Author's Note: Maker, for such a short chapter, this was hard to write. Sorry if it seems subpar compared to the rest, I've felt a little disconnected lately, but decided to go with it anyway, in the hopes that getting past this part would help. Please, let me know what you think of the story so far. I'll try to get back to any reviews and advice and suggestions are always appreciated!

Chapter Four: Seems Like Fate

Even though I had never called Loghain 'Pa', it worked to push him back to sentient speech. Large, armored hands clenched impotently at his sides as the wheels in his mind started turning at a fast and furious rate.

"You... Rowan. What are you doing here?"

"The same thing the rest of you are. Getting ready to fight darkspawn." I really wasn't trying to be an ass. It just happened that way.

"I meant," his jaw snapped shut with a click of his teeth and he let out a slow breath. "I meant, how did you get here? We already had mages here, how did you get from the Circle?"

"Duncan. He went and got a few more mages. I volunteered." I looked at him, trying to figure out which emotions were from shock and which were genuine. "You haven't seen or heard from me in over a decade. Don't I merit a better welcome than this?"

My father had never been a demonstrative man. One had to know him to pick up his affection, his praise, approvals, and even his smiles, since he so rarely did so outright. They had to be found in the color of his eyes, whether nearly the silver of a misty moon or color of a steel sword, a dry turn of phrase, an odd gift or more often a test, or subtle suggestions. So, no, I hadn't for one moment expected a hug or a kiss on the cheek. No, then I would have been convinced my father had gotten soft or senile or both in his years. But maybe I had thought he would sound a little more relieved and warm, wouldn't be standing with a stiffness that spoke of a rabid internal debate, and with a dash less of the offended, 'why are you here'.

Maybe I hadn't expected him to stare at me like a stranger darkening his doorstep while he was, in essence, everything I remembered.

It seemed I'd done a stellar job keeping my hopes down.

My question silenced him for a moment, however, and finally the knot in his back seemed to loosen and he cleared his throat, unable to meet my eyes as he said, "You're right. It's been a long time. Have you been well?"

Small talk. Wonderful. "I passed my Harrowing. I'm not sick often. I excel in combative magic and spells, but can't heal or use trap spells without a nasty backfire." I shrugged. "What are you asking to hear with that question? That I've missed you, Gwaren, and even Anora? That templars are pretty damn scary to a little girl, and most still aren't all that great to a nearly grown woman?" I was on a roll now. "If those are the kinds of things you're going to ask, how about you let me go first? How's it been without me? Have you missed me, thought about me? Do I have a half sibling to replace me as heir? Am I still your daughter, or just the nameless 'Circle mage'?" My voice cracked on that last one, but I hurriedly steadied it. This was a man to show no weakness in front of. He would jump on it like a wolf.

So disguise hurt as anger. And that's what I did.

Loghain didn't answer any of my questions. Just as well, I guess, most of them where a little rhetorical. He just shook his head, bringing his hands up to message his temples.

"You shouldn't be here," he said grimly. "You're not taking part in the battle."

"You think?" I asked coolly. The words were out of my mouth a split second before I remembered that this was Cailan's trusted general. He could very easily decide where he wanted to put me when this upcoming battle hit. And I highly doubted this was the kind of thing Cailan could step into without making himself look really bad.

I stiffened and met his gaze. "What is it to you if I'm in the fight or not? If the darkspawn aren't stopped here, odds are I'll die eventually. I say, better to die here, sooner, fighting like a Fereldan, than die running back to the tower like a frightened child.

My father pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Go. I'm not using you in the battle. I have no use for you. This discussion is over with."

Yeah, it was. And the whole thing had been an utter waste of time. I stormed out of the tent and brushed past the guard, who looked surprised that the woman he assumed to be 'with' the king could be in a temper like that of a dragon.

At least I wasn't spitting fire. I had the Circle and their discipline to thank for that.

Was my father really that ashamed? I'd told Cailan that I had known he wouldn't necessarily be thrilled to see me. I understood that a lot of people didn't trust mages to control their magic and to keep away demons. I understood that, because of this, he wouldn't necessarily like having a mage child marring his reputations publicly. But this was a war camp, far away from the arls and banns of the Bannorn, and I had come to see him privately. I wasn't after my inheritance, Maker, I wasn't looking for him to announce me to Ferelden like some sort of noble debutant, I'd merely hoped to find my father and speak to him. I'd wanted to see that I still had family, like any other person in Thedas.

Now he had denied me that peace of mind, and, for some spiteful reason, he was going to keep me away from the fight, and, as soon as he could manage it, most likely find a way to get me back to the tower.

