Author's Note: So, uhh, this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I thought. Well, I hope you guys like it anyway

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Adrian's sleep was anything but restful. He'd been plagued with nightmares, mainly old memories replaying over and over again in his unconscious mind. The good, the bad and the ugly.

He thought he remembered his parents. His father holding him in his arms; his hair curly like his own and black, his skin olive and eyes a soulful brown like Solona's. His mother with impossibly long red hair and blue eyes chasing after him as the templars are taking him away to the Circle, begging them not to take him away. His three-year-old self turned back and his last sight of his mother would always be of her crying in the street as he's being taken away, never to see her again.

He remembered the Circle in Kirkwall. He'd been treated like the highest security criminal and was locked in a tiny cell. He'd cried for his mother and father to save him a lot at first. But his memories of them had gotten fuzzier and fuzzier until he barely knew them at all.

He remembered meeting his sister for the first time and being so happy to have a family again. Solona had been such sweet kid and Adrian had adored her immediately.

Adrian remembered walking into the Circle tower in Ferelden for the first time, holding Solona's hand protectively in his own, and he was astounded. It was so beautiful, and well lit! Actual windows and people freely moving about in the tower. This was nothing like Kirkwall. He'd made a friend here whose name was Jowan. He might like it here, he remembered thinking.

At the age of nine, he realized that he was totally, and completely wrong. A templar whose name he did not know but whose face he would always remember had approached him one day. It hadn't ended well for the young mage.

He remembered performing real magic for the first time. That templar had approached him again and he'd panicked. He'd cast magic that sent the man flying across the room. He'd remembered having a sword to his neck and Enchanter Neria breaking things up. She'd seen everything and he remembered crying in her arms. His punishment had been rather lenient considering what he had done. A week in solitary confinement. Probably because the templar wasn't seriously hurt. A part of him wished he had been.

He'd remembered his friendship with Anders. The guy had been a radical and maybe a bit insane but he'd been good to him. He and Anders had caused all kinds of minor trouble. Dragged Jowan along. He remembered Anders constantly pushing his luck and attempting to escape. It was a bit of a game he played with the templars. He remembered feeling an odd sense of dark satisfaction as Anders messed with them. Until Karl Thekla came along and calmed him down.

He remembered finding out about Solona's relationship with Cullen and how she was sneaking around at night to see him. Adrian had felt quite betrayed until his sister had pestered him into giving Cullen a chance, and they had slowly become friends.

He remembered his Harrowing and how utterly violated he felt. He also remembered how proud everyone had been of him when he passed. Especially First Enchanter Irving and Enchanter Neria.

He remembered helping Jowan destroy his phylactery and how his best friend had lied to him.

He remembered Duncan's interference and leaving the tower to become a Grey Warden.

He remembered going into the Korcari Wilds and meeting Morrigan and her mother.

He remembered the Joining and the horrible deaths of Daveth and Jory.

He remembered the Battle of Ostagar and how Teyrn Loghain had betrayed them all.

When Adrian opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. He was lying on a bed, he knew that much. The covers were made of fur and his wounds had been dressed. He wore only his pants and his torso was wrapped in bandages. The thought of having been stripped without his knowledge had made him very uncomfortable but after what happened at Ostagar, he supposed he should count himself lucky to be alive. Wait, how was he alive? What happened? Was Alistair all right?

He sat up quicker than he probably should have and his ribs twinged a little, but there was no sharp pain. He'd been nursed back to health and he had no idea by whom. The rest of his wounds had faded to little more than scars.

He looked around the room to figure out where he was and spotted someone very familiar. It was a woman with dark hair in a messy bun, primitive clothes that left little to the imagination and curves in all the right places. The girl from the Korcari Wilds. His brain was slow to recall her name but he did remember it after a few moments.

Morrigan…

She was doing something with the books on the shelves when she turned and saw that the man was awake.

"Ah, your eyes finally open," she said matter-of-factly. "Mother shall be pleased." Adrian rubbed the back of his head. How long had he been out? The stiffness of his muscles told him that it was probably a while.

"I remember you," he murmured. "From the Wilds." Did that mean he was still in the Korcari Wilds? What was he doing here? Morrigan nodded.

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten." How could I forget… "And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds," the wild woman explained. Adrian blinked several times before he realized that he hadn't even asked those questions aloud and Morrigan had already answered them without a moment's hesitation. "You are welcome, by the way." Adrian flushed a little.

