The Wolf of Highever

by Shenko007

Legends and myths surround the Cousland Family. Hadrian thinks they're merely bedtime stories and while some monsters refuse to stay as such, he'll find that there's more to life than just revenge and that wolves mate for life. Alistair/M!Cousland. AUish

14. Wolf's Journey: Eve of Battle

Legend:

Cailan – 24

Duncan – 34

Alistair – 19

Hadrian – 20

blah thought

blah Archdemon speaking

blah High Lord of the Wolves speaking

/blah/ another voice speaking in Hadrian's head.

4th hour to the Moon – eight o'clock pm

A/N: Cailan is actually smarter than he is depicted in the game, so beware of some OOC on his part. Other than that, enjoy the extremely long chappie. :D

Chapter 14: Eve of Battle

The group didn't return until later that evening, disheveled and shaken.

Daveth and Jory shouted in relief at the sight of the gates and they ran off ahead of the other two. Hadrian leaned against the gate, panting heavily.

His eyes closed and the darkspawn would be there to greet him. He had never seen such horrible creatures before and they ambushed them so effectively as well. If it weren't for Alistair and his heightened senses, the entire group would have been felled by hideous beasts in the Kacori Wilds.

The darkspawn weren't the only dangers either. Tainted wolves had roamed around the vicinity, bringing death to those near it. The wolves seemed to recognize Hadrian, however, and they had never attacked him outright. Rather, they focused on Alistair and Jory, sensing that if they could draw the attention of the two main warriors away, then the weakest one would be easily dealt with. Hadrian was confused by all this and when he killed the Alpha wolf, there was something expressed in those dying eyes, a sign of relief perhaps and then a voice saying thank you.

He never had wolves talk to him, not even the ones running around the Breckland Woods that surrounded his family's castle like a defensive moat. It didn't do much against Howe's men that night though. Perhaps he just wished for it to talk to him or maybe that he was going insane due to that pact made in his childhood.

After defeating the wolves and several groups of darkspawn, they had met with a very beautiful maleficar, Morrigan.

While others were clearly smitten with her at the same time as being deathly afraid of the witch of the wilds, he was not. Something inside him warned him that she had ulterior motives in them. He thought he felt something or rather someone was watching them when they were exploring the area for the vials and the Treaties. His senses tingled when her presence hovered at the edge of his periphery vision, disappearing whenever he tried to pin her down directly.

If Morrigan was bad, especially in her biting insults, her mother was infinitely worse with her sick sense of humor. No wonder her own daughter was so caustic in her remarks. She inherited it from her mother. /She's an abomination/. A voice had whispered in his head. /She's dangerous. Be wary of her./

Flemeth riveted her attentions on him all of a sudden but Hadrian didn't flinch. He'd been through a lot in one month than what most people had experienced in their lifetime. She walked towards him and cupped his cheek with her hand, the way a mother would do to a child. Now, he had flinched. The coldness of her hands seeped into his core and he felt her try to talk to him, to the voice inside his head. All she received was silence and then she too was rudely kicked out of whatever she was trying to enter.

He earned a very cold glare for that and a cryptic remark. Is it fate or chance that we've met? What did she mean by that? If it was up to him, he wouldn't have wanted to meet her at all.

Alistair watched his friend's eyebrows furrow in concentration and he grew concerned when his friend still hadn't moved from his leaning position. He took a few steps closer to the man and he could hear panting, almost wheezing noises emitting from the man in front of him. Was he ok? Had he gotten injured somehow?

He focused on using his newfound Grey Warden senses but when he did, he was shocked to discover that Hadrian's aura felt tainted indeed, but its origin was not that of the darkspawn. Should he tell Duncan about this? It doesn't matter. Duncan had went through a lot to get three recruits out of the possible nine he could have had.

All of the Wardens had a dark secret they were hiding or running away from. His was more of a political one and the only one who knew it was Duncan himself. He had always worried how the other Wardens would react if they found out about his true heritage. For some reason, he was completely terrified if Hadrian ever found out. Why though? Why did he care if a random stranger found about him?

"Why are you standing so close to me," a voice asked of him, "Alistair?"

Alistair blinked and realized that he was indeed standing very close to him, only centimeters separated them.

