A/N: Here's a Christmas present from me to all my readers! This chapter's about a half longer than all the others have been so I hope you guys appreciate the extra effort I put into this one. Reviews are sorely desired; they are my life-blood, my energy, my mana. The more I have, the more chapters you have. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask in a review and I'll answer in the next chapter's A/N.

I'm uploading this at three o'clock in the morning so if there are any typos please excuse me; I'm going to triple check this chapter tomorrow when I'm more cognizant.

I'd like to thank NIX'S WARDEN, DoorbellSpider and Delfin Jonte for their reviews!

Chapter 4

18th of Drakonis, 9:28 Dragon

Warden-Compound, Denerim

I darted back and through my helm's visor saw the longsword swish past, going through the space my head had previously occupied.

The sword's blunt but he's not exactly going easy on me. That's fine though, I can reciprocate.

Rushing forwards before he could heft the chunk of steel that he called a sword back at me I feigned left, right and then struck for his armoured left leg, twisting my hips to put as much force behind the blow as I could. My practice sword hit my intended target: behind the knee. His leg buckled and he fell forwards, landing heavily with his sword trapped lengthwise beneath him. Quick to react, he went up onto his hands to push himself up. Before he could I jumped onto him, pinning him down with my weight. I yanked up his head, exposing his neck and placed my wooden stave to it.

"You're getting a little slow, Francis." I taunted jokingly.

Francis, the Senior Warden to whom Duncan had entrusted my training, grunted.

"You would have been better served to just cut me down instead of jumping on me."

I felt something prod me in the leg.

Francis was clutching his practice dagger poised to thrust down directly over a small gap in my armour in my thigh. A gap located directed over my femoral artery. I sighed. Francis could have cut it as soon as I was on him. I might still have been able to 'kill' him, but once cut I would have been unconscious from blood loss in thirty seconds, and dead within three minutes…and we both knew it.

Damn, I thought I'd finally managed to best him.

I stood up and he rolled over. I offered him a hand; he accepted it and I pulled him up.

Duncan had introduced me to Francis the day after I had been accepted to Join the Order; Francis had been one of the men I saw eating with Duncan in the refectory.

He was around the same age as Duncan, clean shaven, with stormy grey eyes and curly jet black hair. He was about the same height and build as me.

"You've improved, Morcar." He said earnestly, "I'm confident in saying that you might now be able to fight your way out of a wet blanket." I scowled at him.

"But you must desist from this habit of yours of offering mercy to your opponents. While your hearts in the right place, and I've taught you to only draw your sword when all else fails, once you become embroiled in a fight you must be ruthless and offer no quarter to your enemies, for you will receive none, especially not from darkspawn."

An elf scurried across the practice yard, stopping once she was a few paces away from us.

She bowed to both of us and addressed Francis.

"Ser, Commander Duncan requests Warden-Recruit Morcar's presence in his study."

"Thank you, Antalya."

A bow and she was off.

"You heard her, Morcar." Francis said, picking up our discarded weapons and placing them back in the racks. The practice weapons were designed to be heavier than their real counterparts by having a core of lead inside. This helped improve muscle mass and made a real sword seem light by comparison.

I nodded and made the short walk to the Compound from the large practice yard located between the rear of the Compound and the palace wall. Guards on the wall sometimes stopped to watch us when we practiced. I entered the Compound still wearing my sweaty clothes and the battered and dented plate armour used to practice in the yard, though I had taken off the helm.

I saw Jacquelyn, the Warden who had sat across from me when I arrived and noticed my wound. She was Orlesian, a fierce-sparring partner (she favoured the axe) and a kind woman. Some of the Wardens had been relatively amiable - most of them were rather distant - although when I told the Wardens that I was half-Orlesian more warmed up to me. Understandable, seeing as most of the humans and elves were from Orlais. It was nice to have conversations in Orlesian with them. It reminded me of home.

