A/N: I dislike this chapter, it's too long, covers too much, and feels... incomplete and unpolished. I completely admit it. But I need to shove this out there to get the rest of the story going. Once the whole thing is written I'll go back and clean it all up, but for now this very rough will just have to do. :/

The road from Lothering to Redcliffe was well-worn, making travel easy if a bit dusty. The scenery always seemed to be a shade of green, just in varying heights; forest, fields, meadow. It was actually rather pretty, Rachna thought, and then wondered how long it had before the darkspawn horde made their way here and covered this part of Ferelden. It was a bit like watching the great thaigs fall, bit by bit, until only the two cities stood. Well, one, if you didn't count Kal-Sharok. It was a love-hate relationship with her people. Namely, they hated her and she was at least proud, if not loved, them. Hers were a strong people; even those tossed aside by the society were bold and brave. She grinned to herself, looking behind her to see her four companions, five with the dog. Was this not proof? She'd only been a Warden for some odd minutes before being thrown into battle, and now she was leading a force to gather an army.

Morrigan had asked Alistair about this back in Lothering, why he was allowing her to lead, even if he had seniority. In truth Rachna didn't mind, despite being overwhelmed. Following orders never came easily for her, where leading felt natural. It was always that way, even with Leske, and Leske was no push over.

For the millionth time she wished he were here with her. He might not have felt the same about her, but having his confidence and strength at her back would've been a very welcome feeling at the moment. A wave of homesickness rose up in her belly, crashing through her chest. Who knew you could miss being a nothing so much? It was stable, familiar, and with every thing she did she knew exactly what she was doing it for. Yea, the Blight was a noble enough reason to fight, but it felt far from her. Maybe she was being selfish, but she just had no great love for the topside and wasn't quite ready and willing to die for it. Rachna was reminded of it every time Alistair talked about the Grey Wardens, or honor, or any of his odd values as a warrior of Ferelden. Maybe that's how the warrior caste felt about Orzammar? Not that she'd ever get the chance to ask, but it was interesting to ponder nonetheless.

Pulling her attention away from the past, she tried to figure out the present. They were off to Redcliffe, to meet this Arl, whatever that was, and he was apparently sick? Behind her she could hear Alistair and Morrigan getting into it again, and the gruff sound that could only possibly be Sten groaning in disapproval.

"Alistair."

She called out, not bothering to turn around or slow her pace. She could always pump him for information and break up him and the mage.

"Yes? What do you need?"

He jogged up to her curiously, then instantly changed to a slow step he was obviously having trouble with. Damn humans and their long legs.

"I'd like to ask you something, if you're not busy?"

His head twisted so he could look over his shoulder at the witch who had probably been insulting him. He looked back at her, his expression grateful.

"Definitely not, ask away."

"So, you said this Arl Eamon raised you?"

He feigned shock, putting a hand to his chest.

"Did I say that? I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact."

Despite herself, she chortled and shook her head. At first his lack of sincerity had been frustrating, but as the situation grew more serious and dire, his silly banter became more and more of a welcome break from the tension. It wasn't quite the same as Leske's dry humor, but it was welcome all the same.

"Really? I can just see it now. Crazy baby Alistair, running around and biting their tails. That must have been tough for them."

His smile was absolutely huge; apparently glad to have someone play along with his nonsense. He waved his arms, as if to imitate flying, as he explained further.

"Well, they were flying dogs, you see. Surprisingly strict parents too. Keep your elbows off the carcass, chew with your mouth closed, and say prayers before bed. Oh! And they were devout Andrastians, to boot."

There was a snort and Rachna glanced behind to see Leliana cover her mouth gracefully. If anyone else had been listening in they showed no signs of it. Alistair didn't seem to mind the audience though, so she continued.

"So, these flying, religious dogs sold you to the Chantry I take it?"

He wagged a finger at her like some old lady.

"Oh, there you go, listening to me again. You'd think you'd have gotten past that already."

He playfully scowled at her, as if he were reprimanding an errant child.

"I ended up in the Chantry, sure, but I didn't start there. Let's see… how do I explain this. I'm a bastard! And before you make any smart comments," he quirked an eyebrow at her and she shut her mouth quickly, "I mean the fatherless kind."

