"Eleanor Mac Enraig?!" a woman in chainmail and a truly impressive helm gasps, as Ailis, Alistair, and the rest of their merry band plunge into battle. Battle cries rent the air as the bannorn's forces clash with Loghain's on the plains of Winter's Breath. The ground is muddy with blood and Alistair has to leap over strewn bodies, as he avoids a sword that would have slashed his gut open.

Leliana's and other archers' arrows fly over his head and Morrigan and Jowan's spells fire past him as he and Ailis fight shoulder to shoulder, slashing at their foes. Ailis slams the pommel of Champion of Swords onto an oncoming man's head, and the woman in chainmail swiftly ends his life.

"Bann Grainne, I believe?" Ailis greets. "I'm Ailis Cousland, and these are—" she ducks a dagger swung at her face "—my companions." She kicks out, and the dagger wielder stumbles and is cut down. "The one with the sword and shield—" she ducks again "—is Alistair, the mages are—" she slashes downward with her sword, opening a gash on the face of a foe "—Morrigan and Jowan, and the archer is Leliana."

"Pleased to—ugh! Meet you," Bann Grainne says as cordially as one can, when slitting a man's throat. "I'd love to stay and chat, but there are Loghain's men that need slaughtering."

"Agreed," Alistair growls, and rams his shield against another man, one with a dragon rampant on his shield.

He'll take great pleasure in slaughtering Loghain's forces, until the moment he reaches the man himself.

xxx

They were cutting through the bannorn for a quicker way to Denerim when Morrigan, in raven form, flutters down next to Leliana, transforms, and says, "That way is blocked."

"Why?" Leliana queries.

Morrigan ignores her. "I suggest we follow the Imperial Highway instead."

"But that's hours away," Jowan not-quite-whines. "What is the matter?"

"There is a battle going on ahead, a great one," Morrigan says. "About a thousand men afield, all told. We would be better served avoiding it if we are to make good time to Denerim."

"A battle?" Ailis says. Her eyes grow icy. "Morrigan, is this a civil war skirmish? Was there a bear on yellow and white afield?"

Alistair has to process the mental image of an actual, literal bear—a Morrigan-bear—before realizing she means banners. And there is only one banner that could make Ailis's eyes grow icy like that.

"And the royal mabari," Alistair adds urgently. "Were the royal mabari on the field? Or—or—" He grapples to remember. "A dragon rampant?"

Calenhad cocks his head.

Morrigan sniffs and holds her head up. "And pray tell how was I supposed to note these? I flew high above."

"Ravens have excellent eyesight," Alistair answers. "You're hiding something. Who's fighting? Tell us."

Their resident apostate—oh wait, they have two of those now. The witch of the wilds then—sighs heavily, as if unbelievably put-upon. "Very well. I did indeed see a dragon rampant."

"Loghain."

"My, my, it appears Calenhad has found a match in growling," Morrigan mocks.

"We go to the battle," Alistair says.

"Alistair," Leliana begins.

"No, Leliana," Alistair says. "We go to the battle."

"Loghain may not even be there!"

"Oh, he'll be there," he says. "And even if he isn't…"

He'll take Loghain's men. He'll take them to the sword.

For the Grey Wardens.

" 'Tis most unwise," Morrigan says. "If you were to lose and be captured, why, that's the Blight won for the darkspawn. I am not fool enough to think Ailis would not follow you in your quest for vengeance."

"Morrigan," Ailis says warningly. "How far to the battle?"

His heart would warm at Ailis's support, if he weren't so chilled to the bone, thinking of Loghain on the field and a thousand men clashing. A thousand men, ten thousand men, wouldn't stop Alistair from finding Loghain and his sword Oathkeeper from tasting his blood. He would avenge Duncan, and his br—King Cailan, and all those who died at Ostagar.

Jowan starts ripping cloth from his already torn robes, wrapping it around his face so only his eyes are visible.

"What are you doing?" Leliana asks. Jowan ties a knot before looking at her.

"Well," he says reasonably, "if I'm to battle Teyrn Loghain's men, it's better they don't recognize me as the, as the b-blood mage they captured, right?"

"Oh," Alistair says, stricken. He hadn't thought about Jowan's fugitive status. "Jowan, you don't have to—none of you have to—"

He looks around helplessly, seeing Leliana checking her bow and Jowan tightening the knots on his face. Morrigan looks at him, annoyed, but doesn't say anything else. Ailis is looking at him, gaze steady.

"Did you expect us to stay behind while you and Ailis went ahead?" Leliana asks, bowstring giving a satisfying twang.

"You two would break your fool necks without us—me," Morrigan sniffs.

xxx

The battle rages on until afternoon, when a horn sounds from Loghain's side of the field. "Retreat!" sounds through the plains. "Retreat!"

The bannorn's army cheers as Loghain's men stumble backward, running away from their enemies. Archers fire upon the fleeing men, and a few fall forward.

"You saved us the battle," Bann Grainne says a few hours later. The bannorn's army sit in camp, fires kindled and dinners cooking. "Damned impressive swordwork, you two." She nods to Ailis and Alistair. She's taken off her helm, and her shock-white hair is bright in the firelight. "Especially you, young man. You ever considered learning how to be a berserker?"

