Summary: What if there had been no Blight when Lilith Cousland joined the ranks of the Grey Wardens? How would she have coped with her new role and what relationships would she have forged when free of the pressure of saving the entire country?
A/N: I know everyone's probably sick of hearing it by now, but I am sincerely sorry for the wait on this chapter and I want to thank all of my readers for their support and infinitesimal patience with me and my ridiculously slow updates . I put a little note on my profile saying that I wouldn't be back for a little while, just in case anyone checked, just to let you guys know that I had my final A-levels coming up and so I really had no inspiration to write. The problem is, I finished them nearly two weeks ago and I still can't conjure up my muse. But, I'm trying to now and I will persevere, because I love writing this story even if my tendency to flit from obsession to obsession and lose interest in things is a massive pain in my bum. Right then, now that that's out of the way, I hope you enjoy this long-awaited chapter. There's a lot of dialogue taken straight out of the game in this one; I hope you don't mind. I've always thought the dialogue in DA:O brilliant and I still hate writing conversations, so I figured I'd just stick with it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins or any of its characters (just my Lilith Cousland) and receive no profit from this story.
Standing just past the gates from Ostagar, Lilith could think of only one word to describe the Korcari Wilds: stagnant. To all sides were bogs, treacherously deep with thick, sludgy water, yet somehow sustaining fairly large patches of reeds that stuck their heads above the surface at random intervals, reaching out desperately for air from the murky depths. The variety of trees in the forest suggested a level of fertility, but the air was eerily still and not so much as a single leaf could flutter in the non-existent breeze. In the near distance, rows of collapsed, dilapidated buildings sunk into the larger lakes, the edges of their ancient brickwork crumbling and, in many places, only the very peaks of archways, their architecture reminiscent of that of the ancient Tevinters, were visible above the surface. No birds flew from their perches, nor did any small creatures scuttle from one sanctuary to the next, as the group took their first, tentative steps into the expanse of woods, following a barely-there path that could only have been carved by the scouting troops by whom there were preceded.
"This place don't feel right to me." Daveth remarked quietly, accentuating his statement with a voluntary shudder as he drew his bow in readiness for some invisible enemy. Beside him, Ser Jory's eyes widened to the size of saucers, darting to and fro skittishly. Alistair simply sent a scathing look over his shoulder to the former cutpurse.
"I'm tellin' you," he continued, unabated, in a conspiratorial whisper, "they tell stories about this place back home. There are witches in these woods."
"Hush, Daveth!" Lilith snapped, her patience wearing thin much more rapidly than normal. Her experience within the confines of the camp had frayed her nerves considerably and the unnatural stillness of this place only served to further set her on edge. Alistair shot her a concerned look from the corner of his eye, but she ignored him, keeping her gaze on the road ahead.
After a few more steps, she could feel it again: the thrumming in her veins, the pounding in her head that felt all too familiar for having only been experienced once before. She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath as three pairs of eyes came to rest uneasily on her, deciding on embracing the sensation instead of fighting it and allowing it to wash over her.
"Lil?" Alistair asked uncertainly, taking a step towards her and bringing a gauntleted hand to rest gently on her upper arm, so as not to startle her. She blinked once, slowly, revealing azure irises that suddenly shone with clarity. Her mind felt startlingly clear and she was overcome with a moment of epiphany, like waking from a deep sleep, or regaining vision after having been blinded.
"I'm fine, Alistair." She said slowly, almost mechanically, not really paying heed to his concern. She could see them, dotted like landmarks on a map in her head, approaching at a leisurely pace. It was an unusual feeling, to see something that should be invisible with such astonishing precision. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about the four Darkspawn about to crest that hill." She finished, pointing to a rise in the near distance before withdrawing her sword and dagger.
The blonde turned, mouth agape, just in time to see the creatures reach the top of the ridge. 'Four of them, just as she said', he thought, bewildered, 'three Genlocks and a Hurlock.' He returned his gaze to Lilith's face, only now feeling the familiar cold settling into his gut that indicated the presence of the spawn.
"How did you-?" He was cut off as he felt the unmistakable whoosh of air from an arrow passing too close for comfort to the back of his head.
"No time for that." She replied, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of her lips as she hurtled into the fray, Ser Jory, greatsword balanced between his hammy fists, following behind. Alistair swore under his breath as he retrieved his own weapon, running to catch up.
