CHAPTER 7

"It's not fair, not fair, not fair!" Briar's mind raged as she and Alistair stared down at the battle raging hundreds of feet beneath them. After all they had been through, after all she had been through, for things to end this way?

The past twelve hours flashed through her mind. The Joining, poor Daveth had not survived it, dying mere seconds after drinking from the chalice. Ser Jory, panicking and dying on Duncan's blade, Duncan who had whispered 'I am sorry' even as he took Jory's life from him.

How scared she had been as Duncan had approached her, holding out the chalice that offered only death, whether it be instantly or thirty years from now. She had drank of it and succumbed to the pain that racked her body, certain death was taking her too.

She had survived, much to her surprise, greeted to Duncan and Alistair looming over her. It had become apparent then just how deep Duncan's grief had run at Daveth and Ser Jory's deaths. The relief in his eyes when she opened hers...

He had then explained why the Joining was so secret, explaining the need to maintain that secrecy, why he had killed Jory.

She had understood, even if it hadn't eased the pain at their passing. A phrase she had heard Duncan use suddenly took on new meaning for her with this understanding.

"At all costs, by any means necessary."

She understood.

During King Cailan's meeting, she had listened to him and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir argue heatedly over battle plans. Loghain was frustrated with King Cailan's constant talk of the Grey Wardens and glory.

Briar had understood that as well, knowing that while ending a Blight was the Warden's ultimate task, there was no Archdemon present and in this situation, it was the soldier's who would win the battle.

Soldier's and a well laid plan.

Which was why she and Alistair along with one of the Circle Mage's and a guard they had picked up along the way, were now at the very of of the Tower of Ishal. They had battled darkspawn and then finally an ogre to make it to the top when the pyre waited to be lit, they hadn't expected any darkspawn, having been reassured that the tower had been made safe.

They now stood side by side, hands gripping the stone ledge that ran about the outside of the tower, watching the battle rage on. It was easy enough to see that the darkspawn were winning even though by now, Loghain should have been bringing his men into the fray, turning the tide.

"Not fair, it's not fair!"

"My Lady!"

She whirled around in time to see the mage cut down by darkspawn arrows, her reaction slow, still in a daze. Briar could hear Alistair letting out a primal scream of rage beside her but couldn't do anything, all she could think was:

"It's not fair!"

***

"I see you've awakened."

Briar hadn't even opened her eyes yet, her mind stumbling over an excess of thoughts. How did she yet live? What had happened in the battle? Where was Duncan? Alistair? The voice continued talking, grating on her harshly. She recognized that voice, she just couldn't place it.

Finally, Briar cracked one eye open; the harsh yet beautiful features of a woman a few years older than her coming into focus. "You're the girl from the Wilds." She finally whispered, prying her other eye open.

"Yes, I am Morrigan."

Briar frowned, pulling herself into a sitting position and pushed away the thin blanket that covered her. She was inside what she assumed to be Morrigan and her mother's hut, it was small and every available space housed something. Nets, lures, traps, books, pots and pans. Spices and meat hung from the ceiling.

It was sweltering, the fire that was positioned in the center of the room was emanating enough heat to service two huts at least.

She realized she was wearing nothing but her underclothes, bandages running over her shoulder and across her torso. Hesitantly, she ran her fingers over the bandage, struggling to remember what had happened.

"The darkspawn, what happened to the darkspawn?" She near shouted when the recollection came slamming back into her full force. She and Alistair had lit the pyre, they had watched to see what would happen only to find themselves under immediate attack.

Darkspawn had swarmed the Tower of Ishal, surprising and then overtaking them. The last thing Briar remembered was seeing the Mage, she had never asked his name much to her regret, fall under a volley of arrows, then the arrows were almost upon her...

Morrigan considered her thoughtfully, running the tip of a finger along her bottom lip. "You were injured," She said finally. "And Mother rescued you, do you not remember?"

"I... I remember lighting the pyre," Briar began slowly, trying to piece together what had happened; her furrowed creasing in a frown. "Alistair and I were looking below, it seemed that... that the darkspawn were overcoming the King's men and then, then we were attacked. Darkspawn... One of our companions went down, I saw arrows and then... then nothing."

"Yes, it was a rather close call, but Mother managed to get you and your... friend, out of there just in time. But what is important is that you both live."

"And the King? Duncan?" Briar wasn't sure if she wanted to know, feeling like she already did and the pain in her chest was constricting; making it hard to breathe.

