In Peace, Vigilance. In War, Victory. In Death, Sacrifice.
Duncan hated the nights; when the dreams would come with the creeping whispers of the Darkspawn and the song that called him to join their endless march. It seemed so much more real that night as he waited for Alistair to bring back the recruits.
So he left the tent he had set up, escaped from the clotting air between those cloth walls.
"You missed the after-supper show," he heard her before he caught sight of her, rubbing the head of Andra Cousland's beloved war hound, Elethea, and staring into the burning embers the great fire he had built. "They caught a thief but called him deserter."
"Kiara," he greeted, deciding to settle beside her. "May I?" he gestured to the skin that he knew didn't contain water.
"Knock yourself out," she passed it over, her dark gaze focused on the burning embers.
"You're not going to fight, are you?" he asked, the wine tasting tart on his tongue.
"Oh, I'll fight," she reassured him with a quirk of her lips.
"You'll fight for Alistair," he stated as she took back the skin, he had known since he saw her Companions setting up camp—had seen it in the respect that Kiara had shown Alistair before she and Elion had taken off for Denerim.
She had once told Maric that he wasn't her king, it seemed that his son was her king.
"It's going to be a slaughter," she stated back before slugging some of the wine back, uncaring of the drops that escaped and trailed down her chin, there was a white scar curving up her chin that hadn't been there when they had first met years ago. "I'm not sending mine to fight a hopeless fight and die. Calian is too in love with tales long told and doesn't pay attention due to the Wardens when it comes to their warnings and thus his men will die."
"But you do?" he questioned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I'm here, aren't I?" she quirked another smile, fire light making her eyes look like a volcano. "I will save your recruits, and I will save Alistair and make sure he get his father's seat."
"You going to leave him to die," he stated and she wasn't the least bit confused, she knew he was referring to.
"Yes," she said simply, not flinching from the cold hard truth that she was letting a king die. "I know many things Duncan, some good, some bad, some useful, some useless. Once I ignored all I knew and let things happen, I was a coward then. Another time I embraced what I knew and fucked up with what was meant to be, I was naïve then. This time? I'm letting some things come to pass and helping other things happen when needed."
"And you think that is wise?" he asked her and she laughed.
"Tis not about what is wise," she shook her head, a bitter smile on her lips. "It isn't even about what is best or right, it is what it is and that is how it should be." She looked at him, volcanic eyes gazing at him with a fierceness. "I am a stranger in these lands, my presence causes ripples, I have no right to choose what should happen and what will happen, but I am human and we love to meddle with fate. I've been her bitch long enough to know that you can't stop everything without it blowing up in your face afterwards. I'll do my bit, I'll get involved and lend a helping hand, but I will not cross fate when it comes to certain things."
"Very well," Duncan nodded gravely and she scoffed.
"I'm not looking for approval," she tossed her hair back and pushed Elethea's head on her lap so she could stand up. "Goodbye Duncan."
"Goodbye Kiara," he reached and grabbed her arm, strong muscles tensed as she looked down at him. "Take care of him."
Her features softened and she nodded;
"I will," she vowed and Duncan let her go.
His first and perhaps last proper goodbye, he realised and wondered idly if she would shed a tear for him when he was gone.
"We're going to be slaughtered," Malika announced, her voice blank as she gripped her twin axes in her hands, staring at the approaching fog.
"We'll slaughter them back," Elion replied, an unsettling grin on his face as he dipped his arrow heads in poison—if his arrows accidently hit some annoying lording or human that had disrespected him before? Well, this was war and it was ever so confusing so it wasn't his fault.
"We're not going to be slaughtered," Kiara's voice was firm and unyielding in a way that pulled Malika away from the approaching horde—by her Paragon, she could almost feel their taint in the air—and realised that the human wasn't even looking towards the horde, her dark eyes were scanning the amassed army and glancing up at the Tower of the Ishal were a small select group of the new Wardens were meant to light a beacon for Loghain's army to join. "We're going to make sure the new recruits survive this slaughter and can end this Blight."
"We're not helping them," Vala realised before Malika; her red hair tucked under a studded leather helmet, dressed in new boiled leather and mail armour, and two swords in her hands—she looked like a Companion, minus the earrings.
