"I can't believe you never tried to Apparate before," I comment.

Tom shrugs. "It wasn't really necessary. It never occurred to me that it might work differently here. I'll point out that you never tried to Apparate either."

"I spent the last twelve years stuck inside a magical area that would have interfered with it anyway."

Tom chuckles and turns his attention back to our current project. We've gotten work started on a new, larger scale version of the Marauder's Map, this one encompassing all of Ferelden.

"We really should make it all of Thedas," I say. "What if our adventures wind up taking us outside of Ferelden?"

"Then we can magically make it zoom out," Tom says. "Just like we can use it to zoom in on Ostagar, Lothering, or the Circle Tower now."

Those were the only places that, between the two of us, we knew well enough to include in detail on the map. Tom had visited a number of other towns as a child, but had lived in Lothering for the past ten years, and so only had passing knowledge of them. We have marked the map with as many locations as we can, from cross-referencing more mundane maps, but it'll take actually visiting them to get more details about it.

We even figured out how to make the map show nearby darkspawn. However, at the moment, it can't detect them further than I can sense them anyway, making that only marginally useful for pinpointing their numbers and positions.

"Lexen?" says Duncan, poking his head into the tent. "Maker's breath, what is this tent? No, never mind, forget I asked."

"Hello, Duncan," I say. "Do you need something, ser?"

"The king wants you at a strategy meeting," Duncan says. "He asked for you by name, in fact."

"Am I going to have to give him an autograph?" I ask.

Duncan looks puzzled, but doesn't ask. He turns to Tom and says, "Shouldn't you be with the army, Hawke?"

Tom shakes his head. "My brother and I have guard duty at the Tower of Ishal tonight. For some reason, they wanted us far from the front lines, after the incident."

"What incident?" I ask, pre-empting Duncan.

"Tell you later, love," Tom says, grinning.

I chuckle, give Tom a peck, and head out for the meeting with King Cailan. When I arrive, he and Loghain are hunched over a table, looking at maps of the area and arguing.

"My decision is final, Loghain," Cailan says. "I will stand with the Grey Wardens on the front lines."

I sigh and come up to the table, and spread out my own map, tapping it to zoom it into the Ostagar area. Not many dots appear on the map at the moment. Just the Grey Wardens and a few others I was familiar enough with to key in on.

"What is this?" Loghain says, peering at it. "A magic map?"

"I'm still working on it," I say. "The one I made of the Circle Tower showed everyone inside. More importantly..." I turn to Cailan. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Cailan looks at me in offense. "It will be a glorious battle! I'll be fine! The great hero does not cower in the back and bark orders!"

I sigh and exchange a look with Loghain, and put my face in my hands. "Your Majesty, your kingdom needs you. All those songs of glorious victory are written by the victors, after they win their battles. They tell the bards to write whatever they want in order to make themselves look good, regardless of what really happened. No one is going to think you a coward for not charging headlong to your death."

"Maker's breath," Cailan mutters. "I just finished arguing this with Loghain, and now you're saying it, too?"

I smirk. "And with all due respect, sire, perhaps you should listen to us."

"Lexen," Duncan says in a strained voice. "We came here for a strategy meeting, not to rile up the king."

"Of course," I say, bowing my head.

"Right, yes," Cailan says, turning to look at his maps and gesturing toward them. "The Grey Wardens will be located here." I helpfully wave my hand to bring up an illusory army to help illustrate. "Yes, like that. We will lure the darkspawn into charging our ranks..."

"And you will get signal Tower of Ishal to light the beacon," Loghain says. "Giving my men the notice to charge and flank the darkspawn. No, not there, a bit further over."

"There?" I say, adjusting my magical display.

"Yes, better," Loghain says. "I have some men stationed there. They can light the beacon."

"You mean the Hawke brothers?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure they can manage it just fine, yes."

"No, no," Cailan says. "It's a vital task. We need to be sure to send our best. The junior Grey Wardens, Lexen and Alistair, should go."

I snort softly. "Thomas Hawke is a way better mage than I am."

"You rely too much on the Grey Wardens," Loghain says.