"The man who was to answer your call for help quit the field." Morrigan said emotionlessly, her face neutral. She didn't derive any pleasure in this but it didn't really bother her either, that much was clear. "The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred."

The grief Briar had been managing to constrain was threatening to overwhelm her now. Her family had died... poor Daveth and panicking Ser Jory... King Cailan, woefully oblivious and child-like King Cailan. Duncan... steadfast and so there, not Duncan... She could feel the pain beginning to lap at her heart, easing itself into her and drew in a shallow breath, the last of her carefully hidden grief and guilt were finally breaking free of the walls she had built around them.

"Your friend," Morrigan said slowly, watching Briar carefully, her tone still carefully neutral as she took in the play of emotions on the other woman's face, how she struggled with her inner turmoil. "Is not taking any of this well."

Even though she already knew, deep in her heart, Briar forced herself to ask: "And the King? The other Grey Wardens?"

Morrigan was mildly impressed at how mention of the woman's companion had seemed to stiffen her, force her to shove aside her own emotions and calm herself; this was a good trait to possess. To be able to control every aspect of yourself, even those which were hardly controllable, especially in the face of such pain and adversity. "Dead, they are all dead."

Briar nodded stiffly, her jaw locked as she began the slow and mildly painful process of getting out of bed; feeling the physical pain receding as she moved to a bearable dull ache. Once more she forced aside everything else, knowing her grief could be vented in the days to come, there were no shortage of enemies to take all her pain out on.

"You companion is veering between grief and denial."

She nodded again; reaching for her tunic, her fingers brushing over the fresh needlework. It registered that the hole caused by the arrowhead had been mended, surprised to feel a surge of hot tears pricking her eyes as she fingered the delicate stitches. "Thank you, Morrigan." She whispered, her voice harsh with the emotion she was working to stifle.

"I-" Morrigan sounded unsure of herself, for the first time since Briar had met her. "You are welcome, Warden." She watched in silence as Briar stiffly managed to pull on her leather breeches, making no move to help her when she reached for her armor.

Briar simply nodded.

***

Alistair stood with his back to the hut; his hands dangling listlessly at his sides as he stared into the murky pond water. The early morning light was dull and muted, the sun never truly pierced the swamps of the Korcari Wilds, but he barely noticed anyway.

"I should have been there," Was all he could think, his fists balling almost painfully. He had stopped pacing maybe an hour ago, having near screamed himself hoarse as he denied Morrigan's mother's claims of what had happened, even though he knew deep down that she spoke the truth. "I should have been with them."

Behind him he heard the crone's grating voice: "See, you worry to much, hear is your fellow Warden."

Briar... Alistair quickly turned around; his eyes raking over her to confirm that she was actually there, unharmed and alive. He didn't know her very well or the circumstances of how she had become Duncan's recruit when he had only hoped to leave Highever with Ser Gilmore but she had a connection with him. She was the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden, the only other person who could fully appreciate and emphasize with his pain, if only on a tiny scale.

"You," He whispered harshly. "You're alive. I," He let out a short laugh, there was nothing happy about it. "I thought you were dead for sure."

All Briar could do was shake her head, trying and failing to offer him a reassuring smile. Her mouth simply wouldn't curve the way she wanted it too.

Alistair didn't notice, shaking his head and brought his hands up uselessly only to drop them again. "This doesn't seem real." He said, still in a whisper, looking away from her and back to the pond. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I'm not present, lad." The crone scolded gravely.

"I'm sorry." Alistair apologized, shifting to look at her, his head hanging ever so slightly. "I, I didn't mean... But, but what do we call you? You never gave us your name."

She considered it, considered them before shrugging her bony shoulders. "Names are pretty but fairly useless, especially here." She said finally. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, I suppose that will do."

That seemed to bring Alistair out of his despair, shock taking over his features. "The Flemeth? The Flemeth of legend?" His voice took on a hushed, awed tone. "Daveth was right."

Briar could do no more than simply listen, feeling like nothing would ever surprise her again.

"You're- you're a witch of the wilds, aren't you?" Alistair breathed.

Flemeth arched an eyebrow; her narrow face cold as she regarded the former Templar. "So I know a bit of magic," She said crossly. "It has served you and your companion well, has it not?"

Briar listened as Alistair asked why Flemeth hadn't saved Duncan, and Flemeth's answer, feeling a little better when Flemeth turned the conversation from what had happened at Ostagar to what was yet to come, to what they had to do yet.

They still had the treaties, they still were Grey Wardens, they still had a job to do.

All grief would wait. The Blight wasn't going to stop itself on account of two mortal's pain.