AN: Back again for the first official chapter in the fic! Just a disclaimer, certain parts of the 'original' story-line will be changed. This is NOT to claim ownership of Dragon Age or any of its characters, but simply because this is my Warden's story (and sometimes I can't help myself, haha.) This is the life he has lived, and I will defend that. Otherwise, I'll try to update regularly. I look forward to hearing feedback from anyone who happens across this book!

HOMOPHOBIA AND RACISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. THANK YOU!

Chapter I- Lothering

"So this is Lothering?" Stryder said, raising an eyebrow. "I always pictured it larger."

Alistair stopped beside him, adjusting the straps that held his shield in place. He looked around. "So did these refugees, apparently."

Makeshift camps had been set up as far as the eye could see. The tents were battered and torn and each with at least three people inside. Those who remained outside by the campfires appeared haggard, as if they hadn't slept or eaten in days. The refugees watched them with equal parts suspicion and interest as their party passed by.

Stryder frowned, pitying them. These people must have lived in the villages outside of the Korcari Wilds, which would surely have been destroyed by the darkspawn by now. It had been a full week since the battle at Ostagar. But the Blight was spreading faster than any of them could have imagined.

And now, as one of the last Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden, it was his solemn duty to gather an army to stop it.

"D'you think they know who we are?" Stryder muttered to Alistair.

The man shrugged, glancing around. "Well, we might be able to blend in... but Miss Apostate over there sticks out like a sore thumb."

Morrigan glared at him, her yellow eyes narrowed. From their first meeting, Stryder couldn't help but notice how enchanting she was. Those plump, dark lips that seemed to tease him from afar, yet warning him from getting too close. She was dangerous, that much was certain; yet the air of mystique surrounding the witch made her all the more intriguing to him. But he was not fool enough to become enamored with her. Women like Morrigan were cunning; they played coy up until the exact moment a man was ensnared in their webs, and then they went for the kill.

Seeing as he had no desire to test his luck, he simply envisioned the possibilities rather than pursue them.

"Need I remind you, Alistair, that it was through an apostate's abilities your life was spared?" Morrigan spat icily. "Or perhaps 'tis easier for you to simply forget what you cannot comprehend."

"Oh, I get it. This is where you attempt to justify being a total b—"

Stryder held a hand up, interrupting them. "That's enough from both of you. You're drawing attention."

Sure enough, a tall and muscular man was pacing back and forth along the path into the town, eyeing them with some degree of interest. The flaming sword of mercy was emblazoned on the front of his armor, marking him as a Templar. Stryder had only seen Templars on the few occasions that some of the castle servants showed potential for using magic. They passed through without a word and collected their quarry, only shedding blood when they were met with resistance. The Templars always won.

He stepped in front of them, crossing his arms. For a moment, Stryder wondered if the man had overheard Alistair and Morrigan's conversation; but he seemed too distracted to notice the mage. Magnus stood at his master's side, ready to pounce on the Templar if he showed any signs of hostility.

"Lothering can't take any more refugees. You'll have to go elsewhere," he said brusquely.

"We're just passing through," Stryder replied with a polite smile. "Though a bit of rest and a mug of ale might hasten our return to the roads."

The man grunted. "I knew you didn't seem the type. Better armed than most of the people here, including us Templars. These poor sods have been flooding in over the past few days... they say darkspawn have been attacking their villages and farmsteads. Didn't believe 'em till I killed one myself. Nasty creatures, they are."

For a moment, Stryder considered revealing that he was a Grey Warden. They were, of course, accustomed to fighting the darkspawn; perhaps the villagers would feel more at ease with their presence in Lothering. Yet something one of the bandit lackeys they had encountered earlier was weighing heavily on his mind. The bandit had called them "king-killers" and looked at Stryder as if he had grown a second head. His instincts were telling him to keep his identity as a Warden secret, and his instincts were seldom wrong.

"We're heading north, ourselves. But with so little word on the Highway, it's impossible to tell which rumors are true..." he trailed off, allowing the Templar to think.

"There's a tavern here by the name of Dane's Refuge. Speak with Danal if you need information. Otherwise most folks look to Elder Miriam. Or Ser Bryant, I suppose; he's in the Chantry."

Stryder nodded. "Hmm. Alright, I believe I will. Thanks for the help."

