Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to update this. I had my entire life uprooted, and it's just settled down recently. In answer to insane's question: the pairings for this fic are not set in stone as of yet. Feel free to make suggestions when you review. I can't promise I'll use them, but I will take them into consideration. As always enjoy. Much love to my beta for inadvertently reminding me to update! Reviews and constructive criticisms are adored, appreciated and considered.

Disclaimer: I make no money from this, bioware and ea, so leave me be.

~Scarlet

Part 1: Ostagar

Chapter 4: The Higher We Climb

"What do you mean 'taken'!"

The answer to Dylan's question was made self explanatory when an arrow flew past his ear. He cast a cold spell to kill the shooter as fast as he could, as they were already being charged by hurlocks. There had to be a more efficient way to do this. He felt the cold spell in his mind and mana, focusing and stretching the spell until he felt he had something.

"Ishafel!" he shouted as he opened his eyes, "get out of the way!"

She obeyed just as the sliver stream of frost shot out of his hands and staff. He smiled at his success; three hurlocks frozen stiff. Ishafel kicked the legs out under one and he shattered on the ground leaving a bloody mess of flesh and ice. Alistair and the guard managed to make quick work of the remaining two. A high pitch scream coincided with a flash of lightning.

"Shrieks!" Alistair shouted over the crash of thunder. Ishafel darted two and fro, staying just out of reach of the monsters' killer claws. The first died from Ishafel's dagger anchored in his darkspawn equivalent of a belly. The next from a vicious slash to the throat. The third had his head taken clean off. She hadn't noticed the fourth. Cleverer than his brethren, he had been the only one to take advantage of dark and shadow. He uncoiled behind her, claws high, ready for the kill. Ishafel slammed into the dirt below as the creature was taken off balance by Alistair's shield. She rolled out of reach as Alistair, Dylan and their new guard companion hacked and blasted the creature to bits. Good riddance. With the death of the too smart for his own good darkspawn, the courtyard was merciful quiet. Taking a moment to search the corpses and check their wounds, the four of them kept a watchful eye on the door.

"What happened?" Alistair asked as he patched a small but bleeding cut on his eyebrow.

"They- they just- they came from nowhere! right out of the ground!" The guard answered. Ishafel could hear the fear and exhaustion in his voice.

"Andraste's tits" Dylan swore under his breath.

They entered the base of the tower cautiously. Signs of battle were obvious. Snapped and charred wood was all that was left of the stately barricades the garrison had built to keep out intruders. The room was suspiciously quiet.

The room was a flat stone circle, connecting to a suite of hallways that led upstairs. In less threatening times it would be a short and simple walk to the other side, but the immovable fallen defenses turned the room into a maze. In addition, the walls did not quite connect to the ceiling, ideal hobby holes for archers. The more she thought about it, the more Ishafel was certain it was an ambush.

"Tread carefully" she whispered, sheathing the trusty Dar'misu for a slender bow.

Dylan looked at her, curious. He had heard, indirectly, of Ishafel's prowess with a bow. Although he had barely been paying attentionas he confronted what he considered in his mind 'The Jowan Incident'; the whispers, and in the case of certain eleven apprentices, the exclamations, that Ishafel was displaying her skills for the children had reached him. She was very popular in the tower, despite the fact that her stay had been brief. Alim and the elven apprentices had swooned over the idea of a elven Grey Warden, and a Dalish besides. He was quite certain that Ishafel had been the victim of many spy eyes spells that day. Half the tower had seen her shoot. However, the whole near week he had traveled with her, she had not once lifted a bow. Dylan was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the slender wire stretched out across the entrance to the barricade maze.

His ankle nicked the wire ever so slightly.

He was barely able to register it's touch before deafening explosions blossomed from every barrel in the room. With a not-so-mighty "Eep!" Dylan and Alistair went flying into the barricades. The fire blinded Dylan for a moment, but he could hear the darkspawn war cries singing around him. He reached out into the air for a cold spell to put out the fire and found nothing. The air was far too dry to support the spell. Changing focus, a lightning bolt snapped through the air, electrocuting whatever was trying to attack him. The world shifted back into focus, first in black and whites and then slid into color. The guard was fending off hordes of hurlocks and arrows rather poorly. Ishafel was shooting archers with a machine like ferocity, and Alistair was on fire. Literally. He pulled the stunned man off the barricades and patted down the fires that were being kindled by the small gaps in his splintmail. As soon as the man was sure he wasn't ablaze, He rushed into the fray. The battle ended quickly after that. They hurried through the burning maze into stone corridors flush with darkspawn. Hacking and slashing, they at last reached the stairwell to the next level. Something entirely unexpected was waiting.