"I came here to kill darkspawn, but if you insist..." I say, shrugging.

"I do," Cailan says.

"Fine," I say.

"The plan will suffice," Loghain says with a sigh. "The two Grey Wardens will light the beacon."

"It will be a glorious moment," Cailan says, beaming dreamily. "The king of Ferelden stands beside the Grey Wardens to turn back the tide of evil!"

"Yes, I'm sure it will be at that," Loghain says dryly, turning away.

I gather up my map again and pocket it, and follow Duncan back toward the bonfire in front of his tent, where we meet up with Alistair again to give him the news.

"Alistair," Duncan says. "We have a mission for the two of you. You are to light the beacon at the Tower of Ishal in order to signal Loghain's forces to charge."

"You mean we won't be in the battle?" Alistair groans.

"The king asked for the two of you specifically," Duncan says.

"I told him it wasn't necessary and that the Hawke brothers shouldn't have any trouble with it," I say. "But he insisted, so up we go to hold up a torch." I shrug.

"Right," Alistair says. "But I'm drawing the line at putting on a dress and dancing the Remigold, even if the king asks me to do it."

"I'm already wearing a dress, but I'm afraid I don't know the Remigold," I say. "How does it go?"

Duncan sighs and puts his face in his palm.

"Anyway, where's this tower at?" I ask.

"Over there," Duncan says, pointing.

"Oh," I say. "That tower. Over there. How did I miss that?"

"You have selective perceptions," Mouse says.

"We will signal you when the time is right," Duncan says. "Alistair will know what to look for."

"You know, I could just stay with you and send my Patronus up to Tom to signal him. Or, hey, more logically, why don't we just skip the tower entirely and I can just send my Patronus straight to Loghain? Wouldn't that make more sense?"

"What's a Patronus?" Alistair asks.

"Perhaps we should keep some of your more unusual abilities a bit more quiet," Duncan says. "I don't think it will be necessary to reveal them to the people at large at this time."

"Alright, alright," I say. "The tower it is." I shrug.

"What is a Patronus?" Alistair repeats.

"He summons a magic duck to take messages to people," Mouse says.

"Something like that," I say.

"A duck?" Alistair says. "Seriously?"

"Don't you dare laugh."

Alistair stifles snickers. "Of course. Wouldn't dream of mocking your... magic duck."

Duncan sighs again. "The darkspawn are approaching. Be ready. They will likely be at our gates by nightfall."

"Plenty of time to catch a nap," I say lightly.

Alistair, still snickering, heads off, and Duncan pulls me aside into his tent privately. "There is one more thing to attend to first."

"What is it?" I ask.

Duncan rolls up the treaty scrolls and passes them over to me. "Put these away in your magic bag. Keep them safe. Just in case."

I nod and tuck them in my bag of holding. "Afraid something's going to go wrong?"

"Unless you have some knowledge of the future that I do not," Duncan says. "Not afraid. I'd just rather be prepared and have contingency plans set."

"Of course," I say. "Worst case scenerio?"

"Worst case scenerio, do what you must to stop the Blight," Duncan says. "Do anything that is necessary in order to accomplish that goal." He sighs. "I would not be telling this if you were the ordinary apprentice recruit that I thought you were at first. But you know war."

"And I know how even the best laid plans can go awry," I say. "How victory can turn to disaster in the blink of an eye."

"But, there's no need to get morbid," Duncan says. "It's entirely likely that the battle will go well, and we shall slay many darkspawn."

"Will you be wanting the scrolls back, then?" I ask.

"Keep them," Duncan says. "I think they'll be best in your hands, regardless. Remember the Grey Warden motto. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."

"Yes, ser," I say. "I won't let you down. I'll see this Blight ended, I swear it."

"May the Maker watch over us all."


"Looks like the battle is starting," Alistair says.

I can sense darkspawn tugging at the edges of my being. The sound of shouts in the distance, the clash of metal on metal. A rumble of thunder in the sky heralds the coming storm, as rain splatters against the ground, churning the old fortress into a sea of mud.

"Let's get into position," I say. "Tom and Carver Hawke will be waiting for us."

