Author's note: Went back to an Alistair POV this time. Hopefully it doesn't sound too out of character! I always got the impression there was a lot more going on in Alistair's head than he let on, though. Which is why a lot of internal dialogue in this chapter. Next one will be about Lothering, obviously, and I think I'll continue as Alistair for that.

Again, sorry for the delay, things are always busy! I have some time off this week, though, so I might be able to get another chapter up this week, we'll see! I'm still not entirely certain how much of all the events I'm going to show, I might skip over some stuff later, but for right now I wanted to show this part, as I felt it was an important turning point in the game.

As always, thanks for the favorites and follows, I'm happy to see there are people enjoying this story! The more encouragement I get, the harder I'll work! ;) nudge nudge. Again, thanks to Musical Rain for the reviews, I really appreciate you taking the time to review every chapter! I'm glad to see that you liked the battle scenes, I always feel uncertain when I'm writing those! Don't worry, you'll get to find out what Ayla can do eventually ;). I have an idea for when and how I want to reveal her abilities. Thanks also to Padme4000 for being my second ever reviewer, glad to know you like my OC and are interested so far! Hope to see more people review, even just a few words would be appreciated! Any suggestions/comments for where you'd like things to go would be great also!

Aftermath

Alistair paced back and forth at the edge of the swamp across from the ramshackle old hut. He couldn't believe that he was still alive, or that they were back in the Wilds again. It had been three days since he'd awakened in the hut following the battle. He'd learned that Morrigan and her mother had saved him and the others. Though he was grateful, he couldn't make himself believe that it was out of the goodness of their hearts. They had a purpose for it, he was sure, that they weren't going to reveal to him.

He was still having trouble accepting everything that had happened. Morrigan's mother had told him when he awoke that the battle at Ostagar had been lost. For some reason, Teyrn Loghain hadn't responded to the signal they'd worked so hard to raise. Instead, he'd pulled his troops from the field, and everyone left on the battlefield had been slaughtered, according to Morrigan's mother. Every last one of the Grey Wardens but himself and Aedan, and even King Cailan, had died on that field before he'd woken up.

He couldn't believe it. How could Duncan – and all the others – be dead? Why had the greatest hero in all of Ferelden abandoned his king and the rest of the warriors with him to their deaths? How could this have happened? Why couldn't he have been with the others? He wasn't really delusional enough to think that he could have done anything to save them, and yet at the same time, he couldn't keep himself from wishing he had been there with them. Duncan had been like a father to him, and now he was gone. The grief was crushing him.

Worse than all of that, though, was the waiting. He'd been the first to wake up, having apparently received the least serious wounds. Aedan and Ayla had still been unconscious in the hut, being treated for their wounds. All of them had been near death, but Ayla had been the worst off, the mage women had informed him. Not that that surprised him; she hadn't been wearing any armor that he could see. But he was sick with worry for her, nonetheless. He hadn't been able to do anything with his time other than pace around and worry.

Since he'd first seen her in the Wilds, he'd been drawn to her, fascinated by her, and attracted to her. The brief time they'd spent together at the camp and fighting together in the tower had only increased all of those feelings. If she were to die now before he got a chance to find out more about her, he didn't know if he could take it. Especially since she'd been there only to help him and the other Wardens. The women had assured him so far that she was still alive and they expected her to recover, but they'd refused to let him see her.

They'd been right about Aedan recovering, though, Alistair thought. He looked over to his left, where there was a fire going on the edge of the swamp. Aedan sat by it, talking to Morrigan in low tones. He'd woken up just a day ago, and Alistair had been incredibly relieved to not be the only Grey Warden left. Aedan was still a little sore, he'd said, but otherwise fine. By now, Alistair was back in full fighting shape, physically anyway. But the two had agreed to wait until Ayla awoke before making any plans or moving on. They couldn't wait much longer, though.