Dylan let out an appreciating whistle as the four of them stared at the humungous hole in the floor.

"Take a look at that beauty" He gave a small kick to a bit of rubble at his feet, and they listened to in drop to the bottom. The plink took far too long for anyones liking.

"This must be how they got in," Ishafel murmured in thought, "This must lead to the Deep Roads."

"But why here?" Alistair asked, shaking his head. "There weren't suppose to be any darkspawn here!

"Be sure to tell the darkspawn that." Dylan chuckled ruefully. "Besides, Alistair, I thought you wanted to be in battle."

"Yes, but, well... I did say that, didn't I? Let's get that beacon lit, I'm sure we've missed the signal by now."

Ishafel kept an ear to the stone as they moved. The darkspawn on the second floor were not as cautious as those on the first. The subtle vibration was usually a good warning and allowed them to kill the darkspawn as quietly as possible until they reached the long hall before the suite of rooms that lead to the third floor. It was crawling with genlocks. They would be overwhelmed before they managed to break though the line.

"Is there a way to lure them out in small groups?" Dylan whispered to Ishafel. She had taken point, her slight frame allowing her to hide behind the thin pillars in the hall without being seen. She scanned the area, there were cages lining the walls. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. Were those humans in there? No, she realized, moving from one column to another to preform a closer inspection. They were mabari! Her eyes searched the room until she found what she was looking for. She was going to have to be quick about this.

A genlock threw back his head and bellowed as she darted out of her hiding spot. Throwing herself forward she put all her weight onto the switch that released the cages. The mabari poured out like a purging flood, overwhelming the darkspawn. Dylan, Alistair and the guard cleaned up the last of the stragglers. A furry, barking mass encircled Ishafel, yapping thanks.

"Thank you," She said solemnly to the pack of dogs, "you should probably get out of here."

There were more yips, some short barks but none of the dogs moved to go.

"We have no time to waste, we must go." She moved toward their goal and the dogs followed.

"I think this is their way of telling you they're coming too." Alistair chuckled moving along side the Mabari mass. "Isn't that right, boys?" They all barked together in what could certainly be taken as a confirmation.

"They are war dogs" Dylan pointed out; "They have to be as least as good as Alistair."

"Hey!"

"They're not soldiers, they're dogs." There were a few flattened ears at that comment. "They were brought here in crates. They did not chose to be in the battle."

"They didn't cower when you leased them on the darkspawn, did they? They've made their choice; as do we all." Dylan replied, scratching the nearest mabari behind his ears, the dog craned his head appreciatively.

She shrugged, and they continued forward. It was a much easier trek with a fleet of mabari at their side. They demolished the third floor, then the fourth, then the fifth. The last set of stairs was so covered in darkspawn, it was as though the were climbing up corpses, not stairs, to get to the top. Alistair slipped and fell backwards down the pile more than once. They tumbled through the wooden door at the peak of the stairs at last with the remaining mabari. The door had been barricaded. Surely the men up here had been able to defend themselves, surely...

Ishafel froze in horror.

"Andraste's grace..." Dylan breathed.

Around them the mabari whined, howled and barked nervously pawing on the stone.

"What? What is it?" Alistair said to the backs of his two companions, before looking up.

"An ogre? How..How'd that even fit through the doorway?"

The remaining men in the tower were dealing with a truly monstrous creature. Ishafel was only about the size of it's shins. Dar'misu for teeth and hammers for arms, the ogre was possibly the most disgusting thing Ishafel had seen in her entire life. She experienced the same chill of fear that she had in the cave, where she had fought the bear with it's insides out. The men around it died like ants being squashed by small children for fun.

The Ogre roared and charged. Ishafel was stuck in place, like a deer caught in torchlight, eyes wide.

