So death was…a hut. Sort of anticlimactic was all Florien had to say. A hut. In the Fade. Great that was his life achievements were worth, a hut in the Maker forsaken Fade. He hoped he had a garden in his hut, that would be nice. He liked flowers. Sitting up in the rather uncomfortable bed Florien glanced around. Wow it was a shitty hut.

"Ah your eyes finally open, Mother shall be pleased."

"I-I remember you, you're the girl from the Wilds." Florien felt his heartbeat quicken. He knew mages could walk the Fade with the aid of lyrium or blood magic but…taking a closer look of the hut he realized one thing. It wasn't nearly creepy enough to be a part of the Fade. Preconceptions were dangerous, but for all his time spent there Florien felt he would know the Fade from reality.

"I am Morrigan lest you have forgotten and we are in the Wilds. Where I am bandaging your wounds, you're welcome by the way. Tell me how does your memory fare? Do you remember mother's rescue?"

He frowned then, staring up into the golden eyes of Morrigan. He would have to admit, she was a beautiful woman, in an untamed feral manner. Her eyes were like his own, an odd gold color but whereas Florien's were more towards warm sunsets or glowing fires, hers were quick and sharp, predatory like some wild cat. How odd it was that even though they both had golden eyes they could be so different. Yet now was not the time to contemplate the coloration of Morrigan's eyes, now was the time to piece his memory back together.

"I remember being overwhelmed by Darkspawn…"

Oh Maker…they had been. Florien could remember the frantic beating of his heart slowing down, his world going dark and how he had been falling. Faintly he could remember bestial screams, Darkspawn coming towards them. Blood drained from his face, listening with only half an ear as Morrigan spoke of what had happened. Grief welled up inside him, tears shimmering in his eyes. They did not fall as he closed his eyes, then as grief began to recede he felt fury sparking inside him again.

Loghain.

That name was carved into his mind, he etched it there with a bloody finger. Loghain would pay for his betrayal in a way Florien had never truly imagined or wished upon Jowan. Loghain was going to die, but not in the natural way. No, Florien would find the most heinous unnatural means possible to make that bastard pay for what he did.

"Your friend, he…is not taking it well." His attention was immediately placed upon Morrigan once more, his entire focus on her.

"You mean Alistair?" He did not hide the hope in his voice, the tension in his body as he hung on her words. Alistair, if Alistair was alive then perhaps Loghain would simply just die rather than be gruesomely and publicly executed. Treason was a terrible thing and Cailan, poor Cailan. He had been a bit daft in the head, and a bit too naïve, but Florien had seen such kindness in his eyes that he had felt affection for him. Like a puppy, Cailan had been a big overgrown puppy just wanting love and affection and now the puppy was dead.

"The suspicious dim witted one with you before? Yes."

The fist around Florien's heart eased, though he wished to correct her. The suspicious dim witted one had been Jory, who was now dead. She would not care for such things, and his own thoughts were almost muddled in his head.

"He is outside by the fire, mother wished to speak with you when you awoke."

"Morrigan? Thank you." Florien was sincere as he spoke to her, rising from the bed with as much dignity and grace he could muster. "I…you are welcome. Mother did most of the work I am no healer." He was aching, though thankfully only shallow wounds now lay where there had once been life threatening holes. Reaching for his pack he found his set of spare robes, he slipped them on feeling vaguely more at ease now that he had his clothes on and no one could so easily see he was a man. He quickly and more than a little guiltily tore open the Veil, letting magic engulf his hands as he swept it over the length of his hair, feeling it lift and twist into a tight bun. He knew his actions didn't go unnoticed by Morrigan who smiled at him knowingly but he ignored it. Time was of the essence and 'misuse of magic' was simply going to have to take a number and wait in line in the now long line of concerns he had.

"See, you worry too much young man. Here is your fellow Grey Warden." Florien thought he had slipped out of the hut quietly, but somehow the elder witch knew the moment he walked out, even as her back was turned to him. Something about her…Florien could not say what it was that unsettled him so about the elder witch. Morrigan did not give him this feeling, this sense of disquiet. This woman was powerful, very powerful to be able to rescue them atop a tower covered in darkspawn. She was also dark, Florien could feel it in the air, as his mana brushed up against hers. He wanted to shudder, to recoil from her and stand behind Alistair. Alistair would have the best chance at her with his templar training but…

"You, you're alive." An almost hysterical laugh came from Alistair. "I thought you were dead for sure." The elder man shifted awkwardly, his gaze resting on Florien as if he couldn't quite believe the mage was still alive. Still breathing and standing there before him looking hearty and hale, even if the last pieces of flesh knitted together under Florien's robes, a subtle healing spell of his own finishing the elder witch's work.

"I'm not, thanks to Morrigan's mother." His voice was soft and he took a hesitant step forward. The urge to cry again came back, not for Florien's losses. No, for Alistair's. Florien had dealt with loss before, had dealt with grief and pain twelve years ago. He could remember the feeling of having his world turned upside down, that in fact the world had actually just fallen away into some terrible nightmare that he wanted to wake up. Alistair…Alistair looked fresh to it, looked so lost and alone, those eyes so pained. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother we'd be dead atop that tower."