As if on cue with his thoughts, the door of the hut opened. Alistair stopped in his tracks and turned towards it. Ayla was coming out. His heart soared with relief to see her alive and well. She looked even more beautiful than before, he thought, though that might have been the relief talking. She was dressed in her same outfit, though there were tears in the tunic and leggings where the arrows had struck. He made up his mind that he was going to get her some armor. He had no idea why she hadn't been wearing any in the first place. She also moved more slowly than she had before, he noted. But she was alive, and on her feet, and that was all that mattered.

He started toward her, not quite sure what he planned on doing, but as she came closer and smiled up at him, he pulled into her a hug without even thinking about it. He needed to feel for himself that she was truly alive, and he wasn't just dreaming this part. He pulled her tight against his chest, resting his chin on top of her head. It felt so right to be holding her, he thought. "You – you're alive," he murmured into her hair. "I thought you were dead for sure."

She pulled back in order to smile up at him. This close, he could see she was a little paler than she had been, and there were dark circles under those blue-green eyes of hers, but she looked otherwise fine. "No, it will take a bit more than that to kill me."

Suddenly realizing that hugging a woman he barely knew was inappropriate, he felt himself blush and he stepped back, letting his arms drop away. Then another thought occurred to him. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. You almost died because you came along to help us, and I'm the one who convinced Duncan to let you come."

"Stop," she said sternly, and he looked at her in surprise. Her eyes were flashing fire. "This is not in any way your fault. Putting aside the fact that it was the darkspawn who injured me, it was my decision to come help. Nobody forced me to. And honestly, if Duncan had not agreed, I probably would have followed you in secret anyway. So don't let me hear you say that again."

He nodded slowly, surprisingly finding himself accepting her words. He could see her following along without permission. "All right, I'll try not to blame myself. But I'm very glad that you're all right."

"Thank you. I'm very glad that you're all right, as well. She told me what happened." Ayla nodded towards Morrigan's mother, who'd followed her out of the hut and was now coming towards them. "I'm – very sorry for your loss."

Alistair felt the grief wash over him freshly at her words. He'd been trying his best to ignore it over the last few days, and succeeding for the most part, as he'd had other things to focus his mind on, like whether she and Aedan would wake up. But now, there was nothing to distract him any longer. "Duncan's dead. The Grey Wardens - even the king - they're all dead. This doesn't seem real. 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 am not present, lad," the old woman said acidly, coming up next to them. Aedan was coming towards them as well, from his place by the fire. Morrigan, meanwhile, had headed back to the hut and stepped inside.

Alistair almost took a step back. He could still feel the power radiating from her, and she'd been much more coherent this time around than on their previous visit. He could no longer dismiss her as just a crazy old woman, which meant she was a terrifyingly powerful mage. He was doing his best not to antagonize her this time. With that in mind, he hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean - but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

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

This time he did take a step back. "The Flemeth - from the legends?" He couldn't keep the shock out of his voice, and he saw it reflected on Aedan's face. Ayla, of course, merely looked confused. "Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds aren't you?"

Flemeth crossed her arms and stared him down. "And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you three well, has it not?"

"So why did you save us?" Aedan put in. Alistair knew that, like himself, Aedan hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk to Flemeth yet, as she'd spent the past day in the hut working on Ayla, and prior to that, she'd been working on Aedan. Morrigan had deflected any questions about the details or reasons for their rescue, stating only that they could ask her mother.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" Flemeth stated this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

Aedan snorted. "The land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain."

Alistair felt the confusion overwhelming him again. Loghain was a hero. This couldn't be right, it just couldn't. "That doesn't make any sense!" he protested. "Why would he do it?"

Flemeth nodded in approval. "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 outmaneuver. Perhaps he doesn't see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"What is behind the Blight?" Ayla asked, sounding more than a little lost. She also looked reluctant to ask the question, Alistair noted. He'd almost forgotten how little she knew about everything, and felt his curiosity stir anew about how she could have so little knowledge about Ferelden and the Blight. But now wasn't the time to ask her.

