Looking back on it later, the thing about the Battle of Ostagar that Mara remember the most wasn't the Darkspawn, or the fighting, or the death. It was just how… quiet it was. Surely the soldiers had concerns, doubts. Many had private, traitorous thoughts of their own. But no one said a word. Not when the soldiers marched off to war, not when Alistair and Mara split from the main group for their primary objective, and not when the Darkspawn arrived. Not a word.

Mara and Alistair probably got the easiest part of the battle. They also got the worst. As the newest, and youngest, members of the Wardens, they were given guard duty instead of any front-line combat. They were sent to the Tower of Ishal, waiting at the top with a pile of signal kindling. The King and the rest of the Grey Wardens were to engage the horde of Darkspawn directly. Then, when Duncan sent a signal to them, Mara and Alistair were to light the consuming flame of the kindling, which in turn would signal Teyrn Loghain and their entire reinforcement garrison to charge in and flank the Darkspawn, smashing through their lines.

It was an easy job, and the worst they could have been given. Mara sat in the corner, head in her hands as she listened to steel clashing on steel below, the ghastly screams of horror and death, the overwhelming stench of burning and decaying flesh, while Alistair watched in frozen horror from a window. She half-wished she was back in the hellish Circle, away from all of this, and half that she was on the battlefield, able to do something, anything, to save them.

Here they were, trapped, waiting on a signal. A signal that would do nothing.


Teyrn Loghain watched in equal horror from his position on the hills overlooking the battlefield. His men were trained, rested and ready to fight, but they would all be killed regardless, surely. This plan was foolish, to the point of suicidal. The Darkspawn horde vastly outnumbered them, even with all their men, and it would have taken meticulous planning and flawless execution to have overcome them. But instead he used this elementary flanking plan, in hopes that their shock would be enough to undo them. Cailan thought that his armies, and the legend of the Grey Wardens, would be enough to protect him.

He shook his head. He had seen many atrocities, but perhaps this was the most insulting of them all. He had fought side-by-side with Maric, Cailan's father, and was proud to have been his friend. Together they had won hundreds of victories, driven Orlais out of their country, reclaimed a throne together. And here was his fool son, casting it all away, just so he could have the glory of being the King who slew a Blight.

"I'm glad you're not here." He shook his head, muttering both to himself, and to the fallen King if he was listening. "To witness this... embarrassment, this insult, to what we accomplished. If only you were here..."

"Ser?" It was a woman's voice, his second in command, and he sighed, turning to face her. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing important." He s hook his head. "Just... thinking."

"When do we ride to help them?" She asked.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" She raised an eyebrow, and Loghain didn't respond. "Ser?"

"Just... have the men ready for anything, on my command." He ordered, not looking back. She stayed silent a moment, then nodded mutely, walking away and yelling orders to the lines of soldiers.

Down below, Cailan and his forces were being massacred. The Grey Wardens fought gallantly, with awe-inspiring, almost superhuman feats of strength and agility. They were bred to defeat Darkspawn, and to this they excelled. One man could cleave through a dozen Darkspawn at a time before falling. But there was so few of them, less than a thousand, and they were so greatly outnumbered that even their power couldn't save them. If each one could kill a hundred Darkspawn at a time, perhaps this could be salvaged, but not even legends can defeat odds so heavily stacked against them.

Cailan's forces didn't fare as well. Most of them could cut down a Darkspawn or two before suffering revenge for their actions. Some couldn't even managed that. These were men trained for roadway policing and keeping the peace among squabbling nobility, not for fighting a war against an army of unholy creatures, thought by many to be little more than fairy tales.

Loghain turned back and did a quick estimate of his own men. Perhaps five thousand, all things considered. Maybe less. Granted, he had spent so many hours training them, getting them ready for whatever came, but still… even if they held the element of surprise…

He looked down, twisting his hands together, and closed his eyes.


"There it is!" Alistair shouted, looking back from the window and gesturing wildly at Mara. "The signal! Light the fire!"

Alistair hadn't finished his sentence by the time Mara was bringing magic to her fingers, snapping and allowing a spark of flame to engulf the pile of kindling, erupting into a geyser of flame that carried up and into the night. He began cheering as it did, running back over to the window, shouting excitedly for the soldiers on the field. Mara smiled a little, stepping towards him and away from the fire. They had done their job.

Then Alistair's cheering died.

"What?" She asked after he had fallen silent a moment. "What's happening?"

"Loghain." He whispered. "He… his men are falling back."

Mara's heart stopped a moment, her veins filled with ice creeping up them. "What?" She whispered, unable to comprehend what had been said. "They… they're running away?" Alistair nodded, unable to speak. "Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know." He shook his head, leaning forward to see even the slightest bit better. "Surely they're just repositioning. They can't just be abandoning us. Surely..."

'Run'. It was if everything about her, her instincts, the seer, Faith, her magic… all spoke out in one voice, all at once, shouting at her. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and they had to leave.

'Run'

"What is he doing?!" Alistair shouted, pounding a hand on the window. "We're getting slaughtered out there! Where is Loghain?!"

"Alistair." She breathed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We have to get out of here."

"What?!" He turned, now shouting at her instead. "Like he did?! Just turn and run?!"

"Listen to me." She kept her voice level and calm, knowing she had to be productive and sociable to get him to calm down. "I'm never wrong about these things. If I were, I'd have died in that cave. Something is… terribly, terribly wrong."

"So we just turn and run away? Abandon them?" He hissed, shaking his head. "No. We can't do that. Come with me, we'll go down there and join the battle, help them out."