Was this how Jowan felt when he had looked at Florien when he first came to the Tower?

Reaching out he grasped Alistair's arm, pulling him close and letting it slide up and around, bringing his other arm up as well to wrap around the tall human's shoulders. Florien held Alistair to him, nose in his neck and breathing in the scent of his friend. He was crushed almost immediately to Alistair's chest, his embrace returned tenfold. It hurt, but he didn't complain, knowing that at this moment he was all Alistair had left.

"I'm not dead Alistair. You aren't alone; I'll never let you be alone." Florien's voice was soft in Alistair's ear, his breath tickling the skin as his friend held him closer. Fingers caressed the back of his neck, soothing and gentle. It was a motion reminiscent of Jowan, who had always run his fingers through Florien's hair or across the pale skin of his face or neck in soothing caresses. How ironic that instead of Florien receiving those familiar touches he was giving them out.

He broke their embrace only when he was sure Alistair was steady enough on his feet to stand on his own. Still he did not let the other go completely, turning to face the elder witch his hand reached out and took Alistair's. It was his warning squeeze that got Alistair to calm down after they were told who exactly recued them.

Flemeth, The Witch of the Wilds. Not just a witch of the wilds, but The Witch of the Wilds. His unease finally given a name, a reason, Florien felt his politeness increase tenfold. Flemeth had given them their lives, and for whatever reason, whatever grand plan she had, she had wanted them alive. Still he did not keep his faith in the fact that since she rescued them she'd continue wanting them to stay alive. Wariness would be prudent, as well as keeping her unoffended.

"We will fight the Blight. We will gather the armies needed." Florien felt himself saying with a conviction that seemed to surprise and please both Alistair and Flemeth. "What of the treaties? They're back at camp." Alistair interjected, a worried frown marring his handsome features and Florien bit his bottom lip and looked at Flemeth guiltily.

"You don't need to worry about them. I'll tell you about it later." Florien said quietly wondering what reaction Alistair would have to the news that Florien had taken the documents before the battle. That this had reminded him so much a terrible dream he'd had as a child, that he had felt uneasy, that he could tell something was wrong. The truth of it, the very center of what had happened and his own actions before the battle frightened Florien, shocking him. He had told Duncan, he had said…and look at what had happened. The Maker truly had taken his gaze from them; they had been forsaken at the Battle of Ostagar. Even so, Florien was Grey now, he would stand between mankind and the dark poison of the Blight. He would build an army, he would rally them against the darkspawn and do his duty. If anything else Florien had his duty and his unspoken word to Duncan to take care of Alistair.

How odd that he, almost twenty, an elf and a mage, lowest of the low reviled and hated, would have to be the watcher and strength for Alistair, who if he had to guess, was in his late twenties perhaps even early thirties. The irony did not escape him that if the world worked as it was supposed to Alistair would be the strength and watcher, not Florien…but the world was flawed wasn't it? The cards were dealt now and the house was winning, but Florien would win the game. Even if he had to cheat, lie, and swindle nothing was more important than stopping the Blight.

Then when the Archdemon lay dead Florien would turn his gaze on Loghain. Loghain would die.

Priorities, duty first, revenge later, and perhaps sometime in between he'd be able to take a nap. The mental image made him chuckle inwardly, how hilarious. Florien Surana, Hero of Fereldan, Saver of Mankind, Defeator of Impossible Odds, and whatever other highly impossible names floated through his head as to what he would be called if he managed this. He knew he'd, in all likelihood, be called 'elf mage thing who helped the Hero of Fereldan' since he was only taking leadership temporarily to help Alistair get back on his feet. He was the Senior Warden afterall.

Still he was glad he was the one in charge since Alistair would not have agreed so readily on his own on bringing a personality challenged apostate with them. Not that Morrigan was terrible, or even that she lacked personality, she simply acted as one would if they'd never had to deal with other people on a regular basis. Morrigan had not learned like Florien and Alistair had through their years of communal living, Florien in the Tower and Alistair at the Chantry, of compromise and general respectability. Florien was willing to cut her slack, so long as she didn't set Alistair on fire like she kept threatening to.

Besides their banter kept Alistair from focusing on his grief and Florien couldn't tell if it was intentional or if Morrigan truly did just like prodding Alistair verbally. It was only after they had set up camp for the evening did Florien let himself wander over to Alistair once more. He looked…different with the armor off. Smaller, less formidable, but still Alistair. Coming behind the former templar in training Florien wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Alistair's head. The human leaned back into the embrace, staring at the fire. They were silent a long moment, enough to get familiar with the sounds of the other's breathing and Alistair liked to fancy he could hear the steady thrum of Florien's heartbeat.

"Why don't we have to worry about retrieving the treaties?" It was Alistair who broke the silence, juvenile joviality gone. His voice was quiet and hoarse still, his eyes grave. A sigh escaped Florien, stirring about some of the hair on Alistair's head. "I have them." "Oh you...What!" Alistair's exclamation had Morrigan's eyes on them from her fire several yards away. Alistair broke out of Florien's embrace, turning so he sat facing the elf. Alistair would not acknowledge that the firelight gave Florien an alluring glow, or that his arms had been comforting and warm. Florien was a man underneath the carefully applied makeup and feminine mage robes. "How do you have the treaties Florien?" Anger was a bitter undercurrent to the accusatory tone he took.