Through some carefully worded roundabout questioning designed to not reveal my ignorance I'd discovered that what I thought of as the English or Fereldan language was actually known as the common or trade tongue. This was a language originally created by the dwarves to enable them to communicate with far-flung Thaigs, and was eventually shared with surface-dwellers. As the name implied, the language was now ubiquitous and preferred even over a nation's own original native language, though as a matter of national pride most Orlesians were bilingual and spoke both Orlesian and common.

Still, it's frustrating when they avoid talking to me and cut their conversations short when they see me. At least I can stop taking it personally now that Duncan's told me that most Wardens are like that with new recruits. I suppose they must think that there's little point in getting to know me when there's a good chance I could die in the Joining. Hopefully things'll be better once I go through the Joining. If I live.

Jacquelyn pinched her nose as I walked past, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Duncan summoned me from the yard…" I said plaintively.

She smirked at me, but said nothing in reply, returning her gaze to the scroll she had been reading.

I made my way to Duncan's study on the ground floor, passing Reyor's office on the way. Reyor was Duncan's second-in-command, the Warden-Constable. He was a compact, wiry and humble man from the Anders who exuded an air of calm competency. Much of the day to day business of running the Order was left to him as Duncan was often preoccupied with travelling across the country meeting various persons of note or looking for recruits. He could often be found liaising closely with Gilbert, the compound's Steward, in his office.

Alongside these offices the ground floor was made up of the refectory, kitchen, larder, storage rooms, servant's quarters, communal space for recreation, an armoury, modest library, bathing chambers, privies, and a small indoor training room for use during inclement weather. The upper floor was devoted to sleeping quarters for the Wardens. Originally built during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden, the compound had its roots as accommodation for the household troops garrisoned in Denerim by the Orlesians. The nobles occupying the palace had wanted their troops in closer proximity than the facilities available in Fort Drakon, and so the compound had been raised to supplement the barracks already present in the palace complex. Once the occupation was defeated King Maric, and King Cailan in turn, had no need of the extra capacity provided by the compound and so had lent it's use to the Wardens. Originally configured in an open plan barracks layout with bedding for a company of over a hundred men the upper floor had since been converted to provide more comfort and privacy. Rank and file Wardens were quartered two to a room, whilst officers such as Senior Wardens and above were accorded their own private quarters.

Duncan was stood outside his office gazing at a tapestry showing the tale of Dane and Hafter. I moved to stand next to him, opposite a panel depicting Dane surrounded by the werewolves.

He wrinkled his nose. Do I really smell that bad?

"Thank you for coming promptly. The King has informed me that he has received word from Dragon's Peak; Bann Sighard discovered an entrance to the Deep Roads. The King has asked me to investigate the entrance and secure it until it can be permanently sealed. You will be coming with me along with Jacquelyn, Gregor, Hathak, Rordok and Irith. We'll collect what we need for your Joining there."

I'd known it would have to happen eventually, but the word sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless. The Joining. All this could have been for nothing. I either lived through it or I died. There was no turning back. Ser Jory was evidence of that.

I enjoyed the two day ride to Dragon's Peak. Denerim was a large city, at least by medieval standards, and while I enjoyed talking to the Wardens and sparring with them it was nice to have a change of pace after having been there for two months. After I'd arrived at the compound I'd been half expecting to be put through the Joining the next day. To my relief that hadn't happened. As the weeks went by my brief relief transformed into nervous impatience.

I don't know why it's taken Duncan this bloody long to send me on my Joining but it's about damn time. Perhaps Francis' banter wasn't all talk... maybe they were waiting for my skills to improve. That's disheartening if true. Does that mean I was very lucky to survive that bandit ambush or that the Warden's standards are that much higher?

I clenched my hand into a fist, admiring the way the articulated plates on my gauntlet moved fluidly without impeding my movement.

I cast my mind back to how I acquired the armour. About a week after I had arrived Duncan told me that Cailan had heard of a new Grey Warden and wanted to meet me. I had been in the yard at the time, sparring with Jacquelyn, and I thought that Duncan meant that I would be summoned to appear before Cailan in the palace, so I thought nothing of it then and went back to sparring against Jacquelyn's axe. Before even five minutes had passed though, Jacquelyn had suddenly stopped and stepped back.

