It's the start of a new Arc in the story! I've posted most of the story arc outlines on my profile page so you can get an idea of what to expect.
Life after death wasn't as cold as one would expect. Of course, she never expected any form of some Maker or Andraste to welcome her into a heaven-esque sort of afterlife either. But it was definitely warmer.
The sounds of familiar snap and crackle came from somewhere far away as the dead or dying elf drifted into what she could only suppose was ghostly awareness.
There was the sound of shuffling off to her left now and light footsteps of a shoe with a raised heel on it. A heavy eyelid was commanded to lift and appease its elven controller of her mindless curiosity. Images blurred into a mix of earthen colors. A buzzing in her head made her close her eyes again, the snap and crackle from the other side of her faded into the buzzing and the mage didn't find the power to lift her lids again until the buzzing and heavy feeling in her skull eased off for just a moment.
Brown eyes slowly blinked back into existence, and she learned that while the pain in her head had gone for now, it did nothing to ease the weakly throbbing pain of her shoulder. Aria assumed she must have lived then. In some crazy, disbelieving miracle, she lived through being thrown across a room by a giant Orc and then shot with multiple arrows. For a split second, Aria had to blink her own silent disbelief. At the rate she was defying odds her luck was sure to run out sooner rather than later.
But that was neither here, nor there. She was vaguely aware she was no longer collapsed onto wet and cold stone, but on a bed. An old bed that needed to be stuffed with more hey that she currently thought was the softest thing she's laid on before all this madness consumed her feeble life.
But where was she and how did she end up here…in this…cabin; she realized just a bit too slowly. Her neck was sore and it hurt to move it. Yet she did so to catch a glimpse of the dark figure that pulled away a leather tome from an old and rotting bookshelf that really should be replaced.
The figure was of a woman, for that she was sure as brown, swollen eyes studied the dark maroon ribbons of cloth across her back with a draping heap that must have been used as a hood to pull over her perfectly pinned ebony hair. The dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun with strands that poked out of there hold in occasional spikes. Clay beads hung from her neck and gold sparkled, there were beads dangling from her hair as well, she noted.
Aria let in a sharp intake of breath just as another wave of her head pains arrived again, there was a scratching ache behind her eyes that joined with it. Her eyes squeezed shut. A scratching, gnawing sensation raged against her as images of bloody beasts and guttural whispered tried to seize her hazy mind. This time for sure, the woman let out a small, pained hiss, she wanted so bad to move her hands to her head, to block out the whispers, the visions.
This time the small sound caught the attention of the dark haired figure. She turned, with sharp eyes centered on her form that could only lay unmoving on the bed, stiff as a board.
"Ah, So, finally awake I see." The voice was drawled out and board, but it was a voice Aria could vaguely recognize from somewhere. She knows she's heard it at least once these past few days. Or was it only a few days? Aria has no clue how long she's been out of it.
"Mother will be pleased to see you lived."
Morrigan.
The name popped into her heavy mind in just a second after the dark witch spoke. Her footsteps approached and her pale hands reached out to the petite Aria and tugged her up into a sitting position. Her body screamed at her, wanting her to pull away from the Wilds witch and curl back up into the knitted blankets that covered the bandages that wrapped up much of her body. The blankets slipped away to her partially nude body. Despite herself and the situation, Aria found her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Morrigan didn't bat an eye lash though and just ran over the elf's form to check to see if the bandages were stained with fresh blood. Her skin, young and scaring where it was burned tingled and felt tight. Aria shivered even though waves of warmth washed over her from the nearby fire.
Aria looked down to study the bandages, there were many, she noted. She must have sustained more injuries than she first assumed when she was still conscious during the battle. Around her legs and completely covering her feet that she assumed was littered with popped blisters were completely wrapped up to her knees. Only one thigh had a small bandage stuck to her skin with some form of poultice. She vaguely recalled a stray arrow catching her there. The ones around her waist needed to be changed. They were stuffy and what she believed to be dried blood was causing a massive itch to make her shift uncomfortably. A cloth wrap was politely tired across her chest to preserve her modesty, but did not take away notice from the still new soreness of where an arrow shot through her scared shoulder. The bandages also were scratchy with old blood.
Aria looked back to the scrutinizing gaze of Morrigan.
"W-What happened? Where did all the Darkspawn go?" she asked, her voice broke so easily from lack of use. Again she had to wonder how long she's been out of it. Aria swallowed back a miniscule amount of spit to wet her dry throat.
"You were injured and then Mother brought you back. Do you remember?" The witch shrugged noncommittally.
