser," she stammered, unable to take her eyes off a sheltered niche where she imagined a griffon's nest had once been. "If they even made nests," she thought to herself.

"Well met. Please, take a seat and we can begin," Teris said, pulling out a chair closest to the door for her to sit. She sat and began to examine the assortment of men before her. The majority of them were Human, but there were three Elves-one of which was a mage, and two dwarves. She had expected a group of old men, but no one looked over the age of forty-five. With a pang, she remembered what Alistair had told her about the sacrifice Wardens made by taking the Joining; she would eventually succumb to the taint in less than thirty years time. Grey Wardens never died of old age.

As Teris walked around the outside of the table, he named everyone that he walked past, stopping to place his hand on the shoulder of a red-haired Dwarf that had nodded off. He awoke with a start, and Kaetryn had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. No one else seemed to notice, either watching the newcomer or enthralled in paper work. Finally he took his seat across from Kaetryn and laid out some vellum and a quill in front of him. The walls did a surprisingly good job of keeping the wind at bay, but the air was thin and chilly nevertheless, the only source of heat being a large brazier in the middle of the table. Beside Teris was a large, wooden chair that bore an ornate carving of a griffon in flight. It was conspicuously empty.

Almost on cue, Teris looked up from his stack of vellum and said "The First Warden is in Hossberg on business with the King. He's very busy, but he asked me to extended his welcome. He also wanted me to thank you for your service to the Order in Ferelden."

Kaetryn reddened. "I had help," was her only response.

"Ah yes," he said, shuffling through his papers. "Alistair. I understand he is the last of the... Theirin bloodline, and has withdrawn from the Grey Wardens to take up the governance of Ferelden. Is this true?"

"Not exactly. He gave me the impression that if the Wardens really needed him, he would willingly take up his father's sword and offer his service once again," she explained.

Teris made a few quick strokes over the vellum in his hand and scribbled a quick note on three separate pages. "Hadrel, could you please make a note of that was well?" he said, turning to the Elf on his left. Hadrel simply nodded and began scribbling furiously. "I'm afraid it is not a matter of what he is willing to do, but what he must do. Considering the circumstances, we are willing to allow Alistair to concern himself primarily with his duties as King. However, we reserve the right to recall him to arms without delay or hesitation at our behest. As the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, it falls to you to convey this to him, as well as ensure that he does not shirk his responsibilities to the Wardens."

Kaetryn felt a mixture of relief and resentment. She had been sad to watch him leave her side to take the crown, and it felt strange not have his light-hearted banter constantly interrupting her thoughts. But she knew that Ferelden was important to him, and the throne had rightfully fallen to him-even if he was a bastard. She also knew that it would benefit the Grey Wardens to have a King with a sympathetic ear, considering the tumultuous history between the Ferelden royal family and the Grey Wardens of old. "I understand," she said flatly, burying her conflicting emotions.

Teris returned to leafing through his notes. Kaetryn eyed him warily. They still hadn't told her why they had demanded her presence. The messenger had arrived on a particularly stormy day, but declined to wait out the storm as her personal guest, leaving as soon he had finished eating a quick meal. He offered no information about the details of his travels and came bearing nothing more than a single sheet of parchment and the clothes on his back. The scroll itself had been vague: she was to leave immediately, report to Weisshaupt fortress as soon as she could, and Seneschal Varel was to oversee the Wardens of Ferelden during her indefinite absence. Kaetryn travelled to Denerim to advise Alistair of her absence. He had actually managed to convince everyone that he should accompany her, but Eamon had refused, arguing that it was throwing himself into unnecessary danger was what caused Cailan's death, and that the Bannorn would resent his extended absence. While she thought him to be a bit of a spoilsport, she was also glad to see that someone was protecting Alistair, especially from himself.

"Right. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?" said Teris as he folded his hands in front of him. "You were summoned for two main reasons. The first was to inform us of the details of the fifth Blight for the sake of our records. The second can be discussed 's start with Ostagar; can you tell us what transpired between Duncan and King... Cailan?"

Not much that happened prior to the Battle of Ostagar stuck out in Kaetryn's memory. She had arrived with Alistair and the other Wardens ahead of Duncan, and she had spent as much time as she could scouting with a small group of the King's army in the Korcari Wilds. Being a mage had heightened her sensitivity to the Darkspawn much faster than the other Wardens, and Duncan has used this to their advantage , despite Kaetryn's resentment. There was still a lot of tension between her and her fellow Wardens, especially the young recruit who had been a Templar-in-training, so she took comfort in the opportunity to be away from them.

She had only seen Cailan three times before the battle. The first was the night he paid a visit to the Grey Warden's camp to discuss strategy for the upcoming confrontation with the Horde-or so he said. It seemed to Kaetryn that he only wanted to hear bedtime stories and shake hands with his childhood heroes. He didn't seem very Kingly to her, in fact she didn't even know who he was when he had stopped her at the gates of Ostagar after she had returned from the Wilds late that night.