"Oh, I..." he was at a loss of words for once. The great Alistair was never at a loss of words. He always had something to say, something to joke about. "Well, since you were wheezing so loudly, I thought I would give you a pat on the back." The joke sounded forced, unnatural. Hadrian's body tensed even more and he was pushed away, gently but firmly.

"Thank you." Hadrian gave him a weak smile. "But I'm ok, really. Just shaken is all."

"It was your first time fighting them, wasn't it?"

Alistair understood now. Yes. Perhaps Hadrian was just scared. He himself crapped in his pants upon encountering his first lot of darkspawn.

Hadrian nodded numbly. Then the man pulled away from Alistair and he walked forwards in an even gait, as if nothing was wrong with him at all.

They found the other two standing with Duncan by the pyre. Daveth was talking with Jory quite animatedly, his hands making wild motions as if he was trying to persuade the Knight of Redcliffe of something. When they got closer to the talking pair, it was to the conversation about the possibilities of the Joining and what it actually entailed. Duncan, to his credit, just stared into the fire for a few more minutes before turning his attention to the final pair.

"All of you are here now. I heard that the mission was successful."

"Yes. However, we ran into two Witches of the Wild." Hadrian reported to the taller man.

"Witches of the Wild?" Duncan asked.

Alistair came to stand by Duncan and explained at how they came to meet the two Witches. The young Cousland became amused when he heard Alistair's voice strain itself in the telling that they could have been maleficars, hiding from the Templars. Once a templar, always a templar. That's what Daveth had said before. Apparently it was still true, even if the elder Warden hadn't taken the final vows.

Duncan, after finishing admonishing his younger companion in a fatherly way, regarded him and there was a question of whether he was ready for it, ready for the final step in becoming a Grey Warden.

"Let's just get this over with," Hadrian sighed out his reply. He was only doing this for his father though and once they were done with this blasted Blight, his next target wouldn't be darkspawn but Howe himself.

-o0o-

It felt like a dream, almost. As Hadrian walked behind Alistair, heading towards the Old Temple, his thoughts began to wonder. He hadn't found Fergus yet and concluded that he either ventured further than the area they had explored or had turned back but got lost on the way. Or he's dead. Just like mum and dad. He stopped in his tracks at the thought and his fists clenched tightly, his fingernails imprinting crescents in the slick palms. No, Fergus had to be alive. He can't be the only survivor of the Cousland family. He just can't be. That would be too cruel.

"Hadrian?"

Hadrian looked up only to find Alistair gazing at him in touching concern. For some reason, those eyes relaxed him and his fists relaxed. He couldn't answer the Warden; the grief was just too near, too fresh for him to relay the events. Instead, he continued walking up the marble steps and came upon the two men still bickering again. They were just as bad as a married old couple arguing over matters of finance and children.

"Look, you don't think this is too suspicious? Why would they not tell us what the Joining is?" Jory's arms were crossed over his chest and there was an unhappy scowl on his broad face.

Daveth was again standing in front of him and his face was earnest as he tried to beseech to the taller warrior that there was probably a very good reason behind the secrecy of the Joining.

"I would give anything to stop the Blight, anything," Daveth said in a determined tone.

"You may lose everything," Hadrian commented, "to stop the Blight." Both men stood up to face the newcomer and they almost felt ashamed to have him see their bickering. Daveth had the decency to blush slightly while Jory just looked away, his eyes staring angrily at the pillars that held the temple up. If they held any answers to their predicament, they wouldn't tell even Jory and he made a sound of frustration.

Luckily, the tension that started from the waiting ended with the presence of the man who had recruited them. He strode into the area, giving off such a commanding aura that the two bickering man merely stared at the man.

"And so it has begun," he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Alistair, please recite the words that have always preceded this ritual."

Hadrian heard Alistair clear his throat nervously before saying,

"Join us, Brothers and Sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day, we will join you."

The words echoed in the empty hallway of the Old Temple and Hadrian felt very cold. Duncan thanked Alistair for it and he reached out for a large, silver goblet with his hands. There was a distinct smell emanating from the goblet and it was the smell of blood. Darkspawn blood. Almost immediately, nausea surged in his body and it was with great difficulty that Hadrian managed to keep his lunch from coming back up.