"It's the archdemon," he explained to her. "It is supposedly one of the Old Gods that the mages of the Tevinter Imperium worshipped, which look like dragons. The darkspawn spend centuries searching for where the Old Gods were sealed underground. When they find one, it becomes infected with the taint, and that seems to enable them to organize and act."

"Ordinarily, the darkspawn stick mostly to the deep roads, and rarely attack. If they do, it's disorganized, and not much of a threat. But with an Archdemon awakened, they spread to the surface and are able to organize and fight like any other army, only, with overwhelming numbers and the threat of the taint. The archdemon uses some sort of power, or group mind, in order to command them."

"I see," Ayla replied. She looked faintly ill at his explanation. "I suppose that makes sense. They did not strike me as overly intelligent creatures."

"If the archdemon is the one responsible for the Blight, then we need to find it." Aedan crossed his arms, a determined look stamped on his features. If anything, he'd only become more driven since he'd heard what happened at Ostagar, Alistair thought.

Alistair shook his head in response. "By ourselves? No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't know how." He shrugged helplessly. He'd only just started to realize how little he truly knew about being a Grey Warden.

"How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army?" Flemeth asked. "It seems to me those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

Allies? Alistair racked his brain, trying to think of everything Duncan had ever said to him. "I - I don't know. Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

"The Arl of Redcliffe?" Aedan interjected. "Perhaps we could go to him, then."

"I suppose . . ." Alistair said slowly. The more he considered the idea, the more feasible it became. "Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course!" He smacked his fist into his other hand, becoming excited by the idea. "We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Ayla nodded. "If he does still have all his men, that sounds like a wise course of action. I imagine most of the other lords lost their men at Ostagar."

Aedan looked skeptical. "And say he doesn't help us? What then?"

Flemeth raised her eyebrows at them. "You have more at your disposal than merely old friends."

For a moment, Alistair wondered what she was talking about. Then, it hit him like a flash – the reason they'd met her and Morrigan in the first place. "Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

Flemeth nodded; apparently satisfied he'd drawn the right conclusion. "I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else . . . this sounds like an army to me."

Alistair looked between Ayla and Aedan. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?"

Aedan sighed. "I doubt it will be as easy as that."

"When is it ever?" Flemeth said wryly.

"I think it sounds like the only thing we can do," Ayla offered. "We certainly cannot leave things as they stand now."

Alistair suddenly felt more determined, upon hearing Ayla say that, a fact which surprised him a little. And he suddenly remembered Duncan's last words, about being worthy of the title of Grey Wardens. "It's always been the Grey Warden's duty to stand against a Blight," he said with determination, looking over at Aedan. "And right now, we're the Grey Wardens."

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth pressed, looking between the two of them. She looked at Ayla before adding, "To fulfill your destiny?"

Alistair looked between Flemeth and Ayla, remembering the conversation they'd had the first time she had met. She had said something about Ayla being brought here because she was needed here. Was it because of what happened at Ostagar? Duncan had thought that magic had been the reason she'd appeared in the Wilds. Had Flemeth had something to do with it? Was that why she knew that Ayla wasn't from here, and what she might be needed to do? There were far too many questions that he didn't have the answers for, and he didn't think Ayla did, either. And if Flemeth did, he doubted she would provide them.

Ayla looked as though the same questions were running through her mind, but she nodded with determination. "I am ready, for whatever tasks I must fulfill."

Aedan seemed to be thinking things over, before he nodded in decision as well. "Yes, we are ready. Thank you for everything, Flemeth."

Flemeth shook her head, waving her hands with the motion. "No, no, thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

Before any of them could ask what, Morrigan came back out of the hut and rejoined them. "The stew is bubbling, mother dear. Shall we have three guests for the eve, or none?"

