A/N: The long awaited conclusion to the Ostagar arc in a meaty chapter. Finally, Lenya will be able to counteract the corruption inside of her with... more corruption? And right after she is tasked to go to a tower with her fellow Warden, and light a beacon there. Easy right? Because whatever could go wrong with that? (Spoiler alert: Everything)

This chapter had been originally written and published on Ao3 in end of october 2017. If you want to see the up-to-date version of this story, come find me on Ao3 under the same nickname (Merilsell) and story name (Of Elves And Humans: Redux). Enjoy?

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New day comes again
And it laughs in your face
Whispering secrets of pain
By all its names
What flame could burn out the stain
Of a life misplaced?

-Poets Of The Fall - Moonlight Kissed

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Chapter 4: Enigma

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Despite the lateness of the hour, Ostagar was still abuzz with activity. People stood in groups around a small campfire and talked, while flat-eared servants squirreled about the main area to heed the orders of their masters like good, trained dogs. Lenya headed south, up the stone ramp where the wounded lay on makeshift cots. A young human woman knelt in between two cots and pressed a cloth to the feverish forehead of a soldier. He moaned weakly at intervals, but otherwise didn't move. Lenya couldn't tell if it was the soldier from the Wilds, nor did she care to find out.

Around her, a small group of people dispersed; the shem proclaiming words of their god had fallen silent. Wrinkling her nose, she decided to get away from this depressing place again, though before she was able to said shem nearly ran into her.

The woman wore a wide, odd robe with some sort of sun symbol on its chest, gray and pale red in color. Her creamy-white face was hidden behind a transparent cloth veil, belonging to the even odder hat which left only her mouth visible. "Oh, pardon me, my lady." She took a double take at her, which was unsettling enough, given Lenya couldn't see her eyes hidden by the veil. "Ah, I suspect you are one of the new Grey Wardens?" Not yet, she thought and turned to go, but the shem was nothing if not persistent. "You are a Dalish wanderer, I presume?"

"Wow, figured that out on your own while looking at my vallaslin, huh?" Stopping with a scoff, Lenya turned back to her. "How smart."

Her priorly upturned lips fell into a straight line. Didn't matter, she was full of shit anyway. "There is no need to be so hostile, Warden. The Maker will not refuse to bless you if you are willing to receive Him."

"Oh, and if you are not, He crushes your home and kills your people?" she quipped in the most sarcastic tone possible, while observing how her mouth started to twitch more and more. It was amusing, in a way, how utterly predictable some, if not all, humans were. Especially if one failed to answer or react as they had expected from her. In this case, to smile and accept a foreign god's blessing, one in whose name countless atrocities had been done to her people, like a docile sheep.

Hah, never.

"Then begone with you." The human whirled away with a huff. "I will not entertain your bigotry and hatred."

Pot meets kettle, Lenya thought with a shrug and left east toward the kennels.

"He looks better already. I'm sure he'd thank you himself, if he could. Let's give him a day or two to recover." The kennel master, who looked like the Warden leader, smiled at her, obviously pleased with her ability to retrieve the flower. "Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about imprinting him on you."

Lenya frowned up at him. "Imprinting?"

"Oh right, you Dalish don't have dogs, least of all mabari, right?"

She shook her head, finding no offense in his words. It was true, after all. "We don't own animals like shemlen do. It is wrong, unnatural."

"Well," he breathed out a laugh. "Then you are in luck, for a Mabari isn't owned. It chooses its master for itself and forms an equal, lifelong bond with them. Which is what we call 'imprinting'."

"I see," she hummed, unsure if she even wanted to commit to such a thing. "Would that even be possible?"

"Maybe. It's likely he understands that you're responsible for curing him, since Mabari are at least as smart as your average tax collector. Come back after the battle and just... take another look," he said, stepping forward to put some small round, metallic objects into her hands. "Before I forget, here is something for your trouble."

Lenya looked down and recognized it as money. Oddly enough, she had found some of it on the corpses of darkspawn earlier. Creators knew why even. Probably because they looked shiny? Then again, these rotten bastards had no sense for beauty or possessions, only for destruction and death.

Gods, she hated them.

And still, just like them, she had no sense of how much the money she held now was worth or what it could buy. Growing up within the borders of her clan, there had never been a need for a currency. All items, weapons and food were distributed and shared equally among the clan. It had always been a given to do so, as natural as breathing. Only a few selected hunters who traded with outside sources were knowledgeable in these matters. Lenya, considered too young and too brash for these delicate affairs by the elders, hadn't been one of them.

Pocketing the coins in her belt bag, she decided to find out their worth from the one merchant she had seen still up and about. There was still enough time before meeting the others for the big, grand Joining the Warden shem never could shut up about. Of course the damn Felasil hadn't even told her where it would take place. Typical.

She had found the place after all - and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Not all who drink the blood will survive, and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay."

Lenya stared at the Warden leader, who had just gutted the Whiny Knight for refusing to drink the darkspawn blood after the other idiot had choked to death on it. Well, at least she hadn't wasted time learning their names. Overall, it was somehow a fitting continuation for a very shitty day.

It had grown deathly silent. Aside from her own heartbeat racing in her ears and her frenzied breathing, there was no sound. The Warden shem had shrunken back to the opposite wall, not daring to look at her or his leader anymore. Glancing down at Duncan's hand, she saw him holding his dagger. From its tip still dripped blood, which also continued to pour out of the shem's now limp body on the ground.

