A/N: Just a heads up to you guys: just because I've paired them up nicely now doesn't mean the characters will be with each other until the very end. My characters lead the story more than I do most of the time.
X: They're Not Darkspawn
They awoke early in the morning before the sun rose and quickly packed up, so that they would be able to reach Redcliffe sooner. Garrett and Bethany had had their first nightmares about the archdemon and the Blight, and were the first ones to wake up. The older Hawke woke his cousin up by poking the blade that was attached to his staff in the side of his ribs lightly, much to Logan's dismay and annoyance, and watched in amusement as Logan sat bolt upright, wincing in pain. The rest of the morning was spent quickly as the rest woke up—Logan suspected that Sten did not sleep at all—and packed up and prepared to finish the last leg to Redcliffe.
The air was cooler in the morning than it had been at night, Logan noticed as he slung his pack lazily over his shoulder and strapped his staff on his back. He was almost tempted to delay the group for a while longer so that he could enjoy a moment of peace for a moment longer, but he quickly reminded himself that the darkspawn knew nothing of waiting as they prepared to ravage the land with their leader.
They left the old campsite along with Bodhan and Sandal and continued traveling. It wasn't long before they finally saw, in the distance, the village of Redcliffe and the Arl's castle standing tall and proud in the distance. It reminded Logan of the old Amell estate in Kirkwall—they had, of course, been one of the wealthiest families in the Free Marches despite having magic in their bloodline—and it caused him to miss his old home. He wondered how Leandra and Carver were at this moment, and whether they arrived at Kirkwall already. Along the way, Logan had caught wind from a few stragglers traveling away from Redcliffe that Fereldans were slowly becoming refugees by escaping to the Free Marches when they heard of the Blight. It made him worry, because he knew that sooner or later the Free Marches would be overcrowded with Fereldans and if Leandra and Carver were not quick enough in their travel—which he hoped they were, considering they had a head start—he was afraid that they would not be able to enter Kirkwall and return to the Amell estate.
He knew he had an Uncle Gamlen Amell—his mother's cousin—but Garrett, from the stories his mother told him about his maternal side of the family, had always told Logan about Gamlen's unhealthy obsession with loaning money from his "friends in low places". It troubled him even more now, knowing that he was probably the only one left in charge of the Amell estate, unless Leandra's parents were still alive, in which case Logan knew they would be able to control Gamlen properly and take care of Leandra and Carver.
It was times like these that Logan desperately wished that his mother was still around as the head of the Amell family, especially after his father had left her. Logan resented his faceless and nameless father—Revka had never told him about the man that he had always wished to see and know—for leaving his mother and him. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, Logan would lay awake and think about his own family—something he never took to doing frequently to avoid the pain—and wonder in anger why his father would choose to leave his mother. He had always asked his mother, but she wouldn't tell him. She had always told him that it was something he didn't need to know, and it only led Logan to assume that his father broke her heart so much that she never wanted to talk about it ever again.
He wasn't sure if he was ever going to find out the truth, but this was as good as any kind of explanation for him—for now.
Just a few steps away from a bridge over a small stream just on the outskirts of Redcliffe, a man came rushing forward, panting heavily and looking deathly pale. Logan thought he was sick at first, but soon realized it had been a kind of trauma that had caused his sickly expression to form as the color returned to the man's face as he stopped to take huge breaths.
"You… are you here to help us?" he breathed, looking up at Logan.
Logan's eyes flicked over to the man's bow and quiver, and immediately sensed that something else was going on in Redcliffe—something the rest of Ferelden didn't know about. "Help you?" he repeated, "What's going on in Redcliffe? Did something happen to the Arl?"
"You didn't hear?" asked the man, his tone growing frantic, "Did no one out there tell you?"
On hindsight, Logan suddenly began to recall encountering frightened looking travelers with their caravans—the ones who had told him about the Fereldan refugee situation in Kirkwall—and realized that they had been running away from Redcliffe.
"What happened?" Alistair asked, looking worried, "Tell me, man!"
"There is something in the castle," the man explained, his voice shaking as he recalled unspoken memories in his head that had obviously traumatized him. "Something evil. It's been attacking the village for several nights now. I thought you were here to help us and the Arl."
"The Arl, where is he?" Logan questioned, frowning.