The moon was glaring ominously in the sky over the Korcari Wilds, and wolves howled woefully in the distance. Kaetryn lagged behind the soldiers, eager for a few precious moments alone. They didn't speak to her unless it was necessary; after all, she was a mage who was rumoured to have never been a part of the Circle, and she wasn't exactly an inviting conversationalist either. She had spent the better part of her life as a nomad, her only company being her mentor Casturn, and the occasional run-in with the Dalish elves. While Casturn had been particularly strict with his teachings about social graces and table manners, she never really had much practice using those skills. She knew only how to avoid soldiers, not forge friendships with them.

"Hail!" called Cailan enthusiastically. He was wearing ornate massive armour plated with gold, and carried an equally ostentatious two-handed blade. He was flanked by two heavily armoured guardsmen, who were quickly waved away as Cailan jogged over to her.

She blushed, feeling rather ignoble in her make-shift tunic of stolen scraps of leather and thick cloth, her long, auburn hair tied up in a simple pony tail. Taking a step back into a defensive pose, she eyed him with suspicion as he approached.

"I'm glad I've finally run into you," he said, stopping a few feet in front of her. Noticing that she was examining him closely, he extended his hand warmly. "My name is Cailan. You must be Duncan's newest recruit that I've heard so much about. 'Kaetryn,' as I have been led to believe," he said with a smile.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "All sorts of obnoxious lies, I'm sure," she thought to herself. "Yes, that is my name," she said stiffly. "But I don't have time to chat-important Grey Wardening to do I'm afraid," she scoffed sarcastically as she turned to leave, ignoring his outstretched arm.

"Then I shan't keep you! But I do have some questions, if you'd indulge me. Would you permit me to escort you back to your camp?" he asked kindly, seemingly unfazed by her rudeness.

Kaetryn rolled her eyes in exasperation. She did not fancy the idea of entertaining some spoiled noble's son with contrived tales of evading Templars and turning small children into frogs. "If you must," she sighed flatly, quickening her pace and digging her staff sharply into the ground to illustrate her displeasure.

They walked in silence for a time, before Cailan broke the silence with a hearty laugh. "So tell me, have you encountered many Darkspawn before?" he asked.

In truth, Kaetryn had only encountered them once: on the day of her Joining. One must kill Darkspawn in order to collect a vial of their blood for the ritual, but Duncan had explained that the details of the Joining were a closely guarded secret, and not to be discussed with outsiders. "Once is enough," she replied bluntly, leaving out the part where she drank of their blood and mastered their taint.

"Indeed. My men and I encountered a few small bands of them during our march from Denerim. Such bestial creatures! And they fight with such intensity! They never show fear or retreat… they are certainly a worthy foe!" he chattered excitedly. He sounded almost gleeful as he described the monsters that threatened to destroy Ferelden. "But how does a mage such as yourself develop those keen tracking skills? I take it you are not from the Circle," he mused.

Kaetryn had learned to track deer and small game from the Dalish, a skill that had sustained her existence with Casturn in the Brecilian forest. The taint within her blood had imbued her with the ability to sense the presence of Darkspawn, especially in such large numbers, and the two abilities combined made her a highly proficient tracker of the Horde.

"Such skills are necessary for surviving in the forest. I would have starved if the Dalish had not shown me a trick or two," she said, her irritation building.

"Ah so you have experience in dealing with the Dalish! I have heard much about them but I have never ventured far enough into the forest to have any hope of encountering them. I would be very interested in learning more of our transient neighbours. What can you tell me about them?" he asked, deeply curious.

Kaetryn stopped and stared at him with displeasure. The sudden halt silenced Cailan and he looked at her expectantly, like a puppy awaiting some table scraps. He was a handsome man, with long golden hair and soft blue eyes, but his good looks were not enough to lessen her ire."Did you just want to have a friendly chat over some tea, or do you have something specific you intend to waste my time with?"

Cailan frowned, looking stricken. "I'm sorry miss. Have I offended you in some way?" he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaetryn could see Cailan's guards looming a close distance away, and she could feel their eyes glaring at her, despite the heavy-plated helmets obscuring their faces. "If it were possible to be offended by your naivety, then I probably would be!" she ranted. "You seem awfully happy that a scourge of demonic beasts are clawing their way northward, where they will surely slaughter and devour every man, woman, and child they encounter. Defeating the Darkspawn will not be easy. I have gone into the Wilds everyday to locate the edge of the Horde, and everyday my trip gets shorter than the day's before. I have sensed them, felt their presence in my very blood and heard their conspiring whispers. Their numbers far surpass our own. I sincerely hope this King of ours has a few tricks up his sleeve, because I foresee many lives being lost within the next few days. Not that it would matter to you, I doubt you'll be in the front lines with us; you'll just be sitting on your horse somewhere up high and away from danger. Then you'll run home and tell your rich noble father all about your heroic deeds." Cailan just stared at her with growing distress. "Please do not waste any more of my time with your childish fantasies of war and glory," she snapped, and with that she turned and stomped back to the camp where the Grey Wardens were situated. Cailan did not follow, but watched her leave, aghast.

