A/N: Many thanks to my beta jediserenity82, and to the hundreds of readers tuning in from around the world. I'd love feedback on how I'm doing, where the story arc is going, etc. Trying to speed up the pacing a bit. Thanks for reading!


It was like a scene out of the story books. The combined forces of the Chantry, the Kingdom of Fereldan, and a host of token mercenary forces stood arrayed before the battlements rising above the imposing gates of the fortress of Ostagar, weapons and armor gleaming with sharp, deadly readiness. The evening sun glimmered across the plates of golden armor sheathing Cailan I, King of Fereldan, as he enthusiastically paced the bleached stones, boyish voice raised in boasts and mockery of the Darkspawn in attempt to rally his troops. The men and women, hounds and horses, responded with vigor, assured of the righteousness of their endeavor, and bolstered by the skirmishes won through the course of the summer fighting season.

Only the Wardens stood silent, removed from the main force in the shadows of a nearby collapsed column. Alistair, Jory, and Mort stood straighter as the King's encouraging words washed over them, faces alight with pride in their countrymen and anticipation of the looming historic battle. The older men showed more reticence, brows furrowed and muttering darkly to each other of the Darkspawn's numbers and odd behavior.

Torran let the meaningless, self-congratulatory speech making recede to the edge of her awareness, focusing instead on calming the frantic beat of her heart. It wasn't the certainty of combat or uncertainty of death that caused her fingers to whiten around the pommel of her father's sword. Even the dull roar that was the approaching horde could not quiet the apprehension and fury tangling her thoughts. Her eyes remained fixed, but not on the Boy King.

Standing off to the side of their cavorting monarch were Duncan, Loghain, and Howe.The Warden Commander had issued his final orders to his men (and girl, and dog), and was no doubt coordinating contingencies should the plan go sideways-which it assuredly would, with what the blond fool had in mind for the Junior Wardens.

Where Alistair and the other men had seen their assignment as an opportunity to gain glory, both for the Warden's and for themselves, it had taken the last Cousland all the strength in her body and Bear's firm grip on her trouser-leg to keep her from drawing her sword on the man who had conscripted her barely two fortnight's earlier.

"No." Torran's harsh voice cut through the low murmurs of assent like a hot knife.

"No?" Duncan replied lightly, belying the tension that had suffused the encircled Wardens. "I do not believe I asked for opinions when I began issuing orders, Torran."

"And I refuse to obey these." The young woman's green eyes were alight in the shadows of her heavily tattooed face, a crazed tinge burning eerily below the surface. "I will not raise my hand in securing that monster, nor his brute's, glory. Deploy me anywhere else. I will fight Darkspawn, I will even do it for the King if I must, but I will not do this."

She found herself on the ground before she could blink, fire spreading across her cheek as Duncan's gauntleted fist crashed into her face. Bear let out a startled yelp, cowering as the Warden Commander's eyes fell upon him. Even the mabari could differentiate discipline from danger, and the dark man was surely his packmate's Master.

As he stared down at the infuriated girl, sword to her throat, Duncan's heart sank as he realized his potentially devastating error. He had thought the girl needed comrades, brothers in arms and a cause, to begin healing the trauma of her recent loss and Conscription. The icy hate glittering in her eyes told another story, and he knew that it was too late for him to return to the caring father figure he had been in the immediate aftermath of the sacking of Highever.

Though he wished he could be all things to Torran and his men, in this moment he was the Warden Commander, and the position demanded absolute obedience.

"You misunderstand, Warden Cousland." Duncan's voice was unyielding as stone. "You will do as ordered, or I will terminate your position within our ranks. As was made clear in the Joining, there is only one escape from the duty we have sworn to bear."

The gathered Wardens watched silently as Torran's body went limp, fury draining from her eyes to be replaced with a weary resignation.

"That is all I have left, isn't it. Duty." The word tasted of ashes in her mouth.

"Duty is all we are, Torran." Without skipping a beat, Duncan turned and left the circle, leaving the girl to rise unassisted.

A loud roar startled the former noble from her thoughts, and she realized the men were moving to their final positions. The sun was just peaking over the hills, and in the distance she could see the last of the fall storms creeping over the horizon. As shadows stretched across the Wilds, Torran felt herself becoming more alert, the fog of the day clearing for an arousal as sharp as the most desperate hunger. She could feel the approaching horde, feel their bloodlust, and the answering call rushing through her veins. Her body ached, throbbed for release from the pent up rage, anger...fear.

"Ready?" Alistair appeared at her side, looking down at her thoughtfully, noting the sweat beading her brow, even with the crisp breeze finding the gaps in their armor. The former Templar had been aware of the girl's recent history, hell, he'd seen her go absolutely berserk during her trial, but he had not expected the earlier outburst. Even now she looked as though she didn't know whether to be sick or, well, go on a rampage, he supposed. Most recruits were easily agitated in the aftermath of the joining, with some taking to the darker impulses of the taint more than others. Maker knows, you really couldn't tell with this one.