"Wha…" Aria had to furrow her brows as she looked through her final memories of the Tower siege. Her blood ran cold as she recalled the confusion, why hadn't the beacon worked? Where was Duncan, the other soldiers? Did they make it?
"The other soldiers…Duncan and the King…what happened to all the others?"
It was the subtle look of grief that the mage caught in the witches brief expression before the light eyed woman blinked and let the feelings be buried in cold indifference.
"The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle."
The two held each other's gaze for so long Aria almost forgot why she had stared at the witch in the first place. She ran Morrigan's word over and over again in her head, picked apart every syllable to understand the meaning, to wrap in around her mind. What she realized with stone cold dread that made her already frigid body freeze over was the fact that Morrigan made to mention on her mentor.
Where was Duncan?
Another thought for that matter, wide eyes looked around the modest, if dusty swamp dwelling. Bile and fear sent her blood from her face. Where was Alistair? A cold sense of dread washed over her as she stared up at the witch.
"And, Alistair?" she asked.
"He is not…taking the news well. He woke up the day. His injures will heal with little help. You however…"
"I'm fine. May I see him?"
The woman huffed silently before pointing a figure at a nearby chest.
"We have mended your clothing. Come out when you are ready." Morrigan said as Aria sent her a thankful nod. The elf clutched at the bedside table to steady herself as she stood. Her legs wobbled, but she did not fall. The other woman took a few steps to leave before turning back to the mage.
"Ah, and do try not to open your wounds." The witch turned away, yet Aria spoke up once more.
"Morrigan?" she rasped. The witched looked back.
Aria looked down at herself, bruised and partially nude. She felt a sting of embrasment, however, it was nothing compared to the anguish she felt in her soul. If what Morrigan had told her is the truth, then she should have died, Tern Loghain was to be her murderer.
Yet here she was alive, if barely, and one of the only survivors of a battle taken far, far too lightly. What was she to do with herself, a newly appointed Grey Warden ignorant to any such life outside the Circle of Magi. She couldn't go back there now, she would certainly be killed for her crimes committed in the first place.
Aria let out a long suffering sigh and looked back to Morrigan.
"Thank you, for saving us." Even if I have no where left to go now, Aria sighed more to her inner thoughts than the furrowed brow that she receives from Morrigan.
"I…" The dark haired woman made a face, Aria wondered just a little if she was use to hearing words of thanks. Probably not, from the looks of it.
"You are welcome, though Mother did most of the work, I am no healer."
"Still, I am grateful, surely I—" Aria sighed heavily through her nose as she frowned. Surely she should be dead. Morrigans mother coming in to save them out of all the more experienced Grey Wardens she could have saved…it was dumb luck.
"I left the stew cooking, I will take my leave." Morrigan interrupted as she walked out of the room to leave the elf to her self-loathing.
Running a hand through her short hair as she limped to the chest that held her belongings she made a disgusted face at the feeling of flaking dried blood and grease. Her body was lacking the dirt and grime from the battlefield; however, during however long she was out she had not bathed. Morrigan though, seemed to have taken pity out her patient and at least wiped her down with a cloth at some point. She reminded herself to take a bath at some point in time, she didn't like feeling dirty. Thinking back on her life now, bathing times were regulated in the Circle and everyone had gotten to bath at least once every three days. Not everything about the Circle had been hell she supposed.
There was a struggle to fit her trousers over her bandaged legs without hurting herself. Every movement she made hurt and the arrow wound in her shoulder was in a state where it could easily be torn open again. She pulled through though and walked out just as she buckled the leather shoulder guards to her tunic.
Outside the light was mottled and faded, trapped between spindly swamp trees and muggy fog. She noticed from the corner of her eye the frame of the elder witch as she knelt down in an over grown garden, plucking at strangely colored plants. Her crackling voice spoke over the thick silence of the swap.
"He is by the water's edge child. Thought full of nothing but sorrow I find too troublesome to deal with." She said without turning to face the younger girl. Aria blinked tersely, a little off put at who the woman had even known she was there or even what to say. Yet, she followed the woman's instruction and took the painfully few steps into the bog that hid the slouched form of the only Grey Warden left alive.
With knees pulled up to his chest that held tell tale signs of also being bandaged the blond man kept his back to her as he flicked a pebble into muddy waters. The dejected slump of his back pained her. He, probably more than her, has lost everything. Duncan and the Grey Wardens had been his saviors just as much they hers. He known Duncan longer than her, had build a bond of father figure/mentor and plucky apprentice. She had seen it in the way Duncan had spoken to him that day before they went to gather blood. Aria brought a heavy hand to her equally heavy heart. Her hand made a fist that irritated her scars and she swallowed thickly. She was all he had now in reguards to family she supposed. His sister in arms. It hurt, but at the same time made her eyes prick with tears of relief that she too, would not be alone in whatever was to happen to them now.