Florien to his credit stood his ground; his earlier display of uncertainty in front of Flemeth was gone. He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I took them from the camp right before we went to the Tower of Ishal. Didn't you wonder why I had both of us bring our packs that had supplies in them?" Florien's arms came up and crossed over his chest.

"Well at the time, yes, you did a lot of strange things that night but it was all overshadowed by…" Alistair trailed off. "Loghain's betrayal." Florien finished and the sound of the mage's voice brought Alistair back. "So why did you do that? Wait, did you know? Did Loghain tell you?" Florien felt his anger rise, flaring up like a forest fire before he quelched it, his gaze turning flat and cold. "What I tell you goes no farther than you. I will not tell Morrigan or anyone else of this." The bitter scabbed wound of Jowan's betrayal was picked open, throbbing and bleeding anew. He took a fortifying breath. "Your word Alistair, I want it." Alistair's face contorted slightly as he tried to not take offense at Florien's words before turning sour and nodding. "You have my word Florien, that I will not tell anyone what you tell me." And if you betrayed us I won't tell anyone because I will kill you myself. Was left unspoken and Florien ignored it. Alistair had right to be wary after what had happened, but still he deserved to know.

"I have dreams that aren't dreams. Why do you think I was the only recruit who didn't freeze when I first saw the Darkspawn? I had already seen them before in my dreams, and those dreams showed me that they could die like anything else if you set it on fire…. But that is not exactly what you wanted to know. I had dreamed of pain and betrayal, and death long ago when I was still travelling with my Mamae. I was a child then and all I knew was that whatever was going to happen it would be devastating and I would barely come out alive and wherever I was would be lost." Florien closed his eyes, his voice growing faint. "When I was at Ostagar I felt the foulness in the air. All the mages could, we sensed that…something wasn't right. When I was at the meeting I felt Death there, reaching for me but then Cailan he…gave us the assignment and I felt it move away from me and it was then I knew that Ostagar would become blood soaked and that the Veil would be torn there because of so many violent deaths. I couldn't tell Duncan in full because there wasn't time and I didn't have the words for it but I warned him. He told me to carry on my duty no matter the cost and I told him goodbye. I then went to our tent and got our packs and everything I thought we couldn't live without if we could never come back. I had hoped that I was wrong, that I'd get punished by Duncan for taking the treaties from their hiding place but I wasn't."

Alistair frowned, his hand coming up to touch Florien's cheek, the tender touch shocking him into realizing he was crying. He was crying for the men lost, for the pain of the loved ones left behind, for Alistair. He was crying for Alistair. The hand wiped at his tears for a few moments then brought his head down, their foreheads touching as Alistair breathed in deeply. They stayed like that for a long moment, comforting each other.

"It's a good thing you're a Warden now Flor. The Chantry would have your hide if they found out." Alistair said finally. He moved back staring at the elf. "You're not evil, not like the Chantry says, you can't help what you dream."

"Whether or not I can control it doesn't mean anything to the Templars." Florien said softly. "I don't know if I was the only one in the Tower who did dream but I was the only one who Jowan had heard of and Jowan heard everything." That name felt painful on his lips to say, he could taste bitterness and blood on his tongue, and longing in his heart. Painful longing. Excruciating longing. He forced his voice to be light.

"Tomorrow we head to Lothering and after we resupply we can go to Redcliffe. Arl Eamon seems to be the best bet for sanctuary and careful planning, then the Circle Tower." He tried to steer the topic from such grave matters and Alistair followed suit, knowing that now would not be the best time to continue their discussion on Florien's abilities. The conversation grew light and finally the fire began to die down when they decided that it was best if they rested.

"Alistair?" Florien asked, his voice a near whisper as he sat up in his bedroll. "Mmmm?" Alistair's eyes were closed still but he wasn't asleep, not yet. "May I share with you?" An eye cracked open and stared at the younger elf. He looked different with his hair down, that deep red color that contrasted with the pale skin, that young face with wide vulnerable eyes. Feeling a strange and strong urge to protect that small young creature (who could admittedly freeze him, set him on fire, then make him explode if Florien so desired) he lifted the blanket on his bedroll in invitation. He was surprised at how quickly Florien moved into his arms, fitting himself snugly against Alistair and cuddling close. He wrapped an arm around the slender waist and tucked Florien's head beneath his chin, marveling at how nice it was to have something trust him that much and need him, his warmth and protection. Alistair was also surprised at how much it soothed him, that knowing Florien was over on the other side of the fire wasn't as comforting as having Florien in his arms and unable to leave or escape or die without Alistair being alerted. Florien would be safe here, and Florien being safe meant that Florien would stay alive, which meant Florien would be there with Alistair and Alistair wouldn't be alone.

He wouldn't be alone, and with that thought lingering in his head Alistair drifted off to sleep to the steady breathing of Florien in his ears.