His tone stayed light and friendly, though it had lost its joking edge. She recognized it instantly, it was the same voice she used when talking about her father. If you kept it light you could keep it away from you, you didn't have to confront it or deal with it. Just facts, nothing more.

"My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head."

Uh oh. They were starting to cross that line between logic and emotion. She pulled a small knife from a sheath attached to her belt, pretending to examine it's sharpness. She always felt awkward when people talked about sensitive issues, always preferring everything to be surface and distant. Humans were weird like that; she'd never met a dwarf that just exposed their soft underbelly to anyone willing to listen for an hour or so. Or maybe Dusters were just jaded to the sob stories, since everyone had one.

"He was good to me, and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and I don't blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

This was becoming a touchy subject if his voice was any indication. She gritted her teeth in frustration. How was she supposed to learn about this Arl if she couldn't even ask anything about him without Alistair going all mush? This kid was just one big, walking wound. Though, she was quickly realizing that it took a certain kind of person to sign up to join the Grey Wardens. Yes, being battle worthy was a requirement, but apparently so was a disregard for where one came from and a good dash of crazy just to round it out. The silence stretched on too long, and she could feel social tension. This was where she was supposed to say something, wasn't it? Damnit.

"Uh… so. He sent you off to the Chantry. Why?"

Alistair dove into the politics of it, mercifully sticking to just the bare bones of the past rather than going overly into it or expressing his feelings again. His openness with her was starting to feel awkward more than anything, and she wondered if it was because she was a fellow Warden and thus obligated to care, or if he just bled emotion everywhere and all the time. At this rate she'd have to hug the hardest stone she could find if he held it together long enough for them to finish this Blight thing. Suddenly he was quiet again, lost in thought it looked like.

"I… remember I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do…"

She glanced up at him, not sure if he would expect her to say something or not. To her relief he barely met her eyes before continuing.

"The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything… and eventually he just stopped coming."

So he had been childish and thrown tantrums. Rachna was pretty sure her fits had been a bit more violent. She'd have to remember to confirm with Rica, since she couldn't really remember any specific outburst. She shook her head to clear the thoughts, not wanting to think on Orzammar. How had they gotten on this topic anyway? This still wasn't answering her question.

"And you think the arl will help us?"

It sounded harsher than she'd intended, but it was already out there and it was too late to soften it a bit; though if she had to censor herself every time they exchanged words she'd probably go back to being mute for the duration of the trip. Alistair sighed and bobbed his head slowly.

"I think so, yes. This news we've heard about him being sick disturbs me though. I wonder if we won't discover that Loghain has come to the same conclusion as we have."

"So you think Loghain might have something to do with this arl falling ill?"

Alistair only shrugged, but it did make sense. First you took out your enemies, and then you took out the friends of your enemies. She put the knife back carefully, reaching into her pocket until her fingertips felt the smooth metal she was searching for. She grabbed the small statue and pulled it out, examining it. The thing was gold in color, and looked like a delicate woman in pretty dress robes. Maybe it was of Andraste? She had no idea; this topside religion was still very bizarre to her. She traced the outline for a moment before she offered it to Alistair. It took him a moment to realize her hand was outstretched with something in it. He gingerly plucked it from her palm and turned it over curiously. He gave Rachna a quizzical look and she shrugged a shoulder slightly.

"It's the same color as that coin thing you carry around. I thought maybe it was this Andraste that you've mentioned. Found it in Lothering, thought you might want it. If you don't you could always sell it and use the money for something."

"No, no. I like it, thank you. It's not Andraste, but I like things like this. And you saw that token, did you?"

His face looked sheepish, and she nodded, amused. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and showed it to her.

"It's a worry token. When I'm lost in thought sometimes I like to fidget with it… helps me think I suppose. I guess it's weird for an almost-Templar to like runic things, but I don't know. I just… find them interesting."

"Well, if I come across anything else like that I'll toss them your way."

He smiled and she was glad she remembered the thing.

"Heh, I could get used to this."

