Thank you to KerryResidentofEarth for following me, no creep intended.

Chapter 3: Bloodlines

Aela placed the last vial of darkspawn blood into her side-satchel and stumbled away from the corpse. Her breaths escaped in pants and her shoulder screamed in pain. She sheathed the Cousland sword, which she named Biter in honour of Oren, and staggered away from the scattered bodies of the darkspawn.

Daveth and Ser Jory rambled on about how this quest was absolutely ridiculous. Daveth spat out a tooth and Ser Jory cracked his knee back into place. Aela, meanwhile, ignored her shoulder and pulled the map from her belt. They needed the treaties before they could go back, and with her arm hurting as much as it did, she wanted to waste nomore time. That, and the idea of staying in the Korcari Wilds with Daveth laying about made Aela's mouth taste bitter.

Alistair jogged up to the party with a grin on his face. Aela tried not to notice his charming demeanor, even giving the circumstances. "That was fun!" he said. The tone he used suggested it was not actually fun, but Aela gave him credit for trying.

She began to move onwards and the men had no choice but to follow. She had a constant hand on Biter, waiting for another chortle, another shriek, that would make her pull the sword free. Truth be told, she hated having to constantly be ready. The week before, she was practicing how to rest her hand upon another in a courtly dance, and now she had it rested on the pommel of a weapon she believed she would never have to use. Doing so made it feel like death was singing from the Veil, waiting for her to slip and fall.

When she was at home in Highever, Bryce and Fergus insisted on teaching Aela how to fight while Eleanor tried to convince them that it was a peaceful time in Ferelden. It came down to scattered and uncommitted sword lessons alongside hunting trips balanced with courting suitors and learning how to pronounce her vowels correctly. The world was a funny place, Aela decided.

"The ruins should be over this hill," Alistair said from the back of the pack. They climbed it quietly, but quickly.

"So, tell me," Alistair said casually as they ascended. Aela didn't hear him approach and instinctively flinched at his voice. "Does 'Aela' come with a last name?"

Aela felt anger and grief bubble in her heart. She shot a look at Alistair. "Of course it does."

Alistair stared back. "May I have the honour of knowing it?"

She laughed darkly and lightly. "You will find no honour in knowing it."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Aela turned to him. "Maybe you've noticed that you have also kept that part of yourself a secret."

She saw Alistair's face drop and he looked away. She hadn't seen him genuinely upset, and she could tell that she hit a nerve. Good.

"Fair enough," he muttered. "I thought it would be good to know..."

Aela relaxed slightly. "Look, I have my reasons. So do you, I assume?"

He nodded gently as they walked. And as fast as it had disappeared, that lopsided grin of his broke over his face. "I'll find out eventually, though."

"Sure."

They made it to the top of the hill and looked over the ruins. Ser Jory and Daveth looked over them too. Aela heard an intake of breath as if it came from the valley, and she had the horrifying feeling that she was being watched.

"Finally!" Daveth sighed. "The first sign of our return trip!"

"What I wouldn't give for a hot bath and some stew," Ser Jory moaned.

Aela raised her hand to quiet them. Daveth scoffed. "Look, lady, I'd like a chance to express some relief at some point today."

She sneered. "Shut it!" she hissed. "I'm trying to listen."

"Then listen to this!" Daveth slurred. "I'm sick and tired following you around when this is my quest, too! When do I get to tell you to shut up? Hmm?"

Aela frantically waved her hand at him, hushing him. "Please, Daveth, be quiet before - "

Her breath exploded from her body, her sore shoulder snapping forward. She lost her footing and tumbled down the edge of the hill. Her head cracked against a rock as she rolled down the treacherous slope, and her vision blackened. When she came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she was too delirious to realize they were being ambushed. Her shoulder throbbed and something scraped the bones within. So, she had been shot, she managed to deduce.

She tried to crawl to her hands and knees before strong and blackened fingers gripped her hair. Her attacker wrenched her head up and placed something cold against her throat. She threw her hands up sloppily and managed to push the blade away from her throat just enough. The Hurlock behind her laughed and slowly pushed against her hands, bringing the knife closer and closer to her flesh. She grunted and tried to push back, but he pulled back on her hair and made her spine squeal in protest.

Then he released her. She fell against the ground and caught her breath. Another set of hands were on her, lifting her.

"No, no, no," Alistair breathed. He turned Aela's weak body over. When she saw his face, the relief that washed over him was outstanding. Aela didn't understand at first until she felt Alistair pressing his fingers to her neck. "Thank the Maker..."

The world was spinning when Alistair pulled Biter from its sheathe. He put it into Aela's hands and gave her a shake.

"Back to me, Aela!" he barked. Aela's head still spun about, but when Alistair gripped the bolt from the back of her shoulder and wrenched it out, the pain forced her back. "Back to me!"