As the wind turned, the air carried the rusty scent of freshly spilled blood to her, making her stomach turn. She had never been squeamish, but seeing someone getting killed was different than taking an active part in it. Lenya could taste the bile on her tongue and tried to swallow it again as sweat started to bead on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered, and the place around her began spinning. No, no, no. She would not pass out like a dainty human princess after seeing some blood. It wasn't only that, however, but the accumulation of many things finally coming to a head. Exhaustion, hunger, thirst - basic needs ignored all day, on top of the corruption roaring inside of her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stay afloat, on her feet. Lenya swallowed heavily, yet more and more bile rose up, filling her mouth.

Somewhere, somehow , she heard her name being called. It sounded distant, like it was coming from worlds away. Armored footsteps upon stone formed a cumbersome staccato, its sound drawing closer every second. Then they stopped, unlike the bile that had now turned her nausea into heaving. Bending over, Lenya emptied the scarce contents of her stomach at its - his - feet, a fitting sentiment to it all. As soon she had regained some semblance of control over her body, she whipped around to rush toward the closeby stone pillar.

"You cannot leav-"

"Maker, Duncan, give her a moment!" His tone was barbed and clipped, speaking of anger even to her momentarily muffled hearing.

Lenya would have stopped to wonder why this shem raised his voice against his idolized leader for her were it not for her overwhelming nausea. Hands on her knees, she continued to heave and spit into the patch of grass until nothing was left. Trembling, her knees threatened to buckle under her. To counteract it and stabilize herself, she put a hand against the stone and welcomed its cool solidness underneath her clammy fingertips. She gasped in short, rapid breaths, then slowed down for more even, longer intakes of air. They quickly morphed into laughter that scratched within her throat, demanding release. It was madness. Her laughter was too, yet most of all the notion of counteracting the corruption inside of her with even more corruption.

This was no cure.

But what choice did she have? She was dead either way. It didn't matter if she tried to run as if Fen'harelwere at her heels or choked on darkspawn blood like the human had. And even if she succeeded in outrunning this damn Dahn'direlan once more, the corruption inside would soon kill her...or worse . She had heard stories. Vague yet clear tales which made her want to turn around and start heaving again. Her laughter subsided. No, what she must do was obvious. She couldn't give up or give in to this sickness, not now. Not ever. Tamlen… she squeezed her eyes shut against the agony twisting and ripping at her insides. She couldn't even complete the sentence in her mind. What she could do, however, was turn back and face them – it.

So with one last deep intake of oxygen, ignoring the metallic tang of blood upon her tongue, Lenya did exactly that. For she was Dalish, and she wouldn't submit. Not to the sickness nor to the darkspawn. Especially not to the darkspawn, those fucking bastards. To the taint? Yes, it was a necessary evil, not only in order to survive but also to be able to combat them more effectively. Should she still perish upon drinking, ugh, that, she swore she would return from the Beyond as evil spirit to haunt these damn humans and their shitty order of tainted idiots forever.

Lenya gave the dark-skinned leader shem a baleful glare as she forcefully ripped the silver chalice out of his hands. Lasa adahl su nar masa. "Fuck you," she spat in his direction, and drank.

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Alistair caught her before she could hit the ground- again. Somehow, this seemed to have become a pattern between them. The same could be said of her tendency to insult the people around her before passing out.

The thought would have amused him if he weren't too scared out of his mind to appreciate its existence. Two of the recruits, his recruits, already lay dead on the ground. He couldn't bear adding a third to the list, not her. As rude, volatile and maddening as she could be, she was also –

"She'll live," Duncan announced after feeling her pulse point, having taken too long to do so.

His eyes, which had been screwed shut, flew open, and he looked at her for the first time since she had lifted the cup to her lips. "Thank the Maker!" Alistair breathed and felt a weight the size of a mountain drop from his shoulders.

He didn't miss the odd look Duncan gave him at that, nor the fact that she - Lenya - was currently nestled in his (armored) lap with her head.

"Losing two recruits was brutal. I'm simply glad the third and last one survived at least," he said, too quickly and awkwardly.

"Uh huh." There was that look again. "As long you remember that your duty must always come first, Alistair."

"Maker, Duncan, being glad she survived doesn't equal wanting to marry her!" Right after the sentence had been spoken, he groaned inwardly at the wording of it. Keep digging your hole, Alistair you may reach Orlais yet.

"Uh huh," he said again, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," he glowered up at his mentor, who was back on his feet. "You know what, yeah. I'm going to invite you to our wedding. All will be draped in Warden blue, griffons will circle majestically over our heads, and the Mabari she had a soulful conversation with and picked flowers for will be the ringbearer. There - better?"

Bonjour, my name is Alistair. Is this Orlais?

Duncan's mouth twitched. "Griffons are extinct; I thought you knew that."

"Haha, very funny."

"I hope you know why I did that..."

"What? Teasing me? Because you are – oh, that." Alistair glanced quickly at Jory's bloodied body. "Yeah," he muttered, quieter than he meant to, and frowned. "It is just... all this death..."

"Everyone can die in battle, Alistair. You, me, the soldiers that have sworn fealty to the king, or our fellow Wardens. With the battle so close, some even will die." He sighed to release the tension within him, then his expression hardened again. "All that matters is that the Blight is stopped. At any cost. This is our duty and calling as Grey Wardens."

"Yeah," he repeated, but his heart wasn't in it. Not after seeing Jory be gutted. However needed Duncan proclaimed it to be to protect the order's secrets, his death simply seemed so... senseless. 'At any cost' suddenly sounded more like a curse than a motto.

Duncan appeared to sense his apprehension and nudged his shoulder. "Hard day, huh?"

"Hmm," Alistair hummed and smiled slightly at the mirroring of his earlier words. "I suppose tomorrow won't be any better, huh?"

Very briefly, he grimaced. "All signs are indicating the that battle will take place tomorrow, possibly in the late afternoon."

"So that is a big fat no, then. Great."

