Alistair drifted and out of consciousness. The world was a blur of random images from the battle peppered in with scenes long since passeda. They seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of his thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. He remembered small snippets of what could have been reality. He remembered the sound of leathery wings and two women speaking in hushed tones beside a hearth, one with black hair, the other with grey. Every time he felt like he was regaining his wits, he retreated into wallowing blackness.
This time, it was the dull ache that roused him from his slumber. With a sigh, he cracks open his eyes, the light from the nearby fire too bright. He raises his hand, just enough to block out the light enough to see the long, slender silhouette of a woman. Her hood was drawn up as she bent over to stir something in the large pot hanging over the fire. He attempts to shift which only makes the dull ache sharpen. "Fuck." He mutters with a wince.
As he becomes increasingly aware of the coolness of the air, he becomes suddenly aware of his lack of clothing. His cheeks burn as he holds the blanket close to himself, half wondering if he's still dreaming. He reaches under the blanket to pinch himself, emitting a surprised yelp that alerts the woman. She looks over, unamused. His brows shoot up, fully wake, perhaps more fully awake than he's ever been.
"You!" He says, taken aback by how rusty and squeaky his voice sounds. His embarrassment is only deepened as her darkly painted lips curl upwards into an amused grin.
"Ah, your eyes are finally open, if more so than necessary. Mother will be pleased."
"Like your meals to fight back?" He sneers. "Is that why I'm…" He begins, his face burning under her amused gaze. "Where are my clothes, you...sneaky...witch thief!"
Her amusement quickly transitions to mild annoyance. "I see the rocks that fell upon you did little to fix your manners." She sighs. She strides across the little room to a chest and opens it. She rifles inside a few moments before throwing a pair of trousers and a worn shirt to him which makes him flinch. She rises, motioning to the clothes strewn across the blanket. "There. You may put those on, if it pleases you."
Alistair looks down. "Those aren't my clothes." He says, wrinkling his nose as he pokes them with his finger. "Seeing as there are no men about, I doubt I want to know how you got these. Former victims perhaps?"
Morrigan's golden eyes narrow. "I believe a bit of gratitude would suffice." She says tensely. "Mother is still repairing the damage yours sustained."
His brows knit together as a foggy memory resurfaces. He rubs his head and feels the remains of a welt near the tip of his ear. He frowns. "Wait…" He glances up at her and she raises a brow. "What happened? I remember a blast…"
"Very good." She says mockingly. Her lips turn up into a sardonic smirk as he glares at her. "You were injured, and then Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?"
"Obviously not." He retorts, rubbing his head once more. "Also, just so you know, the way you keep saying 'Mother' is super creepy."
Her brows raise in amusement. "What else would I call her? Old woman?"
"I don't know!" He whines. He rubs his temple as the slow dull ache of a headache begins to resurface. "What about the battle?" He asks, looking up hopefully. "What about King Cailan? Is he-?"
Morrigan simply shrugs, bending down to retrieve a pair of boots that have seen better days before shutting the lid of the chest. She rounds the bed, smirking as Alistair tightly grips the blanket to his chest in an attempt to cover himself. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field." She says, tilting her head to the side slightly as she watched his reaction. "The darkspawn won your battle." She watches as the emotions crossing his face change quickly from disbelief, to grief and then to anger. "Those he abandoned were massacred."
His head droops. "No…" He mutters, his eyes closing. "You're lying."
"What reason would I possibly have to lie?" She asks, curiously. "I have nothing to gain from telling you this."
He knew that what she was saying was true but the very thought of his fellow wardens, the king and Duncan rotting in a field -or worse, being fed on by those creatures- was almost too much to bear.
Setting the boots down, she rises. "I will leave you to dress. There's stew if you're hungry and a cloak on the chair. It is quite cold out and Mother wishes to speak with you. She's outside with your friend."
Alistair's eyes widen. "Ana." He whispers. "So, she's alive?"
Morrigan stops by the door, her slender hand poised on the doorknob. "She is." And with that, she leaves the hut. As soon as she's gone, Alistair falls back onto the bed.