When she finally reached the camp, she headed straight for the centre, where a large cauldron bubbled with a thin but savoury stew. Alistair, a Knight conscripted from the Chantry in Denerim just five months before Kaetryn herself had been conscripted, was greedily slurping a bowl of the stew by the fire. She ignored him-their relationship was strained to put it lightly. Any chance of camaraderie developing between them was hampered by Alistair's childish irreverence towards everything, and Kaetryn's resentment of his Templar origins. He noticed her approach and handed her a bowl and a spoon with a cheeky grin on his face, stew dribbling down his chin.

"Did you have a lovely time chasing Darkspawn today?" he smirked as Kaetryn helped herself to some supper. She disregarded him completely, and sat down on the other side of the fire so that the flames obstructed Alistair's gaze. In response, he stood up and looked down on her with his arms folded. "Still not talking to me, are we? Look, I said I was sorry. I know that perhaps it was a bit insensitive of me to ask if you could conjure yourself a better personality, and I completely agree with you; that limerick was entirely inappropriate. However it was my first attempt at poetry and you had just thrown my pack into the river. But I have forgiven you for all of that! Can't we just shake hands and be friends already?" he said with a hint of sarcasm in his otherwise honest voice.

Kaetryn eyed him with skepticism, before blowing on a spoonful of stew to cool it off. "Fine, let's call a truce," she announced sarcastically. "But how shall we celebrate our new-found peace, Templar? Shall we skip merrily through a field of flowers and sing songs about how the power of friendship is mightier than any sword or spell?"

"Yeah, yeah alright. Don't hurt yourself or anything," he scoffed, sitting back down and returning to his meal with indignation. They ate under a tense silence before Kaetryn finally spoke.

"So was it you, then? Have you been telling stuffy nobles all about the scary Witch that Duncan picked up in the woods one day?" she asked Alistair accusingly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he replied flatly.

"Please. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Who else would enjoy telling tall-tales to immature rich boys with nothing better to do but pretend they're heroes and march around with their Daddy's hired soldiers?" she retaliated brusquely.

"Well I'm flattered that you think I'm worthy of keeping such lofty company, but I'm the last person a self-respecting noble would have a conversation with," he joked. Kaetryn couldn't help but chuckle; if there was one redeeming quality Alistair had, it was his willingness to deride himself as much as he would mock anyone else. "Why? What have you heard?" he asked curiously.

"It's not so much what I heard as what I was subjected to," she said. "When I got back from the Wilds, some pretty boy ambushed me, wanting to talk about Darkspawn and how fortunate it is that we get to be the first ones they slaughter."

Ignoring her macabre sense of humour, he nodded. "Uh huh. Most of them are only here for the glory, but what has that got to do with you?"

"He already knew my name, and since I've never spoken to the likes of him in my entire life, someone must have told him all about me. Figured you'd be the first to volunteer information, Templar."

"Oh would you stop calling me that?" he said, his brows furrowed. "I was an Initiate-that's all. I never became a full Templar, and I never even wanted to devote my life to the Chantry. So let's just forget about our pasts-I'm a Grey Warden now, just like you."

"I've heard you call me 'Apostate'. That sounds like something a Templar would say, don't you think?" she shot back.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude?" he snapped, locking eyes with her. The firelight added an over-the-top, angry intensity to their faces that made them both burst into a fit of laughter. When they finally stopped, he sighed "Yes, I may have referred to you as such on occasion, but the Chantry doesn't provide us with a wide variety of vocabulary for mages. You were never part of the Circle, and to them that means you're either a hedge mage or an Apostate. You don't look like a Wilder shaman and you're certainly not one of those Dalish Keepers, so you're not technically a hedge mage, are you?" He stood and walked to the other side of the fire and sat down beside Kaetryn at an arm's length away. "You leave me at a loss for words, I guess."

He smiled, and his warm, hazel eyes and lop-sided grin made Kaetryn soften; she was tired of feeling at odds with everyone around her. It was hard to feel that she belonged with the medley of men she was now forced to live with, but that didn't mean she had to take her frustration out on them. It had only solidified her standing as the company's pariah.

"How about you just call me 'Kaetryn', and I'll just call you 'Alistair'. Then there won't be any confusion about what we technically are and technically aren't," she said, almost smiling.

"Fair enough," he winked, shovelling more food into his mouth.

They ate in silence for a while, neither really quite sure of what to say to the other. Kaetryn yawned and fiddled with her staff. She hated going to sleep, fearing the haunting visions that awaited her when she closed her eyes, but exhaustion was threatening to overcome her completely. The nightmares were getting more frequent, and it was becoming harder and harder to jolt herself awake. At first, they had consisted only of an inky blackness that swallowed Kaetryn whole, and she would wake up screaming, unable to shake the sensation of drowning. After that, they had developed form and colour, and she would often find herself back in the Brecilian forest, running from unseen monsters. Lately however, she would just wander an endless, barren field, feeling like she was being watched but being unable to find a place to hide. She never saw the creature that watched her, but she felt its cold, calculating eyes upon her, and knew it possessed a great intelligence, poisoned by hatred.