"Ishafel! Ishafel, move!"

A explosive force at her back slammed her to the ground. It was followed by a gnarled cry. With Ishafel knocked out of the way, the ogre had threw itself into Alistair. Luckily, his shield had been up, sparing him the painful experience of being disemboweled. Ishafel recovered her wits enough to bury her dar'misu deep into the creature's shins before scrambling out of the way. Dylan circled, keeping himself out of reach of the ogre; which would have been a small comfort, except he was beset by three genlocks. Where were all these darkspawn coming from? The only entrance was practically blocked. He managed a feeble, but efficient lightning spell that pushed them back but it did not cause as nearly as much damage as he would like. He felt the burning tingle in his forehead that heralded mana exhaustion. He had never casted without a rest for so long before. Teeth sunk into his arm as a fourth genlock popped out of shadow. Reeling, he tumbled over backwards. A head flew off the nearest genlock and a shield bashed into the other two, holding them at bay. Glancing up at the genlock savaging his arm, he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and drew on the last of his reserves. The genlock froze in place and lost most of his teeth as Dylan ripped his arm free. Giving the creature an almighty shove, he didn't need to look to know that it lay in pieces on the floor. Alistair gave him a rueful smile as him finished off the remaining genlocks and tossed him a vial.

"You might need this."

He looked down at the glowing blue in his hand. Lyrium potion. Dylan silently thanked all the stars in the sky. Finally, a templar when you actually needed one! He chugged the potion in one go. It wasn't a lot, but he wasn't going to argue as he felt the mana replenish in his veins. He wheeled towards the the ogre, ready to do his part.

Ishafel maneuvered quickly in and out of the area around the creature's legs, harrying ankle and knees. A swipe of the massive arms almost knocked her off her feet, but she managed to swerve away at the last moment. Their solider friend was not so lucky. With a sickeningly triumphant roar, the ogre griped the man by his torso and shook him hard. Two of the remaining Mabari threw themselves at the creatures arm but were shook off violently, flying into the wall to meet their deaths. Roaring again, The ogre ripped the man in two. Outraged, Ishafel slid across the floor, grabbing her dar'misu from the ogre's leg. It reached for her and she plunged her dagger into the palm of his meaty hand.

It was the opening Dylan was looking for. Dropping his staff, he felt the current build through out his entire body before releasing it in a blast through his hands. The massive burst of electricity wrapped itself around the dagger, conducting the magic through the ogre. It let out a small moan and stepped back. Ishafel seized the opportunity. She launched into the air and slammed her weapon into the creature's chest over and over, using her dagger to scale his body. He toppled to the ground. Not skipping a beat, she sheathed her dagger in the ogre's skull, causing instantaneous death. There was no moment of triumph, however. As her blade hit bone, an almighty pain slashed though her chest. She was not surprised to find the vicious head of a barbed arrow pointing out from her armor. Two more followed it in quick succession. With a small cry, she slid to the ground. Her head contacted hard with the top of a fallen iron torch, flame still burning, knocking her unconscious. Her hair crackled and was aflame instantly. Dylan rushed to his companion, screaming to Alistair to light the beacon. He put out her hair and dragged her away from the fire, looking in consternation at the burns and the arrow wounds. His back was turned to the doorway, so his only warning before the knife hit was Alistair screaming.

And then there was nothing for him.

Nothing at all.

The music washed over Ishafel like the tide, overwhelming then retreating, Overwhelming then retreating, back and forth, back and forth. It was calling to her, but she couldn't move. Groggily she tried to make sense of her surroundings, it was so dark. She had to go. She had to go to the music, deeper into the dark. She struggled against her bonds. A voice cut through the dark like a twig snapping in a quiet wood.

"Oh no, you don't!" it barked, followed by the smell of woodsmoke and herbs. It was soothing and demanding at the same time, pulling her back from the dark. She gave up and slipped away from the music, into what she was sure would be Fa'lon Din's hall.

It was a welcome relief.

When you do not expect to open your eyes again, it comes at quite a shock to be able to. Nursing a roaring headache that announced very clearly that he was not dead. Dylan came to in an unfamiliar place, but not to an unfamiliar face.