"Alistair, listen to yourself." She begged. "Everyone down there is dying, and we don't have a chance. Whatever is happening… anyone who stays is going to be killed." He sighed, and looked away. She lowered her hand, staring in his direction. "Alistair." She whispered, pleading. "Please. I need you. We have to leave. If you stay here, you'll die. And if I go out there alone, a blind girl in the woods, being chased by Darkspawn… Look, I'm not asking you to abandon them. I'm asking you to take a chance on me."

Alistair stayed silent a moment, looking up above, and then down. The Grey Wardens were falling by the dozens, now completely surrounded. Any moment now, they would be at the tower…

"Duncan wouldn't have wanted me to die because I was being stubborn." He nodded, drawing his sword. "Come on, we have to go."

"Thank you." She sighed in relief, picking up her staff. "Come on, let's get going, now."


"For the love of the Maker!" Mara shouted over her shoulder at the pounding steel boots of the man behind her. "Alistair, don't stop running!"

"I'm trying!" He shouted back. He glanced over his shoulder in turn. "The Darkspawn aren't that fast! We can slow up a bit!" The Darkspawn were at the other end of the clearing behind them, and Mara was moving much faster than they were.

"I'm not taking that chance!" She shouted back. They had only just barely managed to carve their way out of the Tower of Ishal, there was on way she was going to slow until they were completely out of sight. Preferably halfway across the country. "We need to-"

She was cut off by blistering pain, falling to the ground and screaming. Something was caught around her leg, having stepped on something. She reached down to rip it off, but it was heavy and metal, and only dug further when she tried to move it, causing her to shriek out once more, balling her hand up and slamming it into the dirt.

"Alistair!" Her voice broke, hoarse and ragged. "What the hell just happened?"

"Oh no." He shook his head, his voice close to her head. "Looks like you stepped in a bear trap."

"What?" She gasped, wincing in pain. Aside from metal digging into her leg, she had twisted her foot badly, and dreaded to think of running with it. One thing at a time. "What the hell is it?"

Alistair shook his head, mind searching desperately for a description. "Hunter's trap." He explained. "Made of jagged metal, pressure sensitive. Stops anything smaller than a dragon." He began to touch at it, trying to pry it apart. "I think-"

He was cut off by her screaming as it fell once more into her leg, cutting deeper this time. "For the love of..." She sobbed, pounding her hand into the dirt. Her breath was ragged and uneven, filled with agony and pain. "Can you get it off?"

"I don't know!" He shook his head vehemently, looking around with desperation. Prying off it had only driven it further in the wound. There was a chain keeping it in the dirt, and a place for a release mechanism, but it looked as if it had been removed. Looking up, the Darkspawn were making headway in their direction.

"Fuck." She swore, sobbing in desperation, unable to so much as move her leg. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Don't panic." Alistair went over to where the release would be, stabbing his blade into it and trying to break it apart, to no avail. He swore under his breath, standing and thinking frantically. Out of desperation, he hacked at the chain, but the steel barely shifted under the force. He stood on it, trying to keep it stead, and hacked again, only to have his sword bounce helplessly off.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked, thrashing her leg in a desperate attempt to shake it off. "Alistair, can't you get it off?!"

"No!" He shouted back. "I-I don't know what to do!" He hacked at the chain again, accomplishing nothing. Looking up, the Darkspawn were almost upon them. "Damnit." Mara began casting spells in their direction, taking several down, but there was an entire horde. There was no way she could hold them off. His heart racing, pounding behind his ears, Alistair realized there was only one solution, short of just abandoning her to be eaten alive.

"Mara?" He whispered, barely able to say it. "If we want to get out of here… you're going to have to lose that leg."

"What?!" She shouted, losing concentration and losing the spell, sparks of the flame she had been summoning falling onto her hand and burning it. "No! You can't be serious! Try the trap again, anything, please!"

"Mara, listen to me!" He insisted. "The Darkspawn are almost here. We have a minute, maybe. Whatever this is made of, I can't break it. If I can't cut you out, you're going to die."

"Shit." She swore, her voice broken and sobbing. "Okay. Okay. I can do this. Just… be fast."

"I'm so sorry." Alistair stood. The Darkspawn were getting so close, would be on them in seconds. Taking a deep breath, he brought it down onto her.

There wasn't a word for the noise Mara made. It was like a feral, inhuman screech of agony, her whole body shaking and thrashing as the nerves in her leg were torn asunder. Alistair gasped, a pang of guilt for her pain, before pulling it back and bringing it down once more, this time only stopped by the bone that it bounced off of. One more strike and her leg would be off. He raised his sword once more.

As he did, a Darkspawn sprinter tackled him to the ground. He managed to bash it with the hilt of his sword, kicking it away before stabbing it through the skull, scrambling back to his feet. They had taken too long, now the horde was upon them. There wasn't enough for this to be the main body that had destroyed the Wardens, but more than enough to overwhelm a single man. He had no time to finish hacking off her leg, and couldn't bring himself to run.

To make it worse, Mara had passed out from shock, lying unconscious on the forest floor, bleeding to death. Alistair was surrounded, and alone.

A Darkspawn came lunging, vicious blade gouging at his cheek, and soon he was surrounded, fighting all those who had found him, bloody swords falling down all around him. His training and shield could only do somuch.

Another Darkspawn leapt at Alistair, this one managing to grasp his arms and seal them behind his back. Twisting his arms, he broke free from it and threw it off, driving his blade deep into it's skin and through it's heart. Footsteps thundered in the distance, what must have been thousands approaching.

Fire lanced through Alistair's back, having been struck with an arrow, and he fell to his knee, gasping and breathing in blood. He was a trained and experienced fighter, Duncan's instructions whispering in his ear, but no single man could withstand the onslaught he was faced with. Footsteps came from behind him, and he tried desperately to stand without any luck.

Then it stopped.