"Isn't that a dwarven specialty?" Alistair asks.

"Started out as such. Now and then you'll find a non-dwarf practicing it, though." She grins brightly. "Myself included."

She eyes Jowan and Morrigan, who sit with Leliana a little further from them. "Those two aren't Circle mages, are they?"

"No, they're Grey Wardens," Ailis says, bending the truth a little. Bann Grainne's brown eyes flicker.

"Indeed? And that king-killer would have us believe they all died at Ostagar. Bloody damned liar and usurper. I'd have set my fields to the torch before I let him feed from my crops, if we'd lost the battle." She bares her teeth in a snarl.

"Are you a Warden too, girl? I see Alistair, is it? Alistair is," she says, nodding to Alistair's blue and white armor.

"I am."

"How'd that happen? Last I heard Howe…"

Ailis stiffens, and Bann Grainne sees it.

"Many of us in the bannorn don't believe a word coming out of those snakes' mouths," she assures Ailis. "Bronach and Farhen—they're in their tents over there, Farhen got wounded and Bronach is clucking over him—were just telling me how Rendon Howe's filling Loghain's ears that Bryce Cousland and Eleanor Mac Enraig were conspiring with Orlesians. Bryce and Eleanor! Now, whether you tell me or not, girl, know that I stand with you, and I'll stand with you when you take back Highever. You and your companions have saved our hides today."

"Can we count on you to help us combat the Blight?" Alistair blurts out. "We are, after all, Grey Wardens. That's our whole thing. Fight the Blight, kill archdemons…"

Bann Grainne tips back her head and laughs.

"Funny child! Wulff was just up to Denerim begging Loghain to stop the civil war because his bann has been overrun by darkspawn. Yes, you'll have the bannorn with you to stop the Blight. But we want Loghain off his throne, too. Anora may rule in name but that man is her puppetmaster."

"Knowing what I know of Anora, I don't think she dances to anyone's tune but her own," Ailis says quietly. "She led Cailan around like a puppy on a leash."

"And that girl's always adored her father," Bann Grainne retorts. She stands.

"I don't know about you young ones, but I'm exhausted. We go back to the castle tomorrow, but whatever supplies you need on the road to Denerim, you're welcome to take. Good night."

xxx

They pitch their tents, but Alistair is too awake to rest. So he wanders out to their campfire, standing in the shadows as he watches Leliana, who has first watch, talk to Morrigan.

"You have such lovely hair, Morrigan," Leliana says, touching the dark strands. Alistair is eternally surprised she doesn't get a hand chewed off for all the touching of evil shapeshifting witches she does. "The cut is simple, but it suits you. In Orlais, hair involved so many accessories: flowers, ribbons, jewels…"

"You will recall I lived in a forest, I hope," Morrigan says. "I had no use for those things."

"No? But gold is so pretty against your skin," Leliana says. "We must get Ailis to go shopping with us once we reach Denerim. It is not Val Royeaux, but I am sure we will find beautiful things anyway. Like a dress for you! Silk—no, maybe velvet, for it is better, heavier against the cold in Ferelden. Red, dark red, with gold embroidery…"

"You prattle on so as if I have a care for embroidery," Morrigan snaps, but Leliana only laughs and untangles Morrigan's bun.

"Would you let me braid it? You wear the bun all the time, it is breaking the strands. You must take better care of your hair, Morrigan!"

"Do as you wish, it seems I cannot stop you," Morrigan sighs.

"They are sweet, aren't they?" Ailis murmurs, appearing at his side. Alistair isn't startled; he felt her coming.

"Leliana? And that…that witch?" Alistair sputters.

"An odd friendship, but very sweet," Ailis nods.

"I've been meaning to ask," he says. "You don't like Orlais, but you let Leliana join us. Why?"

"She wouldn't stop begging," Ailis says, deadpan. Then she sobers. "No, I don't like Orlais, though it's hard to dislike Leliana. But…"

She spins him a tale of Leliana's dream, divulged to her in pleading tones in the back room of a tavern. She says, "The dream was too…real. And, I guess, I wanted to believe the Maker was on our side." She laughs a trifle bitterly. "It seemed precious few were, those days."

Alistair takes her hand in his, and they stand there watching Leliana braid Morrigan's hair by the firelight.

In the morning, Alistair is amused to note that Morrigan's dark hair is in an Orlesian braid down her back. Her scowl at him, though, warns him not to say a word about it.

Naturally, he defies her.

"Nice hair, Morrigan."

"Shut up."

"What! But I was merely complimenting you!"

"It is very pretty, Morrigan," Ailis says, appearing from her tent with her own brown hair in a braid. "I did not know you knew Orlesian braids. Will you teach me?"

Morrigan snarls, and turns into a raven and flies away.

Alistair's sides eventually hurt him so much he has to stop laughing.

They bid farewell to Bann Grainne and the bannorn's armies, and set out again on their journey to Denerim.

"You need anything, girl, you just drop by the castle," Bann Grainne tells Ailis. She looks at Alistair, scrutinizing him. "You take care of her, lad."

"I will," he murmurs.