"Morrigan?"

"Ah, not too much damage, I see." He gold eyes appraised his face. "You were incredibly lucky. If the blade of that throwing knife had hit your skull instead of the hilt, you would be very dead."

So that was the cause for the monumental pain at the back of his head. There was a godawful smell in the air, right in front of his nose. He looked down to see his arm wrapped with bandages and herbs. Hesitantly, he tried to move and almost vomited for his trouble.

"Easy now. Mother's only just finished with you." Her head inclined towards the old woman they had met in the clearing. She stood over the bed, chanting, and spreading herbs on top of a prone body. The unfortunate victim gave a very feminine cry. Ishafel.

"Isha-" He shifted again, and Morrigan pressed him back on to his cot. "Sleep"

There must have been magic in her touch, for his mind turned off instantly.

He didn't even dream.

When he woke again, natural light poured down on to his face from the window, and the birdcalls did not make his head throb quite as much as they could have. Morrigan and her mother were gone, but he could hear low voices outside the hut. He tried to right himself and this time was successful. Giving himself a moment, he noticed their was still an occupant on the bed. It took him a moment before recognizing Ishafel. There was no longer a black curtain of hair obscuring her face. It had been cut away, brushing just above her earlobes now and throwing the tattoos on her face into sharp relief. Stepping closer to her, he could see a bandage over her shoulder. He leaned in to check the wound.

"If you are well enough to move around, then you should at least have to common sense to leave an injured person alone."

He whirled around and almost fell over. The wizened old woman seemed merely amused.

"Do not disturb her, she has only recently fell into a true sleep. Come outside, there is much to talk about."

Dylan did as he was told.

It was firelight and the soft rustle of sheets that woke Ishafel. She found herself staring up at Morrigan.

"Your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."

"I remember you," Ishafel told herself more than the woman in front of her. "The girl from the wilds"

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way."

She tightened the bandage around the wound and Ishafel fought the urge to wince. Morrigan raised an eyebrow, but continued.

"How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?

All Ishafel could salvage way the face of the dead ogre and the shock of the arrow through her chest.

"I remember being overwhelmed by the darkspawn..."

Morrigan tied off the bandage with a flourish.

"Mother managed to save you and your friends, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you all live."

Ishafel breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling was short lived.

"The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred

There was a swift, wrenching feeling in her chest. King Cailan. Duncan.

"Your friend... he is not taking it well."

"My friend? You mean Dylan?"

"No, the suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before. Alistair, I believe. Though the other is not taking it much better. They are outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke.

Ishafel took a deep breath and then another. There was only a twinge of pain in her chest. Still a moment more in bed would do no harm.

"I have some questions" she asked the witch, "If you don't mind."

Morrigan looked understanding, a new feature in her so far thorny personality. "I do not mind, take your time."

"Are we safe here? Where are the darkspwan."

"We are safe, for the moment, mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away. Once you leave it is uncertain what will happen. The horde has move on so you might avoid it.

"How did she manage to rescue us exactly."

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from the tower. It was perhaps fortunate that the red haired one passed out with you in his arms. Otherwise, she might not have gotten to you."

"Why save us?"

Morrigan frowned "I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing. I would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you."

Ishafel frowned back at the woman. "Were there any other survivors?" Duncan had to be alive. She just couldn't picture him dying on the battlefield. He couldn't have taken her from her home only to leave her without any direction. He wasn't allowed to just die and leave her here like this.

"Only stragglers, long since gone. You would not want to see what is happening in the valley now."

"I think I've asked enough questions."

She shuddered and carefully lifted herself out of bed. She managed to put on the armor that Morrigan gave her without help.

Morrigan held open the door, "Speak with mother and then be on your way."

She stepped out into the evening light.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, the both of you." the old woman chuckled.

"You..You're alive! We thought you were dead for sure!"

Alistair gave her a bone and wound crushing hug that was incredibly painful but she appreciated the sentiment.

If Ishafel had been told two weeks ago she would be grateful to be hugged by a shem, she would have laughed for a month straight, taken a deep breath, and kept laughing.

Dylan gave her a tired, relived smile. Ishafel suddenly remembered Morrigan's comment; that she had been found in Dylan's arms.