One of the Genlocks went down almost immediately as the three warriors finally met their assailants, a few well-placed arrows protruding proudly from its chest. Lilith sent an appreciative glance over her shoulder to Daveth, who was exactly where they'd left him, already notching another arrow, and rushed another of the smaller creatures. From the corner of her eye, she could see her companions each engaged in their own battle: Ser Jory was facing the final Genlock, the strength of his swings just barely matching the speed and agility of the creature; Alistair was swinging his shield in a high arc, the full force of its weight smashing into the Hurlock's face and knocking it to the floor. Before it could recover, he drove his sword into the middle of its chest, thick, dark ichor bursting from the wound and splattering across his armour.
Lilith turned back to her own opponent, deftly skidding to the right to avoid a swing from the creature's dagger. With her own, she lashed out, aiming for the unprotected surface of the beast's face. It jumped back, well out of range of her short dagger, but still within the reach of her family sword. She spun, putting her full weight into the swing of her right arm and cleanly slicing the Genlock's head from its shoulders. The creature collapsed to its knees in front of her, the motion unnervingly controlled, as if it might stand again and continue to fight despite having been decapitated. It fell slowly to the floor at her feet, viscous blood pooling in front of the gaping hole where once its head had stood. Lilith rapidly retreated back to her companions before the liquid could begin to lap at her boots, noticing Ser Jory gingerly filling one of the vials that they had been provided with blood from the Genlock that he, with a small amount of help from Alistair, had felled.
She felt herself smiling, the rush of adrenaline in her veins providing a decided high. She had faced her first Darkspawn and won and though the creatures were undoubtedly disturbing, giving off a sickly aura of pestilence and degradation, they were by no means as hauntingly terrifying as her taint-induced nightmares had suggested.
She was pulled roughly from her slight daze as Alistair yanked her away from the two recruits, not stopping until they reached the shore of a decidedly large mire. He rounded on her rapidly, his voice barely more than a harsh whisper when he spoke: "What in the Maker's name was that?" He asked, his fingers gripping Lilith's slender arms so tightly it would certainly have hurt had she not been wearing her armour.
"I don't know what you mean." She replied uncertainly, cowed by the intensity in his usually gentle amber orbs. As if sensing her discomfort, he took a quick step back, starting to pace in a small circle in front of her as he gathered his thoughts.
"That-," he finally spoke again, gesturing loosely in the general direction from which they had come, "that was not normal. How could you tell they were coming? And how did you know how many there were?" He asked, a little frantically.
"Could you not see them?" She asked, her voice small as Alistair's concern for her started to penetrate her own, slightly clouded, mind.
"'See them'?" He repeated somewhat incredulously, "No. Not at all. I barely even felt them until they were already over the hill. What do you mean 'see them'?"
"I-" She cut off, unable to explain, "I don't know. It was just as if I could see them; like an image had been transplanted into my head showing me where they were." She finished, feeling slightly defensive at the unbelieving tone that her friend was using.
Alistair simply stared at her a moment longer before releasing an exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand wearily down his face for the second time in the last half an hour. He could tell quite easily that he had handled the situation incorrectly, indelicately, but he had no explanation for what was happening to Lilith and he was becoming increasingly worried. Even Duncan, who was dangerously close to the end of his thirty years as a Warden, couldn't sense the Darkspawn with such accuracy.
"I'm sorry, Lil," he said at length, trying to smile reassuringly, "I'm just a little bit on edge and you- well, I'm sorry." He finished lamely.
"It's okay." She returned, placing her hand on his arm and squeezing gently in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.
They headed back over to Daveth and Jory, who had eagerly watched their exchange, each filled with the same doubt and niggling fear about whatever phenomenon Lilith was experiencing.
xXx
They had made it only a few feet further down the path when they spotted more evidence of the Darkspawn's influence in the Wilds. In front of them lay half a dozen bodies, both human and other and all mutilated terribly. Some were missing limbs; others were mostly intact, but littered with ragged, gaping wounds across their chests and backs.
"It almost looks as if they've been... feeding." Lilith stated gingerly, the thought turning her stomach somewhat, as she inspected one of the corpses more closely, noting the frayed edges to the sores which were not dissimilar to those she often saw on rabbits that Max had caught. She turned to her companions, their faces a mixture of disgust and consideration at the idea, when their attention was caught by a croaking voice from amidst the carnage.