I was not going back to the tower. I didn't care if that meant slipping off into the Wilds to join the Chasind, either to die at their hand or be assumed dead, or jumping off that bridge into the gorge and making that theoretical death a reality.

I wasn't sure if it was last night or this morning that I had officially made up my mind, but I'm pretty sure that conversation with Wynne had been the catalyst. When I'd chosen to fight fate and see what happened, it meant I no longer intended to be collared and oppressed. I was going to be an equal, and I was going to prove that I wasn't afraid of templars or anyone else, even if it killed me trying.

My father included.

Now I had to find a way to stay here. A way that didn't involve crying to Cailan. I had no interest in abusing the only family member I had that actually seemed to like me.

But Maker, did that leave me short on options.

My feet had carried me blindly into the heart of the soldiers' camp. I guess with my armor the guards posted just assumed I was one of the men. Huh. Maybe that would be a good solution, to lose myself in the faces of the other soldiers and slip among their ranks. Loghain couldn't tell me what to do if he couldn't find me.

Was I really going to play seek and find with my father, like I was six again?

Frustration was fast building into a headache and twitchy fingers. If I kept a lid on it for too long, I'd be burning tents down. Fists clenched, I lashed out and kicked a rock, cuffing it clear off the ground and sending it flying.

A second later, I heard the clank of stone on metal, the hollow ring of a shield.

"Whoa! Sorry! Having a bad day, are we?"

My head snapped up to see a young man standing with his shield raised, presumably to deflect any more flying pebbles I sent his way. It was a templar shield, but, oddly enough, he wasn't wearing the templar armor. He had short blond hair, spiked up at the front, and big brown eyes the color of chocolate. Like a puppy's.

Some of the anger ebbed. Something about his tentative smile – and the way he refused to put the shield down, as though he expected me to unleash a hail of rocks at him – made me feel a little guilty, even if my attack had been accidental.

"Yeah, you could say that," I agreed, crossing my arms. "You can put that down. I was just letting off some steam, I didn't know anyone was standing in fallout zone." I offered him a brief smile. "I'm Rowan."

"Alistair, of the Grey Wardens." The young man grinned, then slipped his shield back across his back, to accompany his sword. "I'm currently their newest recruit, although we've got two more here waiting to be... Uhh... Tested." He quickly changed the subject, as though he had gotten too close to mentioning something he shouldn't have. "I joined six months ago. Where do you hail from?"

"The Circle of Magi." It was the least painful answer I could give.

Well, for me anyway. Alistair flinched. "The Maker must have made sure you winged that rock at me then. Mages never have liked me." At my raised brow, he quickly hurried on to explain. "Duncan recruited me from the Denerim Chantry. I was about to take my final vows as a templar."

He still looked nervous, but I had already made up my mind about him. Would-be templar or no, he did remind me of a puppy. Hopeful, loyal, and basically one of the only things still right in this world. Honor and civility practically radiated from him, and civic duty was his native tongue. But, for my own entertainment, I gave him a once-over anyway, rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm... To be completely honest... Alistair, wasn't it? I think you'd have made an awful templar. You should thank Duncan when you see him."

Yeah, that caught him off guard alright. His head jerked up and he stared at me for a moment before breaking into a grin. Someone who recognized my jokes? Maker be praised!

"You're telling me," he replied, a laugh apparent in his voice. "I was sent to scour the pots more times than I can count. And that's a lot, I can count pretty high."

I grinned, tension leeching from me like water from a rusty pail. "I guess you're happy to be a Warden then, aren't you?"

"Thankful and proud," he confirmed, bobbing his head. "Wait... Are you that Circle mage that Duncan was talking about? The one who reminded him of a Warden friend of his over in Weisshaupt? That's right! That's why your name sounded familiar."

"He was talking about me, was he?" I felt a little embarrassed about that, but I didn't let it show. Who did I remind him of, I had to wonder. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Depends on how you define 'bad'." Alistair moved closer, seeming to decide I wasn't going to attack again. "He said you'd probably make a good recruit, though. As of now, we don't have any mage Wardens. He wanted to invite you to join us, but he said something about some... Complications?"

If I had to guess, the big, looming complication here would be Loghain.

"Become a Warden?" Maybe I'd just found a way around him. And a spiteful shot at his distrust. He didn't like the Grey Wardens. I remembered him ranting about it before I was sent away, that they had returned from Orlais and that they were here to weaken Ferelden. I didn't believe it. Everything I'd ever read about them said that they were, essentially, everywhere and had only one mission: To stop Blights. Duncan had said that they swore no fealty to a lord, so why would his paranoia have any weight?