As we head for the bridge, a silvery snake appears before us and speaks in Tom's voice, "Lexen! Get your arse over to this tower! Darkspawn came up from the lower chambers. Most of our contingent are dead."

"Andraste's ass," I mutter as it vanishes, the message given. "We better hurry."

"What was that?" Alistair wonders as we make our way through the mud toward the gorge.

"That was Tom's Patronus," I say.

We break into a run across the bridge over the gorge. The ground is slick, and I'm careful not to slip and fall. Down below, chaos rages. Archers and ballistae set atop the bridge provide fire support against the darkspawn, but the darkspawn are fighting back.

Something large and flaming strikes the bridge just ahead of us, sending archers flying. I stumble back, holding out a hand to Alistair for a moment, and then continue on hurriedly. It's not good to be out in the open like this.

"There you are!" cries Tom as we approach the Tower of Ishal, waving his staff and incinerating another group of darkspawn. "I was wondering if you were going to show."

"Wouldn't miss it," I say. "I take it this is your mysterious brother?" I nod toward the armored swordsman next to him.

"Yeah," Tom says. "This is Carver Hawke. Carver, this is Lexen Chelseer."

"And I'm Alistair. Nice to meet you. Well, as nice as it could be, under the circumstances."

"No time for pleasantries," Carver says. "We've got darkspawn to kill."

"Why shouldn't we just send a Patronus to Loghain?" Tom wonders.

"Duncan said not to," I say.

Tom shrugs. "No skin off my nose."

"Be glad you have a nose at all."

Carver skewers another genlock that comes near. "Let's just get into the tower and up to that beacon. We have a mission to do here."

Without arguing about it further, we head inside the Tower of Ishal and start fighting our way through a small horde of darkspawn. In the back of the first floor, we come upon a large hole in the floor leading down into a cavernous space below.

"That must be how they got in here," Carver says.

"They're more cunning than I would have given them credit for," I mutter as we continue on upstairs.

"These darkspawn weren't even supposed to be here," Alistair says.

"If I'd realized there was such a clear breach in our defenses, I'd have collapsed that tunnel before the battle," Tom comments.

"We need to get up there and light that beacon!" Alistair says. "Loghain is waiting for us!"

"That would be easier if Lexen weren't stopping to pick up everything shiny along the way," Carver says dryly.

"Don't mind me," I say, waving a hand absently and dropping some coins into my bag.

"We're wasting time!" Carver says.

We finally climb up to the top floor of the tower. There, in the center of the circular room, is an enormous humanoid creature, all gray skin and muscle, two long, curving horns adoring its head. It appears to be munching on bloody meat when we arrive, probably human flesh, what's left of the tower guards. As it notices us, it turns to let out an ear-splitting roar, and charges.

"Maker's breath, what is that thing?" Carver utters, slashing at it with his greatsword.

"Ogre!" Alistair cries.

"Ogre?" I say. "What kind of a name is that for a darkspawn? Why not 'oghlock' or something?"

The ogre roars at me and grabs me by the throat with a big beefy hand. Apparently it didn't like my comment. I struggle to breathe, to cast some magic to free myself, but only for a moment. Pain, a sickening crunch, darkness.


I wake with a groan in my tent, and roll out of bed with a thump. That could have gone better. I head out and pack up my tent, and go to meet up with Alistair. The sky is growing dark as night rapidly approaches, and I can be glad for the fact that I did decide to take a nap after all.

"Good, you're here," Alistair says. "The battle is starting, from the looks of things."

"We have to get to the tower," I say, wasting not a moment to make my way across the bridge.

As I rush over the gorge, something strikes me hard, and I go flying. Before I can react, I slam into a rock wall, and the world winks out again.


I wake again and roll my eyes a bit. I'd forgotten about the darkspawn slinging things at the bridge. Need to be more careful. I go and pack up my tent again.

"How many times are you planning to get killed tonight?" Mouse asks.

"As many as necessary," I say.

"I wouldn't say any is necessary," Mouse says.

"I'm going to go kill a damned ogre, Mouse."

"Not going to just run away?"

"It's a point of pride," I say with a grin.

"Heh heh," Mouse says. "Have at it. Show that ogre who's the best."