He popped it into the air and caught the figure swiftly before pocketing the trinket. She shook her head at him, feeling her braids bounce with the movement. At least he was simple to please. Still, that hadn't been very informative about this arl Eamon. She watched passively as Alistair took lead, apparently unable to keep the cramped pace any longer, and she was left to her thoughts. This turned out to be an unpleasant way to spend the time however, and she ended up listening in on the others talking. Morrigan had tried to pry conversation with Sten, who shot her down marvelously with a short rebuff before her and Leliana started chatting. That ended quickly as well, however. Some part of Rachna felt rather badly for the wild mage, who obviously lacked the social skills needed to deal with people.

Then her curiosity was peeked when Sten questioned Leliana about the Chantry. Since coming to the surface, every few seconds someone would mention the Maker or some other religious bit. Dwarves didn't have any of this nonsense, for them it was straightforward. They came from the Stone, as everything did, and when they died they returned to it and strengthened it; if they were strong characters anyway. The horrible and faint of heart weakened the stone. And those that lived extraordinary lives became Paragons, the few that rose above all to become living legends; or dead legends, depending, but still. When she saw an opportunity to jump into the discussion, Rachna fell back to walk close to Leliana.

"So, you had mentioned the Maker before. This vision of yours…"

Leliana looked almost embarrassed and turned a hesitant gaze at Morrigan, who made no intention of hiding her curiosity in whatever answer the dagger wielding Sister gave. Sten seemed neither interested nor despondent, which was rather typical as she was quickly finding out. Finally her fellow rogue sighed and focused incredibly blue eyes on her.

"I knew this would come up sooner or later."

She paused, almost hoping Rachna would give her an out, but her pleading face held no sway and she sighed again before continuing.

"I don't know how to explain, but I had a dream…"

When the statement wasn't met with snickers she bolstered her courage and spoke in a slight rush; though once she got into it her nerves eased. The girl obviously had a passion for storytelling. Rachna listened, amused when the red head started using her hands to illustrate her points, reminding her of Alistair when he got going into one of his jokes. Finally there was silence again, and Leliana looked at her with a bit of worry again, waiting judgment.

"Wait, so are you telling me you dreamed of the Blight?"

It didn't seem to be the answer she'd been expecting, but Leliana shrugged and seemed somewhat relieved.

"I suppose I did. That was what the darkness was, no? When I woke, I went to the chantry's gardens. Something I always do, but that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered…"

Rachna quirked an eyebrow as Leliana persisted, wondering where this was going. She also wondered what the hell a rosebush was, but didn't want to interrupt to ask.

"Everyone knew that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled," the girl's face scrunched up in disgust as she illustrated with her hands something spidery and nasty, "the ugliest thing you ever saw! But there it was. A single, beautiful rose. It was as if the Maker himself stretched out His hand to say: "Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith."

None of this really made any sense to the dwarf, though Leliana was trying her damnedest to get her point across. The emotion and stress she was putting behind this was evident, and Rachna could read that at least. Morrigan snorted after a moment, everything in her posture noting that she thought this was rubbish. Rachna held up a hand to the mage, trying to signal to her that there was a point to this; even if it meant nothing to her it obviously was a momentous thing to Leliana. Though, it still didn't explain why she'd demanded to come along.

"And this dream made you want to help us?"

Leliana's shoulders visibly slumped under her chantry robes, disappointed that the Maker's obvious intentions weren't clear to her new companion.

"In my dream I fell. Or… maybe I jumped? You don't understand, I'd do anything to stop the Blight, and I know that we can do it. There are so very many good things in the Maker's world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours everything?"

Her voice was passionate as she strained her point, but Rachna had turned away. She was feeling… weird. Almost like the lightheaded feeling she got when she tried to find an end to the sky and realized there wasn't one. She tried to shake her head to dislodge the sensation, putting a hand to her forehead before looking up at Leliana.

"I suppose I wouldn't be able to just sit around either."

The admission earned a wink from the bard, who smiled brightly.

"And that is why you are a Grey Warden."

Rachna couldn't find it in her heart to correct the optimistic girl, supposing that explaining being killed or exiled for treason was only slightly less desirable than being on this fool's errand.