"We're running away," Elion corrected in an outraged hiss, golden eyes glaring at Kiara—she didn't even flinch as she met his heated gaze with her cool one.
"Who fucking cares?" Malika hissed back, puffing up her chest and glaring back at Elion from under her own helmet. "As long as we live to piss another day, I'm happy."
"You have a plan?" Saya prompted, her ashy eyes scanning the human army that were luckily keeping a wide berth from them and thus hadn't overheard them.
"Ostagar is about to become a slaughter," Kiara's tone was confident, there was no doubt, and Vala almost swallowed harshly. "We're going to make sure recruits survive so they can end this Blight."
"Why not the older Wardens?" Vala dared to ask and Kiara's glance at her wasn't cutting or dismissive, it almost seemed like she approved that Vala questioned her.
"They are mostly at the frontlines, too close to the horde for me to feel comfortable sending any of you to get them," Kiara told her simply and Vala nodded.
"And I pissing love you for that," Malika declared roughly and Kiara smiled slightly for a brief moment, one gloved hand briefly laying itself on the dwarf's shoulder before returning to the handle of her sword.
"Vala, I want you to head back to the healers," Kiara ordered. "Get Ella and that Amell mage and head to the Wilds, Logan will meet you there and lead you to safety. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Vala nodded slightly, shifting her feet so she was ready to move—she had been wondering where the large hound had gone too—and Kiara's hand wrapped around her arm like steel.
"Don't let any of Mac Tir's men see you," Kiara's eyes were hard and serious and Vala nodded back, equally serious which made the human relax some and let her go.
"Malika, Saya," the Qunari seemed to stand even taller under Kiara's eyes and Malika stared at her with total trust. "I want you two to go to the Tower; Cousland and Alistair must be saved."
"What about the two elves?" Vala asked while Malika and Saya both nodded without question.
"Save them if you can," Kiara told them, Elion's lips tightened. "But Cousland and Alistair must be saved."
"Understood," Saya nodded as Malika turned towards the Tower.
"See you in the Wilds?" Malika asked and Kiara nodded making the dwarf nod back—trusting that they would all survive the slaughter Ostagar was about to become.
"Elion and I will attempt to find the dwarves," Kiara stared at Elion. "If that's okay with you?"
Elion's features were tight, there was obviously something he wanted to say but he didn't and simply nodded in agreement.
"FOR FERELDEN!" came the echoing shout of King Calian, the army charged and the Companions parted.
"Want me to slit your throat?" Faren offered as he buried his dagger into the chest of the Darkspawn that they were fighting, his sword swiping across its rotting throat.
"I'm fine," Sereda grunted, bashing one's head in with her shield and stabbing it through the chest, pulling it out with one firm tug and immediately thrusting the sword into another's guts. "Thanks."
They had meant to be waiting for the second army to attack to join the battle, but had decided to offer their help when they saw the Tower was being surrounded and overwhelmed.
They had already seen the beacon group head into the tower and was now a two person army keeping the other Darkspawn from entering the tower.
"You sure?" Faren grunted as a warm spurt of black blood covered him. "I hear bad things happen to pretty women in the hands of Darkspawn."
"You think I'm pretty?" Sereda barred her teeth as she pushed one back. "How sweet."
Faren barked out a laugh, slashing at the Darkspawn in front of him, only for it to go slipping down on the mud with an arrow sticking out of his throat.
A quick decisive thrust of a steel blade ended its gurgling and Faren looked up as lightening flashed.
Kiara of the Companions stood tall before him, dark hair plastered to her face under her helmet, a long sword in one hand and a short sword in the other. She was covered in boiled leather and tarnished mail, not letting a hint of black blood touch her bare skin—smart human.
"You want to live?" she asked him, long sword lashing backwards without her looking and burying itself deep in the guts of the Darkspawn creeping up behind her, an arrow to its throat from somewhere finished it.
"Oh fuck yes," he answered without thought and she nodded.
"Stay close then," she twisted, short sword separating a head from its body. "It's about to get messy."
"It's not already?" he barked out a laugh and the glance she shot him was amused as she began to kill the Darkspawn with the ease of someone used to killing—and killing a lot at that.
The unanswered fire of the beacon burnt brightly as the horns sounded and Darkspawn hollered their victory.