Daveth was the first person to drink from it and Hadrian watched with shocked eyes at how a man could die from drinking. It wasn't anything spectacular. Rather, it was rather undignified. The rogue just hunched over as if in great pain and emitted a gurgling sound before collapsing on the stoned floor, unmoving

If Daveth's death was undignifed, Jory's death was cowardly but it was nonetheless horrifying and sad. Hadrian had a feeling that it would come down to this and it was why he never bothered to learn about his temporary comrades. To find out that Jory had a wife and a baby on the way in this manner just made it even harder for Hadrian to see Duncan impale him with his dagger. True, Jory had reached for his sword first but the attack from Duncan was brutal and swift, without mercy.

He coolly observed how Duncan wiped the blood off almost nonchalantly, as if he didn't care that he killed his own recruit. The cup was then offered to him and Hadrian saw that despite Duncan's relaxed posture, his hand still hovered near the hilt of his dagger, ready to strike if Hadrian went in the same path as Jory had taken. With that in mind, Hadrian lifted the goblet up in his hands and his eyes screwed shut as thick liquid ran down his throat. The same nauseating sensation he had before intensified and he almost regurgitated the blood back into the goblet. Dear Maker, this stuff was awful. It was no wonder Daveth died. He died from this Maker awful beverage he was forced to drink.

He took a sip and unwillingly swallowed, wincing at how the thick honeyed liquid flowed into his stomach. At first nothing happened. Then there was a buzzing sound and Duncan's voice sounded very far away, However, the ambient sounds sharply came into focus until they overwhelmed his senses.

Hadrian expected some pain but not this agony that ripped through his mind and soul. His body felt as if it was on fire and the old Temple with its two Wardens dissolved into something dark and frightening. A loud roar echoed distantly and it increased with each passing second, as if he was getting closer to it or maybe it was the other way around. Winds buffeted around him and his eyes widened at the sight of a black, hideous dragon landing before him, its cold black eyes gazing at him. Hadrian could see that the eyes held no love for him or any creature as it were.

I see you, you can't hide from me

Its mouth opened and there was death in its maw. The dragon's head struck for him, as quickly and deadly as an Amaranthine viper. He tried to move but fear paralyzed him. How in Maker's hell is he supposed to fight this? He bore no weapons, not even a flimsy stick to defend himself.

Then something weird happened, not that this was weird enough by itself.

A blue glow emanated between Hadrian and the dragon. Hadrian watched in fascination as the glow then reshaped itself into a form of a wolf. That's the same one I saw at the Clearing!

It was indeed, except this time, it was solid and no longer transparent. The Wolf was also bigger, much bigger than Hadrian himself and its size rivaled that of the Archdemon's.

I have already claimed him. You cannot touch him.

A tenor voice reverberated and Hadrian felt a sense of possession coming from the wolf. A possession of him. There was a sound of wind brushing against poorly-made metal, but the young Cousland realized that it was the dragon's laughter, harsh and jarring.

Little wolf, you cannot halt this man's destiny. It is against the will of the Old Gods, of the Maker Himself.

You forget yourself, Urthemiel. The taint has claimed you; you no longer hold power over us

If he doesn't survive the Joining, then he will be lost forever and the world will burn for all eternity.

There was a moment of silence and Hadrian thought that the wolf may be contemplating on just letting the dragon claim him. The wolf's head was bowed down, not out of submission Hadrian observed, but in deep thought.

The Maker himself has chosen this one; I will say it once again, you cannot claim him.

The dragon snarled at the wolf's stubbornness in not letting him claim the human and he made to strike at him, only to disappear into cold darkness.

Hadrian's mouth hung open in astonishment at the power struggle played out between the two entities and he couldn't help but step back when the wolf gazed at him, its blue eyes fixed intently on him.

Hadrian Cousland. I am the High Lord of the Wolves.

"How'd you know my name?"

I have watched over your family for many generations.

"So then, what father told me is true," Hadrian replied. "I had always thought it to be bedtime stories as a child."

The High Lord smirked at him, or at least what counts as a smirk for a wolf. The corners at the lips turned and sharp teeth were bared. The Cousland couldn't help but shudder at the sight of those enormous canines, the sharp, serrated teeth that were lined neatly in the wolf's mouth.

Humans are such funny little creatures.

"What do you mean by claiming me? I am not some thing to be possessed."

Although he was glad for the wolf's intervention, Hadrian still held the pride of a noble and he found that the prospect of being considered a possession by anyone unsettling.