One of the soldiers was dragging himself bodily across the floor towards their position, his progress achingly slow due to the oozing gash across his left shoulder blade that was just barely visible under his armour.
"Who... is that?" He forced out, every syllable emphasised with agony, "Grey Wardens?"
"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Alistair quipped lightly, earning himself a depreciatory glance from the rest of the party.
"My scouting band was attacked by Darkspawn. They came out of the ground... Please, help me!" He pleaded, "I've got to... return to camp."
"You were with the scouts?" Lilith demanded, a frantic edge to her voice as her eyes skittered across the surrounding men, searching for one, very familiar face amongst them. When her scan turned up no results, she turned back to the soldier. "What happened to my brother? Do you know where he is?"
"Your... brother, miss?" He asked, lifting his head weakly to regard Lilith.
"We should really patch him up," Alistair interjected at the sight of the man's bloody face, "I have some bandages in my pack."
"Fergus Cousland," she continued, as Alistair began to strip the man's chestplate in order to access the wound, "he was leading your party, yes?"
"Lord Cousland is your brother?" He asked incredulously, his eyes wide and stark against the ruby liquid smeared across his face. At Lilith's nod he continued. "I don't rightly know what happened to him, my Lady. Our group was ambushed and we," he gestured weakly to the surrounding bodies, "were separated from the rest."
Lilith was quiet for a moment, disappointed at the lack of actual knowledge regarding her brother's whereabouts and her fear for his safety nagging her more strongly than ever having witnessed the force of the Darkspawn's devastation on human life.
"Thank you," she replied, trying not to look too downcast, as Alistair finished his ministrations and helped the soldier to stand, "you've been a great help."
He righted himself with a pained groan as Alistair released his weight and bade them thanks before returning along the path to camp.
"Fergus Cousland is your brother?" asked Ser Jory after a pause, and Lilith visibly flinched. 'I really don't want to have this conversation,' she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say.
Alistair, noting the tension that passed like a roiling wave through his friend's form, stepped in. "I don't think this is the time for that conversation," he stated, conjuring his most authoritative tone, "we've still a job to do."
Jory, looking slightly like an admonished child, just nodded, still eyeing Lilith with an inscrutable look.
"Thank you." Lilith mouthed as soon as she could catch the blonde's attention. He smiled warmly in return, the slight upturn to the corner of his lips causing Lilith's heart to flutter in her chest. She held onto the warmth that spread through her as Jory, attention diverted from her lineage, started fretting, once again, about the danger posed by the Darkspawn.
xXx
With the overabundance of spawn in the area, the remaining vial was quickly filled with its intended contents and the party set off to the Northeast in search of the Grey Warden cache. The map in Alistair's hands, an ancient, tattered and yellowing scroll, showed the position of the long-since-abandoned fortress as a mere cross amidst one of the larger clearings. In the near distance, its tallest spires and arches were just barely visible, the obviously artificial constructs a stark contrast against the natural surroundings. However, as they neared, it was clear that nature had, over the great time that had passed since its abandonment, started to reclaim the land that was once solely in her possession. Great, twisting vines clambered up the outermost walls of the crumbling fortress, working their way into cracks that had long since formed in the brickwork so that the transition from stone to earth was barely distinguishable. Within the poorly-marked boundary of the vault, trees had sprung up long enough ago that they were majestic in size, standing proudly amid what was once undoubtedly a vast hall, and a thick, spongy moss covered every inch of the floor.
At the very back of the building stood an ornate chest, metal cracked and vaulted, clearly devoid of any contents. Lilith turned a concerned glance to Alistair who returned her gaze nervously before bending to inspect the trunk more closely. The rest of the party scanned the room for any other remnants of ages past, but it was decidedly empty.
"Well, well, what have we here?" A sudden rich, drawling voice spoke up from behind, "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" A young woman, hair as dark as a cloudless night swept up atop her head, scantily clad in rags that just barely covered her form, loped lazily into the vault, eyeing the gathered company shrewdly, with no trace of fear upon noting their heavily armed and armoured state and just the faintest hint of intrigue in her striking yellow eyes. "Or merely an intruder?" She continued, in the same unhurried, conversational tone, "Come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey." A pause. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" Her sharp eyes fixed on Lilith, scrutinising her as if they could read her soul etched into her skin, before quickly flitting away.