The Templar stood aside to let them in. Magnus barked once, bounding across the town with his tongue lolling out. Stryder laughed to himself, quietly appreciating the mabari's happy-go-lucky nature. At least someone still found the ability to be happy during such dark times.

Since the day he had arrived at Ostagar with Duncan, he had attempted to focus his efforts on becoming a Grey Warden. Even in the Korcari Wilds, when he had found no sign of Fergus (save for a wounded soldier who hadn't seen his brother in days), he hadn't let the direness of the situation get to him. There was no time to properly grieve for his family, and he had made sure to keep his noble lineage a secret to both of his traveling companions.

The less questions they asked, the less he would have to think about it.

Suddenly, a small figure darted by, carrying a large amount of elfroot in her arms. She looked young, hardly a girl of eighteen, with pretty black tresses that trailed behind her as she ran. An angry-looking man with rather poor facial hair was following her, shouting curses at the girl as she fled. Stryder frowned, then purposefully stepped between the two. She stopped, breathing heavily as she clutched the plants closer to her chest protectively.

"Is there a problem, ser?" Stryder inquired, watching the girl from the corner of his eye. She didn't run away. That was a start, he supposed.

The older man couldn't seem to pick a person to scowl at. "That little wretch stole my merchandise, and I want it back!"

"I didn't steal anything. I told you I would pay for it later, but Elder Miriam needs this now," she piped up, her voice surprisingly steady.

The sincerity in her plea caused him to hesitate. Now was not the time to be fighting amongst themselves, especially with the Blight at hand.

He thought for a moment. The rogue had years of experience in persuading even the most stubborn of individuals to cooperate with him, and if he played his cards right, this merchant would be no different.

"Do you have any family?" Stryder asked, giving the man his most charming smile. "I couldn't imagine being a father in times like these. The things one would do to protect the people he loves."

"I... fail to see what that has to do with anything."

Stryder gestured towards the fields beyond the clearing. "Look there. I would guess over a hundred families have fled their homes to end up here. Surely just a few plants could be spared to help these poor souls? I'm sure they would be grateful."

He paused. Just enough to make him doubt himself, and no more.

The merchant hesitated, his anger dwindling. He scratched his excuse of a beard almost pensively.

"Hmm... fine. But make sure they know who helped them when they needed it most."

Stryder cast a glance at the girl and winked. A hint of a smile played on his smooth lips. "Oh, they will. I'm certain of it."

The man let out a loud harrumph, muttering something under his breath as he returned to his wagon.

Stryder breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, then," he began, turning to her once more with amusement gleaming in his blue eyes, "It's not every day I get the chance to help a pretty lady in need."

She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, which were a light shade of amber. She wore a red scarf around her neck, offsetting the fairness of her skin. "Oh? You think I'm pretty?"

"One would have to be blind to not see such beauty before them, truly," he said without missing a beat. "If I may ask, what is your name?"

"Bethany." She held the bundle of elfroot in one arm and extended her free hand gracefully. Stryder leaned forward and gently kissed the back of it.

"Charmed to make your acquaintance. I am Stryder, and these are my companions." he motioned towards the others. Alistair waved awkwardly, and Morrigan simply made a noise of disgust. Bethany reached down to pet Magnus, who was eager to introduce himself with a friendly bark and a few sloppy kisses.

"Our family has a dog. His name is Ghost. But you're much prettier... don't tell him I said that," she giggled.

"Magnus is quite good at keeping secrets, actually," he stated matter-of-factly, "You've nothing to fear."

"'The mabari is clever enough to speak, and wise enough to know not to.' Or so the saying goes."

Stryder smiled a bit wistfully. "Yes, I believe I've heard that before."

She opened her mouth to reply when she seemed to remember something important. Stryder noticed the almost-inconspicuous staff strapped loosely to her back. It was vaguely reminiscent of Morrigan's, who hadn't taken precautions to hide it from the locals. 'If they dare to approach me, then their own foolishness shall be their undoing, not I.' she had said. Still, he should have recognized that Bethany was a mage, for she could very easily have electrocuted him or frozen him solid under any other circumstance. The idea that he had let down his guard so soon was a bit... unsettling.

He would have to be more careful about that in the future.

"I nearly forgot. The Elder needs these for her poultices," Bethany said, gazing across the bridge cutting Lothering in half. Beyond that were more scattered clusters of people, both townfolk and refugees, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Sometimes their eyes would wander towards their party, and then the whispers would continue.

