Title: Campfire Conversations

Author: Divine Dark Angel

Summary: A Dragon Age Origins-based series of one-shots and short-chaptered stories based around the original character Arya, a warrior of the Dalish who was chosen to become a Grey Warden and, eventually, the Hero of Fereldan. It is a mish-mash of prequel-story-sequel to the events of the game, since I could not quite get over some of the plot bunnies that have plagued me since I completed the play-through. This is my first foray into the DA genre, so please forgive any minor issues with Codex. I will do my best to keep all of the facts as straight as I can. I am writing this mostly for my own pleasure, and if you enjoy it as well please review and tell me so!

Rating: Anywhere from K-M, rating will be posted on the top of the story.

Pairing: Arya x Alistair (I can't help it, he's so damn perfect!)

Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to and are copywrite of BioWare. The recognizable plot items and other such things are also copyrighted to BioWare. I am simply playing in the rich world they have created for us.

…..

Title: Witch of the Wilds

Rating: T, for language, murder, and hints of adult situations

The Young Warden was not pleased when they returned to camp and Arya swerved away from the healer's tent and towards the rough kennels set up to house the ill hounds. She approached the hound master and spoke softly with him. Hearing his reply, she reached into her pocket and produced the flower she retrieved from the wilds and offered it to him. His profuse thanks was evident on his face as he spoke with her, and her tender gaze moved over the panting hounds in a tentative hope. The hound master spoke to her again, and then shooed her off towards the healer's tent with a smile. She bowed slightly to him and made her way over to where the healer's had placed their tent.

Alistair sighed and made his way behind her. She was taken quickly to one of the cots and sat down on it while she waited. He had helped her replace her upper armor out in the wilds before insisting they return to the camp to get her arm looked at. The look of sheer frustration she had shot him made him smirk at her as she marched back to camp with her spine ramrod straight. He knew that she wanted to complete the other task that Duncan had given them, but he was more concerned with getting her joined and getting her taint under control. He didn't want to even think about the risk they were running if the joining didn't work for her, knowing that they would have to…..no. She would survive the joining and be his fellow, he would accept no other outcome.

Grinning at her he plopped down next to her on the cot and started unbuckling the straps of her armor. When she jerked away from his hands with a scowl on her face he lifted them up in a sign of surrender, "Just thought that you'd rather have my help taking that bit off before the healer gets here and cuts it off. Don't mind me, I'll wait."

Arya stared at the strange shemlen Warden before relaxing slightly and shifting back into her original place, "Thank you she-Warden. I appreciate the assistance and my armor does as well."

Alistair grinned at her again and lowered his hands back to the buckles holding the gambeson on her shoulder. He slid the supple leather out of the metal buckles, marveling at how soft the leather felt under his fingers. The set of armor was obviously well cared for, though old it was polished and rubbed with oil to prevent it from making noise as she moved. He reverently set the piece down and moved to the breast plate, his fingers brushing her sides as he slid the straps out of their moorings. She shivered, inhaling sharply when he worked the breastplate free and set it down.

"Oh! I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" His warm eyes, so unlike those of her people, moved over her with concern.

"I am fine Warden, thank you for your help." Arya found that she couldn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on inspecting the binding on her arm as the healer came back into the tent.

Wynne cleared her throat and glared at the two young people sitting on the cot, "And what have you two been up to that requires a healer's care? I thought you supposed to be watching the recruits young Warden? Not leading them off to be slaughtered by darkspawn?"

Alistair cleared his throat and looked at the floor, not looking up at her. He felt Arya tense beside him before her voice snapped out into the chill of early evening, "The Warden did as he was ordered mage, there's no need to reprimand him for my errors. IF you must scold someone, you may address me."

Wynne stepped back in shock for a moment, the force of the young elf's glare driving her backwards. Setting her mouth in a firm line, she met the younger woman's glare with her own and stepped forward to untie the makeshift bandage and inspect the gash. "No need to be rude young lady, I was simply asking. I'll have this settled momentarily and you can be on your way back to getting yourselves butchered like pigs at market."

Arya bit back a retort as a sting of healing magic smacked into her arm. She grit her teeth, knowing that the mage was repaying her earlier tone with painful healing now. Locking her jaw and staring hard at the tent pole in front of her helped, but when she felt the tentative brush of fingers over her own clenched fist she locked eyes with the young Warden next to her and found there a much better relief than the tent pole. It lasted much longer than she would have expected, the pain not easing even after the mage lifted her hand. Arya stiffly inclined her head in thanks and gathered her discarded armor as she stiffly walked out of the tent towards her own smaller tent over on the Warden side of the camp. Alistair trailed after her, watching as she retrieved a lighter set of armor from her storage chest and donned it. Her fingers fumbled the tiny latched on the sides and he moved forward to help her without thinking about it.

It was a testimony to how badly her arm hurt that she didn't protest his help and instead allowed him to finish his task quietly. Turning to him, she pinned him with her vivid green eyes and informed him in no uncertain terms that she was going after those treaties and he could come or stay here. Alistair laughed and trailed her back to the gates, waving over the other two recruits to join them. Her look of brief disgust flitted over her face before she disappeared out of the gate.

Arya was getting irritated. Her arm still hurt from the mage's gentle ministrations, those two bumbling idiots were jabbering behind her like two old hens, and she felt watched. Oh, she knew the Warden was watching her, but this felt different…..more cautious than Alistair's open gaze. She scanned the tree line for any movement and caught a fleeting shape out of the corner of her eye. She heard the two buffoons behind her exclaim and brought her wavering attention back to the road. Seeing the remains of what had to be the fort, she moved into the clearing to see a shattered chest in the back corner. Picking through it, she found that it was empty, whatever treasures it held long gone. Turning to consult with Alistair about their next move she heard a female voice begin to speak from behind her and whirled to face the new comer.

The woman before her seemed young, perhaps in her twentieth summer. Black hair pulled up into a disheveled bun, indecent robes baring more skin than they hid and baubles circling her neck like a magpie. She tilted her head and asked again, "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

Arya felt the recruits bristle, one of them muttering about something called a witch of the wilds. Considering, she replied "I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower, I am here to reclaim something we have lost"

The mage tilted her head and replied, "Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

"I am called Arya. A pleasure to meet you," Arya, having learned nothing but that shemlens responded best to politeness and found it was no different with this strange shemlen. "Would you please return the treaties to us?"

"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." Morrigan smirked, "'Twas my mother in fact who removed them. I can take you to her if you wish."

"We should get those treaties, but I dislike this... Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient." Alistair leaned close to her sensitive ear 'whispering' to her his opinion on the matter. She winced, even in a whisper he was too near her ear for comfortable and she tilted her head away from the heat of his mouth.

She turned back to the mage, considering. "Alistair, we need those treaties. Morrigan, if you would, take us to your mother please."