"Alistair." She croaked as her dry tongue licks dry lips. His movements were quick and sudden as the broken man turned on his feet and placed a wide eyed stare down at her. She could see the simple joy in his growing grin as his warm brown eyes took in the sight of her. Bandaged, but breathing. Alistair blinked swiftly a dozen times before stumbling to her on uneven ground and wrapping muscled arms tightly around her slighter frame. Aria grunted with the pressure his bear hug put on her, but found an arm, nonetheless finding a comforting spot on his back. She felt his nose dig into the back of her neck as she was flattened against a hard chest. She was sure he smelled the effects of an unspecified amount of time without a bath. Yet, his repeated whispers were far to sincere to pull away from.
"You…By the Maker, you're still alive. I thought…" he sighed into her like a child, happy to see his mother after a long time apart, and even if it pained every part of her to let him hug her, she would give him this. They have both been through much and he seemed to take solace in the fact she was alive with him.
"No…it doesn't matter what I thought…you're here, I'm here, and we're alive…"
The elf felt his shoulders sag and she took this chance to finally tap his shoulders to tell him she needed space.
"Can you…I still hurt…"
"Oh! I—" Alistair quickly released the elf and placed gentle hands on her shoulders to steady her as her knee's qwivered. She caught one hand on her shoulder and sent him a reassuring smile.
"Thank you…I'm sorry I worried you. I'm…I-I'll be fine, Alistair." She murmured to him so softly he almost didn't hear her over the crickets in the dim light of whatever part of day it was. It was so hard to tell in the swamps of the wilds.
"That-that's good, good…ah…" the warrior boy sighed and rubbed a dirty hand on his face. Mud streaked his cheak, but he ignored it. His expression dazed and miserable.
"It just-None of this feels real. Are we really the only ones left after the battle? If it weren't for Morrigan and her mother, we'd be dead up in that tower. Wouldn't we?"
Aria shook her head in silent agreement. She squeezed the hand on her shoulder. The stench of earth and rot that made up the wilds embodied the emotions she was sure was a collective of sorrow, guilt, confusion, so much between the two wardens. She was glad for this moment of silence as she went over what Morrigan had told her. Did Alistair know?
She spared a glance up to the man and caught his eyes with a silent question she wasn't sure she should even bring up in this brief time to mourn what they had lost. He seemed to understand though and solemnly lowered his head with a muted curse.
The peace between them, however, did not last as the creak and hollow thud of the old wooden door thudded against the equally old cabin. Morrigan spoke then in that voice that always seemed to make her sound so put upon.
"Dinner is ready, if anyone cares to talk over a bowl of stew." She informed before strutting quietly back inside. The man made a strange noise at the back of his throat.
"I don't trust the stew…It's been three days of nothing but soggy leaves and lizard tails. You would think they were trying to poison us."
"I'm sure you're over exaggerating, come, we should join them. Flemeth wants to speak with us.
He was right.
The stew Morrigan had made smelled just as the bog outside, gross and muddy. She politely asked for only a small portion and she was sure by the look the young witch gave her, she was well aware her cooking was maybe just a smidge below subpar.
The small group had clustered back into the tiny cabin to sit by the fire and eat their swampy stew. Flemeth had let her return to the bed to sit since she had still only just woken up and needed to preserve her strength. Alistair was promptly sent to the dusty wood floor at her bedside.
"You know, the only thing I don't really understand about those whole situation, who exactly did you save us? I was decked out in fully heavy armor was I not?" Alistair started up eventually. The mother looked as unfazed as her child as she swallowed a spoonful of their meal before bothering to give an answer. Looking down from her wooden chair she looked closely at the both.
"I have a bit of magic in me. At least enough to save you."
Alistair hummed softly and Mr. Swifty Eyes comment came into her head just then.
"We never did catch your name." she murmured. "If you have magic and at this age, be very strong. You live all the way out here where the darkspawn first started popping up."
"Yes, compared to you, my girl, I am on both accounts. But to me named have no meaning, but if I must, the Chassind in this land call me Flemeth."
Alistair choked on his food where he sat and looked up at the woman with speculative eyes.
"Wait..the Flemeth? Daveth was right—you're the Witch of the Wilds, the ones from the legends—aren't you?"