"In the castle," the man told him, his voice cracking, "We haven't heard anything from the castle ever since those things came down to attack us! You—you need to see Bann Teagan. He will explain everything to you."
"Then take us to him," Logan said, "We'll help you."
The villager quickly led them down a steep path beyond the bridge. Already, Logan could see villagers arming themselves and preparing for what seemed to be another imminent battle. Men were practicing their archery just outside the chantry and Logan could see others a distance away, sparring with their swords and shields diligently without faltering in their steps. As they got closer, and past the archers, Logan noticed that their swords and equipments were all rather worn, with their chainmail and body armor decorated with scars and deep scratches that could only be made by other swords. He was beginning to wonder whether there were darkspawn lurking about Redcliffe, being the ones responsible for this mess.
And yet, Logan couldn't sense the taint at all. He cast a glance at Alistair and his cousins, but none of them seemed to sense anything out of the ordinary at all either. If there were darkspawn present in Redcliffe, surely one of them would have spoken up by now.
The chantry was filled with younger villagers and women—the ones that were not fighting against this unknown force. Leliana gasped sharply behind him as she saw the fear in all of the villagers' eyes, and he would have done the same had someone else taken his place as a leader. He would have to keep a straight face and remain calm, but he wasn't sure whether he could keep himself from a cool exterior the more he witnessed how Redcliffe was suffering.
The archer that had met them outside led them to the man that Logan supposed was Bann Teagan. His cesious eyes were fixed on Logan almost warily at first, but then his suspicions seemed to slowly fade away when he looked at Alistair.
"Is that…?" Teagan muttered, stepping forward, "Alistair?"
"Teagan," Alistair acknowledged, looking rather awkward, "I didn't think we'd have to meet in the middle of two problems now."
"Yes, I almost forgot you were the only one left dealing with the Blight," Teagan agreed. He looked to Logan and the rest of his companions. "These are…?"
"Um—" Alistair gestured to Logan, Garrett and Bethany, "—these are the other three Grey Wardens that were recruited just before Ostagar. So, I'm not exactly the only one left and I'm pretty relieved about that. Anyway, this here's Logan, Garrett and Bethany. And that's Morrigan, Sten and Leliana over there."
Teagan nodded towards Logan and the rest behind him. "Maker bless your souls for stepping up against the Blight. I was beginning to get worried after what I heard about Ostagar and the rumors of all the Grey Wardens dying with Cailan," Teagan said grimly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Tell me: did Loghain withdraw from the field or did the Wardens—"
"Teagan!" Alistair cut in suddenly, almost agitatedly, "I can't believe you'd believe those rumors! You knew Duncan, didn't you?"
"I know," Teagan said regretfully, "I just wanted to make sure. With all this madness and with Loghain taking charge of Denerim with his daughter Anora, I'm not sure I know what to believe anymore."
Alistair sighed. "I understand," he said, "So what's the situation? Is it darkspawn?"
"I'm afraid not," Teagan began, "This is likely the work of a blood mage. I am not sure yet, but I know that whatever we have been facing for the past few nights were not darkspawn. They were of the Fade; I know this to be true."
"A blood mage?" repeated Logan, furrowing his brows, "How did this happen?"
"You would allow someone to get so close to your Arl?" Morrigan narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Teagan sternly, "'Tis almost surprising that this had to happen—I would expect better from the nobility in Ferelden."
Teagan made to retort angrily, but decided on better judgment that this was not the time. He focused on Logan and Alistair again. "I'm not sure myself," Teagan admitted, "They just came out of the castle one night and nearly killed more than twenty good men and women. We haven't tried entering the castle yet because it's too dangerous, but we're planning to change that tonight. It's good that you came at this time—we could use a few more fighters."
"Will we be able to get into the castle if we help you tonight? We need to speak with Arl Eamon as soon as possible," Logan said. "And fix whatever's in there, as well."
"Yes," Teagan nodded, "You just need to speak with Murdock, the village chief outside. He's in charge of the preparations for tonight's battle. But before you find him, there are two people I would like you to meet." He motioned for them to follow him as he led them into a small library area in the chantry. Two people—a boy and a girl, probably no older than eighteen—were sitting together at the far end of the room, deep in conversation about something when they heard their loud footsteps and stood up to face them.