Dylan turned looked out over the swamp of the Wilds to the burning glow of Ostagar.

"This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother we'd be dead atop that tower."

Towers seemed to be a real bane in his life. He would try to avoid them in the future.

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad."

"I didn't mean..." he began to apologize and then stopped, a puzzled look on his face. "What do we call you, anyway? You never even told us your name."

The old woman shrugged, "Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

Dylan's mouth dropped open, Alistair stared and Ishafel's palms itched for a dagger.

Alistair recovered speech first.

"The Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right- you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?

Ishafel offered up a silent apology, hoping wherever Daveth might be, he would smirk at it.

Flemeth wore a predatory smile on her face, but her answer was nonchalant.

"And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?

"If you're Flemeth, you must be very old and powerful." Dylan mused, clinically looking over the old woman. She laughed.

"Must I? Age and power are relative- it depends on who is asking. Compared to you? Yes, on both counts."

"Then why didn't you save Duncan? He is -was- our leader."

She shook her head. "I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later...in the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now."

Not a one of them said a word. Three stares, one of sorrow, one of doubt, and one of thoughtfulness looked unseeingly in different directions.

Flemeth eyed the trio with distaste. This was certainly not the auspicious beginning she hoped for, but she'd have to make due.

"It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did the change when I wasn't looking."

"Of course not!" Alistair snapped.

"We were fighting the darkspawn, lest you forget." Dylan reminded her.

Ishafel said nothing, she continued to stare the path leading from Flemeth's to the rest of the world.

"Do you want to run? It's what the rest of your people have done." Her head snapped up towards Flemeth. "The blight will be on you sooner than you think. Run all you like. I have no time for cowards."

Her eyes flashed angrily, "I'm not going to run away."

"Duty. They've beat that into you, have they? Good."

She scowled, "What I want to know is how you knew."

"That you wanted to run? Simple, you were looking down the path like a rabbit might when faced with a fox."

"Not that. You said the threat was greater than we realized, and then all this happens."

Alistair looked suspiciously at Flemeth, "She's right. You could be in- in cahoots!"

Flemeth merely looked annoyed at the accusatory stares. "Cahoots? Why? What would I gain from impaling myself on a blight that can't be stopped? I have already stated the obvious. I am more powerful than any of you, and that makes privy to things you are not. Sometimes I like to share," she chuckled, "and sometimes I do not."

"Leave her alone. Divination is a well practiced apostate art. It's just magic, Alistair." Dylan said absentmindedly. He was deep in thought, still staring out at Ostagar.

But Alistair wouldn't let it go. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Your father was bereft of brains too, but not by this much." She muttered. "Would you like me to elaborate for your friends?" She smiled at him like an alligator. he shut his mouth so fast his jaw hurt.

"Now, back to uniting the land..."

"The land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain." Dylan pinched his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "but why would he do it?"

"Now that is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the blight is an army he can out-maneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon" Alistair spat the word like a curse.

A great weight settled on Ishafel's shoulders and in her gut. She knew what she had to do, but she didn't like it, not one bit. She'd rather entertain foolish thoughts of going home to the clan in the free marches, than face the present. But the present would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later, and Mahariel did not raise cowards and deserters.

"Then we need to find this archdemon" She said with purpose. Alistair looked at her with that same almost pleasant look he leveled at her in the swamp when he thought she had gone mad.

"By ourselves? No Grey Warden has ever defeated a blight with out an army of a half dozen nations at it's back. Not to mention, I don't know how!"

Ishafel made a stabbing motion with one of her daggers. "See? simple enough?"

"And I was worried about you." Alistair muttered sourly.

" You don't how to kill the archdemon? Or how to raise an army?" Flemeth mused. "It seems to me that those are two different questions, hmm? Have the wardens no allies these days?"

"I-I-I don't know" Alistiar sputtered, it was a habit of his, Ishafel noticed. "Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Oralis had been called, but you can bet Loghain has done something to turn them around. Agrh, Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely!"

Ishafel looked from Alistair to Dylan and back.

"Arl Eamon? Is this someone important?"

"Cailan's Uncle." Dylan explained.

