Thank you for your reviews and favorites. I don't own Dragon Age, etc. etc.
Catherine spared a final glance for the Circle Tower as she reached the top of the small hill that lead away from her sheltered life. It looked so powerful and ominous, looming in the middle of the dark, chilling waters of Lake Calenhad, surrounded by fog and bathed in streams of silver moonlight. Wholly unwelcoming and without a doubt completely terrifying, especially for the children being dragged there.
"We must move quickly; the darkspawn are already massing in the south." Duncan's warm, solid voice pulled her attention back to the road ahead.
She nodded and the Grey Warden immediately set a harsh pace; Catherine needed to take two steps for every one of his long-legged strides. Duncan kept his attention firmly on the path laid before them, his mouth and eyes creased with heavy tension. Catherine was much the opposite; as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep herself from taking in the scenery with a child-like wonder. The sound of birds, the colors of the leaves and the bark and Maker even the sodding dirt was interesting in its own way.
Duncan had said it was 'summer' currently, in one of the multitude conversations they had during their hike; she had heard of seasons before, of course, but seeing it first hand was incredible. Her savior seemed to be a wall of infinite patience and understanding; Catherine bothered him with questions like 'What's that tree called?' and 'Why does it smell so much out here?' and, her favorite: 'Why don't more people wear robes, Duncan?'. The man just smiled and answered: 'Those are pine trees, most of Ferelden is covered with them due to the colder climate.' 'We just passed a farm, Catherine.' and of course 'Not everyone appreciates the fashion statement, I suppose.'
Eventually she fell into a thoughtful silence, mostly for Duncan's sake, allowing the rest of the day to pass uneventfully. They traveled through first night and well into the next before he decided it was time to make camp.
It was incredibly odd for her to feel so inept; she'd always been the best when it came to, well, anything at the Tower and now all the sudden she felt like some bumbling fool who was more than a little slow, staring at the material to construct a lean-to as if it was waiting for the opportune moment to attack. Her feet and legs were aching in places she didn't knew she had and she was one bug bite away from throwing a tantrum complete with foot stomping and petulant tears.
Her eyes followed Duncan intently as he went about digging a pit for the campfire and gathering twigs. When he finally reached for his flint and tinder, Catherine decided she could finally be useful and muttered a few arcane words; in an instant there was a small, well-controlled fire.
Duncan chuckled, eyes gleaming in the orange glow. "Irving said you had remarkable discipline; I'm glad to see he wasn't blinded by his care for you."
"I may have been his pet but I damn well earned the respect I got from him." she snapped.
He threw a few more sticks into the flames before turning to work on the lean-to. "Quite the temper, though." he said matter-of-factly. "That will help you against the darkspawn, at least."
Catherine "hmph"ed and crossed her arms under her breasts, eyes narrowing. "Not that I don't appreciate you rescuing me from that phallus-shaped stone prison," Duncan coughed to cover a bark of laughter, "- nice to see you Wardens have a sense of humor, by the way – but what, exactly do you expect me to do against the darkspawn? You do realize I've never killed anyone... anything before, yes?"
The man was quiet for a good while, twisting the poles of the lean-to into the hard ground. Catherine fidgeted, sitting down on a nearby log to keep herself from pacing; he had to be testing her, she just knew it. The dull noise of a foot tapping on loose soil was the only audible sound as Duncan secured the ties of the doeskin, pulling the lean-to taunt.
After he had smoothed out a bedroll under the slanting cloth, he turned back toward her, mouth barely quirking up; it was a sad excuse for a smirk, but it was one.
"Interesting," was all he said.
Catherine's teeth ground roughly on one another as she glared daggers at her rescuer-turned-tormenter. She thought she had escaped from old men who enjoyed making her life miserable.
"Maker has a sick sense of humor." she muttered angrily under her breath, wrapping her arms about her midsection.
"I believe you're a bit too young to fully understand the Maker's humor." Duncan replied.
Her lips curved into a wicked grin. "Yeah? Well you're a bit too old to have such a nice ass. Didn't stop you."
She heard sputtering laughter from across the fire; she mentally patted herself on the back. "Irving did warn me about that sharp tongue of yours." he said.
"Okay, you don't honestly expect me not to do something with 'tongue', right?" Catherine teased as her grin widened. "I doubt he gave you the full run-down of what my tongue is capable of."
The Warden cleared his throat and she heard more than saw him rise and shuffle about somewhere near his creation.
"As tempting as that may be, Catherine," he said as he walked over to her, "I have something for you, from the First Enchanter, actually."
Her brow knitted together. "Oh?" He handed her a tome and went back to sit by the small campfire.
She recognized the book – the grimoire; it had been in Irving's office when she had spoken to him of Jowan's plans. Maker, they were probably the same books her friend learned from!
"Do-" her voice caught. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Do you know what this is?"
"I have my suspicions, yes, but since I can't read ancient Tevinter..." Catherine heard his armor squeak in a shrug. "Technically I have no idea what it contains."
Absently, her fingers ran along the leather spine of the grimoire; the door to Blood Magic laying in her lap.
"So," Catherine began, a bit hesitant, "I take it I passed your test, then?" Her palm ran across the undecorated cover and patted it tenderly. "You trust me with this; would encourage me to go down this path?"
Duncan was quiet for a moment before answering. "We must do whatever it takes to combat this Blight. Blood magic is dangerous in the wrong hands. Do I believe yours to be such hands?" he paused thoughtfully, "No. You are powerful and even arrogant but I do not believe you to be cruel."