It didn't. But as a Warden, Duncan would have the final say on what I did here. Not my father.

"What if I said I was interested? In becoming a Grey Warden?" I asked Alistair cautiously. "Would it be too much trouble for Duncan?"

"If you're sure about this, I can take you to talk to him about it," Alistair replied. "We need the recruits, he's been worried about that. I think he would take you. You just..." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Becoming a Grey Warden isn't something that can be undone. It's a lifelong commitment. If you don't feel like fighting darkspawn until the day you die... Go back to the army."

Again, that pained look that said he'd talked about more than he should have. So, the Wardens had secrets, did they? Fine. I would accept that. If it was what I had to do to be useful and to keep my freedom, then so be it. The chance I'd gotten back at the tower might have been unexpected, but now that I'd grabbed hold, there was no way I was letting this go without a fight.

"I'm sure," I told him.

Alistair led me through the camp to the Warden's area, which seemed even shabbier than the regular army encampment, made up of tents that had obviously weathered many storms and traveled many miles of rough terrain. The faces around us were rugged and scarred, rather like the tents, but stoic under an outer light of camaraderie as they talked and laughed together. The Warden texts I'd read had often called them brothers in arms, and here I could see it. Family, belonging, the closedness of a circle of men that plainly said that only those on the inside really understood. Yes, Alistair had been lucky. The templars at the Circle had been nothing like this.

Maker, most of the mages at the Circle had been nothing like this, joined together in one prison and one dual gift and curse or no. I'd found exceptions with Jowan and, if he could have kept out of trouble and stayed at the tower for more than a week, probably Anders, but for the most part, being in the Circle was an every mage for himself experience. It was all about protecting oneself from the templars, making sure he had nothing they could threaten him with.

Within the walls of Kinloch Hold, the innocent little 'thing' I had for Cullen was a huge risk I was taking. In comparison, people out here took their relationships for granted.

Duncan stood beside a large campfire, arms crossed over the breastplate of the strange contraption that was his armor, staring into the popping flames.

"Duncan," Alistair called, moving forward to stop a few feet from his Commander. "I brought someone who would like to talk to you."

Duncan looked around to me, standing at Alistair's shoulder, hands on my hips. Took in the cocky stance, the wry grin on my lips. "Did you give up on the army already, Lady Rowan?"

"Just Rowan, please, Ser Duncan." The dry tease over my heritage didn't sit well. I hoped no one ever called me 'Lady' again. "And more like I had a talk with my father. It seems the army has no use for someone like me." I tilted my head. "Do the Wardens?"

"You wish to join the order?" I could almost see Duncan's gaze sharpen in curiosity as he turned to face me fully, strands of dark hair that had slipped his ponytail framing his temples. "I warn you, this is not a path for the faint of heart. It is a dangerous one, and one you will walk for the rest of your days. It may, in fact, even come to define you more than your magic."

"I'm sure. If this is what it'll take for me to be useful, then I am willing."

"You may never be able to return to the tower."

"And that's a loss?"

"Nor will you be able to return home."

"Gwaren? Please, Duncan, we both knew that was never happening."

The Warden Commander looked at me for a long moment, considering my response carefully before finally nodding.

"Alright. You will take the Joining with Ser Jory and Daveth. When the time comes to prepare, I will tell Alistair and we will begin," he tacked on an afterthought. "You should go collect your things. Alistair will help you get a tent and get settled into our camp."

Wynne was sitting on her cot when I slipped back into the tent, knitting something with pale yellow yarn. I nodded to her when she glanced up at me, but when I grabbed my satchel and old tunic the click of the long needles stopped as she scrutinized me in earnest.

"Where are you going now?" she asked. "Surely you aren't fool enough to try to run away? Those woods are thick with darkspawn, Chasind, and beasts. You wouldn't last out there alone."

Not about to admit that I had indeed thought about doing such a thing, I tied my satchel back around my waist, stuffing the old shirt back inside. "I'm joining the Grey Wardens. Their Commander is having me move into their camp."

That didn't seem to be an answer she'd expected. White brows rose and lips painted a stately pale red thinned in thought.

"The Wardens. That is quite the commitment. Are you certain you're up for it?"

If I wasn't, it seemed it was a little late to be regretting my decisions now. I gave Wynne a tight smile. She seemed a decent enough woman. Decent enough that I wished she had been my mentor at the tower. I could have done with some exposure to her kind of patient guidance.

"Maker be with you, Wynne. I'll see you on the battlefield."