I meet up with Alistair, and say, "Come on. Let's get to the tower. We've got darkspawn to kill." I head across the bridge.

"But we're not supposed to be in the battle," Alistair says.

"There you are!" Carver shouts at us as we reach the other side. "The tower's been overrun by darkspawn!"

We fight our way through the tower again. I spend less time rooting around for shiny things, if only because I can remember the places where I found the more interesting trinkets and can ignore the rest. As we reach the stairs to the top floor, I have Tom stun me briefly.

"What was that about?" Alistair wonders.

I pull out my wand from my bag. "Just a precaution. Be on your guard." I climb the stairs, and before the ogre even has a chance to turn around, I focus my anger and hate upon it and shout, "Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light washes over the ogre, but all it does is roar at us, seemingly unaffected.

"Andraste's ass, they're immune to the Killing Curse?" Tom says.

The only effect is that the ogre is now very annoyed at me. It picks me up like a rag doll and flings me against the far wall with enough force to snap my neck.


I wake on the third floor of the Tower of Ishal and spring to my feet with a frown.

"What was that about?" Alistair asks.

"There's an ogre up there," I say. "And I don't care to get my neck broken. Alistair, wanna go smack it with your shield to get its attention?"

"Oh, sure, no problem," Alistair drawls as he heads up the stairs. "How did you know?" he wonders upon seeing the ogre, and charges ahead with his shield.

"Would you believe me if I said 'magic'?" I reply, shooting electricity at the ogre.

Tom rains spells down upon the monstrosity, and Carver and Alistair slash at it with their blades. The ogre roars again in pain as Tom's acid spell sears half of its face off. Then, it reaches out and flicks Carver's greatsword out of his hand, and crushes his skull like a grape.

"Carver!" Tom cries, finishing off the ogre with a raging burst of flame before turning to me. "We're going back. We're going to save him."

"What are you talking about?" Alistair says. "He's dead. I'm sorry."

"Good luck, Alistair," Tom says.

I pull out my bag of holding and toss it to Alistair. "You can have my things. The treaties are in there, too. Maker watch over you."

I don't even care to argue at Tom's sentiment. I just call upon my Time Magic to shrink myself down, aging myself out of existence. Alistair will just have to take care of things on his own, in that timeline.


"What was that about?" Alistair repeats as I get up again.

"Ogre on top floor," I say. "Be careful."

This time, we focus a bit more on defensive magic, especially to protect Alistair and Tom's Squib brother. They don't have magic of their own to hold the enemy at bay.

I look at the ogre in cold fury and think of winter in my homeland, and shout, "Nevischio!"

Ice like daggers rains down upon the ogre, and as it tries to bat them away from its eyes and turns toward me, it slips on the slick coating of ice at its feet, and falls to the ground with an earthshaking slam. Alistair and Carver also lose their balance, although Carver clambers to his feet again quickly.

Tom flicks out another quick round of spells to keep the ogre down. "Quick! Finish it while it's down!"

Alistair gets up and leaps onto the ogre's chest and plunges his sword into the monster's throat. A gush of black blood spurts out, practically coating him in filth. Carver takes a step back, making a face.

"Don't touch me," Alistair says to the Hawke brothers. "Try not to get any of their blood on you. You aren't Grey Wardens. I'm immune to this stuff."

"Scourgify," I mutter, waving my hand at Alistair, but it only does so much toward cleaning him off.

Carver goes over to light the beacon while Tom and I hit Alistair with a few more Cleansing Charms to get the nasty black blood off of him.

Flames blaze to life, lighting up the beacon at the top of the tower that could be seen for miles around. "It's done," Carver says. "I hope we're not too late."

"We better not be," I scowl.

I stalk up to the edge of the room, where a gap where part of the wall has crumbled away allows looking out over the landscape below. I know there's a battle going on somewhere down there, but it's impossible to make out any details from here. In my mind, however, I imagine Loghain's forces sweeping down upon the unsuspecting darkspawn hordes, crushing them between the hammer and anvil.

Then, a tugging sensation within me. "Darkspawn," I hiss.