"Does it matter?" the old woman scoffed as she handed her bowl to her child. Still she seemed so impassive, her voice a slow crackle that held more than she was willing to speak about. This was a legend, Aria thought to herself as she stared at the woman, her own dinner forgotten on the bedside table as she listened to the witch of lore herself.
"I know what you are thinking boy, and you must push away your grief for another time." Flemeth murmured, Aria watched the pained look come across her companions face and knew he thought of Duncan then.
"As my mother said to me: 'Duty must come now.' It is the duty of the Grey Wardens to stop this growing shadow casting itself over Ferelden." Flemeth stood as she spoke and motioned for the two Wardens to do the same. She walked back across the small room towards the doo
"And it will always be the Grey Wardens duty to unite the lands against it. Or has it changed while I wasn't looking?" She eyed the two. Both bloody and sore, neither could really answer. Aria didn't know how.
"But…The Grey Wardens, they are gone, wiped out by the battle at Ostagar." Arai looked down at her hands in guilt.
"Have you forgotten about yourself and this man? If you think small numbers make you helpless, then yes, surely you are defeated." The witch threw back.
"But we were fighting the darkspawn! King Cailin nearly won—but—Why would Lohgain do this?" Alistair pulled at his hair, Flemeth simply blinked and nodded her head.
"Now that is a good question. A man's heart holds far more darkness than any one creature with the taint. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can out maneuver. Perhaps he does not see the evil behind it is the true threat." The woman spoke vaguely and a dark feeling washed over her. Aria's nightmare's flash before her eyes, the tearing of flesh and stink of spilled blood.
"The Archdemon…" Alistair sighed deeply. The was a thick silence between then, Aria noticed Morrigan watching them from the doorway.
"What exactly is an Archdemon?" she asked with a furrowed brow. "I understand it's the biggest threat during a Blight, but no one really told me why."
Alistair rubbed squinted in the loose cover the fog gave the three to look down at the elf.
"No, I suppose you never really did get a full: This is what happens during a Blight talk like most of us did after we joined." He sighed. If only there had been more time.
"It is said that the Maker banished the Old Gods worshiped by the ancient Tevinter Imperium deep underground where they sleep forever in their prisons. These Old Gods are sought after and awakened by the Darkspawn and become tainted. It is a tainted Old God you are up against."
The stories in the history books she would read in the tower had so very little about the events of the first three Blights. There was, of course, the legend of how it first began, with the Tevinter Magisters, Old Gods and formation of the Grey Wardens. Back then, as a little girl sitting in the lecture hall it was nothing but a tale to her. To be honest some part of the elven mage had never taken the tales of the Maker and Old Gods at face value. For what god would call their children sinners or monsters for what they were born into?
Aria set her lips into thing line and leaned her elbows to her knees. But hearing the information in such a way where what she had experienced first had in dreams and battle changed it all. Changed it in a way that had her head dizzy with fear and uncertainty. From beside her, Aria heard Alistair curse as the realization of what exactly two small Warden's were up against sunk in.
"Maker…What have we woken up to…" He groaned.
"Our situation isn't the greatest…and after what happened at Ostagar—Are there no other Grey Warden's we can call for aid?" The elf looked over to Alistair who simply shook his head.
"The only Warden's I can think of are the ones from Orlais, but we've no way to contact them."
"Then…" The tangled, scratchy feeling of the taint she had pushed to the back of her mind rattled the elf as she silently concentrated on it. It pulled and pushed at her mind and she had to momentarily close her eyes to ease away any lingering sickness. And as much as she wanted to run and hid, it didn't seem like this feeling the taint gave her woke allow any rest. It urged her with a feeling she was unfamiliar with, commanded her to seek and destroy. Aria was wary of this new piece of her, it told her to do things she was unused to and scared of. To fight, to protect, to kill. It was frightening, yet so comforting in knowing there was a path she could at least follow.
"Then I guess we must search for the Archdemon." She spoke finally.
"By ourselves?!" She heard the warrior gasp, if a little taken aback by such a decision on her part. "Think about this for a moment, no Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without half a dozen nations at his back. And frankly, I don't even know how we fight such a blighted monster."
Again, Flemeth's scoff caught their attention, Aria closed her mouth from her retort.
"What, how to kill an Archdemon? Or raise an army? If my memory serves me right, and so rarely does it fail me, but did you not come here to these woods not the other day to retrieve your treaties with the Circle of Magi and Dalish Elves?"
A spark seemed to have lit in Alistairs eyes as he made an unconscious movement to the satchel tied to his leather belt.