"Have faith, Alistair. The Blight cannot be allowed to spread, so it has to end here. It will end here."

Now you sound like my weird half-brother.

"But... first, let us get our new sister somewhere... safe." Duncan peered down at her. She was still sleeping soundly, and Alistair doubted even an archdemon could wake her. "Take her to our camp and then get some rest. You will need it."

He cleared his throat and pointed into the general direction of the bodies. "What about... them ?"

"I'll deal with that. We will have time to mourn them later." Duncan's lips quirked upwards, if only for second or two. "You better take care of your bride-to-be."

"Very funny, Duncan. Gotta laugh later, though, since I'm busy now." With that, he lifted her into his arms, quietly praying she wouldn't wake up on the long way back - or the impending battle would be the least of his worries.

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Alistair heard Junan long before he was able to see him. The giant man jumped up from his place at the large bonfire within their camp.

"Haha, I knew she would pull through." He turned around with a grin toward the freckled, bearded face behind him. "Pay up, Benson."

Still with Lenya in his arms, he stared at them, baleful. "You bet on who would survive?"

"Nothing personal, Alistair." Junan shrugged. "Being a Warden for as long as I have, it's just our way of coping with the stress of a Joining."

"Yeah, that is not twisted or wrong at all."

"What about the other ones?" Benson asked, despite probably already knowing the answer. Alistair only shook his head. "Damn, I thought Daveth would survive as well at least. He would have been a good Warden." He motioned him to follow. "We have prepared a tent you can put her down in. Several, in fact, though we won't need the other ones anymore, I guess. " Quiet as his voice was, he sounded sad? It was weird to see their roles reversed now. Normally Junan was the more thoughtful person, whereas Benson, well, tended to enjoy life to its fullest. Especially those with the letter 'w'; wine and women. Shaking off the thought, he put Lenya down on the prepared bedroll in the narrow tent and closed the flap on his way out.

"Hey Deyron, did you hear?" Junan yelled across the encampment, almost hyper with glee. "You finally get company!"

"Great." The dark-skinned elf let out an noncommittal grunt, waving him off. "Is this the point where you assume that all elves know each other?"

"What?" His face fell. "No, of course not. I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't be. I'm just fucking with you." Deyron snorted."You humans are so gullible."

"What? You fucking with me? Such a lie."

His laugh rang brightly through the night. "Come over and we can change that, darling."

Maker's breath. Alistair glared into their general direction.

"We better hide or claim the rest of the alcohol for ourselves, or else they will be going at it all night." Stopping at how that sounded, Benson grimaced. "That came out wrong. Or maybe not. They really should it get out of their systems. They bicker like an old married couple for weeks now."

Oh. Once more his own inexperience with the subject matter showed. "But I thought-"

"Junan preferring women? Maybe he does." His thick shoulders lifted to a shrug. "There is such a thing as having a varied taste, Junior. You will learn what I mean." Another shrug. "...Or you stay with your girl instead. Everything is fine. Being able to choose is what matters."

"She is not–" Alistair stopped with a sigh. "Wait... what brought this on?" He squinted at him. "Are you drunk, is that it?"

"Nah, it is just... in the face of one's own mortality, every man gets humble." Benson took a large swig out of his bottle and wiped his ginger mustache with the back of his hand when he was done. "The battle is tomorrow and I wanna approach it with clean sheet." He paused. "Well, cleaner. So I wanna apologize for dragging you into the Pearl. It had obviously not been what you wanted."

Distracted by the tirade Galen fired at Junan and Deylon for disturbing his sleep, Alistair reacted belatedly to this unexpected apology. "I..wow . I appreciate that, really." He heard both of them protesting in a whirl of words before they fell silent, giving in to the Constable's order.

"Come sit with me, Alistair." Benson patted the empty space beside him, next to the warming flames of the campfire. With the commotion being over and dealt with now, only quiet chatter of the fellow Wardens around him remained. Most had already retreated into their tents, wary of the day and battle tomorrow. Alistair shuddered as a chill raced down his spine, and the cold wasn't to blame for it. He didn't look forward to night's sleep, despite his exhaustion reaching near bone-deep. The tension around him and the feel of the approaching horde had become too palpable for that.

He offered him the other bottle of wine he'd cradled in his lap. "A drink? You look like as if you need one. Or... several."

"No, thank you." He plopped down on the log beside Benson, and started to tug at the buckles of his armor. Most of the time he welcomed its comforting weight. Now however, he couldn't wait to get rid of it and dress down to his gambeson; maybe even switch to normal clothes. A bit of water to clean up would be nice too. Working on the buckles of his greaves, he grinned up to him. "I'm not really in the spirit for spirits."

Beside him, Benson cringed visibly. "Dammit Junior, I am not yet drunk enough for your particular brand of jokes." Yeah, it hadn't been his most clever one, that was for sure. Alistair didn't even know why he said that. Maybe to cheer his fellow Warden up, or himself. Alas, it did not work either way.

After that, both remained quiet a long while. Alistair effectively removed his armor piece by piece and stored the parts in a neat pile beside him. He would clean them later, or tomorrow before the battle. Benson only took a pull out of his bottle here and there, while watching him dress down to his gambeson and breeches.

"So how did it go exactly?" Benson asked, after being silent for so long.

The breastplate was the final part he put on the pile, before he glanced at the older man. "Huh?"

"The Joining. What happened?"

Alistair made a face. He wasn't exactly keen to discuss the details of it. "Daveth and Jory weren't strong enough to withstand the taint, obviously."

"Yeah, I noticed that, Junior." Rolling his eyes, he scratched his stubbled chin. "But I rather meant the Dalish."