"Uh, right, thanks," he stammered awkwardly. Thankfully, Morrigan let it slide. "How does your memory fare?" she asked him, not unkindly. "Do you remember Mother's rescue?" Rescue? What rescue? He remembered nothing after having a sword stabbed through his middle.

"Rescue?" he asked aloud. "As in… from the tower?" Geez, his brain was rather slow today and it was making him sound incredibly stupid. He just wanted to smack himself. Morrigan nodded affirmatively.

"Yes. Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle." Wait, how did she know that? He knew because he had been there when the plan was being discussed. He knew because he saw Loghain's army march away from the battlefield with his own eyes. But how did she? Oh geez, had she been spying on them in animal form without them knowing? He was a little afraid to ask. "Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well." Wait, friend? As in… Alistair? Well, shit, of course it was Alistair! Who else could it be?

If everyone had been massacred, then, did that mean Duncan was…

What about the king?

And Elissa and Fergus?

What about Wynne, Uldred, and that priestess who said a prayer for Daveth and Jory?

Were they all dead? Adrian paled at the thought. So many questions swirled around in his mind, and it wouldn't be fair to bombard Morrigan with all of them. So, he stuck with one.

"Duncan… the king… are they all…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He knew, deep in his heart, that it was true, but he asked anyway.

"Dead?" Morrigan finished for him. "Yes. Your friend had veered between denial and grief since Mother told him." Adrian's face fell even further, if that was even possible. He felt bad for Alistair. He knew Duncan, King Cailan and the others far better than he. His mind drifted to the Tower of Ishal where Alistair had attempted to protect him from the rampaging darkspawn even though he only had one working arm. "He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke." He raised a questioning eyebrow at Morrigan.

"Why?" he asked puzzled. Why did she care to talk to him? Heck, why did she bother to save him at all? He was just a nobody from the Circle of Magi. And Alistair was just a templar, right? Neither of them were people of any consequence. So why? Why did Morrigan's mother bother rescuing them?

"I do not know," said Morrigan a little too straight-faced for his liking. "She rarely tells me her plans." Adrian gave her skeptical look. He had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't telling him everything. Well, whatever. Let her have her secrets. It was her business, not his. He was just glad to be alive, whatever the reason.

"How did she even get to us? We were pretty high up." Morrigan get him a sly smile, the kind that said that she knew something he didn't.

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from atop the tower – one in each talon," she explained with a shrewd smirk. Adrian raised a skeptical eyebrow. A giant bird? Really? So these women were shapeshifters, after all.

"So, how long was I out anyway?" he asked. How long had it been since Ostagar? Morrigan hummed thoughtfully.

"About a fortnight," she replied casually. Adrian's jaw dropped to the floor. He'd been unconscious for two whole weeks?! Was she for real?

"Wait, what?! Are you serious?!" he asked her incredulously. "Were my injuries that severe?"

"Well, yes, they were. However, the darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal. She has access to magic that your Circle has long forgotten." Huh. He supposed that that explained why his body was so stiff. But didn't unused muscles atrophy after a while? Perhaps that was also the doing of Morrigan's mother?

Adrian stood from the bed and tested his legs (and their ability to hold his weight). Everything seemed fine to him. Even his ribs stopped hurting. There was the occasional twinge when he turned the wrong way, but that was nothing to worry about.

"Well, I feel fine now," he said as he looked around for his stuff. "Where is my stuff, if you don't mind me asking?"

Morrigan pointed at a chest at the end of the bed. Oh, she must have stored his things in there until he woke up. His pack was still there, cleaned of all the blood and grime, and his armour was there too. There were a couple of rips and the hole from when he was run through had been sewn up (he suspected that the scar was still there too). He pulled the studded leather on over his pants, because there was no way he was stripping in front of a girl. He'd been forced to get used to changing in front of other guys (even if it still made him uncomfortable) but he wouldn't do that in front of a strange woman he didn't know.

"Thanks, Morrigan," he said as he searched his pack to make sure everything was still there. Who knew if the darkspawn might have touched some of his stuff? Everything looked all right and even the Joining pendant was still there. He had no chain for it at the moment so he kept it in a side-pocket of his pack.

Morrigan almost seemed to flush pink. Almost. Maybe it was just his imagination.

"I… you are welcome," she said somewhat awkwardly. It took her only a moment to regain her composure. The man slipped on his boots. "though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." Adrian chuckled as he tied the laces on his boots.

"Neither am I," he said. He put on his gloves, pulled the small pack on his back and was ready to go.