"That right…and, you know, surely Arl Eamon wouldn't stand for the blatent treachery Lohgain has committed to King Cailin and the Warden's."
"Do you really think an Arl would believe us over a Teyrn?" Aria asked. Alistair looked up to her with a terse look then looked away as if to stop himself from saying something unnecessary.
"I suppose…Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar though, and he still has all his men. And, he was King Cailin's uncle. Look—I know him, he's a good man and respected at the Landsmeet." Lifting his head again, the fire in the fire place lit the man's warm eyes a blaze with new hope.
"Of course, we could go to Redcliffe, appeal to him for help. And these treaties! Aria, you were a Circle Mage, surely there is someone you could talk to, to get the Mage's to see their help is needed to defend Ferelden. Because of these treaties, Grey Wardens can demand the aid of Dwarves, Mages, and other places to help during the Blight!"
The thought of setting food once more in the Circle after the events that left her conscripted into the Grey Wardens was not particularly pleasing to her. But Alistair was on a roll, his eyes shown strong again. She would have to swallow her own fear now then, as Flemeth had said; they had a duty to do.
"I see, these dwarves, Mages, and who knows what else…sounds like the beginnings of an army." Flemeth mused with a knowing smirk.
"So, you think this could work? Going to all these different places, gathering allies...build an army?" The warrior breathed.
Aria nodded, there was no other choice in the matter, they were Wardens, this was a Blight.
"It doesn't sound easy..."
Flemeth's chuckle broke through to them.
"Ah, when is it ever?"
"It's always been the Grey Warden's duty to stand against the Blight." Alistair agreed. " Right now, we're the Grey Wardens." He looked to Aria and caught her gaze. The petite elf nodded her head again and gave a tentative smile.
"Then I assume you are set then in your resolve? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth asked.
The agreeable silence and leveled stared were all the answer the witch needed from them. The old woman snorted at what Aria hoped was determination in her expression.
"There is one thing I can offer the two of you before you set off."
"Oh?" Aria asked and Flemeth called for Morrigan who had not left her perch in the door frame. The young woman arched an eyebrow, but nonetheless made her way to join them.
"Will I be setting up the bed rolls another night, Mother?" she asked in a manner Aria understood as boredom.
"No, the Grey Warden's will be leaving shortly, girl. And you will be going with them."
"Such a shame—What!" Morrigan's head snapped back to her Mother's impassive expression with shock so clearly expressing on her wickedly lovely face.
"You heard me, girl." Flemeth chuckled, Aria was positive that she and Alistair were mirroring the young witches own expression.
"Um-well, that's really a nice offer but...if she doesn't want to…" Aria stuttered over what to say.
"Exactly, have I no say in this?" Morrigan raised her voice just the slightest, buther mother would have none of that.
"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years, here is your chance. As for the Wardens, consider it as repayment for saving your lives."
"Did you…" Aria spoke softly and Flemeths sharp eyes stared straight through her. She shook her head and sighed. "Very well."
"Uh, not to look a gift horse in the mouth but…won't this bring more problems than it's worth? Outside these wilds she is an apostate." Alistair pointed out.
"Humph, if you do not wish for help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower." Flemeth pointed out.
"…Point taken."
"But, Mother—this is not, I'm not even ready?" Morrigan ushered.
"You must be ready," Flemeth lectured. "Alone, these Grey Wardens must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn." Finally the old mother faced her child and with a strangely affectionate gesture, raised a hand to cup her daughters cheek. Morrigan furrowed a brow and Aria wondered how often the elder witch showed such affection.
"They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all with parish under the Blight. Even I."
Morrigan's posture stiffened uncomfortably before closing her eyes to the spark of raw emotion only a child could have towards their parent, even if they tried to hid it. She sighed into the hand that held her cheek.
"I…understand."
"And do you understand?" Flemeth turned to the two, yet those strangely sharp eyes sent a shiver down her spine that only people looking directly at her could make her feel.
"I am giving you that which I above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."
The old witch was definitely looking directly at Aria, she could see the way her head lowered to look at her wide brown eyes. So intend were they on her elven form, and so transfixed was she that a part of her was sure that under to cover of this bog, the witch's eyes glowed.
"You must."
"I…" Aria breathed in the rot and bile of the wilds, and then breathed out slowly to calm the beating of her heart that could quite possibly break her ribcage. "I understand."
Finally I got through this chapter! I just had the hardest time trying to finish this. Sorry it's not too interesting, next chapter will be in Lothering, we'll be meeting a future important character and of course Liliana and Sten.