"Sirius, Alexandra," Teagan gestured towards Logan and the rest and proceeded to make quick introductions, "They will be entering the castle tonight. I'm assuming you two are still interested?"
"Of course we are," said the blue-eyed boy determinedly.
"Saving the Arl is important to us," added the girl beside him, their faces strangely similar to each other's.
"Well then, these are the people you'll be sticking with," Teagan said, as he turned back to Logan, "These two are Sirius and Alexandra Cousland, the younger twin children of Teryn Cousland of Highever."
"The Couslands?" muttered Alistair, glancing at them, "What are they doing here in Redcliffe?"
"That's not important right now," Sirius said, although Logan suspected that something grave happened in Highever from the Cousland boy's expression, "We don't have time to talk. Not when—"
"—the Arl is in danger," Alexandra finished for her twin brother. Logan was almost impressed at their timing, and wondered if Bethany and Carver would have been like them had they spent more time together if Bethany had not gone to the Circle with Garrett.
"I agree," Leliana said, "We should not tarry when his life now depends on us." She caught Alexandra's eye and smiled, as though offering a silent consolation, to which Alexandra responded with a small smile of her own. Sirius noticed his sister's attention was elsewhere and nudged her lightly in the ribs as Teagan spoke again.
"Now that you're all acquainted with each other, I suggest you hurry to Murdock and find out what you can do for the militia in Redcliffe. Maker knows we need all the help we can get," Teagan said, glancing towards an open window at the dark clouds that were approaching in the distance like a bad omen, "We best be getting ready."
Meeting the demands of the blacksmith and recruiting more fighters to Redcliffe's cause wasn't as easy as Logan had hoped. He had spent almost an hour with Alistair trying to get the blacksmith to open the door and when he finally resorted to breaking down the door, he was met with flying objects like daggers and shields. Alistair whipped out his shield while Logan cast a protective spell on himself, grumbling as he walked into the house about the thick stench of ale suffocating him. It took them another fifteen minutes to convince the blacksmith to start forging better weapons for the militia, and it was ultimately resolved when Logan and Alistair promised the old man that they would save his daughter from the castle and its hidden horrors.
Bethany and Morrigan had decided to pitch themselves as healers—or rather, Bethany was more willing than the witch, whom Logan had persuaded with much difficulty—for the time being, assisting almost every injured man or woman in the village from inside the chantry. Logan knew Bethany didn't mind, but Morrigan seemed to be angry at him for forcing her to become a simple healer, although he had told her that she was allowed to fight alongside the militia. As much as he didn't like offending her, Logan knew he couldn't move around the village and finish preparation efficiently with a large group in tow.
Logan later discovered that Garrett and Sten had managed to recruit Dwyn, a dwarven mercenary that lived in a house—Garrett suspected it wasn't his to begin with—and an elven archer from the tavern just up the slope from the main village. Leliana had gone along with the Cousland twins to improve morale amongst the militia, and then reported to Logan and Murdock that they had managed to motivate the fighters, but not without difficulty.
"The damn owner of the tavern needed some convincing," Sirius said spitefully, as he recalled the owner, Lloyd, refusing them harshly and calling the village effort a "useless" one. "But we managed to get him to join our ranks. Dwyn just needed a little persuasion, but I think the elf is hiding something." He motioned to the lanky elven archer standing a distance away from Dwyn, his men and Lloyd, watching the archers while moving about his spot restlessly.
"He seemed to be nervous about something," Leliana remarked, "But we couldn't get anything out of him. He just agreed to help us."
"Anything else about the elf Alistair and I need to know?" Logan asked.
"Well, he seemed rather fidgety when we questioned him about what he was doing here," Alexandra replied, "At first, he said something about waiting for a friend. Then he changed the story and said he was waiting for his brother."
Logan frowned. "Maybe he knows something about the situation in the castle," he said, beckoning to Alistair to follow him as he walked up to the elf.
The elf gave Alistair and Logan a once over when he noticed them approaching him from afar. He seemed to become even more nervous as they neared him—Logan noticed the elf biting his lips and his tensed exterior—and tried to keep a straight face, but failed.
"You're joining us tonight, then?" Logan asked almost casually, trying not to intimidate the elf into running away. "For the battle."