Ah, typical. I suppose they'll mug us later. Stryder sighed inwardly, then grinned at the mage. "Perhaps I could be of service?"

She handed him the herbs.

"Such a gentleman." she said. "My brother would like you."

She began to tell them about her siblings. One of them, her twin, had gone to Ostagar with the king's army. They hadn't heard from him since the battle. Stryder nodded sympathetically, an image of Fergus flashing in his mind. He felt a deep pang of sadness upon realizing his own brother had probably met a similar fate in the Wilds.

"You got a bed for the night? You taken care of...?"

A bout of wheezing coughs snapped him out of his thoughts. "W-what?"

The old woman in front of him looked exhausted. Her white hair was pulled back with only a few loose strands to betray how busy she had been before their arrival. The lines on her face were quite deep and gave her a permanent frown, yet her eyes were bright and razor-sharp.

"Elder Miriam, here's the elfroot you needed," Bethany answered kindly. She took the herbs back from Stryder and gave them to the old woman.

"I can't thank you enough, my dear. So many have come to me with injuries and sicknesses, but there's been so little to go 'round... this should give them a speedy recovery, Maker willing."

Bethany looked at the ground, giving a sheepish laugh. "Actually, it was thanks to my, er, friend here that I was able to get them at all."

"This charming young lad?" she raised an eyebrow, breaking the frown with an odd smirk. "Oh, yes. I see. A friend, indeed."

"It's not like that!" Bethany shook her head, blushing a bit. "I mean, we hardly know each other."

"Of course, dear. I won't tell your mother." Elder Miriam turned her scrutinizing gaze onto Stryder. "As for you... well, thank you. The world needs more of your kind to protect it nowadays. Especially Lothering."

Stryder gave a respectful nod. "I would like nothing more, however I'm afraid we'll be moving on shortly. There's something my friend and I have to do."

He and Alistair exchanged solemn glances. Soon, things would become more complicated than the occasional bands of darkspawn or bandits. Part of Stryder was eager to test his skills against greater threats, but he also loathed the thought of being one of the only people in Ferelden who could end the Blight. Terrifying, yet thrilling.

"Well, in any case, we'll be staying at the tavern for a bit," Stryder continued. "Traveling would be difficult on an empty stomach."

Bethany sighed quietly. "I suppose I should go back home, then. Mother hasn't been well since the teyrn's men first came to town. I expect they'll be drinking themselves silly, by now. Good luck and be well... Stryder."

"And the same to you, Lady Bethany."

She left after a quick, clumsy curtsy and set along the path towards the outskirts of the village, her face bright red. Stryder excused himself from the Elder's presence and began to stroll towards the inn. The sign read 'Dane's Refuge' and looked ready to fall at any moment onto the nearest passerby's head. A clamor of loud voices could be heard from inside.

"Alright. Spill your secrets. Where did you learn to do that?" Alistair asked him, pure amazement written all over his face.

"Do what?" Stryder replied with a wolfish grin.

"Y'know... that. Seducing women..."

"I would hardly call that seduction. It's not as if I bedded her," he scoffed. "Wait... don't tell me you've never flirted before?"

Alistair's sudden lack of clever responses almost made Stryder laugh aloud.

"Surely you can't be serious! Ah, but if you've never flirted, then I suppose you've never..." he snickered.

"I don't want to talk about it," his fellow Grey Warden muttered, and that was the end of the conversation.

They entered the tavern, watchful of the swarms of people crowded inside. No doubt some of them were skilled pickpockets; Stryder himself knew enough about thievery to understand when someone was an easy target. His hand moved over the hidden pocket underneath his armor where he carried his coin purse. It was safe enough for the time being. He noticed suddenly that the refugees and townsfolk around him had parted to let the small party pass. There was fear in their eyes.

"Well, look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed."

A self-important man clad in newly polished armor was smirking at them. More soldiers from around the tavern began to form a tight half-circle around him. A few of them struggled to leave their seats, stumbling over to join their leader, who also appeared quite intoxicated. Looks like someone's had a few too many, Stryder thought, somewhat amused.

"Uh-oh. Loghain's men." Alistair said, turning to Stryder with a worried expression. "This can't be good."

Another soldier in splintmail stepped forward. He seemed somewhat sharper than the rest. "Hmm. A rogue with long black hair and a tattoo on his face who reeks of noble arrogance. Didn't we spend all morning looking for a fellow by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen him?"