Ana stares at the fire, watching the flames dance as the cool breeze blows past. After waking and hearing the news of what happened she sat down beside the fire, a thick wool blanket wrapped around her and hadn't moved. She barely spoke as the older woman chatted on with little care if she was listening or not. It apparently been a few days since the battle and the woman, who claimed her name to be Flemeth, had nursed both herself and Alistair to health after rescuing them from the tower. A feat that made little sense to her given that the tower would have been overrun with darkspawn or rubble at the rate of blasts that hit it. The woman barely looked as though she could handle a single set of stairs let alone trudge up the 12 or so levels that they climbed to get to the top.
The younger woman, Morrigan, choses that moment to step out of the seemingly small hut. She says something to her mother before turning her attention to Ana. Ana's eyes flick over to her and her scantily clad wardrobe. How in the Maker is she able to wear so little and yet not freeze? Ana wonders to herself, hugging the blanket closer.
"Your friend seems to have awoken." She says casually. Using a stick, she stokes the fire.
"He's not my friend." She mutters.
Morrigan raises a perfect brow. "Oh? You two seemed rather cozy when Mother found you."
"Now, now Morrigan." Flemeth gently chides as she flips the garment she's been mending over, her bony fingers probing for other tears. "There's no need to antagonize the guests." She lets out a sharp cackle.
"He's my brother-warden." Ana says.
"Of course he is, Dear." Flemeth says, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.
"Whatever he is, he's not taken the news well." Morrigan says, a half-smile forming as Ana looks up with minor interest. "He's veered between denial and grief."
Ana shifts slightly, averting her gaze. "Since he's alive enough react to the news, I expect his injuries weren't severe."
"For somebody who isn't your friend, you seem quite relieved." Morrigan grins.
"Morrigan." Flemeth shoots her daughter a look which Morrigan brushes off, turning from Ana with a smirk as Ana's cheeks pinken. Flemeth turns to her guest. "Both of your injuries were nearly fatal but it's nothing magic couldn't heal."
Ana's brows knit together before she notices the long, twisted wood of a staff leaning up against the wall of the hut behind the older woman. "You're a mage." She blurts out.
Flemeth smiles. "Something like that."
"More like a witch."
All three women turn as Alistair, looking a little worse for wear steps out into the light. He squints as the sun glints off the snow and reaches up to shield himself. Seeing the various scratches on his face, Ana rises from her seat to face him.
"You're alive." He says. "I thought you were dead for sure."
"You too." Ana nods.
"Yeah…" His gaze falls as he watches his breath in the cold air. "Duncan…"
"I know." She mutters.
He shakes his head. "This doesn't seem real. If Morrigan's mother didn't come to our aid, we'd be dead just like the rest of them."
"Do not speak about me as if I'm not present, lad." Flemeth say. He turns, a rueful expression on his face.
"Sorry. I don't mean-" His face reddens as he trails off. "What do we call you? When we last met you never told us your name."
"You've met before?" Ana gapes.
Alistair turns to her. "Yes. When I went into the Wilds with the recruits, Duncan asked us to retrieve those treaties. They were gone because Morrigan's mother-"
"The chasind folk call me Flemeth." Flemeth says with an annoyed sigh.
"Flemeth retrieved them to fix the magical seal on them. Morrigan found us looking for the treaties and took us here," He motions to the hut, "to retrieve them before returning to camp for the Joining."
At the very mention of the Joining, Ana winces.
"Sorry." He frowns. A sudden realization suddenly sets in. "Wait-"
"Yes?" Flemeth asks as Alistair turns to her, his brows furrowed.
"The Flemeth?" He asks, "From the legends?" Flemeth raises a brow and he shakes his head in disbelief. "Maker's breath… Daveth was right! You are the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"
Ana's eyes widen as she looks at her as though for the first time. The older woman crosses her arms over her chest.
"And what does that mean?" She asks, her irritation evident in her voice. "I know some magic, and it has served you well, has it not?" She motions toward both Wardens. "Both of your injuries were severe yet here you are, alive enough to insult me."
"I-I didn't mean-"
Flemeth smirks. "I know well enough what you meant, lad."
Ana glances about them, finding Morrigan suddenly vanished. "If we're in the Korcari Wilds, where are all the darkspawn?" She asks, more to herself than asking outright. She turns back to Flemeth. "Is that a power of yours then? To repel the darkspawn? Are we safe here?"
Alistair turns to look at Flemeth expectantly.
"Worry not, child." Her lips turn up into a coy smile. "You are safe...for now."
"What do you mean 'for now'?" Alistair asks.