"Anyway, do you think you could tell me more about this Maker? And this woman Andraste? I need to understand if I'm going to be-"

A field was burning, screams. A woman was dragging her daughter, pulling her away from the house as the first flames caught up to it. She was trying to run, her daughter crying violently. Suddenly the mother fell forward, as if she had simply tripped, but the arrow protruding from her back told another story. The little girl shrieked, ran back towards the house, which now was starting to glow with the fire gutting it. Suddenly the distance is closing in, and she can see the child fall, she is standing over her small form, hovering, so close… close enough to see the golden strands of her hair are clumping together with dirt and blood. Those hands again… they reach forward, grabbing her limp body. She is just breathing, bloodied badly. A sinister pleasure ripples through her mind as her hands raze the delicate flesh gently and-

Her footsteps staggered before Rachna fell, coughing violently. She remembered that field. That house. It was right outside Lothering. Nausea washed over her, and she scrambled in the dirt and dust to get to the edge of the road before emptying her stomach into the tall grasses. When she finished, a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder. Her arms shook as she pushed herself up on her knees, turning to see it was Leliana offering her comfort, and apparently a canteen. She took it with a meek word of thanks and swilled her mouth before using the rest of the water to wash her face. When she'd regained composure she turned fully to see that most everyone looked concerned. Even Crush whined plaintively, unsure whether or not it would be ok to give her a supportive lick. She smiled weakly, the image of carnage still fresh in her mind, but feeling that everyone needed some sign from her. Suddenly a thought came to mind and her grin became more genuine.

"Surprisingly didn't taste much different coming up as it did going down…"

So perhaps not exceptionally witty, but with her current condition she'd forgive herself. Alistair's face went from grave concern to shock and then mock injury. Leliana simply giggled in relief while Alistair huffed and stood up.

"'Tis true, surely. It looks rather the same as well, so it wouldn't be shocking."

Morrigan chimed in before proffering what looked little more than a twig. Alistair was already threatening to burn anything he cooked ever again, and on purpose this time, if the insults kept on. So of course Morrigan simply told Rachna to chew the stick and swallow the juice before getting into a row with the ex-templar. Feeling too disorientated to argue; the dwarf sat there in the road and did as she was told. It was rather unpleasant, but after a few minutes her stomach did settle and she made a mental note to thank the witch after she was done heckling Alistair.

A face split in two by a nasty grin filled with yellowed teeth, sharp and crusted with grime. A genlock. Then an image of a camp littered with bones and what had to be a human leg roasting over a fire; a group of three darkspawn sitting close by. The feeling of puzzlement.

Leliana must have asked her a question, because she was staring intently at her. Rachna put her hands to her face for a moment, blocking out the bright sun and taking a breather.

"Are you sure you're alright, Rach?"

"Yea, I'm good. I just need to sit for a little while."

Sten grunted, making his displeasure vocalized. Leliana shot him a look of reproach, and the dwarf wondered distantly where someone that weighed as little as Leliana found courage to scold a mountain of a man.

"We're making good time; we could take a break for awhile."

Rachna shook her head, causing a stabbing pain to jut into the base of her skull. Wincing, she tried using words instead.

"Sod it, it's not the first time I've vomited, and it won't be the last. I'll be fine, just give me five minutes."

The abrasive words seemed to bounce right off of her perpetual optimism, as she just smiled and shrugged.

A feeling of warmth. Of being… welcomed. It brought to mind an image of Leske sharing ale with her at Tapster's. Of other Carta's she'd fought alongside, if only briefly. Camaraderie, in necessity. In sharing like goals. The sensation of slacking thirst, satiating hunger. A door left open. A question.

She was grateful when Leliana bored of crouching there and got up to investigate something the dog was nosing. Drawing her knees up to her chest, Rachna hugged them tightly. By the Stone, what the hell was happening to her? What was in that bloody chalice that Duncan hadn't told her about? They never mentioned that doing the Joining would make you crazy. But Alistair didn't seem to have to deal with these… visions. Just the dreams, or at least that's all he told her about. She gritted her teeth, anger flaring. If Alistair hadn't told her the whole story, she was going to knock his pretty face around until he couldn't smirk.

The feeling of being lost, of searching. An answer, it was important. The feeling of pressure, time running out.

"WHAT DO YOU SODDING WANT?!"