Aela swatted him away, blood running down her arm. She lifted her sword and began to fight next to Alistair, who hovered as she was only able to use one arm, and it wasn't her main hand. To be honest, she knew she was next to useless, but she managed to cut some darkspawn while Alistair delivered the final blow.

The fight was in their favour until Aela saw a darkspawn Gemlock unlike the others. He wielded a staff and shook it about with fury. It started to glow. Aela had only seen a few mages, all at Ostagar, and while she felt this was similar, the magic around him was black as night.

A green ball of sludge flew for Alistair, who was overpowering most of the force. Aela did not know what force possessed her when she ran towards him. She smashed into Alistair. The the tackle was great enough to snap her collar as she careened into his heavier armour. At the same time, the ball of filth smashed into her back. She fell onto Alistair.

Aela's face rested on Alistair's armour as she felt the searing pain dribble down her back. She bit her lip and groaned. Varying levels of pain stabbed through her. She tried to get up to face the thing that hurt her, but when she tried, her legs went numb. She cursed to herself.

Alistair sat up, angry at first, then alarmed.

"Aela, what in the name of Andraste have you done?!"

When Alistair moved, it shot knives of pain into her entire body. She shuddered as more of the goop seeped into her skin. She turned her head to find the darkspawn when something shrieked.

Aela and Alistair jumped at the sound, and both cried out when a huge spider, larger than a horse, skittered towards them. Alistair scrambled to his feet with an arm around Aela and the other holding his sword. Daveth and Jory both yelled out as they saw the giant creature racing towards them.

But it avoided them altogether. In fact, it leapt over them. Alistair ducked at the spider landed on the Gemlock. The Gemlock screamed as the spider sank its jaws into his throat. It teared it out and spun around to face the four very nervous and very startled soldiers.

In a puff of violet smoke, the spider disappeared and a woman emerged, frowning. Aela's legs were growing weaker as Alistair tensed beside her. He raised his sword.

"Shapeshifter," he growled. The woman raised her hands and scoffed.

"Ah, I see you are adept at pointing out the obvious." She dropped her hands and laughed sarcastically. "Well done."

The woman looked slightly older than Aela, and her robes looked entirely outlandish. Her shirt draped over her breasts and her leather trousers were covered in various straps and pockets. Poking out from various places were blue feathers and white bone. Yellow eyes pierced through her black hair.

"Stay back," Alistair threatened.

She pointed at Aela, who sagged in Alistair's arm. "'Twould be foolish, as I am offering you help and your friend there is worse for wear."

"I'm fine," Aela retorted.

"You're a liar," the woman countered. "You legs are numb and your skin is falling off."

Aela glared as Alistair looked at her with concern. Ser Jory's sword was at the ready while Daveth was looking for a reason to not strike out.

"This thing's a witch!" he cried. "She'll turn us into other little creatures like herself and hunt us for sport!"

"Oh please," the woman snorted. "I'm hardly hungry at this hour."

Aela grunted in pain and Alistair was having trouble keeping her upright. "Jory, check the ruins with Daveth."

They did not need a second asking, but they did not take their eyes off the witch until they were well out of the way of her possible wrath.

"They won't find the treaties there," the witch said once they were out of earshot. "They've been gone from that chest for quite some time."

Aela frowned. "We are not leaving without them."

"I believe you. So let us have a little introduction before I tell you where they are."

Alistair grumbled and shook his head. "Mind games. I hate magic."

The witch peered over him and looked back at Aela. Aela rolled her eyes and sighed. If this witch truly wanted to help her, she wasn't in the right place to refuse. Her arms were growing heavy and her heart smashed into her skull with every beat.

"Aela," she said simply.

"Morrigan," was the reply. She cocked her head to the side. "Such pretty hair," she remarked. "I like the colourlessness of it."

"I didn't take you for the sort to appreciate looks," Alistair muttered.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "'Tis not looks I am interested in, much to your good fortune. Otherwise, I'd offend you."

Alistair grumbled under his breath. Morrigan's cat-like eyes looked Aela up and down. Aela looked back, biting back tears.

"Come, then, Aela," Morrigan sighed. "Let us find those treaties of yours."

Morrigan led the foray deeper into the Wilds. She knew the forest, that much was evident. The way she sauntered through the trees and the muck made her a certain type of graceful Aela had not seen before. She seemed to float forward while Daveth, Jory, and Alistair stumbled about like they were walking on butter. Aela's uninjured arm was draped over Alistair's broad shoulder, her brow covered in sweat and her vision dancing in and out of darkness. Alistair panted under the extra weight.

"Duncan is going to be furious if we don't return tonight," he complained. "And we're not entirely in one piece."