Her golden eyes flick to the young Warden. "Old Flemeth may know a thing or two about hiding, lad, but your presence here will alert them to your presence eventually."
"But if you're the legendary Flemeth we heard about as children, you must be powerful and wise in your-" Ana pauses, earning a challenging look from the older woman, "mature age. Surely you know how the darkspawn think and how to get rid of them!"
"Must I?" Flemeth asks. "Power and age are relative, my dear; It depends on who is asking. Compared to you , yes, on both accounts."
"So you can end the Blight?" Ana asks, hopefully.
"Not necessarily."
"Why did you even save us of all people?" Alistair inputs. "Why didn't you save Duncan? He is…" He winces. "Was our leader. If you can't stop this, you'd have a better chance with him."
Flemeth looks at him, her golden eyes gleaming with unknown knowledge as she studies him. "I am sorry for your Duncan, Alistair, but your grief must come later… in the dark shadows before you take your vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now." Her eyes shift between his and Ana, her lips curling up into a knowing grin. "You may not see it now in your moment of grief but there is more here than what meets the eye."
"What do you mean?" Alistair asks.
She shrugs. "Perhaps it's just the ramblings of an old woman." She cackles. Once she settles down she brushes aside the confused looks she receives. "It has always been the the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or has that changed when I wasn't looking?"
"No, but-" Ana starts to say only to trail off as Flemeth raises a brow at her.
"But we were fighting the darkspawn! The King had almost defeated them until Loghain abandoned everyone!" He balls his fists at his sides. "Why would he do this?"
"Now that is a good question." Flemeth nods, her lined face creasing with emotion. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."
Ana goes quiet, her eyes cast down to the snowy ground as she pulls the blanket tighter. Feeling Flemeth's gaze on her, she grows uneasy, as though she could read her thoughts. She waits for the old woman to comment about her reaction, but she turns back to Alistair.
"Perhaps he believes the Blight is an enemy he can outmaneuver." She muses. "Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.
"The archdemon." Alistair nods.
"How are we supposed to deal with that?" Ana pipes up. "There's only two of us and I know nothing about killing archdemons! We're alone in this!" As she says this, the crushing realization hits her and she carefully sits down. "We're actually alone…" She mutters.
"We might be the only Ferelden Grey Wardens left but I remember Duncan saying that Cailan had summoned the Wardens from Orlais for the battle. Perhaps…." He turns to Flemeth. "Perhaps they're on their way."
"Unless Loghain sent word for them not to come." Ana mutters miserably as she looks up at him from her seat. "You heard him when Cailan mentioned them. He was completely against them showing up at all. He hates the Grey Wardens." And he's not the only one. She thinks to herself.
"Your fellow Warden is right." Flemeth says, retrieving the article of clothing she had been mending from the seat near Ana. She holds it out to him. "Even if he simply delayed them, there's no way they would be here in time."
"So we're basically screwed." Ana mutters. "Maybe you should have left us to die in the tower."
Walking over to the seat beside her, Alistair sits. "Basically. No Grey Warden has ever defeated a blight without the army of half-dozen of nations at his back. Besides… I don't know how."
"How to kill the archdemon or how to raise an army?" Flemeth asks. "It seems to me that those are two entirely different questions, hmm?"
"Both." Alistair mutters as he hunches over, placing his face in his hands.
Flemeth watches them, each one hopeless and defeated. "Have the Wardens no allies these days?" She gently urges. When neither answers, her eyes narrow. "Alistair." She snips, making his head snap up. "You're the senior Warden out of the two of you, are you not?"
"I am." He says, his brows creasing.
"And you spent the most time with your Warden-Commander, correct?"
"Yes, but-"
She strides up to him, her golden gaze practically glowing as it meets his hazel one. "Then think. Think back to what he's said. Surely he's mentioned the allies of the Wardens."
Alistair thinks. "I...I don't know." He says. "Like I said, Duncan said that the Grey Wardens in Orlais had been summoned but we know they won't show up, on time or at all. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."
"Arl Eamon..." Ana asks, her mind straining to recall the name she had heard during her lessons. "The Arl of Redcliffe? Eamon Guerrin?"
"Yes!" Alistair beams. "I'm assuming your family knows him?"
She shrugs. "I guess… I mean, I've met him maybe once or twice whenever he came to the castle to see my father or during events, but I don't personally know him very well. Didn't he ride out in support of the king?"