"What is it?" I asked.

She mimed to look behind me, "The King."

Cailan was coming down the steps from the Compound, accompanied by Duncan. He was dressed in a crimson doublet and hose embroidered with gold lace. He seemed to be in a cheery mood. Unsurprisingly, never having met a king in my previous life I was unsure how to react.

Should I bow? Kneel? Do that weird arms-crossed-across-the-chest-salute-thing? Better take my cue from Jacquelyn.

When the King was ten paces away she bowed low. I did the same.

The King nodded politely to Jacquelyn and then turned his beaming smile to me.

"Ho there! You must be the new Grey-Warden Duncan mentioned! Tell me, friend, what is your name?" the King exclaimed.

"Your Majesty," I said, "It's an honour to meet you. My name is Morcar"

"No, no, the honour's all mine. The other Wardens tell me you're a promising recruit. I was heartened when word reached me that you had volunteered. Now, tell me..."

He paused, examining the dented and scuffed practice armour.

"Maker! You can't wear that fighting..."

"Cailan!"A deep voice bellowed from a distance.

"...the darkspawn! I'll have Wade make you something. I'd stay longer, but I only just managed to avoid Loghain as it is." He'd grinned and then ambled off just as quickly as he'd appeared, trailed by a small entourage of guards and courtiers.

I'd shot a bemused look at Duncan and received a discrete shrug in return as he turned and then left, catching up to the King.

The King was true to his word. I received a note from a boy the next day asking for my presence at Wade's Emporium so that my measurements could be taken for the armour. I'd gone, somewhat excited to meet Wade and Heron but I never saw them. Evidently I wasn't important enough to warrant meeting them and my measurements had been taken by a novice whilst a journeyman smith questioned whether I had any preferences.

Four days before my departure from Denerim to the Deep Roads the armour had been delivered to the Compound. It was beautiful. It had probably been expensive, too, so I was grateful for the King's patronage of the Grey Wardens. Wade's shop had made me a complete harness of steel plate armour. It wasn't like the massive absurd sets seen in the game, with tall jutting pieces of armour that looked like they belonged on a tank.

This armour was sleek, the curves and ridges of the plate streamlined so that any blows that fell upon it would be deflected away from the wearer. I was protected from my hands to my shoulders by the gauntlets, vambraces, couters, rerebraces and pauldrons. A chest and back plate protected my vital organs, with faulds and cuisses covering my hips and thighs. My feet, legs and knees were plated in sabatons, greaves and poleyns. My throat was protected by a gorget and then finally came the helm. The helm was a bascinet with a hinged visor which when closed left only a thin long slit for the eyes and a few small breath holes to aid with breathing. A mail aventail attached to the bascinet provided added protection to my neck and shoulders. The armour was plain unadorned steel except for the front of the chestplate and brow of the helm which were engraved with boldly rearing griffons. Under the armour went an arming doublet and arming pants. They served the same use as the gambeson I had used before but the doublet had sewn-in mail voiders to protect my armpits and the inside of my arms, these areas being unprotected by plate armour. The pants, when worn, covered my legs in steel mail from the waist to half way down my calves. This protected the back of my legs, most of which was unprotected by plate. A short mail skirt was worn under the plate to provide protection to the groin.

I was tremendously pleased with my new armour and once Francis had helped me put all the pieces on and instructed me how to do up all the buckles I strutted through the Compound, receiving admiring glances and scoffs in equal measure from my fellow Wardens.

The even distribution of the armour across my body and the fact that it had been tailored to my specific measurements meant that it was easier to carry than I thought it would be; I estimated that it weighed around twenty kilos.

The only disadvantage was that it took around ten minutes to put it all on and that the straps for the arm harnesses and the points affixing them to my doublet were next to impossible to fasten on my own - this required someone else's help.