Alistair turned to her and asked "So what was the name of the noble that made the unfortunate mistake of trying to strike up a friendly conversation with you? I bet he'll cry himself to sleep for the next week and a half."

Kaetryn finished the last bit of her meal and got up to rinse her bowl in a nearby trough of water. "Oh some stuck-up, high-born name. I wasn't really paying attention," she replied.

"Hm. What did he look like? Maybe I'd recognize him from Denerim," Alistair said whilst filling his bowl for a third time.

"Oh the usual: tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, fancy gold armour that probably cost more than the person it was protecting. He even had a silly entourage following him around in case the rabble decided to get a little fresh. Looked a bit like you, actually," she laughed. "Now I've got to report to Sadon, he'll be wondering why I haven't brought news of the Horde's movements yet," and she snatched her staff away from it's place beside the fire where Alistair was examining it curiously. "I think it was something like... Kalban or... Caygin?"

Alistair dropped his spoon and began hacking as he accidentally inhaled some of the stew. Kaetryn laughed at the pitiful sight. "Maker's breath! You're a pig. You'd think the Chantry would have taught you how to eat without embarrassing yourself." She turned walked away before Alistair had finished coughing the food out of his lungs.

"Hey wait! His name wasn't Cailan, was it?" Alistair hollered after her, but she was already gone. "It better not have been!" he shouted. After a moment, Alistair sighed and covered his face with his hands. "By the Maker! She's going to get us all exiled. Again!" he groaned.

Kaetryn weaved her way through the many tents in the Grey Warden camp. She knew Sadon, Duncan's second-in-command, would probably be with the King's Advisor, Loghain. Kaetryn had never spoken to Loghain, but the few times that she encountered him, she had felt a little star-struck. As a small child in a town not far from Gwaren, of which Loghain was the Teryn, she had heard many stories of the Battle of River Dane, and how Loghain had delivered the definitive blow against the Orlesian chevaliers, winning back Ferelden's independence. She just hoped that his legendary tactical prowess would prove to be enough to thwart the unnatural plague that was bearing down on them.

When Kaetryn finally located Sadon, she instead saw him chatting with the noble that had stopped her near the gate leading into the Wilds. She stopped short, and watched them from the shadows. Cailan was excitedly chatting with Sadon, and his guardsmen were positioned on either side of him.

"I have great confidence in the capabilities of the Grey Wardens, Sadon. This battle will be one that bards will sing about for many ages to come," Cailan declared whole-heartedly.

"Your faith is reassuring, your Majesty, but let us not count our blessings before the battle has even begun," said Sadon, trying to maintain a smile.

A twig snapped under her foot, and Kaetryn hissed in anger. The guards immediately drew their swords and placed themselves between Cailan and the shadows where Kaetryn was hiding. She stepped forward slowly until the torches illuminated her face, and glared challengingly at the armed men before her.

"Ah Kaetryn, I see you have returned. I was beginning to wonder if you had deserted!" Sadon laughed nervously, trying to ease the guards. "Come here, I'd like to introduce you to King Cailan."

Kaetryn froze as quiet mortification tinted the cheeks on her otherwise deadpan face. Cailan looked down at his toes, feeling just as uncomfortable. The guards sheathed their swords slowly, and returned to their protective position behind the King, keeping their vigilant gaze on Kaetryn. After what felt like a year, Kaetryn cleared her throat and walked slowly over to stand beside Sadon in front of the King. She crossed her arms over her chest as Casturn had taught her, and closed her eyes as she gave a low bow. "Your Majesty. It is an honour," she uttered quietly.

Cailan smiled sheepishly and nodded his head. Sadon looked at Kaetryn and scowled, wondering what had transpired between her and the King. He grunted and produced a map that he laid on the table as he moved the candles out of the way, hoping to clear the air. "Right. Let's have it then. Here is where you reported the Horde to be most concentrated yesterday," he said, pointing to a remote valley at the edge of the map. "Judging by how long you were gone, I would assume they have not moved very far since then, yes?"

Kaetryn tore her eyes from the King's face and picked up a quill from the table, marking three large X's at various points in the Wilds. "As far as I could tell, they have not moved at all, ser. However the breadth of the Horde has grown considerably," she remarked as she drew a long arch where she thought the edge of their encampment was located. "We also encountered three large groups heading directly toward Ostagar. I think they know that we're waiting for them here," she said grimly.

"That is unsurprising," said Sadon. "They can sense us, just as we sense them. A large group of us assembled in one place is sure to draw their attention. How many Darkspawn were in these groups?" he asked, pointing at the large X's.

"This one was just a group of seven Genlocks," she said, pointing at the X closest to the gates of Ostagar. "But these two had to have been at least twenty-strong. There was even one that could wield magic," she shuddered. "I've never seen anything like that."

"Ah that must be an Emissary!" Cailan chimed in. "What was it like? Did it possess a weapon such as yours?" he chattered, pointing at Kaetryn's staff.