"Lenya?" He blinked, surprised by his interest in her. Which he probably shouldn't be, given that she was their newest full-fledged Warden.

"Yeah, your girl. Soo?"

Hardly able to suppress the groan upon how Benson kept calling her that , he reverted back to the familiarity of sarcasm. "Oh you know, couldn't have been better, really. First she puked on Duncan's shoes, then ran off to the side to finish it there. Coming back, she ripped the chalice out of his hands, and drank. Not without insulting him first, of course."

"Hah, that girl has fire, good for her. The coming months certainly won't be boring with our newest addition."

"That...is one way to put it. She is-" Well, what exactly? After the Joining Duncan had interrupted him before he could complete the thought. Now where Alistair had the time to think, he failed to put it in words. "-something," he finished lamely, unsatisfied by his choice of word.

"Aye, I noticed." His laugh was deep, chortling. "And I drink to that."

Just as the silence had settled in again between the two men, Duncan appeared within their camp. He went straight toward the bonfire and Alistair. "There you are," his mentor said to him. "Good." He paused for a long intake of air, and drove a hand through his slightly disheveled dark hair. While his face was free of blood now, his armor was still splattered crimson. Like himself, his mentor seemed not had had the time to clean up.

Benson glanced past Alistair at their leader, and frowned. "Commander, you look like you need a drink. And hours of sleep." Sometimes the man sounded more like a nagging mother than a seasoned, middle-aged warrior and Warden.

"Not now. All in good time, Benson," he replied, turning back to Alistair. "Go wake your Warden sister. We have urgent matter to attend."

"Again?" Slowly but sure, Alistair was asking himself if the evening would ever end.

"Yes. The King expects our attendance at his war council. This includes you and our new Warden."

"Huh," Benson mused. "I wonder why he would want two rookies -no offense, Alistair- to partake at his war council?"

Duncan fixed him with a sharp look. "It is not up to you, nor me to question the King's decision. We are here at his behest, and you would do well to remember that."

"Aye, aye, ser!" his fellow Warden muttered, rather sarcastically, and sunk back into his seat. "Well, you better fetch your girl then," he said to Alistair, fidgeting with his quite impressive stash of wine bottles at his feet. "Don't want to keep the King waiting, after all." He handed him one of the open but untouched bottles with a slight grin. "Here take this. She will need it."

Alistair hesitated a moment before taking it. "Why..." he trailed off, while grasping the reason for Benson's generous offer. "... oh right."

"I will go ahead," Duncan announced, looking at Alistair. "Please follow to the upper part of the ruins, as soon as you are able. The council is held close by where the Joining took place." Finished with his explanation, Duncan left him to his fate of being the one having to disturb the Dalish's well deserved slumber.

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Her tent was erected nearby, diagonally opposite from the main campfire. Ducking into it with half his body, Alistair saw her still lying on her back, unmoving. "Hey..." His voice was gentle, though he didn't dare to touch her. "Wake up." As expected, or rather, feared , she didn't. Lenya continued to sleep like a log; the exhaustion caused by a long day seemed to finally have caught up with her. As much he'd have preferred to let her rest, especially after what happened at the Joining, he couldn't. Not when the King -his half-brother- was the one requesting them to attend.

Sighing, Alistair entered her tent completely, while his heart hammered in his chest. He knelt down next to her bedroll. "Please don't murder me for waking you," he muttered before reaching out to touch her shoulder to give it a gentle shake. The effect of it was almost immediate. Gasping awake, Lenya started up, eyes wide and unfocused. The gleam of the firelight nearby reflected brightly in her dilated pupils, akin to the eyes of cats. He had seen it before with the few elven fellow Wardens in their ranks, but never so... up close.

"Hi." Alistair waved his hand in front of her face. "Sorry to wake you, but -"

"Ugh," she made, sticking out her tongue in a grimace of disgust, and coughed. Oh, right. The famous taste of lingering darkspawn blood after the Joining. He wished he could forget it, but unfortunately it was etched forever into his memories and taste buds.

"Wait a moment." Alistair reached for the bottle of wine left outside the tent and handed it to her. Ripping it out his hand like she had done with the Joining chalice earlier, Lenya took a mouthful of wine and swished vigorously. Turning her head to the other side, she spat it out again, as far away from her bedroll as she could muster. She repeated that a few more times before allowing herself to swallow the liquid.

Her breath came out in a harsh rhythm and she grimaced again, eyeing the bottle in her hands now. "What is that?"

"Wine," Alistair supplied, ever so helpful.

"Tastes like halla piss."

He chuckled. "Well, better than darkspawn blood, right?"

"Barely."

"I would love to officially welcome you to the Wardens, but sadly we are lacking the time for a big party."

Looking at him, her eyebrows drew together. "Wait... how did I get here? And why are you here, of all people?"

Ouch. "You passed out after drinking darkspawn blood, remember? So you, um, were brought here, to the Grey Warden main camp." Alistair omitted the fact that he was the one who carried her here, since he liked to be alive.

"Okay..." Lenya digested the information for a moment. "...Still doesn't explain you being in here, with me."

"I was trying to wake you up, obviously. The King wants us to attend his war council."

"How nice for him. Now go away." Right after, she lay herself back down onto the bedroll, with her face and body turned away from him.

Alistair gaped at her back, momentarily at a loss for her reaction. "Um, I said 'us', right? This includes you as well."

"The shemlen is not my King."

"Right." Alistair suppressed the wish to roll his eyes. He should have expected this answer. "But you are a Grey Warden now and the King requested the attendance of Wardens. Particularly of us two." Somehow it was like talking to a child, at least right now. "Look, I know it has been a long day, but you can rest after this is over. And you should, since the battle is tomorrow."

That made her turn around. She stared up at him. "What?"