Bann Sighard had been relieved to have the Deep Roads entrance looked into so promptly and he hosted a feast in the Wardens honour. In the morning we were led to the entrance by an escorting squad of Bann Sighard's men. Once we arrived they were detailed off to maintain a watchful perimeter topside.

I looked down at the five metre wide hole in the ground that was located in the middle of a field. The freshly disturbed soil was evidence enough that part of the ceiling of the Deep Road beneath had collapsed. Peering into the hole I could see the torch we had dropped in far below. It looked like at least a twenty metre drop to the bottom. Hathak saw me looking down.

"Have you decided to finally grace us with your presence?" the dwarf shouted up.

"I thought it wouldn't do to deprive you for much longer!" I called down graciously.

To get down into the Deep Road bellow we had tied a rope we had taken with us for the purpose around a nearby tree and the others had then climbed down. It was now my turn.

Ok, time to go. I can do this.

I lowered my legs into the hole and grasped the rope tightly. I hadn't seen what technique the others had used to climb down so I thought I would use one that I knew worked. I wrapped a coil of rope around one of my legs and then gripping the rope with the sides of my feet I loosened my hold on it with my hands and I fast-roped down to the ground below. I was thankful for the thick leather of my gauntlets on the palms of my hands; otherwise I would have felt more than just the heat from the friction. A tricky descent, and climbing back up would have been even harder - luckily, we wouldn't have to. A small party of carpenters had accompanied us and were already busily fashioning ladders and an impromptu scaffold.

The torch petered out. "Irith, if you would." Duncan said.

Suddenly light emanated in a wide radius around us, originating from the Dalish mage's staff and banishing the shadows from the swirling lines of the vallaslin on her face.

"Ah, that's better. 'Twould seem the glowstones in this passage have failed. " She said.

The path behind us had been blocked by the fallen masonry and earth from the hole. It was warm down here with a noticeable current of air travelling through the tunnel. It seems the air duct system in this portion of the Deep Roads isn't blocked.

We travelled down the Road for several hours, stopping occasionally for breaks, Duncan telling me of how we Warden's patrolled the Deep Roads regularly to probe the Darkspawn, to test their strength and ascertain whether a Blight was imminent.

"We could have performed the Joining ritual in Denerim; we have what we need safely kept in a warded vault in the compound. However, it's tradition for new recruits to gather the blood themselves." he explained.

Eventually we came to a narrowed part of the the Deep Road. Heavy broken doors hung from twisted hinges. A tunnel led off to a corridor which had sleeping quarters, a hearth, privies, and everything else one would need to recuperate whilst resting after a day's march in the Roads. Although knowing when to end a march was difficult when there was no sunlight.

"This is a way station. We can block access from the rest of the Deep Roads to the entrance to the surface here." Rordok explained to me, examining one of four sets of doors.

"This one seems intact enough to be closable. Once it's sealed we'll have enough time to come back and see about blocking this more permanently." I started as his eyes flashed cerulean, ethereal wisps of vapour-like light leaking out.

"You'd best arm yourself, Morcar. Darkspawn approach." He said, turning his attention away from the doors to look off into the darkness ahead.

I looked at the others. They all had their weapons in hand, eyes aglow; having already sensed our enemy.

I drew my blade, a veridium arming sword stamped with the Wardens seal on the pommel that Duncan had given me to replace my old steel one. I hefted the red steel reinforced shield, holding it ready to block a strike. Duncan had wanted to issue me a new shield, but after examining mine he declared it superior and asked to borrow it. A few days later he gave it back to me. A griffon had been lovingly painted onto it. He said it had been done by one of the elven servants.

I tapped out a beat with my boot nervously on the stone floor, apprehensive of imminently facing darkspawn. Fighting them in the game was all very good and well but this was real life. I wouldn't be watching some pixels on a screen fight other pixels on the screen. I was going to be fighting tainted monsters who could rip your throat out and whose blood would turn you into a ghoul.

"You'll do fine. We've all felt as you do now when it was our first time." Jacquelyn whispered encouragingly, nudging me.