"We are neither." Lilith replied, redirecting the stranger's attention back onto herself. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."
"'Tis a tower no longer; the Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." She returned smoothly, moving to circle around the group. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?'" She came to a stop at the edge of the fortress' boundary, turning back to regard the Wardens coolly before continuing, "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"
"Don't answer her." Alistair said close to Lilith's ear, keeping his voice low, "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."
"Oooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The woman mocked, accentuating her words with a flourishing motion of her arms.
"Yes, swooping is bad." Alistair returned dryly, his usual humour turned to ice.
"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" Daveth all but shouted, making himself the target of the stranger's ire.
"Witch of the Wilds," the woman in question repeated slowly, incredulously, "Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there," she turned her attention back onto Lilith once more, "women do not frighten like little boys." She spat the word out, her tone immediately turning softer, more pliable when she continued, "Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."
"I am Lilith." She replied without hesitating, the rules of her upbringing dictating her actions as she inclined her head in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds." The woman's tone took on an almost condescending edge as she spoke, but the widening of her eyes suggested that the reply she received was not the one she had expected. "You may call me Morrigan."
"Shall I guess your purpose?" She continued conversationally, "You sought something in that chest, something that is... here no longer?"
"'Here no longer'?" Alistair piped up, his tone defensive, "You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... witch-thief!" He finished, pinning the woman, Morrigan, with an accusatory glare.
"How very eloquent." She replied crisply, "Tell me, how does one steal from dead men?"
"Quite easily, it seems." He deadpanned, "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."
"I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them." Morrigan returned, her voice becoming defensive at Alistair's commanding tone, "Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened."
"Then who removed them, Morrigan?" Lilith intervened, her voice level, trying to calm the situation before they lost their only source of knowledge regarding the treaties.
"'Twas my mother, in fact."
"Your mother?" Lilith asked, the simple question sounding more disbelieving than she had intended.
"Yes, my mother." Morrigan replied, irritated by the inane question, "Did you assume I spawned from a log?"
"A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps." Alistair interjected.
"Not all in the Wilds are monsters. Flowers grow, as well as toads." She continued as if Alistair had never spoken, leaning against one of the crumbling pillars and staring wistfully into the tangled expanse of trees that stretched out as far as the eye could see. She stood then, abruptly straightening and resuming her original position before speaking. "If you wish, I will take you to my mother. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like." She finished with a non-committal shrug of her lithe shoulders.
Lilith turned to Alistair, silently asking his opinion. After all, it was he who had been tasked by Duncan to retrieve the treaties.
"We should get those treaties," he replied to her unspoken question, "but, I dislike this... Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient."
"I do not meet many people here," Morrigan spoke, as if she were simply voicing her thoughts aloud, "are you all so mistrustful?"
"I don't think we have much choice," Lilith mused, turning back to her fellow Warden, "we need those treaties. Thus, we must go with her."
"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch." Daveth warned, eyeing Morrigan sceptically.
"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'll be a nice change." Jory spoke for the first time during their encounter.
"Follow me then, if it pleases you." Morrigan stated, before turning and striding into the woods.
The party shared a tentative glance, before following cautiously in the witch's wake.
A/N: I know there are no Darkspawn before you meet the "dying soldier", but lets just call it artistic licence, haha. I thought the first fight in the Wilds might be a bit more compelling if it was against Darkspawn instead of a pack of wolves, so...yeah. Anyway, this chapter took A LOT of research, by which I mean trying to find videos of the sections therein on Youtube so I could get the dialogue right, and it really isn't easy to do when Youtube always dies once I've had it open for too long. When I finally got into the swing of writing it, I had to stop because I couldn't load any videos for the Morrigan section, which is endlessly irritating! Though not as much as typing out every line from that scene one by one and trying to put the video into words. And it gets even worse when nobody picked the dialogue option that I want and I can't remember what Morrigan said in return! This chapter really stressed me out in case you can't already tell, which is why I decided to cut it short and end it here. Well... it's one of the reasons. The other being that if I'd carried on to where I originally planned, it'd have probably gotten out of hand and I really wanted to get it posted as soon as possible! So, there you have it. The next half of this chapter will come in the next chapter, though when exactly that will be, I have absolutely no idea. I imagine it'll take a while, as I'll be using videos of the meeting with Flemeth for it and that'll be just as awkward as it was this time around. Anywho, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. As always, please leave a review to let me know what you think!