"What choice is there?" Torran snapped back, stalking off with her mabari in the direction of the opened gates, and their assault position.

"This...isn't goin' to be fun, is it?" Daveth moved to Alistair's side, Jory in tow, fiddling nervously with his bow. The King's words had been great and all, but what he wouldn't do for a good luck kiss and tumble before getting arse deep in Darkspawn.

"Ah hah…" Alistair laughed halfheartedly. "It'll be swell, gents. Kind of like visiting Aunty Eldridge in the winter...when she brings out all those itchy sweaters..."

Jory paled. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to back out while he could. Before the Joining.


As the Fereldan forces focused on what appeared to be the first wave swarming towards their forces in the valley, a cry rang out from behind the lines, where sinkholes and shallow tunnels could be seen opening throughout the fortress grounds and just inside the gates to the Wilds. Distracted by the genlocks and hurlocks clawing themselves free from the earth and throwing themselves at the shocked men and women, many of the archers and artillery men on the walls missed the slow moving caravan of ogres hauling catapults into position just beyond the King's intended killing field, and within range of the command unit.

Alistair and the junior Wardens were positioned on the left flank, nearest to the Tower of Ishal, tasked with signaling Loghain's forces to begin their half of the planned pincer attack. The Teryn had all of the cavalry and a host of knights at his command, forces desperately needed as the Fereldan lines turned into a morass of chaos and death just across and below the bridge.

The storm broke with a crash of lightning and thunder, the roar of battle carried aloft by fierce winds into the crackle of ozone in the atmosphere. Sleet slashed against Torrans brown skin, plastering her hair to her scalp. Grabbing a strip of leather from her pouch, she formed a rough hairband and pushed the uneven locks out of her eyes. Alistair took a final look at his comrades, sent a quick prayer to the Maker, and signaled for the group to begin their run to Ishal.

The first ball of flaming steel and stone struck the Tower just as the Wardens entered the courtyard, blasting chips of ancient rock into the air. Alistair pulled Daveth beneath his shield, Jory protecting himself with his massive weapon and full plate, and Torran pulling Bear close under her embossed steel barrier. The mabari whimpered from the shrapnel peppering his flesh and the girl spared a moment to gently brush his muzzle before forcing her attention back to the increasingly hazardous ruin. The shrieks of dying men rent the area as boulders exploded across the muddy terrain, and it was all the Cousland girl could do to keep her mind present. Flashes of red-liveried men lurked at the edges of her vision, each second a lifetime of effort to keep buried the howl lodged in her throat.

"We must hurry! The Teryn must move to assist the command group NOW!" Time at a premium they could not afford, Alistair broke into a sprint towards the entrance, Daveth and Jory at his side, the former strafing light-footed with arrow nocked, the knight lumbering with giant sword firmly in hand.

Torran moved to follow, brain buzzing from the presence of so many Darkspawn, and abruptly found herself on the ground as an inhuman hand burst from the sludgy earth and roughly grabbed at her ankle from behind. Startled by the assault, the girl awkwardly flailed her sword in the direction of her attacker, eliciting an infuriated howl as the blade caught the emerging genlock on the arm. Bear was at its throat in a matter of seconds, blood smearing his fur as he tore at the Darkspawn's flesh with bone crushing force.

Focus, dammit! Snarling, leather and chain soaked in cold mud, Torran climbed to her feet and charged after her comrades, Bear keeping close to her flank. Tunnels were opening up throughout the area, releasing a flood of Darkspawn eager for a taste of Warden flesh.

Alistair and Jory engaged the first of the creatures to reach them, steel licking out like snake-tongues as the heavily armored men fought with inhuman strength and speed. Daveth fired off shot after shot, barely needing to aim into the mob as his arrows found home in eyes, throats, and unguarded torsos.

Torran threw herself at the first hurlock she encountered, a nasty brute creeping up on the rogue standing apart from the fracas. Red tinted the edges of her vision as she broke the Darkspawn's collarbone with the sharp edge of her shield, pushed it off balance, and then plunged her sword hilt deep into its chest, revelling in the sensation of her father's sword cutting through rusty armor as though it were silk..

"I knew you were checkin' out my backside!" Daveth yelled in thanks, but the girl was already moving. Bear barreled into a genlock loading a crossbow up to the left, while Torran closed in on the pair of Darkspawn harrying Jory's six. The large man was barely holding off the Hurlock Alpha, a monstrous specimen that cleared the knight by solid three hand-lengths, splitting his concentration between the huge war axe bearing down on him from the front and avoiding the tinier but no less deadly blades poking at his kidneys from behind. Torran cut down the first of her foes with a fierce cry and then turned on the other, bashing its skull once, twice, again with the sharp edge of her shield until it too fell into the dirt.