For now, I will let the taint take hold of you. Urthemiel is unfortunately right and if you die here, then the world you know will be lost forever. However, when the time is right, all debts will be repaid.

The High Lord's voice echoed eerily around him and the wolf began to lose its form, dissipating into the dark abyss.

"What debts?" Hadrian shouted, reaching for the vanishing form of the High Lord.

You will find out in due time

It was as if only the wolf's presence kept the darkness at bay. Immediately following its departure, darkspawn suddenly reappeared and began to press their advantage against Hadrian, trapping him in a tight circle edged by crude, rudimentary weapons. He could clearly see their faces now, the blackened eyes with no pupils, the pale skin that had been left out from the sun for too long. Some had stitches across their cheeks, as if someone tried to piece patches of skin together and not wholly succeeding in it looking aesthetic. Although it wasn't the first time he'd seen the darkspawn face-to-face, it still shook him to the core and the feeling of nausea rose up in his throat.

In the background, he saw the familiar massive form of the Archdemon and its roar deafened him.

Kill him. Let the Warden experience of what we know of death.

It whispered to the horde surrounding him and Hadrian was helpless to do anything, maybe except scream.

-o0o-

Alistair saw the man's eyes open and, despite seeing this multiple times, was shocked to see the whites of the man's eyes. There was a bone-chilling scream and Alistair found himself stepping forward to catch the slumping man. The man was heavier than he looked but the Grey Warden managed to balance his weight with that of his friend before slowly easing him to the ground. Hadrian moaned at being manhandled but did not attempt to move out of Alistair's strong hold.

"He has passed the test, but this reaction is," Duncan paused for a moment. No, Garahel had a similar reaction. The famous elven Warden was the only one to have survived his Joining and his reaction was so bad that it had to be documented by the Warden Scriber at Anderfals. He recalled the exact description of it:

Garahel, son of Ecthlion and Starrunner, was the only survivor. He developed a high fever and could not be awaken for a week. Like the other Grey Wardens who had died, his body would twitch as if he was fighting the darkspawn. Upon waking, much has changed that not even his family of the Wardens could recognize him. Little be it known that he was destined to slay Andoral.

"Duncan? He's getting hotter by the minute; we should do something. Get a mage or two."

"Take him to your tent and I will talk to Wynne."

The older Grey Warden watched Alistair pick up the senseless initiate and then headed back to the Mages camp, where Wynne was staying. Out of the three he managed to recruit, only one survived.

Months before tonight, he had spent much of his time trying to recruit promising members for the Wardens. Ozammer was the closest city to him when he traveled southward with his Wardens, having come from Orlais on the First Warden's command to aid the King of Ferelden. By this aid, the First Warden had hoped to regain a foothold in the eastern kingdom of Ferelden. Commander Sophia's exile had cost the Wardens in Anderfels dearly and the First Warden worried that if a Blight ever started in Ferelden, then the Kingdom would have been lost to the world forever. The dwarves were already a lost cause for someone had already murdered Brosca Aeducan, the King's own daughter framed for the murder of one of the brothers. The other dwarf, a commoner, had won the Proving Grounds but lost against a shadowed blade. By the time Duncan got there, he was already dead, his body turning cold as the Warden knelt at his side.

Having been in Ozammer far too long than necessary, Duncan decided that he could kill two birds with one stone if he split his group of Wardens into two. He took Alistair and two others with him on an excursion to the Circle of Magi while the second group of more experienced Wardens left for the Brecilian Forest. With recruits in tow, they were to meet in Denerim.

Unfortunately, it didn't work well at all to Duncan's sore disappointment. At the Circle of Magi, Loren Amell had run off with his lover, Jowan, not wanting to stay imprisoned. Duncan had to admit that though blood magic was ruthless and rife with demon deals, it was extremely practical against the Templars. Even a Grey Warden could succumb to the power of blood magic. By the time he came to, the pair had already escaped from the prison and with their phylacteries destroyed, the Templars had no way in tracking them down.

The second group had no such luck either in their recruitment. When they arrived at a Dhalish camp, they were met with whitesteel arrows pointing in their direction. It was only thanks to one of the Wardens, Riea Yyvane, a Dhalish elf herself, that the Wardens weren't shot at in the first few minutes of entering the camp. The Keeper had informed them that they lost two of their best hunters already and with the increasing periods of unwelcomed visits by shemlans, they were leaving at first light, no matter what the situation was.