"They're coming up from below," Alistair says, readying his sword again.

A stream of darkspawn pours up the stairs and out into the wide room. Tom and I take out as many of them as we can with our spells while Alistair and Carver try to hold them at bay. Darkspawn arrows darken the air. I hiss in pain from my gut, and glance down to see an arrow protruding from my side. Damn it, we'd just managed to kill the ogre without losing anyone, and now I'm about to die again. A second arrow strikes me in the chest, and darkness takes me.


I wake in the Tower of Ishal. Upstairs again to fight the ogre. This time, I'm careless and annoyed, and the ogre snaps my spine.


I wake again in the tower. There's no use being a stubborn idiot here. I drink down a lyrium potion to dispel the magical exhaustion threatening to drag my down. We head upstairs and carefully engage the ogre, and I cast a Sleetstorm Curse at it again, warning Alistair and Carver about what I'm going to cast beforehand. We slay the monster and light the beacon.

"More darkspawn are about to come up at us from below," I say.

"Your darkspawn sense is very acute," Alistair says. "Maybe it's because you're a mage?"

I shrug noncommittally. I'd rather not have to explain time travel to him at all if I can possibly help it. If he thinks that my apparent precognition is because of Grey Warden powers, so much the better.

Darkspawn rush up from below, pelting us with arrows. Just how are we going to get out of this one?

"There's too many!" Alistair cries.

"Keep fighting!" I shout. "Every one we kill is one the others don't have to deal with!"

But it's still too much. I pour out all my magic again in shielding and healing spells, lightning attacks to bring them down. I'm everywhere it once, it seems like, but even I can't do everything. Head spinning and exhausted to the point of collapse, I sink to the stone floor and slip away into darkness.


I wake, but I'm not in anyplace that I recognize. Not in my tent, nor at the Tower of Ishal. Where am I? What happened?

"Your eyes finally open?" says a woman's voice.

I blink up at the ceiling and let my eyes focus. I move to sit up, and my head starts spinning again. I clutch my head dizzily and slump back onto the bed. "I think I'd better stay here for the moment."

"You took a nasty hit," the woman says. I think I dimly recognize her. "You should probably at least get something in your stomach to help you recover."

"You're Morrigan," I say. "The- the woman we met in the wilds."

"You remember me," Morrigan says. "How flattering. Here, I have some stew for you. Can you eat it yourself, or do I need to spoonfeed you?"

"I can eat," I assure her, even though I'm not too sure of it myself. But being spoonfed would offend my pride far more than I'm willing to admit. I take the bowl of hearty stew from her and start eating hungrily and with shaking hands.

"Do be careful not to spill any," Morrigan says. "I do not have an abundance of clean water solely for the purpose of cleaning up after you."

"Would you like me to teach you some household charms?" I say with a smirk. "So what happened to the others that were with me?"

"They are safe and well," Morrigan says. "Mother rescued the four of you from atop the tower."

"And the battle?" I ask. "How did it go? Do you know?"

"The man who was supposed to respond to your signal decided to retreat instead," Morrigan says. "The king and his army were slaughtered."

I almost choke on a bit of meat. "King Cailan is dead? Duncan? The Grey Wardens?"

"Indeed," Morrigan says. "The other Grey Warden has not been taking it well."

My head spins, and not just from exhaustion, hunger, or dizziness this time. Duncan, and the other Grey Wardens, all dead? He wanted to be prepared for the worst, but I didn't think it would actually come to this.

"Maker's breath," I murmur. I feel sick. Not enough to stop eating, of course, as I also feel like I haven't eaten in a month.

"Mother and I have patched you up and bandaged your wounds," Morrigan says. "Tis a wonder that all four of you survived."

"How did she get to us?" I ask. "We were on top of a tower surrounded by darkspawn on all sides..."

"She turned into a dragon and plucked you up, one in each talon, of course," Morrigan says. "Whether you believe that story or not is your choice. You can ask her yourself, if you like. She might even tell you the truth."

"I think I'll just go with the dragon bit and leave it at that for the moment," I say, passing off my empty bowl. "I think... I'm still exhausted, and everything hurts. I don't want to just lay here while the darkspawn are out there, though..."