She was sick of this! Sick of feeling violated, led on, and used. Everything kept a secret an Orge's big, fat, ass! The reason they didn't tell anyone anything is because no one would ever bloody become a Warden if they knew! Her hands ran through the pebbles and dust until she found a sizable rock and chucked it as far as she could. It still wasn't anywhere near enough of a release. Standing abruptly, she paced around, ignoring Crush's barking, as he jumped around trying to get her attention. What was he trying to say anyway, damn dog thinking he could talk. No dog should be that bloody smart. No-

The visions were talking. Like the dream of the archdemon. Rachna felt repulsed by the realization, the fact that the taint was even in her head was unnerving, though it made sense she still felt dirty somehow. Before this moment, she'd held it at an arm's length, if she kept the whole thing in perspective and away from herself she didn't have to accept it into her own body. Being exiled, becoming a Grey Warden, being tainted. It had all happened to her, not been a part of her, but now the lines were blurring. In her fevered thinking, she'd neglected to notice her companions. Alistair tried to bodily stop her from pacing, and she angrily shoved at him until he backed off. Leliana was trying consoling words, and Morrigan threats, but Rachna snarled at them both. She felt it nagging at her mind again, the thing, group mind, or whatever Alistair called it. This time she allowed it, slowly, and found it hurt a lot less. It was feelings, ideas, much of the same as earlier. It didn't make any sense. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. She had the distinct feeling that it, or they, or whatever the hell it was, was just as confused as her. Alistair grabbed her shoulders firmly, and this time brooked no argument when she tried to tear herself away. Even when she threatened to punch him in the face he just stared at her, hard.

Brother?

"Maker's breath, Rachna! What the hell is going on?"

He was shaking her now, probably harder than he intended, but fear was making him lose control. She grasped his forearms, squeezing hard in an effort to make him understand she needed him to stop. She needed to get away from here, away from all of Ferelden, go someplace darker with less sky and no darkspawn. Mercifully the tremors stopped and his hands became supportive as she regained breath. Something, somewhere, was asking her a question. Was asking if she was, Ancestors protect her, a fellow darkspawn. If she hadn't lost everything in her stomach already this revelation would've sent her scrambling back to that bush. She must have paled visibly, since the other Warden started looking concerned about whether or not kneeling right in front of a sick woman was the best place to be. Kneeling? She glanced down to see that he was. That explained why he was suddenly eye level. It was hard to focus, the thrumming in her head overwhelming.

"I… I need to get away from here."

His golden eyes focused on her sharply and that's when Rachna recognized panic.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you! The horde is moving, can't you feel them? They're close and we need to make tracks, quickly!"

Had she known that? Yes, she supposed she had. They were searching for them, could feel them as well.

"They're curious as to what we are. If we're enemies or…"

Or brothers. Family, in a sense. Rachna felt like she could giggle, she didn't know Alistair's eyebrows could go that far up his forehead. His eyes were huge and mouth slightly agape in a silent question.

"No time, I'll explain later. We need to go."

"Why must we run? Is this not what we're here for? Let them come, I am ready."

Sten. She swiveled as much as Alistair's arms allowed to try and face the Qunari, having to settle for being able to see part of his shoulder.

"We're here to destroy them all, not a handful. Run now, fight for your bloody life later."

The giant grunted, though Rachna couldn't quite read yet what it meant. It was then that she noticed the strange silence. Where was Morrigan, or Leliana? Surely they would've spoken by now? She shot Alistair a questioning look but he simply shook his head slightly.

Not time to explain. Uh, Sten? Do you think you could… I mean, I would but my armor is heavier, uh… But we'll get you armor! Once we're at Redcliffe, but for now do you think you could… She can't walk as fast and-"

There was a very grievous sigh behind her before her feet suddenly left the ground. That in and of itself wasn't a pleasant sensation. Sten draped her over his shoulder in a very practical carrying position, though Rachna felt like a sack of potatoes. She started to protest and rather angrily at that, but neither of the males was paying her any attention as they moved as quickly as they could towards Redcliffe. Instead she had to contend with fighting back the images of what exactly the Darkspawn planned to do to them once they caught up. Suddenly she was glad Sten was carrying her, though she'd never admit it. Blissfully the humming lessened and the visions weakened after some time, and within the hour faded away altogether. The last shuddering image had been of a man, still alive, while they peeled his skin off slowly, eating it raw in chunks.