I shot her a grateful look.

I opened my mouth to reply. A shrill shriek pierced the darkness. My mouth snapped shut. Ragged footsteps pounded towards us. I stood at the front of our formation, Jacquelyn covering my left with her shield and Gregor on my right with his. Hathak stood ready with his warhammer three paces behind us with Duncan. Rordok and Irith were at the back, Irith with her staff and Rordok with his crossbow.

Irish thrust out her staff and light shot down the tunnel ahead of us. A horde of darkspawn was revealed. A roaring ball of fire and a quarrel followed. I cringed on the inside. The darkspawn were horrifyingly revolting. Jagged rotten canines jutted out of their teeth, freezing their faces in a horrid grinning rictus of pain.

The fireball exploded on impact, engulfing three tightly packed genlocks in wreaths of flame. The quarrel pierced a hurlock's forehead and then went flying out the other side. Grey putrid flecks of brain-matter and shards of skull followed it. The hurlock crashed to the ground.

Two more fireballs killed two hurlocks and a genlock. Another quarrel sped past, taking a hurlock in the eye.

By this point they were almost upon us. I could smell them. I could smell their vile, grey-mottled flesh.

Irith and Rordok killed another darkspawn apiece. That left twenty. I stepped forwards and lifted my shield to the incoming blow. I grimaced behind my visor at the foul stench emanating from the hurlock's gaping maw, which was half a meter from my face. Its sword impacted my shield and slid downwards. I stepped in even closer, jabbing a corner of my shield into its shoulder. While darkspawn minds may not have been human, parts of their bodies still were and they reacted to outside stimuli just as a normal human's body would. My jab was aimed at a nerve in the shoulder. The hurlock's hand spasmed and the sword fell out. I punched my sword into its gut, seeing it erupt out of the hurlock's back. I twisted my sword to free it of the suction from the hurlocks body and to enlarge the wound. I pulled my sword out of its body, watching in faraway interest behind a wall of adrenaline as black ichor sprayed onto my hand. The hurlocks face came crashing into my helm, jaws snapping madly for my neck. I stumbled back, almost falling on to my back. I recovered and kicked it away. I cocked my arm back; muscles coiled and ready to explode. As it ran at me again I twisted my body and in one explosive smooth motion my sword went sailing through its neck, decapitating it. Before I could arrest the momentum of my sword, for fear of striking one of my companions behind me, an impact jarred up my sword arm and I saw that I had severed in half the arm of another hurlock who had been raising it to parry a blow from Jacquelyn. Unprotected, Jacquelyn's axe took the hurlock in the face. Her helmeted head nodded a brief thanks in my direction and went back to the fight.

From the beginning to end of my engagement eleven darkspawn had fallen to the seven of us. Nine left. An angry looking genlock screeched at me and charged. A quarrel thudded into its chest, burying itself to the fletching. The genlock was thrown onto its back. The point of my sword stabbed down, hitting it in the throat with a wet crunch. I looked about the hallway of the way station. Two darkspawn were still standing. One was a big hurlock, almost eight foot tall, with a horned helmet and thick plate armour adorned with numerous spikes. The other was wielding a staff. Great, an emissary and an alpha.

The emissary had a magic shield up, deflecting any quarrels that Rordok shot at it.

Hathak charged at it, and almost reached it, before he was suddenly sent flying back and skidding across the stone floor by a thrust of the genlock's hands towards him. Gregor and Duncan were keeping the alpha occupied, striking in turn so as to keep it on the defensive. Jacquelyn and I ran at the genlock, her from in front and me from behind. The genlock was distracted by Jacquelyn. My sword took it between the shoulder blades. I pulled my sword out and looked to see how Duncan and Gregor were faring.

The alpha was on its knees, two quarrels sprouting from its right shoulder and parts of it were charred from having been impacted by small, precisely guided fireballs from Irith. Duncan thrust his sword into its belly and it fell to the ground. Thirty darkspawn had met their fate at the hands of seven Wardens. The worst injury was a broken wrist which Hathak had received from landing badly when the emissary threw him. I flipped my visor up, wanting to be free of the stifling feeling it provided.