"Rest," Morrigan says, taking the bowl. "Regain your strength. You are safe enough here, for now. The horde has moved on, and Mother's magic will keep the darkspawn at bay."

"Thank you, Morrigan," I murmur, flopping onto my back and letting my eyes slide shut.

"You are welcome," Morrigan says a little awkwardly as I drift off into sleep again.


Nightmares of corrupted dragons plague my sleep, but when I finally wake again, I feel much rested, ready to take on everything, even if I feel a little guilty about sleeping away while the Blight ravages the world.

Duncan. Cailan. The Grey Wardens. All dead. I sigh and rub my face, and stumble outside. The tent has been set up a short ways away from the hut, and my companions are seated around a crackling fire along with Morrigan's mother. Tom looks up from where he was working on the map, and smiles at me when he see me. I go over and hug him.

"How long was I out?" I ask.

"A good three days," Tom replies.

Alistair had been staring quietly into the fire when I approached, and now he looks up at me. "You're alive! I thought you were going to die for sure."

"You didn't want to listen to me," Tom says. "I told you he would be fine. It was just a case of severe magical exhaustion. He drained himself dry to kill those darkspawn and keep the rest of us safe."

I give a bow of gratitude toward the old witch. I absently cast a Naming Charm as I realize that she either didn't mention her name to me, or I've forgotten it. "Thank you for saving us, Flemeth. Without your timely rescue, getting out of that tower might have proven... problematic."

"Flemeth?" Alistair says in surprise. "Why do you call her that? Is she really, the Flemeth? The one from the legends?"

I shrug. "Don't look at me. Does it matter? She saved us, after all."

"Not to sound ungrateful, but why did you save us... Flemeth?" Alistair asks, seeing that she didn't protest at being called that.

"Well, we can't have all the Grey Wardens in Ferelden dying at once, can we?" Flemeth says.

"You could have saved Duncan though," Alistair says. "Or King Cailan. Or any of the others. Why us?"

"Because I was there," I say quietly. "That was why, wasn't it? You didn't want just any Grey Wardens. You wanted me."

"Don't you just love how he always thinks everything is all about him?" Mouse says cheerfully, looking up from nibbling on a bit of food on a log.

"Why you?" Alistair says, turning to me.

"Because I'm the one most likely to actually manage to succeed in doing this," I say.

Mouse jumps off the log and scurries over to me, climbing up my robes and perching upon my shoulder. "Just let me bask in your pride a bit, hmm?" he whispers into my ear.

I snicker softly. I go over and grab myself a bowl of stew, and take a seat next to the fire to eat. Calming myself. I could go back and prevent this all from happening. It would require getting Tom to cast the Killing Curse from me and using the Nexus to return to a point before the battle. But what good would it really do? I could save Duncan and the Grey Wardens. Maybe. I might even be able to save Cailan. Doubtful. Duncan at least would actually listen to me. He knows of my power. But even still, the Grey Wardens would not be willing to back down from a fight.

And Loghain? What of Loghain? I liked him. I trusted him. Why did he do this? He told me... he told me to trust that whatever he did would be for the good of Ferelden. Was he planning this ahead of time? I find it hard to believe. It's hard to believe that he could have predicted this outcome. He would have had to have more precognizance than I do to know how the battle would have turned out. Maybe it was simply the best tactical decision he could have made under the circumstances.

"Damn that Loghain," Alistair is muttering, as if reading my thoughts and getting completely the wrong impression of them. "How could he betray the king like that?"

"You don't know that," I say. "You don't know why he chose to do what he did."

"I can't think of any good reason why he'd abandon the king and the Grey Wardens on the field of battle!" Alistair says. "They were counting on him! And he just... left. And now they're- they're all dead."

"Just because you can't think of a reason doesn't mean there can't be one," I say.

"I can't believe you're trying to justify his actions!"

I sigh and put my face in my free hand. "All I'm saying is, don't make assumptions. For all we know, we lit the signal fire too late, and Loghain realized this and chose to make the difficult decision of saving his men from a needless slaughter. For all we know, he could be weeping over the loss of his son-in-law right now. How can you presume to know what was going on in his head at that moment?"