"Well, I ought to see what your mum wants." Morrigan nodded in approval.

"I will stay here and make something to eat." Adrian blinked.

She cooks too? Damn.

Adrian opened the door and spotted Alistair, whose arm had healed by now, staring at the swampy waters, the cattails swaying in the light wind. It was an odd sight. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was almost as if the forest didn't realize that the darkspawn had overrun it. Almost. There was not an animal to be seen or heard. No squirrels in the trees or birds in the air. The forest seemed completely empty.

Adrian didn't even notice that Morrigan's mother, in all her inhuman glory, was there until she spoke.

"See?" she said in a chastising voice. "Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man." Alistair turned and his face brightened when he saw that his fellow Grey Warden was up and kicking. At the attention, Adrian lifted his hand and waved at them.

"Hi," he said.

"You… you're alive!" Alistair murmured astonished. He supposed that a fortnight was a long time to be comatose. The blond chuckled mirthlessly. "I thought you were dead for sure." Adrian rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to worry you with Duncan…" Adrian couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence as Alistair's face fell. The poor bastard just plain looked exhausted. His dark golden hair a mess and deep shadows under his eyes.

"It just doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower," he said despondently.

Just like Duncan and the others…

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the old woman scolded. Alistair turned to her, surprised. Almost as if he had forgotten that she was even there.

"I didn't mean… but what do we call you? You never told us your name," the blond sputtered in embarrassment.

"Names are pretty but useless," said the old woman casually. Adrian frowned. He would have to strongly disagree. Names were identity. They reflected family lineage and the norms of the country one was born to.

Your name is part of who you are.

"The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do." Alistair and Adrian's jaws both dropped in perfect sync. Flemeth? As in… the Flemeth? From the stories?

Okay, Morrigan's mother looked old, but there was no possible way she was actually that old. Right? But the legends did say something about Flemeth meeting a demon, becoming possessed and becoming an abomination. Was it really possible for her to have been alive all this time?

"The Flemeth from the legends?" Alistair breathed. "Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?" The old woman – Flemeth – retorted. Well, that wasn't a "no".

"Uh, Flemeth, just out of curiosity, why did you save us?" Adrian asked. Flemeth must have found his question amusing because she laughed heartily.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" she told him with a strange twinkle in her golden eye. "Someone has to deal with these darkspawn." So, she decided to save the two newbies? That didn't make sense. Wouldn't it make more sense to save more experienced Grey Wardens (like Duncan)? He wasn't complaining about being alive, but he didn't believe Flemeth's reasons for saving the two of them specifically. Not even for a second. "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change while I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not!"

"But we were fighting the darkspawn!" Alistair retorted. "The king had nearly defeated them! Why would he do this?" Adrian was wondering the same thing. He crossed his arms quietly as his mind wandered back to that night. Soaked to the bone and thunder clapping overhead. The feeling of despair as Loghain's men abandoned the battlefield, and the utter helplessness he felt when the darkspawn swept upon them like a tidal-wave.

Adrian frowned. He would never forget. Nor would he forgive.

Who knows… maybe that battle was never winnable to begin with. Fergus Cousland did mention that they were vastly outnumbered.

But why? The plan was to charge from cover once the signal fire was lit. So why pick that moment to back out of his own plan and leave? If Loghain didn't think that the battle could be won, why didn't he say so? He didn't he suggest a retreat? Sure, he mentioned that the king shouldn't be on the frontlines, but that wasn't the same thing as "this isn't a fight that we can win, pull out".

Maybe… maybe this was his plan all along. To use the beacon as a signal to retreat. The plan he gave at the war-meeting must have been a decoy. A trick.

And they had all fallen for it.

"Now that is a good question," said Flemeth, not unkindly. Her voice snapped Adrian from his thoughts. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat." Alistair and Adrian paled.

"The archdemon…" whispered Alistair.

Everyone knew the stories. That over a thousand years ago, at the height of the Tevinter Imperium's power, they used to worship great dragons as gods. The Maker, in his wrath, had locked the dragon gods away in deep underground prisons. But the people of Tevinter still worshiped them. It is said that it was from them that the magister lords learned to use blood magic.

Then, in the name of the old gods, the magister lords ripped open the Veil that separated the physical world from the Fade and broke into the Golden City. Their sin had turned the city black and the Maker had cast them out, turning them into the first of the darkspawn. To this very day, the darkspawn still search for the old dragon gods, and if they find one, they corrupt it and turn it into an archdemon. This was the beginning of every Blight.

