A/N: Sorry for the delay! I've been busy at school this entire week. Anyway, enjoy and leave a few reviews? I'd definitely appreciate it!

Chapter III: The Former Templar and the Witch

The journey to Ostagar had been presumably much more enjoyable, after the three mages had gotten to know Duncan a little better. At first, he had seemed rather intimidating, but in actual reality he was amiable and approachable—and was almost becoming a sort of a father figure to the three. He felt a little overwhelmed when Bethany had told him that during one of the nights at camp, but he eventually felt honored and looked out for them in every way he could.

That was why he felt particularly worried when he had told them to go off and look for Alistair on their own. With Garrett's wit, Duncan was afraid they might get into trouble even before they managed to see even a single darkspawn.

"What do you think this Alistair looks like?" Garrett mused out loud, walking alongside Bethany and Logan.

"Does it matter?" Logan asked, smiling slightly. "I'm just glad we're far away from the Circle. Well, besides some of the mages here. I just hope we don't run into them or else it'd be an awkward conversation."

Garrett grinned. "And of course, not forgetting our lovely Knight-Commander," he added sarcastically. "Do you think he misses us?"

"I think he misses the moment where he almost killed you two," Bethany interjected. "In any case, he's the least of our worries now." Garrett snorted—Logan knew that his cousin would kill to get one more chance at making Greagoir's life hell. While Bethany was the only one that had never wanted to offend Greagoir in any way, Logan and Garrett were the ones who constantly provoked the Knight-Commander and the other templars and mananged to cause them so much distress that one templar had even requested to be transferred to another Circle Tower in Thedas.

That was something both Logan and Garrett were very, very proud of.

They trudged through the reasonably flat terrain and passed by several soldiers, and Garrett noticed a few heads turning when Bethany had brushed past them. The soldiers seemed to be snickering and talking about Bethany—the look on their faces were unmistakable—and Garrett decided to turn around and give them something else to look at—something that wasn't Bethany.

"Keep your eyes off my sister," Garrett growled, advancing towards the Fereldan soldiers.

"What's it to you, magey?" one of the soldiers taunted, stepping forward until he was almost nose to nose with Garrett.

Logan and Bethany turned around and, to their horror, found that Garrett had managed to find trouble for himself yet again. Logan quickly rushed up beside Garrett and pushed him backwards gently, but his cousin would not budge.

"Come on, Garrett," Logan urged, "This is neither the place nor the time."

Garrett kept his eyes trained on the soldier. "When they're leering at my sister, I can't exactly help it, Logan," he growled, clenching his fist. Another soldier behind placed his hand on his comrade's shoulder and gripped it firmly, as though it was a silent warning.

"Angus, let it go man," the soldier said. "We should be fighting darkspawn, not each other."

"Listen to your friend," Garrett said darkly, "You wouldn't want to go up against a mage—or would you?"

Angus narrowed his eyes and seemed to consider his options, before eventually deciding to let it go. He would have to deal with this mage some other time—especially since he was backed up by two others. He let out a curse and stormed off, shoving Garrett aside roughly.

"I'm sorry about that," the soldier said, smiling apologetically, "Angus doesn't like taking shit from anyone, even if it's his fault."

Garrett crossed his arms and glared at the soldier. "Well, you just keep that conceited moron in check," he said warningly, "Or else you infantrymen will have one less sword arm to fight the darkspawn."

"Garrett," Bethany hissed, pulling her brother back a step.

"Calm down, sister, I'm not about to set anyone on fire just yet," Garrett murmured, with a small wink. Logan groaned, and decided to intervene before anyone else got offended. Garrett Hawke was never one to think before speaking—in fact, he never was concerned for the consequences at all, no matter how dire they may be.

He smiled briefly at the soldier before patting the man on the shoulder. "I apologize," he said calmly, "It won't happen again, I assure you."

The soldier seemed to relax a little. "It was no problem," he said, grinning back. "I guess we'll be seeing you on the battlefield later tonight, then?"

Logan nodded. "Maker be with you," he said. Garrett groaned and walked off first, with Bethany following behind him and trying to possibly dissuade him out of hunting down the soldier Angus and gutting him before the battle.

"And you, too." Just as the soldier was about to walk away, Logan suddenly thought of something.

"Say, do you know a Grey Warden named Alistair?" Logan asked. The soldier turned around, and then thought for a moment, closing his eyes and tapping his forehead lightly, before looking back at Logan with a warm smile.

"You're in luck," the soldier said, and pointed to the broken ruins just behind a group of soldiers praying. "I remembered seeing him walk over there with this other mage hounding him. He looked pretty annoyed, and I'm sure he hasn't come out yet."