"But..." Alistair sighs. "I don't know."

"The real question is, what now?" Carver asks. "Now that Lexen is awake, we should be getting a move on."

"Indeed you should," Flemeth agrees.

"Most importantly, we need to stop the Blight," I say.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Alistair asks. "The army is gone! And now we're the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden! How can we do this by ourselves?"

I roll my eyes. "You know, if you want to go to a tavern somewhere and get drunk, you can always just leave it to me."

Alistair is taken aback. "I can't do that! I- Like it or not, I'm a Grey Warden!"

"Good," I say firmly. "Because I swore to Duncan that no matter what happened, I would see this Blight ended, by any means necessary."

"If Arl Eamon knew what Loghain had done, he'd call the Landsmeet up against him!" Alistair says.

"This isn't just about Loghain," I say.

"He still has all of his men," Alistair says. "He could help with the Blight, too..."

I give a nod, and pull the scrolls out of my bag. "We have these, too."

"The treaties?" Alistair says. "Where did you get those?"

"Duncan entrusted them to me before the battle," I say. "Just in case. Hmm. They enable the Grey Wardens to demand aid during a Blight from the Circle of Magi, the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar..."

"If I'm not mistaken, that sounds like an army to me," Flemeth says.

"Do you really think we can do this?" Alistair asks.

"No," I say. "I know I can do this. Not 'we'. I'm not going to turn down anyone that wants to come along and help, but from this moment forth, I'm taking charge of Grey Warden operations in Ferelden."

Alistair gapes at me for a moment, and then stammers, "Well. Alright then. I didn't want to be in charge anyway."

I give a terse nod. "Nothing against you or anything, but I'm used to doing things my way. If I start barking orders, I don't need anyone to start questioning whether I have any right to give them or not."

"Understood," Alistair says.

"And what about Tom and I?" Carver asks. "We're not Grey Wardens."

"I'm going with Lexen, of course," Tom says.

"We should get back to Lothering, though," Carver says. "With Ostagar fallen, Mum and Bethany are straight in the horde's path. We've got to get them out of harm's way."

"Agreed," Tom says, looking to me.

I nod. "That will be our first order of business, then."

"There is one more bit of aid that I can give you before you go," Flemeth says. "I'm sending Morrigan along with you." She gestures to the young witch who just emerged from behind the hut.

"What?" Morrigan says, nearly dropping the basket of herbs she was carrying in surprise.

"She can help to guide you through the wilds and past the horde," Flemeth says. "And her magic will supplement your own nicely. She is cunning and capable."

"Not to complain or anything, but we'll be running across templars outside of the wilds," Alistair says. "She's an apostate."

"So am I," Tom points out.

"You are?" Alistair says, blinking at him. "I thought you were a Circle mage."

"I was just pretending to be in order to join the army," Tom says. "They didn't have time to ask Kirkwall if I was actually from their Circle or not."

"I say we claim that they're Grey Wardens," I say. "Anyone that could contradict us is likely dead anyway."

"Do Grey Wardens usually dress like that?" Carver says.

"Mother, I'm not ready for this," Morrigan says.

"Oh, go on," Flemeth says. "You've been wanting to get out of the wilds for years. It will be a good opportunity for you."

"But..." Morrigan sighs. "Oh, very well. Let me get my things, and we can be off."

"It's still early," I say. "We can make it halfway to Lothering by the end of the day. Oh, Tom, did you get a message off to Rispy?"

Tom nods. "I told him to meet us in Lothering."

"Good, good."

Tom hisses to me in Parseltongue, barely audibly, "I take it we're not going to be going back to try to prevent the massacre? It makes no difference to me, either way."

"Not right now," I reply in the same tongue. "We can always go back again sometime. But let's just continue on with this timeline as it is. More importantly, there's too much information that we lack. I want to know why Loghain did this. There's no use in trying to change the past without information that could be vitally important."

"What are you two lovebirds whispering about?" Carver asks.

"What were you doing with Peaches behind Barlin's shed?" Tom asks.

"Never mind," Carver mutters. "I don't think I want to know."