Thus, the two groups met in Denerim, tired and their Commander being increasingly frustrated with the way things were going for him. It was by sheer luck that Duncan remembered he had one person left he could possibly recruit. He was helping out the city elves in the elven alienage when seeing the silver-haired elder reminded him of the Champion of the Summermere Tournament four years ago. Alistair had no trouble remembering the name and it was he who suggested that he attempt in beseeching the Couslands for Hadrian, even though there was a very good chance of Bryce denying him that. Duncan knew that he could always invoke the Right of Conscription if it came to that, but it would have been a political blunder on the Wardens. The First Warden would certainly not be happy if they were exiled out of Ferelden again just because of a mishap with one of the oldest Teryns.

He barely managed to get to the Cousland Castle in time and had wanted to talk to Bryce alone, without Howe being present and watching with those cold, calculating eyes. Despite the stories of his and Bryce's famous plight from the White River Battle and their subsequent friendship, there were rumors, both concrete and unfounded, about Howe's strange hobbies, such as collecting magical artifacts and dabbling in the Dark side of magic, where demons were irrevocably involved. Of course, none had dared to step forward with these accusations and it left Howe to his devices, letting him work uninterrupted.

Perhaps it was fate that Howe massacred the entire Cousland family. Duncan knew deep down that Bryce wouldn't have given up his son without a fight and there could have been a permanent rift between the Wardens and the oldest House in all of Ferelden if he invoked the Right of Conscription. The First Warden was not known for his forgiveness and Duncan wished to not be the guinea pig if he had failed in his mission. Thus, only once, Duncan was glad for Howe's action because Hadrian was recruited, albeit unwillingly and with vengeance in his heart.

As he watched Alistair descend down the white marble steps, he noticed that there was a faint blue aura outlining their figures and felt that those two would just get along fine without him, as long as they had each other. It was odd to feel like this, especially when he hadn't known Hadrian for very long, at least not as long as he'd known Alistair. But somehow, he knew for certain that the future of Ferelden rested on those young shoulders and he prayed to the Maker for their success in defeating the Blight.

-o0o-

Wynne came by so quickly that Alistair barely managed to lay his charge down before she entered the tent. Duncan was right behind her and stayed at the front of the tent, more for keeping out unwanted intruders like other Templars and Loghain than for overseeing a mage's duty.

She settled down next to him and examined her patient. His face was rather colourless and there was a fine sheen on his forehead. He had no other visible injuries, so it must be in the man's mind.

"It appears that this man is fine physically, but his mind is somewhat clouded with conflict and grief."

"It is probably the Taint trying to corrupt him," Alistair quipped lightly as he watched the Mage place one hand on the man's bare chest and the other on his forehead. He wanted Hadrian to pass the ritual, but not like this, never like this. At least with himself he had just fainted and woke up a few hours later, being tended to by one of the Mages in Jader.

Wynne was too focused on her task to heed Alistair's opinion and the Grey Wardens waited in anxious silence. After what seemed hours to the pair, she finally opened her eyes and Alistair saw the strain around her eyes and lips. Apparently whatever she had found had stressed even an experienced Mage.

"This man will be fine. I have given some of my energy to hasten the recovery process. When he wakes, give him this,"

A cold vial was placed in Alistair's hand and he looked at it suspiciously, not liking the dark clumps hidden within.

"They are deep mushrooms, Alistair, and not poisonous," Wynne remarked shortly and Alistair felt chagrined at being so open. "They will renew his stamina. I cannot heal what is not broken."

"Thank you Wynne. You have been most helpful," Duncan's voice rumbled and the Mage slowly got up, still feeling a little bit drained from her task.

Alistair heard her whisper something to Duncan but he couldn't quite make out the words. As quickly as she appeared in their tent, she left. Duncan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"He should be fine now; when he wakes, tell him to meet with me at the War Meeting. The King wishes to see him."

"Why?"

Alistair had never questioned Duncan's orders, at least not before meeting with this strange young man. The older Warden was taken aback by his question but he chuckled, figuring that it was about time his subordinate had a mind of his own.