"You can't feel it - them. Not yet, anyway." A chill raced down his spine, the same unsettling kind he felt earlier. Alistair shuddered. "But the horde is steadily closing in. They are said to arrive at Ostagar in massive numbers tomorrow afternoon. Hence why the King holds a war council so late in the evening, I guess."

The sigh Lenya huffed out ended in a groan. She sat up and crossing her arms, her eyes narrowed at him. "Ugh. Fine, I'm coming. Wait outside, then."

Happy to find her agreeable after all, Alistair smiled at her. "That's my-" His mouth plopped shut and very briefly he forgot how to move, or to breathe. He felt rooted in place, mortified by the one word he nearly would have said out loud. Girl. It played as a mocking echo within his mind, even as he attempted to somehow salvage the situation. "-new fellow Warden," he finished lamely, and outright fled from her tent.

Maker's breath. Heart racing and blushing furiously, Alistair let his head fall into his hands with a groan. Right after the council, he was going to kill Benson for calling Lenya 'his girl' as often as he did. Even before the darkspawn would have any chance tomorrow.

"You are a very strange human," she stated, appearing so suddenly next to him that it caused him to jump. Alistair made a mental note to buy and make her wear a little bell which would announce her arrival in advance. Right after he was finished digging the hole to hide in forever, of course.

Looking up to the starless sky, he took a deep breath of the night's crisp air to calm down again. Motioning her to follow, Alistair chuckled ruefully. "You know, you are not the first to tell me that."

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As Lenya had expected, participating at the council had been a giant waste of her time. She still didn't know why she had agreed to it in the first place. Unsurprisingly, the shemlen king was still the samefelaslan chasing glory and tales that could only lead to doom. And the army shemlen in which all these human fools were putting all their hopes of winning? There was something... unsettling about him, more than with any other shemlen she'd met so far. At least Lenya, together with the Warden shem, would be far away from the main battlefield, lightening some beacon in a tower. A fact about which the tall human sitting across the campfire still seemed to be sulking about.

"I don't like this... Loghain shem," Lenya announced into the silence that had settled over them, ever since their return from... that. Most of the other Wardens had already retreated to their tents, leaving the place around the campfire empty. Though with the darkspawn blood still lingering upon her tongue and ghastly pictures of its horde in her mind, Lenya didn't feel like sleeping yet.

The human had his arms wrapped around his knees, and stared into the flames. Even without his otherwise perpetual Warden uniform, his stature was still imposing. His broad shoulders sank further down as he snorted. "You don't like anyone, Lenya."

"True," she confessed, unfazed. "Nor do I need to." Least of all shemlen. "But he has something... unsettling. It is his eyes, I think."

He gave her a quick, sharp look. "Teyrn Loghain is our best chance of winning the battle tomorrow. He is a national hero and his expertise in warfare and strategy is unmatched. But you don't like him because of his eyes?"

Of course the humans would band together and defend each other, like a pack of wolves. Her expression hardened to a scowl. "Forget I said anything, shemlen."

"Right..." The shemlen sighed, with a scowl of his own. "Already done."

Ignoring his needless quip, Lenya focused on preparing healing salves out of the herbs collected and purchased. An unprepared hunter was a bad one, after all. For a while the rhythmic clunking of the wooden mortar and pestle became the only sound filling the night's air.

"Did you have dreams?" he asked so suddenly that her hands stilled with the sound of his voice.

"What?"

"After the Joining, I mean," he said, looking at her. "I had terrible dreams."

Her grip around the pestle tightened to a point of near pain as the memories right after the Joining kept flooding back into her mind. Right after the vile concoction had passed her lips, it had left fire in its wake, burning her from the inside. Akin to the fever of the Blight sickness, but far more intense. Then the pictures and voices of darkspawn and... a dragon? had filled her mind, ripping, scratching; a chaotic world of ash and sickly light. All at once and way too much. The ensuing blackness as she passed out soon after had been a blessing in disguise.

She forced her arm to relax, to release the object within her hands. The pestle clattered faintly as it dropped into the vessel. "I don't want to talk about it."

His gaze still lingered at her, much longer than needed. "I... see." The human reached then behind him and resurfaced with a silvery object in his hand. It was a small necklace, she noticed. "Duncan gave me this and, well, it is for you." Leaning forward, he pressed it into her bare hand. It was cold and hard to the touch.

"A gift?" Lenya stared dumbly at the cheap and downright ugly jewelry. "You are giving me a gift?"Everything in her bristled against the notion, even if, objectively seen, the human couldn't possibly know about the meaning of gift-giving in her culture. This, however, did not make her loathe the object within her hand any less.

"Nooo?" he drawled, noticing her ire. "It's given to all Wardens as a way to remember the brothers and sisters we lost in the ritual."

Lenya gave it a closer look. Shaped like a teardrop, the delicate silver vial seemed heavier than it had a right to be. "We call it the Warden's Oath. Most of us choose to wear it at all times to signify the burdens we carry," he continued to explain, his voice solemn."It contains a portion of the darkspawn blood we used in the Joining."

"Eww." Now this was just... disgusting. Was it not enough how she couldn't escape their taint and corruption anymore? Did she have to wear their blood not only within her veins but also around her neck like a sick, twisted trophy? "I don't want it."

The shem glared at first at her outstretched arm with the necklace, then at her. His voice dropped lower, adapting a biting sarcastic undertone. "Too bad, it is yours. No take backsies. Like you being a Grey Warden now. Get used to it."

"What?" Lenya couldn't believe her ears, nor his audacity. Anger boiled up like a hot wave and pounded at the sides of her skull. "I had a life before this, shem. A good life, with my people, my clan. I was good in my role there, content as a hunter. I never asked to be here, to fight a shemlen battle. I wanted none of it!"