"Um... no, your Majesty. It did not," she sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "From what I could tell, it did not need one."

"Fascinating!" Cailan exclaimed. Kaetryn looked back at the map to conceal her aggravation, and Sadon did his best to stifle a frown.

"Do you have anything else to report?" Sadon asked. "If not, I'd like you to rest up. Duncan is expected to arrive tomorrow with a collection of new recruits, and he wants you and Alistair to be prepared; he has a special assignment in mind for you both."

"What are we supposed to do? Give the recruits a guided tour?" she asked sarcastically.

Sadon glowered in disapproval. "Duncan will explain tomorrow, when the time is right. Now if there is nothing else, be on your way."

"Yes, ser." She bowed once more to Cailan and shot a smirk at the guards, before turning to leave. She walked quickly, eager to return to the warmth of the fire and when she returned, Alistair was gone.

Duncan arrived early the next morning with a group of eight new recruits, and summoned both Kaetryn and Alistair before they had time to commit themselves to other tasks. The recruits themselves were a varied mix, three Humans, three Elves and two Dwarves. Kaetryn was pleased to see that three of them, two of the Elves and a Dwarf with hideous face brands, were women. She was looking forward to no longer being referred to as "the new girl."

The Humans were all men; Daveth, a cutpurse from Denerim, Ser Jory of Redcliffe, and a quiet, mournful young man that Kaetryn recognized as Aedan, the younger brother of Fergus Cousland, the chatty noble-born who led the scouting missions into the Wilds.

The only mage that Duncan had managed to convince the Templars to release from their watch was a very young Elven girl whose name was Neria. Duncan also recruited two other Elves, one bearing the tell-tale ink markings of the Dalish on his face. His name was Theron, and the other Elf, a maidan who appeared to be from a city Alienage, was called Kallian.

Kaetryn had never seen a Dwarf before, but Casturn had told her many stories of the grande city of Orzammar, buried deep within the Frostback Mountains. He had also been very interested in Dwarven politics, but Kaetryn did not share his fascination with serpentine tales of intrigue and treachery. The male Dwarf carried himself with poise, but also with an air of indignation that led Kaetryn to believe that he was born of the Noble Caste. He called himself Duran, and the woman with the burn marks of the Casteless on her face answered to the name Natia.

The recruits assembled by the Grey Warden camp and were preparing to head out into the Wilds while Duncan spoke to Kaetryn and Alistair in private.

"Are you seriously planning on sending me out on some secret mission with her?" Alistair whined. "She'll probably feed me to the Darkspawn and tell you all that I just got lost or something!"

"Oh how oddly perceptive of you Alistair! You read my mind!" snapped Kaetryn, resisting the urge to kick him in the shins.

"That's enough, both of you," Duncan groaned. He was aware that both Kaetryn and Alistair were young, but he also knew that he must rid them of their immaturity quickly if they were going to survive as Grey Wardens. Alistair was one of the most promising swordsmen that Duncan had ever seen, and Kaetryn's unusual fighting technique, a startling mixture of magic and melee, made her far more formidable than any Circle mage. If they couldn't learn to like each other, then they'd just have to learn how to rely on one another-friendship could wait. "You two will head into the Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to gather eight vials of Darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

"Oh this sounds familiar," muttered Kaetryn under her breath. "And the second task?"

"There was once a 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," Duncan explained. "I want you both to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

"What kind of scrolls are these, Duncan?" asked Alistair.

"Old Treaties, if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago," Duncan smiled. "They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with."

"How long ago was this?" asked Kaetryn. "Will they even still be there?"

Duncan stroked his beard as he considered her question. "It's possible the scrolls may have been destroyed or even stolen, though the seal's magic should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal."

"I don't understand... why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?" Alistair cut in.

Duncan frowned. "It was assumed we would someday return." He gazed off into the distance, examining the edge of the Wilds that would soon be flooded with Darkspawn. "A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

Kaetryn followed his gaze and glared, wishing to be anywhere but Ostagar. "Right. Find the archives and eight vials of Darkspawn blood. Understood," she announced, gathering up some provisions and stuffing them into her pack.

"Watch over your charges Alistair, and Kaetryn, make sure they return quickly, and safely," ordered Duncan.

Alistair beamed. "We will!"

"Then may the Maker watch over your path," Duncan said as he placed one hand on each of their shoulders. "I will see you both when you return."

Duncan had given them a map with the approximate location of the abandoned outpost, and by the time they got there, they had managed to collect the eight vials of Darkspawn blood needed for the forthcoming ritual. There were many more Darkspawn in the Wilds than the day before, and when they discovered the scouting party that had been sent out that morning had been slaughtered, with the exception of one man, Kaetryn demanded that they return to Ostagar and warn the soldiers. Alistair refused, saying that it would take a much larger group of Darkspawn to pose a threat to Ostagar, and that he hadn't sensed one of that size yet. They argued back and forth for a few minutes, leaving the recruits to watch in exasperation, before they decided to stop wasting precious time and find the ruined outpost before they were all trampled by the Horde.