Her grip on the grimoire tightened. "I'm not cruel? You were there for what happened to Jowan. I--"
"You did not turn him in out of cruelty." he said firmly, cutting her off. "You made a decision, and a difficult one at that. That is what the Wardens must be capable of if we are to defeat the darkspawn." There was a long sigh and another gap of silence. "Friendships rarely outlast the brutality of pragmatism. You did what was needed; there is no shame in that."
Catherine swallowed thickly and nodded to herself. Taking a deep breath, she slipped the grimoire into the pack Duncan had provided her, cinching it closed again afterwords.
"Get some rest." Duncan murmured. "I will keep watch tonight; I need you at your best and the pace will be much the same, come morning."
She replied to him with a groan and promptly collapsed onto her bedroll, and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
It took them two days to get Ostagar in their sights and by mid-day on the third, they had arrived.
The crumbling architecture of the old watch post probably should have been impressive, but Catherine just found being surrounded by more stone and towers to be irritating beyond measure.
As she and Duncan made their way towards what she assumed would be the main camp, they were cut off by a small army of guards and a rather handsome man at the forefront in shining, golden armor.
"Your Majesty." Duncan bowed, but sounded about as aggravated as she felt. "I was not expecting--"
"A royal greeting?" the (apparent) King interrupted with a wide smile. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"
Duncan forced a smile. "Not if I could help it, your Majesty."
The King scoffed, waving a suitably regal but dismissive hand. "How many times have I told you? It's Cailan. Cai-lan." he drew his name out slowly as if he were teaching it to a particularly slow child. "No need to be so blasted formal all the time, Duncan."
It was the Warden's turn to grin. "Of course, your Majesty."
Cailan rolled his eyes before locking wrists with him in way of greeting. Catherine was watching the exchange with no small amount of amusement when the King seemed to finally realize she was there.
"And who do we have here, then?" Cailan queried, eyes shamelessly raking over her form. "I had heard that you were bringing a new recruit with you, my friend," he turned to look at Duncan, then back to her, "surely this glorious creature is not she?"
Duncan had begun to introduce her when she decided to grab the reigns snap the horse into a full-on gallop.
"I am Catherine, your Majesty." she wrapped her tongue around his title sensually. "A mage." Catherine held out her hand and smiled brilliantly, while bestowing his body with a similar appraisal.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, breathing a kiss upon her knuckles but lingering far longer than he should have. Duncan cleared his throat and both parties withdrew with knowing glances.
Cailan cocked his head. "The Wardens could certainly use the firepower. I take it you'll be supplying us with spells when the battle starts?"
"Of course." she said in a servile tone. "I am sure I could supply you with any manner of invocations that your Majesty might," her tongue darted out to wet her lips, "desire."
His face turned a lovely shade of pink at that, and she bowed as Cailan attempted to regain his composure.
"I-ah. I'm sorry to cut this short, but I must go. Loghain is eager to bore me with his strategies." Cailan explained, annoyance evident.
"Your uncle sends his greetings," Duncan quickly added, "and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."
The King scoffed. "Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against the monsters so far, and tomorrow will be no different."
Catherine's face scrunched lightly in confusion. "I didn't realize things were going so well."
"I'm not even sure this is even a Blight!" Cailan said sharply and obviously disappointed.
The mage just shook her head and firmly ignored the rest of the conversation, crossing her arms over her chest and putting on her best 'this is so stupid' face; she had no desire to listen to a man willing to act as if war is some giddy walk through a park. The King mentioned something about a search party and left – though not without a quick wink in her direction, one she did not return. Duncan was clearly not amused in the slightest.
"We have enough animosity towards us without you openly flirting with the married King." he stated in a measured voice.
He motioned for her to walk with him and she obliged, feeling suitably chastised for once in her life; she kept her head down and clasped her hands in front of her in an attempt to look at least somewhat penitent.
"The King doesn't seem to take the darkspawn very seriously." she pointed out.
The statement, oddly enough, seemed to calm Duncan a bit. "True." The man stopped and grasped her firmly by the shoulders.
"Listen to me carefully: while Cailan does not completely understand the threat we are faced with, he is our strongest ally in Ferelden." His eyes narrowed. "Do not jeopardize that with your antics. Am I understood?"
Catherine's eyes went wide and she hastily nodded; he nodded in return and patted her shoulders before releasing them.
"Good." he said approvingly. "Also, you should know... the junior Warden in charge of looking after all the recruits is – or was – a templar. He's by no means a zealot but..."
"But he's been brain washed by the Chantry his entire life and will see me thoroughly maimed if I practice blood magic around him." she finished for him.
"That's the gist if it, yes."
"Sodding wonderful" she seethed. "I mean really? I get out of the Tower – something no one believes possible – and immediately get saddled with a templar?"
Duncan's mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Adapt." he said it lightly, but it felt like a command.
"Alistair should be around the ruins someplace." Duncan continued his walking, gesturing slightly. "Take some time to rest, but I ask that you find him and the two other recruits soon; the Joining must take place tonight."
The Warden gave her a farewell bow that she returned and she watched him stride across the bridge that lead into the central part of Ostagar.
Adapt.
The word kept playing over and over in her head; that was exactly what she had to do if she wanted to survive. The Circle Tower was static. This outside world was not.
A Grey Warden. You are a Grey Warden, Catherine. You're going to kill darkspawn and no one is going to tell you to take it easy. Don't muck this up, girl. Be strong.
Catherine squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Her eyes locked on the billowing smoke from the campsite, watching it as it rose and dissipated into the increasingly stormy-looking sky.
Determination shone in her chocolate eyes and she nodded to herself, confidently following Duncan's path further into Ostagar. She wouldn't throw this chance away.