Logan nodded. "Thanks."

Turning around, Logan could see Garrett and Bethany a distance ahead, and rushed up to them. "I know where the Grey Warden is," he told them, much to Bethany's relief. It turned out that Garrett had been planning to go after Angus after all.

"Great," Garrett drawled, rolling his eyes, "How convenient."

"Come on, Hawke, this is not how a Grey Warden should act," Logan said teasingly, punching Garrett lightly in the stomach and leading them north.

"We're not Grey Wardens yet," Garrett protested, "And besides, if I killed him before I became a Grey Warden, it wouldn't count. It'd just be a mage."

"A mage that would get executed," Bethany muttered, sighing exasperatedly.

Garrett chuckled. "I'd like to see them try, little sister," he told her confidently, "It'll take more than just some sword to bring me down. Remember when Cullen once attacked me because I was pretending to be possessed by a demon? I got out of it with just a tiny scratch."

Bethany groaned.

They walked through the entire camp as an oppressive heat hung in the sky, a somewhat omen to the hardship that was to come. Logan did feel slightly nervous about the battle, but knowing that he wasn't the only one fighting—that made him feel a little less anxious. He had never fought darkspawn once, but he had read up so extensively on the Grey Wardens that he had spilled over into the history books about the Blights, and was—despite his nervousness—looking forward to seeing his first real darkspawn up close.

They walked up a slightly steep slope—Logan noticed that it was actually marble rather than stone, but the years had probably stolen its grandeur and caused the smoothness to fade away, as were the pillars and broken walls of the ruin. He stood in the middle of the structure, in awe for a moment, before he heard two men scuffling just a few feet ahead of them. One of the men was obviously a mage, donning a senior enchanter's robe with a staff strapped to his back, and Logan noticed that he looked rather perturbed and resentful of the younger man that was talking to him.

The light brown-haired man had a rather bemused expression as he spoke to the mage, and sometimes Logan could see a mischievous twinkle in his eye as the mage became even more irritable as the seconds went by. It made him wonder if the man knew who he was offending and whether he had enough sense to know that the mage could easily end him right there and then if he went too far.

And yet, Logan couldn't help but feel slightly amazed at how much fun the man was having, even though they were on a brink of a new Blight.

"I don't care who summons me—I have no time for this," the mage said with a forceful tone, glowering at the man in front of him.

"But, you know, the Revered Mother—"

The mage groaned out loud and threw his hands up in the air in frustration as he stormed off, clearly having reached the end of his patience. Garrett snickered behind him as they watched the mage walk off in anger, and muttered something about the mage 'getting his smallclothes in a twist'.

Spotting no one else around, Logan assumed that this was the person they were looking for. "Are you… Alistair?" he asked, as they approached the grinning man. "We were sent by Duncan to look for you. I'm Logan Amell—this is Bethany and Garrett Hawke, my cousins."

"That I am. Pleased to meet you," Alistair said, chuckling, "You don't happen to be mages, do you?"

"Of course not!" Garrett piped, holding up his staff, "These are just walking sticks, really. What a pain."

Alistair smiled sheepishly at Garrett. "Great—two mages and a jester," he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wait—you're the new recruits, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I said Duncan sent us to find you," Logan said, tilting his head to one side and scrutinizing Alistair. The Grey Warden noticed Logan's scrutiny and scratched his head and grinned, as though that was the only response he could give to crawl out of awkward and uneasy situations.

"Sorry if you haven't noticed, but I'm a bit dense," Alistair admitted shamelessly.

Bethany giggled as she caught his eye, and he chuckled nervously before diverting his eyes back to Logan. "So, I'm Alistair—ex-Templar, Grey Warden—"

"You're a templar?" Garrett exclaimed, gawking at Alistair, "And here I was thinking that we could get along already!"

Alistair sighed. "Ex-templar," he repeated, emphasizing heavily on his position. "Which is funny, because I never really became an official templar or hunted any mages or anything like that—oops, sorry, sensitive topic," Alistair added, realizing that he was still talking to mages even after the previous enchanter left in a huff. He made a mental note to try and avoid offending more mages on the eve of the battle. "Anyway, if you have any questions, I'm here. If not, let's go back to Duncan."

Logan stepped aside. "Lead the way, Alistair," he said, smiling briefly for a moment.

"I can tell we're going to be going to be great friends," Garrett muttered to Bethany, "This man's like the brother I never had—only stupider."

"Don't be so horrible," Bethany reprimanded her brother, although she smiled when Alistair turned around with a lopsided grin on his face, making sure they were still behind him. "He's not that bad, Garrett."