Alistair shakes his head, a smile beginning to form. "No. A couple days before the battle, I overheard Duncan speaking with Cailan once and remember Duncan saying that Eamon was delayed. I didn't hear why but it was serious enough that Eamon wouldn't be setting out for quite a while. He should still have his men!"
"What if Loghain has already gotten to him?" Ana asks. "If I remember correctly. Eamon was Cailan's uncle on his mother's side and Loghain was friends with the late king and queen. Loghain could tell him anything he likes, and Eamon would believe it."
"No." Alistair says, shaking his head. "I know him. He's a good man and is respected at the Landsmeet. Since it's nearby, we can go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help. I believe he'll listen to me!"
Ana scoffs. "Why would he listen to you? Didn't you grow up a commoner?"
He rolls his eyes. "How I know him isn't important right now. Right now, we need help and Eamon could be our way of getting the truth out about Loghain's betrayal!"
"Such determination!" Flemeth chuckles. "How intriguing."
"And what if he doesn't agree to help us?" Ana asks. "What if he laughs us right out of his castle? Then what? We'll be right back where we started."
"He wouldn't do that!" Alistair exclaims.
"How do you know?" She shoots back. "We were very sure about a lot of things yet now look at us." She turns from him. "Andraste preserve me. Of all people to be stuck with…" She mutters.
"You're not exactly my first choice either." Alistair mutters, turning to face Flemeth once more. "I'll admit that Eamon is a bit of a long shot but, even if he agreed to help, I don't think his help would be enough…"
"Think of that all by yourself, did ya?" Ana sneers but he ignores her.
"He can't defeat the darkspawn horde all by himself." He frowns.
"Wasn't there a purpose for Duncan sending you to retrieve those treaties?" Flemeth hints.
"Of course!" He exclaims, jumping up. "The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They're obligated to help us turning a Blight!"
"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…. This sounds like an army to me."
"It does!" He says, grinning. He looks back at Ana and his smile suddenly falls. "Oh… oh no."
"Realizing how stupid all this sounds?" Ana offers.
He shoots her a glare. "No… I'm remembering that the treaties I retrieved for Duncan are still in his tent at Ostagar." He turns to Flemeth. "After giving them to him, he put them away in his chest for safe keeping."
"And?"
"And isn't Ostagar overrun with darkspawn right now?" He asks. He motions toward Ana. "Also she's never faced darkspawn before. She barely knows how to fight!"
"As I said before, the largest portion of the horde has since moved on." She shrugs. "You'll most likely come across a few stragglers but nothing you can't handle. After all, I believe that's the main part of being a Grey Warden - battling darkspawn."
"We also need a key to the chest." Ana points out. "Somehow I doubt Duncan was careless enough to leave it unlocked."
"There are other ways of getting around obstacles such as locks. Use your imagination, girl." She smirks. "So you are set then? Are you two ready to be Grey Wardens?"
"Yes, but…." Alistair begins, a blush rising up from his collar as she raises a brow. "Before we leave, I was hoping to get the rest of my things back? Morrigan said you were fixing them."
She throws her head back to laugh. "Of course. Can't fight the darkspawn without armor now can you?" She motions off to a small shed like structure attached to the side of the hut. "You may find your things in there."
As Alistair leaves to change, Flemeth turns her attention to Ana. For a long moment, she says nothing as she studies the younger woman avoiding her gaze. "Time heals all wounds." She simply says. "Time can heal and time can create wounds as well."
Ana narrows her eyes at her. "What?"
Flemeth's lips curl up into a smirk. "Just a little advice, my dear. Don't dwell on the past but let it inspire you and help you grow." She pauses. "You both have a long journey ahead of you. Don't let the past keep you from an even brighter future."
Ana opens her mouth to speak but her mind goes blank as Flemeth turns away from her.
Alistair returns shortly after, dressed in his usual Grey Warden plate metal with his shield strapped to his back. Ana is lost in thought, thinking about what Flemeth said when she's pulled out of her trance by Alistair striding up to her. She looks up at him.
"Here." He says, holding out her old cloak with both hands. "When I was digging out my things, I found some of yours as well."
She takes it from him and sets in in her lap with a muttered thanks. He waits as she opens her cloak to find her short sword and belt. Picking it up, she sees what drops into her lap and feels the tears begin to form.