"Morcar, down!"

I was slow to react, a little lethargic after the adrenaline coursing through my veins had run its course. Despite the shouted warning my first instinct was to turn around, searching for danger. I saw it. The alpha, tough arsehole that it was, had propped itself up so that it was on its hands and knees. Its right arm was cocked back, its greatsword held in its hand as if it was a spear. It launched it at me, mustering all the strength in its broken body for one last act of vindictive defiance before it fell dead to the floor.

Fear and panic burst into me. I threw myself back, willing my body with every fibber of my being to fall to the ground faster. I could see the sword flying like an arrow straight towards me. I raised my arms in desperation. I was both lucky and unlucky. It tore across my face and an explosion of agony erupted from my cheek and forehead before my flailing arms knocked the sword and diverted it from going further. I slammed into the ground, the hard landing knocking the air out of me. I lay there, like a fish out of water gasping and gulping for air that would not appear. Jacquelyn appeared over me with a worried look on her face. Irith arrived.

"Are you well? Have you any other injuries?" she asked, poking and probing at my face. By this point blood had flown into my eyes from the profusely bleeding head wound, blinding me.

I tried for words, but they wouldn't come out, so I just gestured at my throat instead.

"Ah. I understand."

A few seconds passed whilst I listened to Irith mutter to herself until heat suffused my chest and precious oxygen flooded back into my lungs.

"Humpf! Gah, fuck!" I gasped out through gritted teeth, lances of pain assaulting me.

I felt her pat my hand sympathetically. Running footsteps came to a stop around me. I lifted my hand to my face to wipe away the blood in an attempt to regain my vision. My hand was slapped away.

"Stay still. I will take care of it." I did as she commanded and she placed her hands to either side of my face. A warm feeling swelled up in my face until it became a burning sensation and I struggled not to writhe under Irith's ministrations. After a minute or so she released my face and the inferno abated.

"There." she said, releasing her breath, "I have closed the wound. I have healed the skin and muscle and the scarring should be more limited than it would have been otherwise, but my abilities are not limitless, it will be noticeable. The skin will be tender for a few days and you will have to take care not to stretch the skin of your face until it is completely healed. Do you understand?"

I nodded my acquiescence, simply grateful that the sword had not had a lower trajectory and skewered me through the chin and gone up into my brain. I shuddered. That was too close.

"Here, water." Jacquelyn's voice, and the feel of a canteen being placed in my hand.

I upended the canteen over my face and wiped the blood away using the cool water. Finally, my vision returned as I cleared the blood from my eyes.

I raised my fingers tentatively to my face, feeling my left cheek. I felt a furrow start halfway up my cheek and continue on upwards before skipping past my eye and feeling it stop just above my eyebrow. Maker, I was lucky.

Gregor pulled me up and slammed me on the back.

"Ha! You're a fortunate one, lad! Too stubborn by half though. Next time, just duck." He said admonishingly.

"Gregor is correct. That was one of the largest hurlocks that I have seen in my years as a Warden, you are fortunate to have come across the better from such an encounter. Learn from this experience and move on, it will make you stronger." Duncan advised.

"Aye! And the ladies always love a man with a scar." Gregor added, nudging me in the ribs and winking at me.

I smilled slightly, heartened, then winced when it caused pain to flare up across my face.

Hathak guffawed. Rordok smiled slightly, as did Duncan. Irith rolled her eyes, slapping Gregor's arm.

Jacquelyn raised an eyebrow at me. I wiped the smile from my face and assumed a solemn expression, cocking my head to the side.

"What do you think? Does it look good from this angle?" I asked her, feeling slightly euphoric from my brush with death.

Her lip twitched. "Just get the blood."

What a way to kill the mood.