His hazel-colored eyes narrowed upon her with a sneer. "And yet you are here. Must suck then, huh?"

"You know, I wanted to thank you for speaking up for me earlier before the Joining." Blinking away angry tears, Lenya jumped up from her seat. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not now, not ever. "But honestly? Fuck you! You shemlen are all the same!"

"Oh how very mature," he snapped back at her in the same loud voice. The human was also on his feet and looming over her with his sheer body mass and height.

Glaring up at him for another moment, the Dalish whirled round and stormed off toward her tent. The necklace made a satisfying hissing sound as she threw it in the fire, which of course this asshole noticed.

"How dare you? You can't do that!" Predictably, he was livid about its destruction. Good. Lenya noticed him following her, only a mere step or two behind. "Hey!" Still she didn't stop her flight until she had reached her tent and closed the flaps behind her. Just in time to bite her fist in the effort to muffle her sobs, she no longer could hold at bay.

"Leave her be, Alistair!" she heard the Warden leader's voice say. He must have been woken up by their fight and its sheer volume.

"But she disrespects everything we stand for!" The shemlen's shadow loomed still large through the thin canvas of her tent, as if rooted in place. Even if she didn't want to see or hear them, she had to. Unlike with the aravals made of thick, sturdy wood to endure and protect against cold winters, a tent was only an imitation of a place, with the mere illusion of privacy. Trying to ignore his shadow and presence demanding her to come back, to justify herself to him, like a good elf should in presence of a human, she knelt down to her bedroll.

Never again shall we submit, Lenya thought in defiance. Though doing so only added another pang of wistfulness to the painful realization of how alone and lost she felt here in their camp. It wasn't hers, especially not ours and never would be. A shuddering whimper escaped between the fist pressed within her mouth, far too loud. She hated herself for it, for this weakness, and everything else of it, too.

The Warden leader sighed out loud, then there was a rustling sound of a tent's flaps being open. "Come here, Alistair," he said and finally the shadow in front of tent reluctantly moved away, until it had vanished from her blurred, teary-eyed sight. She thought of them then, her people, and wondered what they did right now. New tears formed within her eyes, leaving a wet, burning trail in its wake as they rolled down her cheeks. Did they miss her too? Or were they glad to be finally rid of their troublemaker?

Oh Tamlen, she thought, his name leaden with guilt in her mind. What have I done?

"Have I ever told you how I was recruited into the Wardens?" she heard Duncan ask the other human as she curled herself into a ball on the bedroll, making herself as small as possible. Not being able to sleep, Lenya listened to his story of being a former thief targeting the wrong person and being conscripted as punishment. Of an expedition to some place called The Deep Roads with the former king soon after and of his elven mage friend long ago, until the Beyond finally finally claimed her for fitful slumber.

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Flemeth cocked her head as she squinted up at the sudden charcoal sky. Clotted black clouds sprawled across the horizon, billowing in from the south, along with the horde, she knew. Sickly violet lightning forked through the gray pall, almost in tune with the rolling thunder. Rain started to pour down, heavy like stones. It drenched Flemeth's fur robe in mere moments.

And yet the old witch didn't move. She outstretched her arms to the sides and cackled. Everything was as she had it foretold.

"Is it time, mother?" Morrigan's approach silenced her laughter, if only long enough for a reply.

"Yes, my dear. It indeed is. Be so kind and prepare everything for our soon arriving guests, yes?"

Flemeth could practically hear the roll of her daughter's eyes as she sighed. "Yes, mother. I will."

"Good girl." She turned back, her golden gaze fixed toward the sky as her limbs slowly grew, shifting into something much bigger. They twisted further into a gigantic mass of muscles and scales, until her old humanoid form no longer existed. Flemeth roared out and shook the earth with its volume. Beating her massive wings, she soared into the blackened sky, toward her goal.

If everything was indeed how the witch had foreseen it, she already knew exactly where to find them.

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"Maker's breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

Halting on the top of the stairs to the first floor of the damn tower they had fought their way through, the Warden shem never failed to point out the obvious. Thunder cracked outside, mixing with the dull roar of battle, which halted her reply.

Lenya turned to him and rolled her eyes. "Perhaps you can try telling them then how they are in the wrong place?"

"Hah, yes," he snorted, using his perpetual sarcasm. "Of course it is all just a misunderstanding. We will laugh about later!"

Lenya let out a groan. She still hadn't forgiven him for last night, despite his attempt to clear the air prior to the battle. And given his still caustic tone toward her, the apology could only have been meant halfhearted. Stuck as she was with the shem here in the tower, it was all moot anyway.

"At any rate, we need to hurry and to get up to the top of the tower to light the signal fire in time!" he nearly yelled, sounding somewhat panicked. "Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

"Yes, because you haven't mentioned this in the last five minutes. So thanks for reminding me, fellow Warden! " Giving her an irritated look for the comment, the human took the helm, running forward as eager as a halla calf finding its first clover in spring. The two other shemlen men, a mage and a warrior, whom they had found outside the tower warning them of the darkspawn, followed his questionable lead into the new area. Her fingers clasped around her blades and with a prayer to Elger'nan, she set herself into motion, ready for another fight.

What both Wardens lacked in verbal understanding, they equaled out with battle prowess. Lenya had noticed it before, in the Wilds, that he was far above average with his fighting abilities. It was a bit raw around the edges and too eager, maybe, though her own training was far from being perfected yet. Of course it sufficed enough to survive here and slay whatever simple-minded darkspawn mistook her for easy prey, but her clan's hunter training didn't exactly include the killing of them or other otherworldly beasts. However, being a hunter also meant being able to adapt to new, unexpected situations, to improvise in order to make the kill in the end of a hunt.