The ruin itself served as a small Darkspawn encampment, and after they all lie slain, Alistair found the young City Elf gravely wounded. The majority of Kaetryn's mana had been spent battling the Hurlock Alpha that had been in command of the bivouac, and she was only able to heal a small portion of her wounds before she was overcome with fatigue. The Circle mage stepped forward and managed to save the Elven girl from death, proving to be a talented Spirit Healer. Kaetryn was impressed, and revised her opinion that all Circle apprentices were weak and fearful creatures, easily dominated by the Templars.

Leaning on her staff in exhaustion, Kaetryn hobbled over to a large wooden chest in the corner of the ruins. It looked like it had been smashed by a very large maul, and it no longer contained any scrolls. Alistair rubbed the small patch of hair on his chin for a moment, deep in thought, when a voice called out to them from atop a nearby hill.

"Well, well... What do we have here?" cooed the raven-haired woman. She was dressed in clothing similar to Kaetryn's; made of many different types of cloth and leather roughly stitched together, but in a far more revealing style. Her clothes were decorated with feathers; teeth and various baubles, making the young woman appear as untamed as the Wilds she hailed from. She began to descend from the hill slowly, and Kaetryn positioned herself between the newcomer and the recruits. Kaetryn noticed that the woman's carried a long, wooden staff and knew right away that she must be a mage; probably an Apostate like herself, though she wasn't sure if that was something to celebrate or lament.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" she giggled demurely. "Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" The woman had drawn quite close to the group, which spooked Alistair, so he drew his sword, causing the others to draw their weapons and take a few steps backwards. Kaetryn just held her ground, leaning on her staff and examining the woman, whom she noticed had yellow, feral eyes. "This does not bode well," she remarked silently in her head.

Frustrated at not having received a response yet, the woman snapped, "What say you, hmm? Scavenger, or intruder?"

Kaetryn straightened as Alistair stepped forward to stand by her side. "I would first know who you are, and where you come from," she said, trying to banish the shaky weariness from her voice.

The woman giggled at that response. "You are the intruder, here. I believe the first question is rightfully mine," she winked. Not giving Kaetryn a chance to respond, she marched past the group to stand at the edge of the ruins where the bushes were thickest. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go?' I wondered, 'Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby," Alistair muttered under his breath.

"Ooo," shuddered the woman in jest. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair glared at her and sheathed his sword. "Yes, swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" Daveth declared, which made Kaetryn scoff. The woman noticed Kaetryn's disgust towards Daveth's comment and smiled at her knowingly.

"Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" she signed with her hand on her hips. Turning to Kaetryn she said "You there! You appear to be somewhat of a Witch yourself! Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Kaetryn did her best to appear calm and unafraid. "You may call me Kaetryn."

The woman smiled with delight. "And you may call me Morrigan, if you wish." Crossing her arms, she examined Kaetryn closely. After a moment she spoke. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest... something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... Witch-thief!" shouted Alistair accusingly.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan giggled sarcastically. "How does one steal from dead men?" she asked, sighing with contempt.

"Quite easily, it seems," muttered Alistair. He began walking quickly towards Morrigan but Kaetryn grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them," Alistair said imperiously.

Morrigan glowered indignantly. "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them! Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened," she said dismissively.

"Then can you tell us who it was that did remove them?" came the quiet voice of Aedan, who was standing at the back of the group behind everyone else.

Her eyes flicked to Aedan's youthful face and she smiled. "'Twas my mother, in fact," she shrugged.

"Is that some kind of sodding joke?" grunted Natia, as she fiddled with her Dwarven battle-axe.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "If so, it seems like the truthful kind, rather than the funny sort, no?"

"Great. She's a thieving, weird-talking, funny, sort of Witch," Alistair grumbled.

With a sigh, Morrigan turned away from the group and gazed out at the sunset. "Not all in the Wilds are monsters. Flowers grow as well as toads. If you wish, I will take you to my mother." She moved a couple steps into the thick brush that encroached upon the ruined Warden outpost. "You may ask her for your papers, if you like," she whispered slyly.

"We should get those Treaties but... I dislike this," Alistair whispered in Kaetryn's ear. "Morrigan's sudden appearance... it's too convenient."

Kaetryn examined Morrigan closely, finding nothing overtly threatening about her appearance, but she also knew that magical prowess didn't manifest itself in the form or swollen muscles or a large stature. Still, they were running out of options, and time. "I say we go with her," she declared.

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will! Just you watch!" cried Daveth, taking a few more steps back.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change!" Jory grumbled as he yanked Daveth back into the group.

"Ha! Follow me then, if it pleases you," said Morrigan before striding quickly off into the forest.

The group followed her for about fifteen minutes, mostly in silence, save for Daveth, who continued to whine. "She's a Witch, I tell you! We shouldn't talking to her, least of all following her back to her lair!"

"Quiet, Daveth!" Kallian shushed. "If she's really a Witch, do you want to make her mad?" Daveth shut his mouth and didn't speak again until they were out of the Wilds completely.