"Just a few minutes and you already like him," Garrett sighed, "Well, I can't blame you. We've been in the Circle for so long and all the men you see are either old and wrinkly or young, nerdy and scrawny—"

"Garrett!" Bethany breathed, a horrified look on her face as Alistair had visibly caught wind of their conversation and turned back again, slightly intrigued and amused.

Duncan was by a large fire, where two other men stood beside him. Alistair informed them that they were also new recruits, which surprised Logan. One of them didn't look very willing to be there, and the other looked like he had something up his sleeve. He knew the Grey Wardens could conscript anyone, but he didn't expect the Wardens to be so open and magnanimous.

The sky was already getting darker as they surrounded the large campfire, the heat warming them as the night approached. "Good," Duncan said, "You're all here, then?"

"Yeah," Alistair said, glancing up at the sky, "Sorry I took so long—the Revered Mother sent me on one of her errands again."

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "She sent you the sass the mages, did she?" Duncan asked, looking slightly skeptical at the word 'errands'. He knew it was more than just a simple task, but even that didn't bother him much—what bothered him was that even though Alistair was no longer part of the templar order, the Revered Mother still persisted in using him, despite his clear loyalty and allegiance to the Grey Wardens.

Alistair shrugged. "He didn't complain to you, did he?"

"Let's just leave that for another day," Duncan groaned, gesturing for the recruits to come closer so he could begin briefing them. "Now, before we can proceed with the Joining—"

"What is the Joining, if I may ask?" Garrett asked, almost sounding serious—but Duncan knew better than that. If there was anyone he knew that couldn't be serious for more than an hour or less, it'd have to be Garrett Hawke. Luckily, his sister and cousin were present to keep him in check.

"The Joining is a secret ritual—something all of you will have to go through once you are done with this task," Duncan said, carefully choosing his words in case anyone else who wasn't a Grey Warden or a potential Warden walked past them, "The Wardens have kept it quiet ever since its inception, and I'm not about to break that tradition. Now, this task of yours will take you into the Korcari Wilds—a place I believe already filled with darkspawn scouts and stragglers from the main group—and you will have to retrieve five vials of darkspawn blood and the Grey Warden treaties a little bit west of here, in an abandoned Warden tower."

"Darkspawn blood?" breathed Bethany, "Is this necessary for the Joining?"

Duncan nodded. "Alistair will take the lead," he continued, "You are to follow his instructions no matter the circumstance. Understood?"

Alistair chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I like this," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, "I'm usually a follower, Duncan—"

"I'd lead the group if I could," Duncan said, sighing, "But the king has specifically requested my presence in his tent to discuss the battle plans with Loghain. As much as I know you hate this, you're in charge, Alistair."

The ex-templar groaned. "Great," he drawled, turning to the recruits as Duncan trudged off into the direction of the king's tent, "Well, let's get a move on then!"

Logan wasn't completely sure if he had confidence in Alistair right now, but what other choice did he have? If he was going to survive this ordeal with Garrett and Bethany, he was going to have to listen to Alistair and hope that the Joining goes well later that night.

Logan had read about darkspawn, yes, but he had never actually come into contact with a real one before. That was why his first encounter with several scouts left him slightly disgusted and shaken as their rotting bodies fell dead to the ground, with Alistair carefully extracting their blood into five small vials. He wondered how Alistair could stand the stench of the darkspawn, but he supposed that Alistair had been a Grey Warden long enough to be able to ignore it, even if Logan knew that the smell was going to stay with them for a while.

That was why it surprised him when Alistair turned back to them with a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, stained with little droplets of darkspawn blood. "You can never quite forget the smell," he said sheepishly, handing the vials to each of the recruits surrounding him, "I'm just trying to avoid it for as long as I can until the real battle starts."

"I don't blame you," Garrett muttered, cringing as he held up the vial. Despite the presence of a stopper, the stench of the blood was still sifting out. Logan put it away irritably—his nose was extremely sensitive—and tried not to think about what they were going to do with the blood later.

Trudging ahead, Logan could already see a distant structure—a fallen tower—and swore he could see several darkspawn moving about. Alistair placed his hand on Logan's shoulder, accidentally staining his clothes, and looked in the same direction. "There it is," he said, squinting, "I hope the treaties are still there… who knows whether the darkspawn grew some brains in the Deep Roads?"

"The Deep Roads?" inquired Logan, frowning, "You mean the darkspawn have been there all this time? Why hasn't anyone attacked them first?"

"That's a good question," Alistair said, grinning, "One I haven't had the guts to ask Duncan yet—he's all 'wait and see', if you know what I mean. Anyway, we wouldn't want to risk our declining numbers in the order, either. If we were a part of the Grey Wardens in the Anderfels, then I suppose we could have done something about their little cubby hole down in Orzammar."