Aela could not manage to speak. She trembled as the poison drained her of feeling. But she could hear the guilt in his voice, and she almost felt bad for protecting him. They emerged from the trees and saw a house.

It was rickety and otherwise unattractive, but the chimney bellowed smoke and the smell of food wafted around them. In front of the house, an old woman stood, arms crossed, eyes squinted.

"I would have liked warning before you brought guests," the woman said to Morrigan.

"'Tis not my fault their possessions were not where they were supposed to be," she replied. "I bring you Grey Wardens looking for paper or something of the sort."

Morrigan's mother snorted and stared at the party. "A strange bunch. The three bumbling fools, I understand, but you, girl - " the woman looked at Aela, " - I am surprised."

"I was telling her how much I liked her hair," Morrigan said. "Isn't it pretty?"

The woman glared at Aela, then peered over at Morrigan. There was a silent exchange before the woman waved her hand about. It glowed for one moment before Aela felt her skin tingle. She grimaced as her flesh rebuilt and her bones snapped back into place. She slowly felt healed, and she took a bewildered step from Alistair. She turned to the woman and bowed her head.

"Thank you."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Manners in the Wilds. Take a lesson, Morrigan."

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"So, if the treaties are what you want, so be it."

She pulled them from her ratty waist cincher and thrust them into Jory's hands. He shrank back and gave a small yelp. The woman laughed at him and coughed. Alistair looked confused.

"Wait, that's it?" he asked. "No lightning bolts, no human stews?"

The woman looked over him. "Is that what you'd like?"

"No, no," he replied quickly. "Just checking."

The woman returned her gaze on Aela, who shifted nervously. The woman smiled. "Oh, girl, the stories you will tell," she murmured. Aela looked up from her boots. "I can see how you've suffered. Yes, I can see it and feel it coursing about you. What a jump, from your old life to this one... Aela."

Aela huffed. "And who may you be?"

The woman shrugged. "I am known by many names. But Flemeth is what people tend to call me these days."

That caused the other men to tense like vices. Before they could speak their minds, Flemeth looked to Morrigan. "Lead them back to Ostagar," she said tersely. "Farewell, Aela. I expect we may see each other again in the future."

"I certainly hope not," Alistair sniggered.

Flemeth glared at Alistair. "Be careful, boy," she hissed. "You may actually desire my company."

"I doubt that."

What a bizarre turn of events, Aela reflected. Back in Ostagar, she and the other recruits ate by a hot fire and thought quietly amongst themselves before Duncan approached with Alistair. Aela's heart skipped a beat when Duncan said, "It is time for the Joining."

They said no words as they stood and followed Duncan to a quiet area in the camp, away from the gathering war parties, set to leave within hours. With every step she took, she felt her heart increase in speed. She tried to catch her breath and could not understand why she was so nervous.

The ritual started when they stopped walking. Duncan had the three vials of darkspawn blood, poured them into a silver chalice, and faced them, face dark.

"The Joining has begun, and there is no turning back," he said. "This change will be hard for your bodies, and it will take insurmountable strength to survive."

"'Insurmountable'?" Ser Jory repeated, frightful. "What exactly are we doing?"

Duncan gave Daveth the chalice. Daveth shrugged and brought it to his lips. At first he almost vomited the blood straight back into the cup, but she struggled down one mouthful. Duncan retrieved the chalice as Daveth looked unchanged.

"Huh... well that wasn't -"

Suddenly, his back arched and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Aela skittered back as he stumbled and choked. He clawed at his throat and blood spewed from his mouth like a fountain. He fell face first in a pool of his own blood and twitched.

Duncan turned to Ser Jory. "It is your turn."

Ser Jory stepped back. "No way," he said. "I have a wife, a child on the way. I'm not doing this!"

"There is no turning back," Duncan repeated. Ser Jory drew his sword. Duncan handed the chalice to Alistair and drew his own sword. Aela stepped back until her back hit Alistair's chest. He grabbed her arm and hung his head next to her ear.

"Don't run," he whispered. "Don't watch."

But before she closed her eyes, Duncan buried his sword into Ser Jory's belly and heaved it up, killing him messily and painfully. Aela wanted to scream, but was too horrified to make a sound. Duncan looked at Aela while Alistair handed her the chalice. Aela tried to give it back.

"No," she stammered. Alistair forced the cup into her hands and wrapped his own around hers. She looked wildly into Alistair's eyes as tears rushed forward. Maker, the terror she felt was enormous.

"Just look at me," Alistair said. "One big gulp and that's it."

Aela tried to look at the chalice.

"No," Alistair said harshly. "Look at me."