Sundown began when they reached a small clearing near a swamp surrounded by torches. Morrigan's mother appeared to be nothing more than a wizened old woman, but both Kaetryn and Neria could sense how thin the Veil that separated this world from the Fade had become in this area, and it made them both very uneasy. The old woman did not introduce herself, instead preferring to chatter incoherently about the nature of faith and logic. Kaetryn remained calm and respectful, and in time the old woman relinquished the Old Treaties, but not before delivering many half-baked, mad-sounding tidbits of wisdom. She handed the scrolls to Kaetryn, but as she reached out to take them, the sage grabbed her and pulled her close. "Take these to your Grey Wardens, and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realise," the woman murmured in Kaetryn's ear.

Kaetryn stared at her in confusion, but nodded solemnly. "Thank you for returning them, my lady," she said.

"Such manners!" cried the old woman. "Always in the last place you look... like stockings." Turning away from the group she opened the door to her modest hut and giggled "Oh do you not mind me, you have what you came for!" She stepped inside the hut, and the door slammed immediately, almost as if by magic.

Kaetryn bid Morrigan a goodbye and the group made their way quickly back to Ostagar to deliver the Old Treaties and deliver the sage's warning. Duncan was pleased with their success and invited Kaetryn and Alistair to bear witness to the Joining of the eight new recruits. Alistair agreed, but Kaetryn declined, not wanting to witness the potential deaths of anyone. She returned to the Grey Warden camp, and hid herself from the news that Neria, Daveth, Jory, and Kallian had not survived the Joining.

The third time she had encountered Cailan was later that night as the battle drew nearer. Since she had not attended the Joining ritual, she had been available for Sadon to delegate a task. She was to deliver a message relaying the readiness of the Wardens to Duncan, who was discussing strategy with the King, Loghain, a Revered Mother, and a Senior Enchanter. She tip-toed over to Duncan's side, not wanting to interrupt, and handed the slip of parchment to him. She was surprised to hear heated bickering between the King and Loghain.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves," Loghain proclaimed as he paced back and forth.

"It's not a 'fool's notion.' Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past... and you will remember who is King," Cailan said as he glowered at Loghain.

"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century," Loghain grumbled at he massaged his temple in frustration.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" Cailan sighed. He turned around and asked "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

"They are, your Majesty," replied Duncan with a nod.

Cailan noticed Kaetryn then, and gave her a quick nod. "And this is the new recruit I met earlier by the gates?" he asked. Kaetryn blushed and looked away; she had been hoping that Cailan would have forgotten her by now. Cailan smiled, seeming to forgive her for her misdeed. "Every Grey Warden is needed now. I am honoured fight along side your ranks," he said warmly.

Loghain scoffed and slammed his fist down on the table. "You risk too much, Cailan. The Darkspawn Horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines. Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing. We must attend to reality." Kaetryn looked up at Loghain, surprised by his disregard for the King's elevated status, but finding it hard to disagree with his logic.

Cailan sighed childishly and waved away Loghain's concerns. "Fine, speak your strategy." He leaned over the map spread out over the table and pushed his hair off of his face. "The Grey Wardens and I draw the Darkspawn into charging our lines, and then...?"

"You alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to attack from cover-" Loghain said as he pointed at the map.

"To flank the Darkspawn, I remember," Cailan interjected. "This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?"

Loghain straightened and looked over at the peak of the tower. "I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital."

Cailan smiled from ear to ear. "Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and this mage woman to make sure it's done," he said triumphantly.

Kaetryn gaped at Cailan, and waited for Duncan to protest. He simply gazed at her with forlorn eyes.

"You rely on these 'Grey Wardens' too much," Loghain snapped. "Is that truly wise?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Cailan turned away from Loghain and crossed his arms. "Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from."

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing," Duncan interjected calmly.

Loghain waved his hand. "There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," he said dismissively.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" laughed Cailan, a twinkle of excitement in his eye.

"I... Yes, your Majesty," Duncan sighed. The Senior Enchanter piped up, and Duncan turned to Kaetryn and whispered closely to her ear "Go collect Alistair and meet me at the centre of our camp. Move quickly." She nodded, and slipped away as the Revered Mother harped on at the Senior Enchanter for thinking that he might actually be of some use.

Kaetryn leaned back in her chair, swallowing and breathing deeply after recounting what she remembered of Ostagar. The Council all listened intently, shooting each other knowing glances from time to time. Teris was still jotting down notes on various pages of vellum, looking up at her to nod in encouragement every so often. After a few more minutes, he finally spoke. "So you and Alistair managed to reach the top of the tower, and lit the beacon. What happened after that?"

Kaetryn closed her eyes, and soughed in concentration. "It's a bit fuzzy, I'm afraid. A section of the floor had collapsed on the lower level, and Darkspawn were pouring into the tower in great numbers. We had to fight our way to the top, and after we lit the beacon, a large wave of them funnelled in, blocking the exit. I was hit by some stray arrows, and went down, though Alistair was still fighting when I blacked out."