Alistair seemed to completely miss the question. He was thinking hard.

"I suppose, Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar. He still has all his men and I know him. He's a good man well respected in the landsmeet. Of course, we could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!" He

exclaimed.

"You think the Arl would believe us over the Teryn?" Dylan asked skeptically. "Surely there are other allies we could call on?"

"What about those treaties Flemeth gave us?" Ishafel ventured.

"See, there's a smart lass." As though she had been waiting the entire time for that conclusion

"Of course! the treaties! Grey wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves and mages and other places. They're obligated to help us during a blight!"

Alistair seemed to light up. Apparently he wasn't very good without direction, Dylan noted himself dryly, Maker help him once he got going.

"I may be old but dwarves, elves and mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else? That sounds like an army to me."

It almost sounded as though Flemeth was egging him on, but there was no harm in it that Dylan could see.

He turned to them excitedly,

"So can we do this, go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?"

Dylan shrugged his shoulders in fake innocence, "Why not? Isn't that what Grey Warden's do?"

Ishafel shot him a stern look, "I doubt it will be as easy as that."

Maker help him, he was going to have to teach this woman sarcasm.

Flemeth laughed. It sounded like rustling leaves and breaking twigs caught in a nasty wind.

"Ha, ha, when is it ever? So you are set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"As ready as we'll ever be." Dylan said nonchalantly. He had the funniest feeling he was about to be involved in one of the epic quests that Surana used to read to him when they were children. He always pitied those people, suspecting that it wasn't as glorious if you were actually experiencing it.

Ishafel said it best. "I'd be happy with just staying alive."

Both Dylan and Alistair laughed.

"Mm. Come to think of it, that would be nice."

"Now before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you..." Flemeth's voice trialed off as Morrigan reached them."

"The stew is bubbling, mother dear. Shall we have three guests for the eve or none?" She gave them a viperish look that stated her preference quite clearly.

"The Grey Wardens are leaving, girl..."

"Oh really? that's such a-"

"And you shall be joining them."

"shame- WHAT?"

Her surprise was not half a large as everyone else's. Flemeth just smiled knowingly.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears" she laughed. "Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have I no say in this?" She asked incredulously. Flemeth fixed her with a cynical eye.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance."

"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us..." Ishafel began. Flemeth cut her off sharply.

"Consider this repayment for your lives."

Alistair fixed Morrigan with a critical eye, in turn she raised an eyebrow at him. It was not promising.

"Not to...look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the wilds, she's an apostate."

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man," Flemeth said lightly, "perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken"

Ishafel held up her hands in acquiescence. "Very well, we'll take her with us."

Morrigan's glare was even harsher than her mother's.

"Mother... this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready-"

"You must be ready. Alone, these three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you they will surely fail, and all will perish under the blight. Even I.

Morrigan looked absolutely miserable.

"I...understand."

Flemeth turned her hawkish gaze back on the wardens.

"And you, wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."

"She won't come to harm with us." Dylan promised for all of them. He didn't know if it was quiet true, but he felt that is was best not to disappoint the lady.

Morrigan looked at them like they were pond scum. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

She came back far faster than anyone had expected. Even Ishafel, who was quite fond of packing light, would have to pack more.

"I am at your disposal Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. "Tis not far and you will find much you need there." She shot Alistair a withering glare in response to his sidelong inspection of her. "Or if you prefer, I will be your silent guide. The choice is yours."

"No, I prefer you speak your mind." Dylan said quickly. Ishafel concurred with a nod.

Flemeth chuckled. "You will regret saying that."

"Dear, sweet mother," Morrigan's voice had a caustic edge that Dylan could not help but admire. "You are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."

Flemeth was unscathed. "Well, I always said, if you want something done, do it yourself." her voice took on an annoyed tone "or hear about it for a decade or two after."

"Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire, I would hate to return to a burned-down hut."

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."

Morrigan looked stricken.

"I...all I meant was..."

Flemeth patted her shoulder, and for a moment they look just like any other mother and daughter making up after an argument.

"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear."

Morrigan took the lead, directing them to a little used path to the right of the hut. Ishafel could not be sure, she thought she saw wetness in the girl's eyes.

Probably just the light.