"The strap broke and it took me a moment to find the pendant." He says as she touches the pendant of her mother's necklace along with the ring beside it. "I managed to fix it back. I wasn't sure if you wanted the ring on it. You can always take it off -" He rambles, his cheeks reddening.
"Thank you, Alistair." She says, holding it close to her chest. "This necklace is the single most important thing to me. If we had left it behind…" She trails off, not even wanting to think about it. "Just… thank you."
He offers her a smile. "It was no problem."
Flemeth returns shortly with a pack which she hands to Alistair. "It'd be best for you both to get going soon but I figured that you could use some food to start yourselves off."
"Thank you, Flemeth." Alistair says, offering her a smile. "For everything."
"No, no." She says with a dismissive wave. "Thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I."
Ana stands up and hands the blanket back before putting on her cloak and sword belt just as Morrigan exits the little hut. Flemeth smiles. "Actually, before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you both."
"The stew is bubbling, Mother dear." Morrigan says. "Shall we have two guests this afternoon or none?"
"The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl." Flemeth says. "And you will be going with them."
"Such a shame-" Morrigan says mockingly toward the Wardens before realizing what her mother just said. Her head snaps in her direction. "What?"
"Yeah, what?" Alistair echoes.
Flemeth keeps her gaze trained on her daughter. "You heard me, girl. The last time I checked, you had ears." She laughs.
"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan gapes.
"Or us?" Alistair adds, which gets ignored.
"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance." She says, turning the others. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
"Maybe we should have just let her leave us to die." Alistair mutters which Ana nods in agreement.
"Was this your idea all along?" Ana asks.
"Pardon me, " Flemeth says, taken aback. "I had the impression you two needed assistance, whatever the form."
Alistair grimaces as he looks over at Morrigan, his gaze going straight to the long, gnarled staff strapped to her back. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but…. Wouldn't this just add to our problems?" He asks. "Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate."
Flemeth snorts. "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you up on that tower."
Alistair clears his throat as he averts his gaze. "Point taken."
"Mother…" Morrigan says, lowering her voice even though both Wardens are clearly within earshot. "This is not how I wanted this…" She frowns. "I'm not even ready."
Turning to her daughter, Flemeth tenderly touched Morrigan's cheek with a smile. "You must be ready. Alone, these two much unite Ferelden against the darkspawn."
No pressure. Ana thinks to herself.
"They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."
Morrigan looks torn. Bowing her head, she sighs. "I...understand."
Flemeth nods, turning back to the other two. "And you, Wardens, do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."
Both Wardens exchange a look and Ana steps forward. "We understand and appreciate the help."
With an exasperated sigh, Morrigan turns back to the hut. "Very well… Allow me to get my things, if you please."
She returns a moment later with her staff and a small pack slung across her slender body. She turns to face them. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens." She sighs. "I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall be your silent guide. The choice is yours."
"I agree that the village should be our first official destination but only after Ostagar."
Both Ana and Morrigan look at him like he's mad. "What?" Morrigan says for the both of them.
"We need to retrieve the treaties from Duncan's tent and…" He pauses, his face fallen. "I'd also like to find Duncan and others and put them to rest, properly. They deserve it."
"Then it seems like you're ready." Flemeth says. "You have your belongings, some food, a guide and now a plan."
Morrigan grimances. "Dear, sweet Mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."
Alistair sighs as he leans toward Ana. "I just… do you really want to take her along because her mother said so?" He asks.
She shrugs."We're not exactly rich with people wanting to help us right now, Alistair. " She points out. "We'll take what we get, like I'm doing with you."
He shoots her a look. "Insult aside, I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could get them."
"I'm so pleased to have your approval!" Morrigan says sarcastically. Alistair's face reddens but he says nothing.
Flemeth clasps her hands together. "Well then, off you go! Time is of the essence."
Both Wardens start off away from the hut as Morrigan lingers for a moment. Looking at her mother, she sighs. "Farewell then, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut."
"Bah! " Flemeth says with a dismissive wave. "'Tis very more likely you will return to find this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."
Both Wardens stop and turn as Morrigan's usual cold demeanor falters. "I… all I meant was…"She starts to say. Feeling the others' gazes on her, she quickly clears her throat and straightens.
Flemeth gives her a half smile. "Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, Dear."
Both stand there stiffly for a moment until Morrigan gives an awkward wave before she quickly scurries off with the Wardens.