The Council went silent. The rustle of vellum and the scratching of quills ceased as they all stared at her in confusion. "So... how did you and Alistair manage to escape into the Wilds?" Teris asked.

"As I mentioned ser, I passed out. I can only tell you what was told to me, though I scarcely believe it to be the truth myself," sighed Kaetryn, preparing for an onslaught of disbelief and more questions. "When I awoke, I was lying in a bed inside the hut of the old woman I mentioned meeting the day Alistair and I took the new recruits into the Wilds. The arrows had been removed and my wounds were completely healed. Alistair was there as well, already awake and waiting outside. When I asked the old woman's daughter how I had ended up there, she told me that her mother has turned into a giant bird and plucked us from atop the tower, one in each talon." Kaetryn looked at her hands, unwilling to face the stares of disbelief. It was almost a minute before the scribbling of ink on vellum started up again.

"So this woman and her daughter, they were mages then? What were their names again?" asked Hadrel, speaking for the first time with a light, airy voice.

"Yes, ser, they were. She later told me her name was Flemeth, and her daughter was called Morrigan," she said meekly, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

Hadrel's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Flemeth? As in the Witch of the Wilds from the children's fairytale?"

"She said that 'Flemeth' was what the Chasind folk called her, and it was the only name she gave me," was Kaetryn's reply.

Teris and Hadrel glanced at one another in astonishment, but Teris nodded and Hadrel resumed logging Kaetryn's account on paper.

The sun rested heavily on the barren fields in the horizon, casting a deep orange glow throughout the Aerie, which was amplified by the red embers that filled the brazier in the middle of the room. A man with faded blonde hair leaned forward in his chair, scrutinizing Kaetryn thoroughly. She noticed him, and waited for him to call her a liar, a storyteller, or accuse her of hiding something, but he remained silent for the longest time. Kaetryn didn't know what else to say; Flemeth and Morrigan had certainly kept secrets from her, telling her lies and omitting the truth on many occasions, but she never doubted what they had told her about Ostagar. Both Flemeth and Morrigan had always had plans of their own, and when they lied, it was always as a means to an end. Falsifying the events of the Battle of Ostagar would serve no purpose, at least none that Kaetryn could see, and whatever Morrigan's plan had been, it was not one that involved causing the destruction of the Grey Wardens. Kaetryn hadn't been able to gather any more information on how she and Alistair ended up in the Wilds, and so she had no choice but to believe what Morrigan had claimed. Smiling, she remembered something that Flemeth had told her in the Wilds the day they met: "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide-either way, one's a fool." Kaetryn had dismissed her as a mad old woman, but Flemeth's words had stuck with her after all this time. "Wisdom comes in many forms, it seems," she thought to herself.

Finally the man leaned back in his chair and grunted. "Loghain's plan should have worked," he declared definitively. The rest of the men paused, and nodded in agreement before turning to Kaetryn for a response, but she just shook her head, anger and sorrow filling her face.

"Perhaps... had he not called a full retreat as soon as he saw the signal," she barked angrily. Tears welled up in her eyes suddenly, and she hid her face from the men, not wanting to reveal herself as the little girl she felt she was at that moment. "I only hope that Duncan lived to see the flames atop the tower. I pray that he knew that we had not failed him, before he..." she trailed off, wiping away the tears. Steeling herself, she continued "Loghain ordered his men to retreat, and marched straight to Denerim instead of charging the line." She exhaled sharply and clenched her jaw. "Not that it would have necessarily been enough. The Darkspawn must have been tunnelling for weeks, because when they collapsed the floor of the Tower of Ishal, they flooded out with such great numbers that the King's army was completely overrun from behind their defensive line. Ostagar was... a disaster," she finished grimly, wiping away one last stray tear.

The Council was silent, deep in thought. Finally Hadrel looked up at Kaetryn and smiled. "It could not have happened any other way, lass. The important thing is that you lived, and you went on to correct the mistakes made that night. Ferelden is safe and the Blight was quelled; you couldn't have done a better job honouring Duncan's memory than that." Kaetryn just nodded and smiled appreciatively at Hadrel, having nothing else to add.

Only the incessant sound of scribbling filled the Aerie until Teris yawned and straightened his back. "It's getting quite late isn't it?" he asked aloud, and was answered by various grunts of agreement. "We shall reconvene tomorrow at midday. Until then I shall see most of you at supper. The rest of you I bid a good night." He got up out of his chair and stretched. Kaetryn did the same, and only then realised how stiff her legs had become from the hours of sitting. The red-headed Dwarf, who had been snoozing throughout the entire meeting, was the first to reach the door He unlatched the lock and threw the door open, eager to return to his ale. Kaetryn herself was yearning to return to her bed. She didn't feel hungry, but drained and listless, so she would not be visiting with Maralyn tonight.

Silently, she followed the men down the long, winding stairs, wishing them a farewell as they exited through side doors that led to their bedrooms and studies, until at last she reached the bottom of the tower alone. Kaetryn slipped through Weisshaupt unnoticed, and locked herself in her room, trying to shut her remorse off from the rest of the world.