Alistair finished off a hurlock and turned to assist Jory, the two heavily armored men easily overwhelming the Darkspawn with savage blows to the neck and pelvis.

Main Darkspawn unit destroyed, the Wardens hurried toward the tower bailey engaging only those directly in their path with blade and bow, Bear taking out the stragglers.

The brief hope that struck their hearts as they finally reached the foot of the stairs climbing to the entrance was blown to dust the next second as another ball of fire smashed into Ishal. The Warden's watched in horror as the pinnacle of the majestic ruin collapsed in upon itself, raining stone and splintered wood into the courtyard.

"Run!" Shield raised and shuddering with each strike of the tumbling debris, Torran made as good as her word, the others following in a slippery mad dash to escape certain death.

"We're too exposed, Alistair!" Torran gasped, legs pumping as they fled the area back in the direction of the bridge. The Darkspawn filling the grounds were quick to recover from the calamity, closing in on the dust covered warriors with deadly intent. "What do we do now?"

"I-I," Alistair struggled to find the words, to find his breath, to not think about the freezing dirt getting into all sorts of uncomfortable nooks and crannies. "I don't know!" Duncan, I wish you were here!

"Should we tell the King the signal failed? Surely the strategists have a contingency?" Jory huffed, face bright red in the light of the torches, braziers, and uncontrolled flames illuminating the entire battlefield. Strikes of lightning

"Idiot." Daveth hissed between his teeth, staggering and slumping over at the waist to catch his mud-splattered knees as they finally cleared the walls. They could hear screams from the bailey as the Darkspawn tore into the men fleeing Ishal. Loghain had stationed a token force to protect the signal - the injured men streaming from the tower were little more than a free meal, disoriented and terrified. "Don't you think the King already knows help ain't coming? Besides," the rogue spat to the side, "King Handsome only had one vision of how this fantasy would play out. We're fucked."

Listening to the men bicker, Torran felt her shoulders tensing, fists tightening as she heard both her father and Duncan's voices whispering to her of Duty. "We don't have time for this. " She snapped, cutting off Alistair as he began an impassioned defense of the King. "There is still time to save the command unit, but only if we move now." Dropping to a knee, she grabbed a handful of stones and quickly recreated the battlefield. "We're here, and," she placed two stones a hands length apart, "Loghain's unit is here, just behind the crest of this hill. If we can sneak around the outer wall of Ishal, it's a straight shot to the T...to his location."

"What about the mud?" Jory gestured to his streaked plate. "The path is difficult enough on a good day. In this though? "

"I say bunk it all and let's leave." Daveth added. "It's a hunned foot drop to the canyon if we slip, and this battle is already lost."

"Grey Warden's are not cowards!" Alistair seized the rogue by the front of his leathers and shook him, staring him down until the slighter man dropped his gaze. His eyes flicked to Jory, who nodded quickly. "It's as good a plan as any, I say. Lead on, Torran."

Meeting his eyes, Torran nodded shortly and began making her way toward the narrow trail leading around Ishal's broken walls.


"Can we leave, Loghain?" The Teryn clenched his jaw as his unsavory ally stepped up to his vantage point of the battle. "Surely the King is dead by now."

"Shut up, fool," the dark haired man hissed, casting a glance over his assembled forces to make sure none heard their words. "If there are any survivors from the frontlines, it must appear that we waited at least for the Warden's before they were overrun."

"Yes, of course." Arl Howe responded oily. "You know as well as I that the signal will not be lit. Afterall, the Tower of Ishal fell not five minutes ago."

Loghain whirled, rage boiling his veins at the condescension dripping from the noble's tone. "You know as well as I whom the King tasked with lighting the signal. That fool boy and the Cousland wench know our position, and were raised with honor, duty. Things you know little about." He paused to smirk as Howe's face went hot with offense. "They will come looking for us here, and will find us here, else rumor of our plans be known before we have the transition fully under control."

Before the man could respond, Loghain held out a fist. His lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien, appeared in a breath, saluting her commander with a tap of her gauntlet to her breastplate. "My lord?" The blonde woman's voice was clear and proud, competence shining in her fierce eyes.

"Please escort Arl Howe back to his troops, and alert the pickets that the Wardens will be approaching soon. "

"Yes, Teryn Loghain. And their orders?"

"Bring them to me under guard, but...gently. We do not want them to suspect foul play."

"I shall deliver them personally, my Lord." The lady knight bowed and departed with Howe in tow, leaving Loghain alone to await his guests. As he surveyed the slow motion slaughter taking place in the valley, the hawk nosed man could feel the flush of victory drowning out the kernel of shame, guilt even, for what he was going to allow happen.

I do what I must. For Fereldan.