Flemeth turned to look at her. "The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame," Morrigan began, in a tone that indicated she couldn't have been more pleased, before she suddenly seemed to hear the rest of what her mother said. "What?"

Alistair felt as shocked as Morrigan sounded. Flemeth wanted to send her mage daughter with them? Why? It was obvious she didn't want to go, either.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears," Flemeth cackled at her own joke.

"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us –" Aedan began.

Flemeth cut him off. "Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

Well, when she put it that way, it didn't sound like a completely terrible idea, Alistair thought. He'd been able to feel the horde growing larger and slowly surrounding them on all sides over the past few days, which is part of why he'd been getting so anxious waiting. He didn't know the Wilds well enough to know what paths to take to get around all the darkspawn. If Morrigan did, they might just survive long enough to get to the nearest town. As long as she was willing to do so, anyway.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded angrily.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years," Flemeth retorted. "Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"Very well, we'll take her with us," Aedan said.

Alistair frowned. While he agreed in theory, he still found he couldn't agree without some protest. "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."

Flemeth turned a truly frightening glare on him. "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair conceded meekly, and he saw Ayla's lips twitch in amusement.

Morrigan, however, didn't seem so ready to concede. "Mother, this is not how I wanted this, I am not even ready –"

Once again, Flemeth cut her off. "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."

Was that her reason for helping them? Alistair wondered. He supposed it made sense. Even a powerful mage could only stand for so long against a horde. But why them? Couldn't she have saved Duncan or some of the others? Or Cailan? Maybe they'd have been too hard to reach, in the middle of battle? He wanted to ask Flemeth all these questions, but he didn't think she'd give him a straight answer, especially since he'd probably pissed her off with his apostate remark. So he kept his mouth shut.

"I understand," Morrigan said at last, sounding defeated.

"And you, Wardens?" Flemeth turned to them. "Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed."

"She won't come to harm with us," Aedan promised solemnly. He looked almost pleased at the thought of Morrigan joining them, Alistair noted.

Morrigan sighed. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

They all nodded. Morrigan disappeared back in the hut for a moment, then came back out with a pack. She turned to look at them all. "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. Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours." She shrugged as if she could care less.

Aedan grinned at her. "No, I prefer you speak your mind."

Alistair exchanged a glance with Ayla. She looked amused, and seemed to think the same thing as Alistair: that Aedan was rather looking forward to travelling with the witch. He seemed to be attracted to her, although it was beyond Alistair why he would be. Didn't he notice what a bitch she was?

Flemeth laughed. "You will regret saying that."

Morrigan turned to glare at her mother. "Dear sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth replied dismissively.

Alistair turned to look at Aedan. "I just . . . do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?" Of course he knew that wasn't the whole reason, but he was hoping to convince Aedan to leave her behind anyway.

Aedan shrugged. "We need all the help we can get."

Ayla nodded. "He's right, you know. That mage at the Tower was a big help, and right now, we're lacking a long range fighter. A mage could make a big difference."

Alistair sighed. Unfortunately, Ayla made perfect sense. They did need more help, and a mage would provide a strategic advantage. He was just having trouble getting over his dislike and distrust of both witches. "I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."

Morrigan turned her icy golden glare onto him. "I am so pleased to have your approval." Then she turned to her mother. "Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

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

Alistair was shocked to see a look of actual hurt flash across Morrigan's face. Maybe she was human after all. "I - all I meant was . . ."

Flemeth's face softened. "Yes I know. Do try to have fun dear."

"We should probably get moving," Ayla pointed out. "Which way do we go?"

Morrigan sighed. After a last look at her mother and the hut, she began to walk towards a path off to their left that skirted around the edge of the swamp, motioning them to come after her. "Follow me."

The three of them fell into step after her, to begin their journey through the Wilds to Lothering. All Alistair could think about now was what would be in store for them when they reached the village. He hoped fate and the Maker would be a little kinder to them from this point on, though he didn't hold out any great hope for it.