Four archdemons rose. Potentially a fifth now. There were supposedly seven in all.

Maker's balls.

"The archdemon," Adrian began quietly. "Is it really a god?"

"Perhaps it is," Flemeth replied cryptically. "Or perhaps it isn't. Either way, history says it's a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history."

Not to mention powerful. Entire nations had fallen to it.

But Grey Wardens defeated these archdemons and ended the Blights. Every single time. There was only two of them but they had to believe that they could do this. Because who else would if they didn't?

"Then we need to fight and kill this archdemon," said Adrian filled with determination. He would not let this archdemon hurt anyone that he cared about. Solona and Enchanter Neria may not know that he was alive and well, but he would do anything to protect them.

"By ourselves?!" protested Alistair incredulously. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back." Adrian's face fell. And the entire army was killed at Ostagar. No. That couldn't be the end of it. There had to be someone they could call upon for aid. Maybe the First Enchanter? They may not have parted on the best of terms but he would understand that this was a Blight, surely.

Wait a minute. The treaties! Duncan gave them to Alistair to hold on to before the battle! He really hoped that the treaties were still there in Alistair's pack.

"Not to mention, I don't know how," continued Alistair, interrupting his thoughts.

"How to kill the archdemon," said Flemeth. "Or how to raise an army?" Both, Adrian reckoned. "It seems to me, that those are two different questions, hmm? Do the Grey Wardens have no allies these days?" The Witch of the Wilds gave Adrian a long, knowing look. Almost as if she knew what he was thinking about.

"We do," the mage chimed in. "Alistair, you still have those treaties Duncan gave you?" He asked him. Alistair's lips formed an "o" shape as the light of understanding sparked in his eyes.

"I do! I kept them in my pack! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places. They are obligated to help us during a Blight!" Alistair seemed excited now.

"There must be other people we can go to," said Adrian. Alistair hummed thoughtfully.

"Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called," he began. "But who knows when they'll get here, if ever. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely." Arl Eamon? Of Redcliffe? He had no idea why Alistair thought Arl Eamon would help them.

"You mean the arl of Redcliffe? You really think he would help us?" The mage questioned. Alistair frowned thoughtfully.

"I suppose… Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him; he raised me, for Maker's sake! He's also a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." Alistair gasped in realization. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Loghain was also an honourable man, Adrian remembered. Not just an honourable man but a respected hero. Why would anyone take their word over his? He decided not say any of this aloud. He didn't want to dash Alistair's hopes.

"I may be old," Flemeth cut in before Alistair could respond. "But dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me." Hmm… she did have a point. They may even gather an army big enough to replace the one lost at Ostagar.

It was a fool's hope, but they had to try. This was what Grey Wardens did, right?

Alistair looked to him, a new light of determination in his eyes. "So can we do this?" he asked hesitantly. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?" A part of Adrian was wondering why Alistair was even asking him. Was he not the senior Warden here? Adrian shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sure. That's what Grey Wardens do, isn't it?"

"So you are set then?" Flemeth chimed in. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

Adrian and Alistair both gave her a tight nod. There wasn't really any choice. They were all that was left now. Maybe the Orlesian Wardens would eventually figure that something was wrong and send someone, but Maker only knew how long that would take. No, they were on their own.

Flemeth nodded in what might have been approval.

"Now… before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you," she said cryptically. Adrian raised a questioning red eyebrow at the old witch.

Suddenly, Morrigan walked out of the hut, asking if they would have two guests for tonight or not.

Oh boy. He had a feeling that he knew what Flemeth was talking about. Not that he was complaining about having a pretty girl with them but he wouldn't want Morrigan complaining the whole time if Flemeth forced her to go.

"The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl," Flemeth told her. "And you will be joining them." Morrigan looked almost relieved at the idea that their guests were weren't stay.

"Such a shame –" her voice trailed off as she realized what else her mother had said. "What?!" she demanded incredulously. Adrian gave her an apologetic shrug.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" Flemeth cackled heartily at the forlorn expression on her daughter's face.

"Uh…"

"Have I no say in this?" asked Morrigan exasperated. Flemeth crossed her arms.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance." Flemeth then turned to the two Grey Wardens. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"Fine," said Adrian. Morrigan didn't look at all enthusiastic either but it seemed none of them had a choice in all of this.

"Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate," Alistair warned. Adrian hummed, his arms crossed with a slight nod. He hadn't even thought of that. As a Grey Warden, he no longer had to answer to Chantry law. But Morrigan… she was the very definition of an apostate. For all they knew, she would be immediately labelled a maleficar and killed on sight.

"True," murmured Adrian.

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man," said Flemeth coldly. "perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair replied, shifting his weight in discomfort.

"Mother…" Morrigan began. "this isn't how I wanted this. I am not even ready –"

"You must be ready," Flemeth said, cutting her off. "Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

Well, shit. So Ferelden's last hope lied with him and Alistair alone? No pressure or anything.

Morrigan looked down and seemed to ponder her mother's words. As begrudgingly as she may have done it, she agreed. Flemeth gave her an approving nod and turned to the two men.

"And you, Wardens? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed." Adrian gulped nervously but he nodded. No pressure what-so-ever. But he would agree. There was only two of them and any help was good help.

Right?

Adrian only nodded in response. He didn't know what else to say.

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," said Morrigan, rather annoyed.

"Uh, right. Of course. Take your time." Without a word, Morrigan went to the door and disappeared inside the hut, leaving a rather awkward silence behind her.

Neither of the two Grey Wardens were feeling particularly good about any of this. How could two guys be expected to unite the entire country? Adrian knew he might be able to convince the Circle but after the incident with Jowan, he had no idea if first enchanter Irving would even speak to him.

The elves… that probably meant the dalish elves. There were many, many different tribes and there was no way in the void that any of them would ever give their warriors to a couple of humans. He supposed that that was what the treaties were for. To force them to do it whether they liked it or not.

Hmm… the dwarves were in a constant war with the darkspawn to take back their old kingdoms. Their numbers dwindled with each passing year and who knew if they'd be willing to give up their warriors, the most experienced at fighting darkspawn, to fight a Blight. For all they knew, the dwarves might consider a Blight to be a welcome reprieve from the darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

Maker's balls. Adrian really wished that Duncan was here. He'd know what to do.

What would Duncan do?

… Duncan would do whatever was necessary to put down the Blight. Duncan wouldn't be afraid of being told to stick it where the sun don't shine, because he'd demand a "yes" from all of these groups.

He would admit it, he was scared to return to the Circle, to face what he had done. But he wouldn't stop himself. He was a Grey Warden now – one of the last – and he needed to behave like one. After all, he would not be returning as a mage. Not anymore.

And then there was Alistair's contact in Redcliffe. Arl Eamon. Hmm… it might be smart to go there first, before Loghain got to him. Maker only knew what the Teyrn would tell him and he already got a fortnight's head start.

"I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens," said a slightly annoyed female voice that snapped Adrian from his thoughts. Morrigan stood there with a small bag at her side. He supposed all of her supplies were in there. "I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far, and you will find much you need there."

Adrian fingered his chin as he mulled over Morrigan's suggestion. They would need to resupply and maybe getting some news wouldn't hurt either.

"Or, if you would prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide," Morrigan added. "The choice is yours."

"Oh! No, no!" Adrian said, waved his hands in front of him. "That's an excellent idea. We could pick up supplies and news at this place. Right, Alistair?" The ex-templar grimaced and Adrian looked down embarrassed.

"Or… not," he said dully.

"I just… do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?" That… did sound rather silly when Alistair put it that way.

"Well, no, but there's only two of us. We could use all the help we can get," Adrian told him. Alistair didn't look too happy as he thought over what his one and only comrade said.

"You're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them," he said begrudgingly. Morrigan's lips tilted up into a mocking smirk.

"I am so pleased to have your approval," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. Alistair glared shamelessly at Morrigan.

Adrian sighed. Oh boy.

"Okay!" He cut in before a fight could start. "So, is there any chance we'll get to this village before nightfall?" Morrigan nodded.

"If we leave now, we shall be there by sunset."

"We should get going then." Morrigan nodded and turned to Flemeth.

"Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut," she said wearily. Flemeth snorted derisively in response.

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely that you will find this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight." Morrigan bit her lip and looked rather guilty.

"I… all I meant was…"

"Yes, I know," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. The old lady ended up ruining the moment with a surprisingly casual "Do try to have fun, dear."

Uhh… fun? Was she serious?

With one final check of their inventory, the witch and the Wardens left the relative safety of Flemeth's hut and began their trek to the village up north, which Morrigan told them was called Lothering.

Author's Note: Welp, I hope you guys had a good holiday (whatever you guys happen to celebrate) and I wish you a happy new year. Cheers!