The soldier commander's face darkened. "It seems we were lied to."

Stryder was about to respond when a pretty girl with fiery red hair stepped in. She was wearing the clothes of a Chantry Sister.

"Gentlemen, surely there's no need for trouble," she said smoothly, glancing between the two groups, "These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

"They're more than that!" the commander snapped. "Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."

"Hold on, now. What makes you think we're traitors?" Stryder challenged, crossing his arms.

The Sister turned to him and spoke quickly; her accent was rather curious, he thought. "Teyrn Loghain claims the Grey Wardens betrayed the king... or hadn't you heard?"

Stryder grunted. "I suppose I was hoping people wouldn't be foolish enough to believe the rumors. Once again, it seems I am disappointed."

"Enough talk. Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way!" the commander barked, drawing his sword.

"Right." the younger soldier nodded. "Let's make this quick."

Instantly, the tavern erupted into battle. Alistair let out a war cry and charged straight into the soldiers, remarkably fast despite his size and heavier armor. He carried his shield with skill and struck with precision as if it were a part of his own body. Morrigan was having immense fun shooting fireballs at the men, laughing as their screams filled the room when metal armor turned white-hot against skin. The smell of burning flesh and spilled blood was pungent.

It didn't escape Stryder's notice, however, that the Sister was holding her own against two of the warriors. She was sporting a rather wicked looking dagger, slashing at them and dipping out of reach with ease. She was merely toying with them. A most uncommon skill for a woman of the Chantry, yet it was...

Impressive.

Steel rang on steel as Stryder took down a few of them, letting his dagger slip into the weak spots between plates of armor. He wouldn't kill them, not yet; just enough to gravely injure them, and if they proved to be a real threat, then finishing the job would be easy. His face stung a bit as something hot dripped down his cheek. He was vaguely reminded of the sparring matches his family used to hold in Highever. Fergus was a warrior, a true terror against real enemies, but he was no match against his little brother's graceful maneuvers. What the rogue lacked in strength he more than made up for in cunning. Agile steps and quick thinking were what made him a formidable opponent.

Stryder snarled as he rushed the commander, dodging blows from the man's sword as it came swinging over his head. It seemed the soldiers had given up on taking him as prisoner.

The sword came crashing down, barely giving him enough time to roll out of the way. The blade lodged itself into the wooden floor with a thwack and refused to come loose, despite the man's attempts to remove it from the floorboards.

The rogue pushed all of his weight into the next blow. He braced his shoulder and rammed into the commander. The man's head snapped upwards as he was thrown across the room from the sheer force behind the move. His now severely crooked nose was gushing blood, coating the lower half of his face. The man howled a string of curses before Stryder was upon him again and he was fighting for his life.

As the commander's last ally fell unconscious, he threw his weapon to the ground and scowled. "All right, you've won! We surrender!"

"Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now." the Sister remarked, sounding irritated.

"Then let's get something straight. The Grey Wardens didn't betray King Cailan," Stryder growled, aching to punch something. "Loghain did."

The commander glared at him. "I was there! The teyrn pulled us out of a trap!"

"The teyrn left the king to die," he retorted.

"The Wardens led the king to his death! The teyrn could do nothing!"

But Stryder's patience had reached its limit. In one swift, fluid motion he had knocked the commander to the ground and held him at sword-point. The man's eyes met his disbelievingly before he realized that the tip of a longsword was a hair's breadth from his throat. He gulped. There was complete silence in the room, the tension palpable as everyone watched the Warden rogue.

"Take a message to Loghain." his voice was harsh and unforgiving.

The commander nodded, careful not to provoke the Grey Warden's fury. "W-what do you want to tell him?"

Stryder grinned, but there was no humor behind it. He laughed mirthlessly.

"He'll have to do better than this."

AN: Well, there you have it! I actually didn't expect this to be such a long chapter, but I'm pleasantly surprised at how much I was able to write. Sorry that most of this was dialogue, but I felt it was necessary to bring Lothering into the story seeing as it's the first place you go after becoming a Grey Warden and starting your quest to save the world and all that. Plus it was an excellent opportunity to begin working on character development without rushing too far into the plot. Anywho, I'm gonna rest for a bit, cause I'm currently battling a headache and nausea.

THANK YOU FOR READING, AND I WILL SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!