"King Cailan wanted to see you too, Alistair, but as it were, the Battle for Ostagar comes first before family. He-"

" He can speak for himself, Duncan," another voice interrupted him and both men were surprised to see the young King entering the tent. "Duncan, could you give us a moment? I wish to talk with Alistair, alone."

"Yes, your majesty, but please don't leave Loghain waiting too long. Who knows what a mad dog will do when his Master is absent."

The King let out a soft chuckle and, to Alistair's astonishment, gave Duncan a light peck on the cheek before the latter walked out with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"So, you and Duncan then?"

"Yes but Anora doesn't know. Nor will she ever."

"Did you know this man before?" Alistair's eyes darted briefly in the direction of the sleeping man before returning back to face those of his half-brother's.

"Yes, although he was younger and happier back then." Before I ended the relationship at father's behest.

Cailan deliberately did not mention that the new Warden and he were intimate at one point in time. As eager as he is to welcome his half-brother back, he was just as eager to withhold some secrets to himself. Alistair did not need to know the hidden aspect of their relationship and he certainly did not want to be there when his half-brother does find out.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not here just to chitchat?" Alistair was rather angry with this favoured son of King Maric and he couldn't help but feel some resentment at their obvious division.

"You're right. I'm not here to chitchat. However, I wish to convey both my regrets and that of my father's. Our father's."

"Why now?" The Grey Warden was confused as to the timing of his younger half-brother's apology. It had been more than a decade since the incident and Cailan was apologizing to him now, after all these years.

The young blonde's confident posture suddenly slumped, as if a great weight was placed on his shoulders. He should have known that this would happen, this awkwardness between the estranged brothers. He himself had always wondered why Alistair wasn't at the Palace anymore. Whenever he expressed his concerns at the absence of his brother, his father would only give him a sad look and then move on to something else. He wanted to ask Loghain but there was a feeling that the truth would be twisted by this advisor. He had never trusted his father's advisor, more especially after his father's death. It was so sudden, so unpredictable that Cailan truly believed there was foul play involved even though there was no evidence.

"To put it simply, Alistair, it was Loghain who advised Maric in not visiting you. Father never told me this in person. Before he passed into the Fade, he bequeathed me certain items, those that should not fall into Loghain's hands. Loghain was a trustworthy person but he is too involved in politics now, especially when he himself is very close to the throne."

"So why are you telling me this? To burden me with more crap? I'm already dealing with enough as it is being a Grey Warden and all."

The Grey Warden's voice was ripe with venom and Cailan was taken aback by Alistair's furious scowl. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have confided in him…my own brother.

Alistair sighed at seeing the distraught look on the young King's face. The time of resentment was over and at least the King was trying to make up for lost time.

"Forgive me, my King. It's just…"

There were no words suitable for him to describe his suffering and he definitely did not want to look a desperate fool in front of his half-brother. Cailan laid a hand on Alistair's shoulder and then embraced him tightly. At first, Alistair didn't do anything except stand there, with his arms stiff at his side. Slowly, however, he brought them around his brother and hugged him, trying to convey what he could not say into the hug. It must have been well received for Cailan pulled back with a small smile on his face.

"Here are a couple of things that I think you should have, Alistair."

A folded piece of parchment and a small amulet were placed in the Warden's hand. Alistair looked down at them, astonished to receive such a girly item from his brother. Cailan must have caught his expression and there was a light laugh.

"The amulet was our father's. He said it had our mother's locks of hair in it. One from the serving maid and one from my mother."

"I-no, you should keep this."

The Warden attempted to return the amulet but Cailan shook his head and closed Alistair's hand over the items.

"Don't read the parchments until the time is right. Until after the battle. But time's a wasting and Loghain is probably going mad over my tardiness."

Cailan gave Alistair one last hug and then exited the tent. When he left though, his shoulders were less slumped and his posture straightened, as if to bear himself in a regal manner in public. Alistair knew better though and he hoped that there would be more discussions between them after the fight. True to his words, he tucked the items into a small pouch that was then hidden away near his right breastplate. He was musing over the recent conversation when he heard a soft moan and some rustling of the blankets.

-o0o-

Hadrian heard voices murmuring softly in the background. He recognized both but the King had already left the tent when he opened his eyes. A dark brown ceiling greeted him and a face moved into his line of vision.

"Hadrian, you're awake. Thank goodness."