"Yes, and that's all I'll be doing for you," the elf spat back, "No questions or anything like that. Be grateful I'm helping you fight these—these things!"
Alistair groaned. "Relax, man," Alistair smiled warmly at him, "You look as though you think we're going to eat you for dinner afterwards or something. We're not barbarians—well, I'm not sure about our Qunari friend there because he hasn't eaten anything we've given him so far—so can you stop looking at us like that?"
The elf seemed to relax slightly as his jaw slackened visibly. "I'm sorry," he said, sighing, "I'm just—just nervous about tonight, that's all."
"That's what he wants ya to think!" A voice piped from behind them. Logan turned around and noticed a rather large man holding a sword and shield and, judging by the presence of an apron, assumed that this was the bartender than Sirius had been talking about.
"Shut up!" the elf yelled back, glaring at Lloyd.
"Relax," Logan told him, and pulled the elf aside with Alistair following behind, "Just tell us what you're really here for."
"I already told your friends," the elf growled, "I was waiting for my brother's letter!"
Alistair chuckled. "And before that you were waiting for your brother," he sneered, "And before that you were waiting for a friend. Seems like you're holding a party in Redcliffe tonight—do you think you have space for a few more people?"
Logan looked at the elf skeptically. "What's your name and what are you really doing here," Logan said sternly, "No more games this time."
"I'm—I'm Berwick," the elf relented, slumping against a nearby tree, "I was sent here to—to observe the situation at Redcliffe."
"You mean to spy," Alistair corrected him sarcastically.
"Who sent you?" Logan prodded, sensing that there was more to Berwick than he had previously thought.
Berwick shuffled his feet nervously. "I—I can't tell you."
Within a split second, Logan rushed forward and pinned Berwick aggressively against the tree, not caring if his exertion was going to result in the breaking of Berwick's bow and quiver (the elf seemed to be more concerned about his weapon than his life at this point), and glared pointedly at him. Berwick struggled to break free and pry the mage off him, but Alistair already drew his sword and pointed it to the elf's neck.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Alistair said, "If I were you, I'd choose something that won't make me bleed."
Berwick's eyes widened as he stopped struggling and looked nervously from Logan to Alistair. When he noticed flames erupting in Logan's free hand, he caved in. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you!" he begged, "Just don't hurt me, please. I'll even help the village and—and I won't divulge anything about the Arl!"
When Logan decided that Berwick was finally beginning to be honest, he released the archer from his grip. "So, spill."
"I can only tell you that I was hired by a tall man working for Arl Rendon Howe," Berwick sputtered, gasping from the lack of oxygen because of Logan's hold on him, "I didn't catch his name, but he must be very important."
"Loghain," Logan breathed, rage coursing through his veins, "It's him, isn't it?" He turned to Alistair, who exchanged dark looks with him.
"It's probably Loghain, but why did he want someone to spy on the Arl?" Alistair frowned.
"I heard the Arl was sick," Berwick told them, "And that I was to watch for any changes in the situation. Maybe if the Arl died, or if he was cured. But that's all I know, I swear!"
Logan regarded Berwick carefully and eventually decided to let him return to the militia. He turned to Alistair again, who still had a dark look on his face. "Loghain must be planning to eliminate everyone and anyone he knew who wouldn't succumb to his rule," Alistair said angrily, slamming his fist into the tree, "He's as good as the next king, now that Cailan's dead. Anora can't say no to her father, either."
"No one would support him," Logan pointed out, "Unless they are ruled by fear."
"If there's a man that could do that without blinking, Loghain's the man you're looking for," Alistair said, "We need to get this situation under control and get to Eamon as fast as possible. We can't waste anymore time."
They returned to where the Cousland twins, Leliana, Garrett and Sten were standing. Immediately, Alistair divulged Berwick's true intention of coming to Redcliffe. Sirius and Alexandra both looked deeply disturbed, something that bothered Logan as he watched them from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, Sirius whirled around and marched up to Berwick and seized the elf by the arm roughly and yanked him aside again for the second time in a day.