And so Lenya fell in step with her fellow Warden, observed where he struck and where he missed, then add her own attack. Finding a rhythm with him here came with frightening ease, especially given how they were like fire and water otherwise. Though here, in fighting, their disparity paid off. Where he applied raw strength and force, Lenya completed the attacks with finesse, speed and dexterity. Using an opening was easy when the aggression of the opponent was drawn to the taller, broader target, or if it was stunned by a bash of his griffon-winged kite shield. Of course she was by far not passive in her own attacks, offering her fellow Warden equally as many opportunities for a kill as he did for her. This method made quick work of every group of darkspawn encountered, letting them progress through the first floor faster than thought.

Having cleared the large area of darkspawn with the aid of some mabari hounds released from their cages, the tower guard rested his hands on his knees. He looked at her while gasping for air. "You are a good fighter for a -"

"Yes, I am." She whirled round to the human, her bloodied blades still in hands. The implication of his sentence made her want to use them on him. "And if you would be a better one, shemlen, I wouldn't have to do all the work."

"Now now," the mage raised his free hand in the effort to placate. "Let us rather concentrate on reaching the beacon than to argue."

"Yes, exactly." Lenya suppressed the urge to groan. As good her fellow Warden was whenever he concentrated on stabbing things, as irritating she found him whenever he opened his mouth. "The stairs to the second and last floor must be not far from here. I think it is across the other room."

"Oh, the one with the closed door and a horde behind it?"

He threw her a lopsided grin over his shoulder. "Yeeep. You know the drill."

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Of course reaching the beacon and simply being able to light it would have been too easy. There had to be a at least ten feet tall creature in their way.

The monster's head perked up at the sound of their approach, and it swung round to face them. Its scarred, leathery skin was a dull blue-gray in color, with crude leather armor bits tied to its muscular frame and limbs with lengths of rope and chain. Thick, twisted horns stuck from each side of its massive forehead, looking similar to a corrupted and very ugly version of a halla. The beast's scarred face contorted into a snarl of rage, its wide mouth baring large fangs partly yellow with decay and partly crimson from its feast. Blood still dripped from the corners of it's mouth, and strips of human flesh were hurled in their direction as it roared.

Grimacing, Lenya side-stepped the bloodied projectiles and spittle, and readied her blades. She shot a glance toward her fellow Warden. "Let me guess, this is an ogre?"

Open-mouthed he stared at it, like the other two humans behind him. Gripping his shield harder, he only nodded.

"Well then..." She glared up at it, her mind already searching for a point of attack. "... I hope you are done soiling your underwear."

"Y-yes, of course." He exhaled rapidly as he stabilized his stance. "Let's do this."

Due to the sheer mass of the beast, it was easier said than done. Its thick hide caused most of their attacks to be ineffective. A bolt of the tower guard's crossbow whizzed past her head and bore itself into the ogre's chest, giving them momentarily respite.

"Weak points?" Lenya yelled at him, already moving away from where she stood. Remaining in place would mean a certain death after all. "You are the Warden here."

"Funny," he gasped, stabbing the back of its massive foot. "And here I thought I saw you drinking darkspawn blood." The ogre howled out in pain and quickly lashed around. Observing her fellow Warden, an idea came to her mind. Naturally the monster was unlike anything she ever fought or hunted before, yet still somewhat similar to a bear in mannerism. Unlike a bear however it depended on its two stumpy feet, instead of being able to alter its stance like the forest animal. Taking away that mobility would rob the ogre almost all of its deadliness and turn it into easy prey.

"What you did worked," Lenya yelled toward him, and broke into a sprint. She ducked under its massive claws grabbing for her and slid in between the gap of its feet to reach its backside. "Keep its focus on you!"

"What ?"

She slashed her blade across the tendril of one foot. "Just do it!"

Its outcry as it momentarily sank to its feet proved her instincts to be right. Just as Lenya wanted to repeat the attack at the other foot, the ogre lashed out blindly, maddened by pain. Being one step too late, its wide sweep hurled her fellow Warden into a stack of barrels.

"No. No. Shit," she cursed, thankful for the directly ensuing electric current of the mage, which stunned the beast long enough to finally complete her action. The ground shook with the ogre's mass as it fell down, rendered immobile but still alive. Running up to it, Lenya jumped on its chest to slit its throat, keenly aware of its claws still being able to crush her. It took her several attempts to get a clean, lethal cut across the correct artery of its neck, but eventually the ogre stilled and bled out on the tower's floor.

Sheathing her bloodied weapons in a haste, Lenya ran over to the barrels on the adjacent side, afraid of what she would find there. The human lay within its splintered, wooden remains and did not move. Her gloved fingers jolted to her belt bag, hoping to find the vial of magic potion there the elder mage had gifted her before the battle. Thankfully the vial was still in her bag, its glass unbroken. Lenya uncorked it with shaky fingers. To be able to give it to him however, she needed him to be awake first. Kneeling down next to his unconscious body, she saw his armored chest rising up and down. He was still breathing. Oh good. She repeatedly patted his face. "Hey... wake up!"

"Is he-" one of the shemlen behind her tried to ask.

"Shut up," she snapped into their general direction, cutting off his words. No, he is not. He couldn't. As annoying as he was, death wasn't something she would wish upon him. "Creators, you stupid human, wake up, dammit!" Still nothing, but she tried anew, with a gentle shove this time. " ...Alistair!"

His eyes flew open, as if reacting to the unusual sound of his name on her lips. He yelped in a labored breath, right before his face contorted to a mask of pain. "Oww," he managed, bringing his hand up to hold his side.