The young Warden groaned and he attempted to sit up. He felt so drained of energy, so tired that he couldn't sit up by himself. Alistair's arm reached around him to support his back and some strange mushroom was offered to him.

"Wynne said to take these. Your stamina would be recovered if you eat three of these."

The mushrooms were innocent in appearance but Hadrian had vowed never to eat these every again unless he was dying. The bitterness of them cut through the foggy haze and the aftertaste made him slightly nauseous. Luckily, the feelings of nausea faded, followed by a strange lift of his lethargy and his mind cleared, his body feeling like it could run miles again.

Alistair was pleased to see the colour come back to Hadrian's face and he grinned at the grimace that appeared on his face. Apparently, these mushrooms really were foul-tasting. No wonder his Wardens refuse to take them, even if they were slowing down in a fight.

"You try them, Alistair," Hadrian grumbled and he swallowed some water that the Templar had offered him next. "Gahh! I'll never eat those again."

"Let's hope not. Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah. What hour is it?"

"Not sure. Probably Fourth hour to the Moon. Duncan wants you at the meeting. The King already headed out so I'm sure you shouldn't linger in my tent any more than you should."

"Your tent? Why am I in your tent?"

Alistair shrugged his shoulders in answer but Hadrian was too tired to entice an answer out of him. Instead he slowly got out of bed and gathering what few things he had, proceeded to follow in the King's footsteps.

The War meeting had already started and Hadrian saw both the King and another person hunch over a large map, probably of Ostagar. Duncan was standing to the side and he appeared to have noticed him before everybody else.

"Hadrian, you are in time. Come,"

The senior Grey Warden motioned for Hadrian to approach the table, where the advisor and the King were arguing.

"You will place your unit here, four hundred feet away from the front. They will wait for the signal to charge the Darkspawn."

"Your highness, it is too dangerous for you to be playing hero out in the frontlines, with the Darkspawn out there," the stranger advised in a measured tone but Hadrian could tell he was getting frustrated with the blonde King.

The nobleman, upon approaching the two, recognized that face, with its long nose and eyes that sat too deeply. The hawkish appearance painted in several portraits at the Cousland Castle did the Hero of River Dane some kindness. In actuality, the dark brown eyes and the Roman nose portrayed Loghain in an unfriendly appearance. His high cheekbones, which would have looked nice on any other person, stood out too much and his lips were pursed tightly. Overall, Hadrian liked the heroic portraits of Loghain better than the actual person. At least, in the illustrations, Loghain looked friendlier and more dashing. The advisor was clad in high quality armour, burnished silver with streaks of blue across the shield that was on his back. The sword he carried impressed Hadrian, with its astounding length of 2 feet and its hilt gilded in black leather. Of course, Loghain, being a tall man, had to have a sword in proportionate to his height. Thus, if the person wasn't much to look at, at least the armor and weapons made up for it.

The King, on the other hand, was dressed in golden armor, the face of a dragon emblazoned on the front of his breastplate. He, unlike Loghain, did not carry a shield but a very large sword with such a wide girth that Hadrian knew it had to be wielded with two hands, not just one. It was apparent to Hadrian that the King was indeed a man of strength for two-handed weapons required a lot of strength training and the skill to wield it expertly. No wonder his hands were…

The thought was sharply cut off for this was not the time or place for such a thing. The Cousland focused on what the two were saying and he observed that there was tension between the King and his advisor.

"Hello, Grey Warden." The King addressed the man standing patiently behind the two. Loghain immediately stiffened but made no move against Hadrian.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"King Cailan, I can still send my men to the Tower of Ishal. They will light the beacon." Loghain continued his case, although it was very unconvincing. "The Wardens-"

"I will have you know who is King, Loghain. My decision is final: the two Wardens will light the beacon at the Tower of Ishal, not your men. Then, it will be such a glorious battle, the King fighting with the Grey Wardens once more."

"Yes, let us hope it will be a glorious battle."

Hadrian disliked the tone of Loghain's voice and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Something's not right here and I have a feeling he is at the centre of it all. Unfortunately, voicing such a concern would only worsen the situation between the War Council members and the Grey Wardens. Loghain had already voiced his opinion on the presence of the Grey Wardens and refused to acknowledge them even if the King did. It was very clear to Hadrian to determine who really wanted to be king and the young Warden made a mental note on keeping a close eye on this fabled hero of River Dane.