I took the waterskin from my belt and gulped down a mouthful. I offered it to Jacquelyn. She accepted it and I knelt down next to a dead hurlock. I uncorked the vial Duncan had given me and held it under a slowly dripping wound on its arm, stoppering it once it was full.

Irith incinerated the bodies after we had taken anything of value and then Hathak and Rordok sealed the door that was still operable. Once that was done Duncan, Jacquelyn and Irith went off to a closed room to prepare the Joining. Gregor, Rordok, Hathak and I stayed in a room set with low stone chairs. We talked. We talked about Paragons, of Loghain's obsessive hatred of Orlesians and Gregor instructed me further in the lore of the Order that I would soon be attempting to Join.

Gregor told me of the Fourth Blight; of how Tevinter and Orlais were affected little and so had refused to send aid to Antiva, Rivain and the Free Marches who were beset by the Darkspawn. He told me how ultimately, as it had been every other time before; a Warden, Garahel in this case, had gathered an army to face the main horde and defeated the archdemon.

He looked me dead in the eye, "Once you truly become one of us, remember this: You are a Grey Warden. Our sole duty is to safeguard Thedas from the darkspawn. We are not Fereldan, Orlesian or Antivan. We belong to no caste, or clan; we are Wardens. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice."

Hathak and Rordok listened in gravely, nodding at Gregor's words.

His words resounded deep inside me, each one carrying weight and strengthening my resolve. I had been ejected from my own world, but I would do all I could to protect this one.

"I'll remember." I promised him, clasping his arm.

"It is time." Duncan's voiced emanated emotionlessly from the corner of the room.

He led me to the room set aside for the ritual and I entered. Gregor followed closely behind me and blocked the exit.

Duncan spoke softly, articulating each word carefully, keeping eye contact with me while he spoke:

"At last, after having been with us for two months we come to the Joining. As you know, the Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when we stood upon the precipice of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered the taint."

He held the Joining chalice. "This is our source of power and victory. If you survive you will be immune to the taint, able to sense the darkspawn and, should the need arise, be able to slay an archdemon."

He nodded at Jacquelyn, "Only a few words are said prior to the Joining, but they have been said since our inception. Jacquelyn?"

From where she stood next to the wall she stepped forwards a few steps, until she was a pace away from me. She and Duncan inclined their heads. I did the same.

"Join us, brother. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and one day we shall join you." She intoned.

A pause, and then:

"Morcar, step forward."

I glanced between them and made my way slowly towards Duncan. My eyes flickered to Jacquelyn. I felt a sharp twinge of hurt as I saw her hand resting on her axe, ready to brandish it should she need to. Her face was cold; guarded. I tried not to take it personally.

This is surreal. This is it. No going back now, even if I wanted to.

Duncan held out the Joining chalice. I grasped the cold vessel.

Hesitating.

I grimaced at the noxious tonic, glanced up at Duncan's intense stare and lifted it to my lips. The dark liquid broiled, screaming of the taint. If I were sane, if I were normal, I would never have found myself here.

I drank. The foul concoction filled my mouth. I swallowed. Duncan took the chalice from me.

"From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

A stabbing sensation in my gut. It spread throughout my whole body. Molten fire seared through my veins. I was wracked with waves of excruciating agony, each one feeling like my head was being pulverised by a golem. My skin felt like it was liquefying. I saw black. Visions of legions of darkspawn flashed before my eyes, rank after rank of genlocks, hurlocks, sharlocks, and ogres. Deep below where even the bravest dwarves had dared to delve an Old God sang to me.

Duncan held his breath, praying to the Maker that he had not misjudged Morcar, that the lad would live to join their ranks.

Gregor and Jacquelyn hastened to move to Morcar and braced to catch him.

Morcar's mouth opened in a soundless scream. He began to collapse before he was caught and lowered to the ground gently. Duncan stood still. Jacquelyn's eyes were fixed on Morcar's chest. Gregor's foot tapped an anxious beat against the stone floor. Duncan slowly stooped down and put his fingers to Morcar's throat.

He waited; making sure.

He waited.

He was sure.

"He lives."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review!