Logan rushed forward and forced Sirius away from Berwick, the former yelling agitatedly at the elf, "Where is Howe? Tell me! You can take a message to him, elf—I will not stand by and watch him take over Highever like a trophy! That was my father's land—that is the land of the Couslands and I swear, I will kill him—"
"Sirius!" His sister rushed forward and pulled him aside as Logan reassured the shaking elf that he wouldn't come to harm—not at the hands of anyone here, anyway—and turned around to see Sirius still struggling with his sister forcefully. Suddenly, Sten wrapped his muscled arms around the boy and practically prevented Sirius from moving properly.
Logan glowered at Sirius. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, glaring at the still-struggling Cousland twin. "You can't just go around attacking random people—especially if they're fighting with us tonight!"
"He knows Howe," Sirius said, more to Alexandra than to Logan, "He must know where he is!"
"That's the least of our worries for now," Alexandra said, "We can take revenge, Sirius, but not now—not when Arl Eamon is in danger." She dropped to a low whisper and spoke words into Sirius' ears that eventually calmed him down, so much that Sten decided it was safe to release the young human in his arms.
"He is more reckless than even the darkspawn," Sten commented gruffly, as he stepped away, "Is it wise to bring him along with us into the castle?"
"He won't take no for an answer, I think," Garrett muttered, studying the twins curiously. His eyes flicked over to Logan for a moment, before returning to Sirius and Alexandra. "Besides, he's probably just a kid."
"Which is why I do not approve of him tagging along with us," Sten brooded as he looked at Sirius and his sister, "His sister does not seem as foolish, though they are twin siblings. It is a curious thing."
"The same can be said about Carver and Bethany, but don't tell her I said that." Garrett smirked up at Sten, who merely responded with a wordless grunt.
"Calm down," Logan commanded, "As we speak, Arl Eamon is probably suffering in the castle—either from these undead or from his illness. We have to focus."
Sirius grumbled and muttered something inaudible under his breath, to which his sister responded by hitting him on the shoulder disapprovingly. Logan sighed and glanced up at the sky. Already, hours had passed like seconds and the sun was once again setting, giving the sky an auburn appearance. He hadn't realized how long they had spent preparing with the militia and Murdock until now.
"Is it bad if I say I'm scared?" Alistair walked up beside him, playing with his worry token. "I've never faced anything but mages and darkspawn—but blood magic? I just shudder at the thought of it, really."
"I've only seen it in action once," Logan said almost bitterly, recalling his experience at the Circle Tower, "I don't understand why anyone would want to resort to such… terrifying means of power. It is powerful, but dangerous all the same."
"Temptation is my guess," Alistair said, "And possibly because they might have had no other choice."
Logan smiled ruefully. "You don't sound like a templar to me."
"I guess I don't," Alistair agreed, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to spare any blood mages if we ever encounter any along the way. I still have my own beliefs and morals. What about you? Would you spare a blood mage?"
"If he were begging me, I suppose," Logan said, "Even the worst criminals have hope of redemption, don't you think? So far, I can only think of one person whose life would never spare even if he licked my boots and kissed my feet."
Alistair chuckled. "I don't know about that. I did spend time with the templars after all, even if I never became one."
"I understand," Logan said, as he watched Leliana guide the archers carefully in their practices. She seemed to be distracting the men rather than helping them, despite her valiant efforts in helping them to perfect their accuracy and aim. The men seemed to be more focused on her than on their own training—Logan hoped Leliana wouldn't be anywhere near them in case one of them managed to get their head sliced off because of the lack of attention to the right target. He would have laughed had there not been a Blight on his shoulders, but he felt himself growing more tense and more serious as the seconds went by like water flowing freely through his fingers.
Before his mind could wander, Ser Perth approached the two Wardens. "Grey Wardens," Perth said, "Are you ready to make your stand? We will be requiring your presence at the windmill immediately, when you are ready."
Logan nodded. "We're ready," he said, "Have all the traps been prepared?"
"Yes, ser," Perth said, nodding as well, "The traps have been set along the path that we predict the enemy will be using. Maker be with us, and pray that this will be an easy fight."
"You know, it almost never is, but I have a good feeling about tonight," Alistair said. Logan mirrored his friend's sentiment and smiled, bracing himself for what was to come. With everything planned out so smoothly, Logan could not even think about the possibility of anything going wrong.
He just hoped his confidence was not misplaced.