After running into a few more groups of darkspawn, they finally reached the Grey Warden tower—or what was left of it. Logan walked up to the broken chest amongst the debris and knelt down to open it. He yanked it open and was surprised to find that it was empty.

Alistair didn't respond quite well to this. "It's gone?" he breathed, "How can it be gone? Duncan said it was still there!"

Jory swallowed hard. "Maybe some barbarians—"

"Well, well, what have we here?" a dark, sultry voice drawled, startling Logan, who stood up and drew his staff cautiously. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a woman stepping out of the shadows and turned to face her alongside Alistair, who was already in a defensive stance. "Are you a vulture, I wonder?" she said, her golden eyes meeting Logan's cerulean blue ones, "A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come in to these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Logan frowned—clearly, no one had bothered to tell them that the Wilds had inhabitants other than wolves and darkspawn, and yet he wondered how anyone would want to live in such a place.

"So, what say you, hm? Scavenger or intruder?" she probed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Logan gripped his staff a little tighter. "I am neither—the Grey Wardens once owned this tower," he replied, taking one step towards her.

The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. "'Tis a tower no longer," she said calmly, as though the six of them were of no threat to her at all despite their weapons drawn. "The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." As though a further challenge, the woman began to walk up towards Logan and then past him, stepping onto a slightly higher ledge, as if she was trying to hint at her superiority—as though she owned these Wilds, and continued, "I have watched your progress for some time—where do they go, I wondered? Why are they here? And now, you disturb ashes none have touched for so long—why is that?"

"Careful—don't answer her, she's probably Chasind," Alistair muttered to Logan, but was unfortunately not soft enough to escape the woman's ears.

"Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" the woman taunted, smiling devilishly at Alistair with a mischievous glint in her eye. The Grey Warden glared at her, but she paid no heed to him and turned to face Logan again, seemingly more willing to lay her eyes on Logan—because he was her prey? Or was it something else?

Alistair grimaced. "Yes," he replied with a begrudging tone at her mockery, "Swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!" Daveth said, losing his composure, "She'll turn us into toads!"

The woman scrutinized Daveth with a sort of disgust in her eyes. "Witch of the Wilds," she repeated slowly, curiously, as though she was trying to make sense of the name, "Such idle fancies, those legends—have you no minds of your own?" She looked away from Daveth and back to Logan and seemed to regard him with a little bit more thoughtfulness—if she was one who could be thoughtful at all. "You there, handsome lad, tell me your name and I'll tell you mine."

Logan raised an eyebrow as he reluctantly lowered his staff, sensing no danger from her for the moment. "Logan Amell," he said curtly, and as an afterthought, "Pleasure to meet you."

Garrett snickered. "Was that sarcasm?" he muttered quietly to Logan, who glanced back at him and grinned at the corner of his lips.

The woman smiled slightly. "And you may call me Morrigan," she said. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest—something that is here no longer?"

"Here no longer?" Alistair exclaimed, glowering in her direction again, "You stole them, didn't you—you're some kind of… sneaky witch thief!" Logan restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Alistair's feeble accusation laced with an equally stupid insult as Morrigan broke into an amused grin.

"How very eloquent," she commented dryly, "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily it seems," Alistair said darkly, "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

Morrigan's grin disappeared as she glared at Alistair, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them! Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish—I am not threatened."

Logan sighed. "Then who removed them?" he asked.

"'Twas my mother, in fact," she said simply, her annoyance fading away as she looked back at Logan. Alistair looked scandalized as she smiled briefly at Logan before reverting to an emotionless façade, offended by the differing attitudes that she had given to both him and Logan. It's not like I want some witch buttering me with her fake smiles, anyway, Alistair mused, She probably wants to kill us all… better be careful.

"Can you take us to her?" Logan continued, feeling that they were finally getting somewhere.

"Are you sure we can trust her?" Bethany whispered, looking worried.

Alistair sighed and shook his head. "Doesn't look like we have a choice, but be prepared for anything," he told her. "Honestly, though, I wouldn't be surprised if she just decided to put us in a pot and—"

"Now there is a sensible request," Morrigan replied, sounding rather pleased, "I like you."

Alistair let out a loud snort. "Yeah, yeah, we know how this game works," Alistair drawled, rolling his eyes, "First it's 'I like you!' and then zap! Frog time." Morrigan didn't seem to appreciate his imitation of a feminine tone and ignored him completely, hoping that after this, she wouldn't have to see the fool ever again.

"Come with me, then, and I will take you to my mother," she said, casting one last glance at Logan before walking off first to lead the way to their missing treaties.