Alistair pushed the goblet to her lips. She felt the cold blood touch her mouth and she instantly gagged. Alistair did not let her pull away and soon, the blood filled her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and tasted rotting meat and ash flow into her body. She swallowed and Alistair released her hands. The chalice clattered to the ground as she felt her body convulse and twist around. Her eyes rolled back and she felt herself fall into the stone ground.

The darkness came alive with the sounds of screams, the feeling of marching boots, and the body of a terrifying creature unfurling its wings and roaring at the sky. A dragon, Aela realized. It looked at her and seemed to squint in her direction. It leapt off the structure it stood on and flew for her, shrieking. Aela threw her arms up, trying shield herself from the archdemon.

She immediately entered the Fade and stood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing.

She didn't make it, she realized, and she fell to her knees, numb once more.

A figure emerged from the nothingness. It was a woman with brown hair and blue eyes, and gentle lips that smiled gracefully at her.

"I'm dead," Aela breathed. The woman nodded.

"The Taint usually kills," she said. Her voice echoed off invisible walls, and was layered by many other sounds. "Especially when there is a Blight near; the Taint is nearly impossible to face."

"I expected my family to be here," Aela whispered.

The woman knelt next to her. "They are here, Aela. They are always going to be here. But you are not."

She kissed Aela's cheek and stepped back into nothingness.

At first, nothing happened. Suddenly, the nothingness shattered and Aela fell through darkness with a small scream at her lips. She fell towards the ground, whipping about in the air like a ragdoll until she hit the ground.

When she opened her eyes, she felt the cold stone ground beneath a bloody cheek. She tried to move.

"Duncan!" a voice called out frantically. "She's coming back!"

Alistair was next to her as she forced herself into a very weakened crawl. Her whole body shook and she leaned over to empty her stomach next to her hands, blood and stew and mead splattering the ground. Alistair pulled her frail body away from the mess and she collapsed in his lap.

Duncan had been running when he appeared. "In the name of Andraste, how?" He helped Alistair turn Aela over.

"She just... woke up," Alistair replied.

Aela looked over and saw that Ser Jory and Daveth's bodies were gone, and that her body had been dragged many paces towards a pyre. The thought of her burning made her retch again. Duncan crouched and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling.

"Welcome back, Aela."

"Hmmmnnn..." Aela groaned.

Duncan fixed his eyes on her cheek. "You must have split your cheek when you fell. We'll get that bandaged for you. But the soldiers are marching out, and we need you."

Aela tried to stand, feeling stronger with every breath.

"How long was I gone for?" she asked groggily.

"Twenty minutes," was the reply. "We didn't think you'd make it."

"I don't think I was supposed to... but I guess I should be glad."

"Come, let's leave the pyre," Duncan declared. "The Tower of Ishal is where you two will go once we begin the march. You will have to light the beacon to signal Loghain's men to lead the rest of the force."

The only thing Aela could do was nod once before readjusting Biter to her hip, her cheek burning as if it had been kissed by flame.

The party huddled under Denerim in the underground passage, waiting for the wave of slaughter to pause for a single moment. They were alive with anticipation and excitement, and Oghren was having trouble keeping quiet. Wynne drank a vial of lyrium and made a foul expression, which would usually earn her a laugh or two, but everyone knew this was the most inappropriate time.

Aela scratched at her scarred cheek and frowned. She looked up at the doors they would exit from, but the sounds of the darkspawn outside made them hesitate to regain their focus. Riordan cupped Aela's elbow to catch her attention.

"The archdemon is close-by, but since you are new to the Taint, he will look for you first. I'll climb Fort Drakon and try to kill him while he's distracted."

Aela nodded. "Are you sure that's how you want it?"

"My lady," Riordan sighed, "You are young, and I am old, and Alistair is king. It has to be me."

"What if that doesn't work?" she asked with a hint of fear.

"We don't think about that," Riordan said simply.

Aela fumed and put her hand to the door. She did not want to open it. She began to get scared, the power of the archdemon shaking her to her core. Her head and her body kept yelling at her, tell her he was outside.

"Leliana," she beckoned. "Wynne, put out the light. I need a song. "

The air around them was stale and hushed, and when Wynne willed the magical light away, it was totally dark. Leliana at first was quiet before the air around her began to vibrate. She sang in a different language as Aela grabbed the nearest hand. It squeezed hers, and eventually, her other hand was taken up. Everyone held onto each other, trembling, crying, anxious, as Leliana sang. The power that came from the bard made Aela almost ready to face anything and everything.

"Maker preserve us," she thought to herself. "If not their bodies, their spirits. May they survive this terror and any others, and may they see another sunrise. May they live on like a rose, impossibly bloomed in a world of death... may they live on in the memories of others as heros."

Once the song was done, there was a stunned silence among them before Aela drew her sword, crying out the loudest warcry she had ever mustered. She kicked open the doors and the party spilled onto the battlefield.