Alone.

The word echoed in Asleena's mind, rebounding off the walls of her skull and driving her crazy.

We are alone.

The word haunted her thoughts. She glanced at Alistair, who was marching beside her. His face was as placid as a bovine, not expressing any emotion. He eerily resembled a Tranquil mage. Asleena shuddered at that thought and concentrated on the dusty ground beneath her feet.

All dead. The king, his army, everyone. Even the Wardens. Alistair and I are alone.

She risked a look in Morrigan's direction. The young woman did not seem perturbed by the scene around them. Asleena did not know how she wasn't gagging. The scent of death and decay was heavy in her nostrils and gore crows circled overhead, occasionally cawing at them.

Asleena smelled the air. The smell of rot was fresher here, and there was a familiar tingling in the back of her skull. She glanced at Alistair and nodded.

"Darkspawn," just as the word escaped her mouth, a large mabari trotted up the road, barking and panting at them. It looked up at her with large, intelligent eyes.

"Hey there, boy. Oh, I think you're the one I helped back at Ostagar!" Asleena murmured to the dog. It gave a happy bark, but it turned to a growl when a band of Darkspawn flanked the four. It was a quick battle. Asleena had to admire the dog's fighting strategy- shove it down and chew on it's neck until it's dead. Stained with crimson blood, she approached the animal again.

"What do you think, boy? Do you want to come with us?" The dog barked in the affirmative. "I think I'll call you… Irving, for the first enchanter."

Irving barked happily as she petted him, rolling around on his back with a blissed-out, dopey look on his face. They started to walk again, the mabari loping with easy grace at Asleena's side.

As Asleena lifted her head to judge the time, she noticed a small settlement over a bridge. On the bridge were a small group of men in cheap, weathered armour. They claimed to be toll collectors, but Asleena was in no mood to pay any attention to them. They killed efficiently and mercilessly. Asleena glanced appreciatively at the dark witch, her spells were certainly effective. Turning up her nose in disgust, Asleena rooted around in the lead bandit's armour, pulling out any items of interest or value. She then looted a few boxes from the site. In one, she found an intricately carved, golden statuette. She wandered over to Alistair, who was busy looting other corpses, and thrust it out to him.

"For me?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. Asleena nodded, suddenly felt very foolish and turned scarlet.

"So, you've finally decided to rejoin us. Falling on your own blade in grief was too much effort, it would seem?" Morrigan's taunting, mocking voice floated over her shoulder and she sighed.

"Be nice," she growled under her breath to Morrigan. The witch smiled, but made no indication that she had heard their leader. The group discussed what they thought the plan of action should be, Alistair and Morrigan slipping in as many taunts as they could. The town was as pretty as a painting, if a bit worn and ragged. Also, the refugees everywhere in tattered clothes put a damper on her mood. Asleena absent-mindedly scratched Irving between the ears, before saying decisively, "Let's go to Dane's refuge."

The atmosphere in the tavern was hushed and uncomfortable. People were packed into, for there was no room left in the Chantry. In the middle of the room, there was a group of soldiers in expensive-looking armour that halted her when she came in. They threatened to fight, but a red-headed priestess came out from the shadowy corner, insisting there was no need to fight. The guards ignored her and attacked. Asleena and her party dispatched them easily. She sent the leader on his way, with a message for Loghain.

"The Grey Wardens now what really happened. We are coming for him."

Asleena glanced around happily at the people in her camp. Since morning, they had gained a mabari, a rogue, and a massive Qunari warrior. The rogue was an Orlesian called Leliana with a sweet temperament and lethal with her Dar'Misu daggers. The Qunari was called Sten, a stoic giant of little words. They all respected her and trusted her though they had only known her a little while. She seemed to radiate an aura of power and confidence which put people at ease around her. Along with that, she was genial and quick to smile, which made her easy to like. She was enjoying hot stew, sitting on a log beside the camp fire. But, she was tired and soon fell asleep on her bedroll, Irving reassuringly seated at her side.

She was in the Fade. She knew it well, but the dark landscape evaporated around her, replacing itself with blackness, and orange light cast by molten lava. She stood beside the charred bank, feeling the heat suffuse her body. She realised she was naked and suddenly felt very vulnerable. The dragon was there again.. It roared so loudly that Asleena was sure she would be deaf after this encounter. It lifted a taloned paw and caught her up in its claws, even as she tried to run. The sharp edges of its scales dug into her as she struggled against its oppressive foot.

Warden… it thought inside her head. The monster brought her closer to its maw, spewing forth blue flame and closing its teeth around her body, yet she felt no pain. As blood seeped into her lungs, she…

…woke drenched in a sheen of sweat. Alistair was looking at her with a curious expression on his face. His eyes were fixated on hers.

"Bad dreams, huh?" he asked.

"It's the same every time," Asleena muttered, glaring at the fire instead of meeting Alistair's gaze.

"Yeah, it's scary at first, but after a while, you get used to it."

I don't want to get used to it, Asleena thought bitterly. I want it to not happen at all. Guilt flooded through her as she realised – It wasn't about what she wanted. It was about serving the citizens of Ferelden. She clamped down on her self-pitying thoughts.

No more, she thought. This was her life now. She had better get used to it.