"Here, drink this." Lenya helped him to sit up, at least far enough to be able to swallow the potion.

"Did I... -" His words were interrupted by small gulps as he downed the concoction. The magic effect of it was almost immediate and... Alistair's prior pained breathing normalized. Enough for him to speak and complete his sentence even, alas. "... hit my head too much, or did you call me by name just now?"

Jumping back up to her feet, Lenya turned away with a huff. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her expression.

Sitting up, he looked past her bloodied form toward the ogre's massive corpse in the middle of the room. He chuckled, a low sound. "You... really did it. Wow. ... You are really good."

She whirled back to face him and glared down at him. "And why is everyone so surprised about that?"

"I'm not. I have seen you fight before, remember?" her fellow Warden stated, matter of fact. The tower guard offered him a hand to pull him him back up, which he took. "And for what it is worth, Lenya, I'm sorry for last night," he said while picking up his sword and shield from the ground. "Being a Warden means so much for me, so it is hard to grasp if someone doesn't appreciate it. But I'm, um, glad you made it through the Joining."

"You definitely have hit your head too much," Lenya muttered under her breath, feeling the need to get away from this human and his surprising and entirely maddening... sincerity. She fixed the mage with a look. "You, come with me. We finally have to light this damn beacon."

"Right the beacon. Damn, we are probably already too late for the signal!"

"Well, next time, puppy... don't get hit by an ogre."

The mage made quick work with setting the dry wood ablaze, igniting the beacon. Her fellow Warden frowned at her, somewhat amused. "Puppy ? Where does this come from?"

Lenya couldn't say and before she was even able to search for a reason, the door banged suddenly open. A swarm of darkspawn poured through the doorway from the lower floors. The tower guard hit the ground with a scream, his throat and chest pierced by arrows. The mage was the next who fell victim to their sudden attack. It all happened too quickly, leaving her no time to react or defend herself. Several arrows hit her in her abdomen and shoulder, the sheer force of it knocking her over.

She hit her head upon the stone and heard Alistair scream, right before passing out.

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The crackle of fire burning was the first sound reaching his senses, mixed with the dull roar of thunder and raindrops trickling upon shattered glass. Slowly Alistair opened his eyes and wondered why he was still able to do so. Sprawled out on the floor in a pool of his own blood, he still lay where the darkspawn had overwhelmed him. His gaze remained bleary, unfocused, and ironically it was the sharp tug of pain inside which gave him some clarity.

Why hadn't the darkspawn finished him off? It made no sense for him to be still alive. Breathing was hard, every intake of air burned in his lungs. He spat out a mouthful of blood and coughed painfully right after. Well, it seemed as it wouldn't take long anymore until death would claim him after all. Blinking fast to clear his sight, Alistair heaved up his head to glance toward his fellow Warden. Lenya lay close by, unmoving, as if dead. Several arrows stuck out from within her abdomen and shoulder.

Oh no.

Maybe she was still alive. He had to make sure. Alistair grunted out in pain as he rolled himself from his back to his abdomen in a cumbersome motion. The heat of the flames licked at his bloodied skin as he crouched forward to where she lay. Each movement hurt, ached like fire, but he gritted his teeth and fought through the pain it caused. He had to reach her. If nothing else, Alistair could at least ensure that... she would not have to die alone.

Having finally reached her, Alistair looked down at her completely still form and touched her face. Alistair couldn't feel a pulse with his thick metal gloves and lacked the strength to remove them. All he could do was to keep her company until, until-

Lenya ...

He realized it then. In the worst possible moment, the word to describe her came to him.

She was... an enigma.

Contradictory in everything, Alistair would have liked to look closer, past her facade of hostility, of hurt. To get to know her better, longer than a mere day. But he wouldn't get that now, not even another hour. At least, he wouldn't have to die alone here, nor would she.

It was a bitter solace within the realization of failure, but a solace nonetheless.

I'm sorry... Duncan. I failed.

Eyes blurring with unspent tears, Alistair felt his senses growing dull. Not a moment later, he broke down beside her, breathing what seemed to be his last gasp of air.

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The battlefield below her was carnage. Littered with corpses clad in a telltale blue and gray, Flemeth knew that searching for survivors there would be a fruitless and dangerous endeavor. The darkspawn feasted in large hordes upon their bodies and whoever was unlucky enough to have survived the battle was dragged off below the ground. No, her presence was required elsewhere. Beating the wings of her dragon form, she steered toward the right area of Ostagar's ruins, toward the Tower Of Ishal. Halting midair in front of its dome, Flemeth spat a controlled amount of fire at the building to crack its roof open. As an old woman, they couldn't expect her to walk all her way up to its top, after all.

Amused by her own humor, the witch landed on the edge of the top of the tower, and transformed back to her human form.

"Ah yes," she clucked her tongue as she approached both Wardens in the middle of the room. "There they are." It was a touching picture to see them lying there together, united in death. Or rather non-death , now where she had found them. Just as expected.

Snapping her fingers, Flemeth let a powerful wave of healing magic wash over them to fix the worst of their injuries. It would be a pity should they expire during their flight back to safety, after all.

"Now, children," the witch said, looking down at them. "Let's get you away from this place. It may be lost, but your destinies do not end here."

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Change Notes:

Newly written chapter, you know the drill by now. It was important to me to breathe in more life into the Wardens at Ostagar a final time, to make the emotional punch all the sweeter. (Junan :( ) and to showcase the Joining from a very introspective/close pov, instead of only rehashing the game scene. I kept the Tower of Ishal quest briefer, and instead focused on the characters (showcasing Lenya's quick grasp of battle and of new situations), and the fallout of it. Ah, sweet sweet angst :D The scenes I have described there are based on an mod, btw.