Someone was tenderly wiping a damp cloth across her skin was the first thing that she registered as she clawed to consciousness and struggled to one her eyes.
"You're awake," Leona's quiet voice was filled with relief as Andra's blue eyes focused on her fair face above her, a curtain of thick red hair attempted to hide the rest of the world from Andra's view.
"Wha-?" Andra croaked as she attempted to sit up and Leona shushed her, reaching behind her for a smooth wooden cup filled with elfroot laced water.
"Tis about time you opened your eyes," the manner of speaking clued her in on who was spoken before Leona helped her sit up further on the bed that she had been laying on.
Morrigan, a Witch of the Wilds, stood in front of a boiling caldron of what smelt like stew. Ebony black hair twisted up and back as stray strands framed her angular features, golden eyes shadowed by deep purple glanced at her over one bare slim shoulder.
"Your companions were getting concerned for you," Morrigan continued, giving the stew an idle stir. "Especially the whiny one."
The disdain was very obvious in Morrigan's tone and Andra assumed from that distain that the 'whiny one' was Alistair—they had mixed as well as oil and water when they had their brief meeting in the Wilds earlier.
Andra ignored the two mages as she took stock of her body; her long brown hair had been shorn and there was a bandage fixed to the back of her head, more bandages wrapped around her torso and she could feel the slimy coolness of a poultice against her upper torso.
"We weren't sure how badly you had hit your head," Leona mentioned, a slim hand brushing away Andra's questing fingers. "We had to cut your hair to assess the damage, I'm sorry."
"Tis only hair," Morrigan scoffed as she added some type of herb to the stew. "It will grow back. You should be more worried that the blow didn't knock anything important loose."
"Where's my armour?" Andra interrupted as she stared down at the boiled leather and mail armour that had been laid out over a chest at the end of her bed where her steel armour should be.
"Kiara, rightfully, decided to melt down your Darkspawn tainted metal down for arrow heads," Morrigan told her, a certain tone to her voice that just dared her to argue against Kiara's choice.
Normally Andra would have but she was still caught on the name that the witch had mentioned.
"Kiara? Kiara of the Companions is here?" Andra demanded watching as Morrigan's slim shoulders tensed and her stirring stilled.
"You know Kiara?" there was an odd tightness to Morrigan's voice as she questioned her, but Andra ignored it.
"Since I was young," Andra nodded and Morrigan's nails bit into the wood of her ladle.
"All this time," she hissed more to herself than to either of the Wardens, her darkly stained lips curling in anger before she lapsed into an angry silence.
"The Companions saved us," Leona told Andra softly, hands reaching for the new armour since it was obvious that Andra wasn't going to rest any longer. "Morrigan's Mother saved you and Alistair, but the Companions saved the rest of us."
It was only then that Andra noticed that Leona was no longer dressed in the heavy cloth robes, leather and mail armour combo of the Warden Mages and was dressed in the same type of armour that she was helping Andra into.
Leather breeches, metal reinforced leather boots, a mail vest peeked out from under the leather cuirass and thick cloth tunic that she was wearing, worn long fingerless gloves. A cuff of Warden blue material had been tied around her right bicep—something that Leona added to Andra's own outfit.
"We are Wardens," Leona declared strongly in her soft voice when she caught Andra's curious glance at it. "We mustn't forget that."
Those words alone told Andra that she had missed something while she had been 'sleeping'.
"Mother wants to talk to you," Morrigan finally spoke up as Andra tied the sheath of her family's sword to her waist and grabbed the Cousland Shield.
"Thank you for helping us," Andra told her as she moved to the door of the hovel, Leona hovering at her side, and Morrigan turned, a startled look crossed her features as she stared at the noble.
"Mother and your healer did most of the work, I did little," Morrigan almost seemed embarrassed. "Kiara and her Companions are the only reason your healer and the others survived."
"I still thank you for the aid you've given," Andra smiled, the smile that her mother had taught her to show her appreciations—warm yet detached, enough emotion to be real but distance and fake enough not to give the wrong impression—and Morrigan looked away, embarrassed, and Andra's smile became just that more real before she left the house with Leona at her side.
And thus the story of the Warden began, a different than it would have without my input and with more chance of success. Now if only people would stop shouting at me and women stop slapping me, I'd be grand.