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By the end of the day Jaune had woken up he was, more or less, recovered entirely. His ribs were still a touch sore, and his shoulder twanged with pain on occasion, but both of those had faded through the day as well. Alistair, although talking already, took days longer to heal under the magic wielded by Morrigan, the woman he'd met when he came to. Although she claimed not to be great at healing magic, when Jaune asked, he still watched Alistair's broken arm and bruised body heal in days what should have taken him weeks otherwise. Jaune helped, where he could, but…

"I don't get it." He grunted, dropping his hands from the man's thigh and standing over the bed he lay in. It was the same one Jaune himself had occupied until he'd come to but, since he had healed, he had traded his spot for Alistair's cot in the open room that made up the bulk of the hut. Shaking his head, he sighed and stepped back to let Morrigan come over from the door to heal him herself. While she worked, he said, "I can feel… Something there, something like Aura, but I can't reach it."

"Maybe being a Templar is doing something?" Alistair suggested from the bed, groaning as Morrigan went to work finishing up the bruises there. Sighing, he said, "We're trained to resist magic until it's natural."

"However, Aura isn't magic." Morrigan cut in, flicking him a sharp-eyed look over his shoulder. "As you told me."

"Right…"

"Therefore, something else must be to blame." Morrigan went on quietly, turning back to her work and moving down Alistair's bare leg. "Depending on the intricacies of Aura, and your sensitivity, or lack thereof, to magic it could be that Aura is a type of magic. It's merely not considered one, where you come from, and doesn't behave like one where you have come to."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning," she sighed, flicking Alistair a look, "that I will need more time and study with him to know why, precisely, his power does not affect you."

"Well…" The Templar-Warden hummed, "Does it affect you?"

"She hasn't been hurt to try it." Jaune sighed, crossing his arms over his armored chest and leaning against the wall by the door, right where Morrigan had been only minutes ago. Shaking his head, he grunted, "Doesn't matter anyway, does it?"

"It could save your lives out there." Morrigan pointed out lowly, flatly. She didn't turn to ask, "Is that not something that matters?"

"Yeah, well… It's done a great job of that lately." He snapped, stomach twisting and turning until he felt nauseous. Biting the inside of his cheek, he shook his head and grunted, quietly, "Hasn't it?"

Morrigan didn't answer beyond a simple hum. Which was something she'd started doing a lot, in the past day or so. He would snap, and he wasn't so dishonest with himself not to know he was snapping, and she would just hum and drop it. She didn't argue, and neither did Alistair, when Jaune said something to him he shouldn't have.

Instead, they both just moved on to another topic or hummed.

He didn't get it…

"Where is your-"

"Mother returned hours ago, and is outside." Morrigan cut him off, shaking her head when he grunted and pushed off the wall. Before he could leave, she said, "She already told me. From how close she dared to get, the Darkspawn are still numerous in Ostagar. The bulk of the horde has pushed on, but-"

"How many are left?"

"Hundreds, at the very least." A new, more wizened voice said as Morrigan turned and stood. Alistair, apparently healed, sat up in his bed and stretched his leg out, testing the muscles with a hand while Jaune turned to meet Flemeth's ever-flat, unamused gaze. "No matter your otherworldly sturdiness, boy, you can hardly face a true army on your own. And while you rot at Ostagar, what of the rest of Ferelden? What of the rest of the Wardens?"

"The Wardens…?" Jaune's brow furrowed, gesturing at Alistair and grunting, "We're the only Wardens in Ferelden."

"Are you a fool?" His brows narrowed and Flemeth's scoff turned into a scowl, "Blights are worldwide, boy. If Ferelden falls, it will push on into Orlais and beyond. The Wardens everywhere will face the same peril you do now."

"They'll be better prepared." Alistair argued quietly, surprising Jaune. "Orlais has far more Wardens than Ferelden was willing to tolerate…"

"And to get to that point, you would have to see a nation burn. Thousands, dead." Flemeth cut in, pursing her lips and shaking her head. Cocking a hip and resting her hand on it, the old woman snapped harshly, "I thought you were supposed to be a hero, boy."

"...And where did you get that idea?"

"Is that not what you've always wanted?" Flemeth smiled, all tooth and narrow, judgmental eyes. "To be a hero, like so many others? Others you've known of… And others you've known yourself, as well?"

Jaune scowled and asked, "How would you possibly know anything about what I want?"

"I have my sources." He took a step towards her, heartbeat thumping in his ears and eyes burning, and Flemeth raised an eyebrow. Not in a challenge. But, rather, in a sort of… Consideration. Finally, she shrugged and sighed, "If you must know… It was an educated guess."

"A guess…?"

"You chose to be a Warden." She shrugged, face flat and almost… Bored looking as she went on. Less like she was caving to his demands for answers, and more like she was… Making stew, or doing the dishes, somehow. "Then belies delusions of grandeur, does it not? And besides, I know you lost someone you would call a hero. Back there, at Ostagar. He is why you wish to return, is he not?"

For a moment, Jaune was quiet, until Alistair finally said, "Duncan was, uh… Important to me, too, you know." Jaune turned to give him a flat look and the man just shrugged. "Just, you know… Putting that out there. You're not alone. You're part of a team now, Jaune."

The words echoed in his ears, reminding him of another time. Another conversation, in a dark hallway what felt like a decade ago…

He heard the door out of the hut slamming closed behind him before he even realised he'd left.

Storming away, up the path, he found a spot on a shoddy little bridge to turn and lean against the railing. Around him, the forests and spotty marshlands were quiet, aside from chirping birds and bugs out in the waning evening light. He closed his eyes, trying to listen to the quiet sounds. Trying to let them calm him down…

But the crickets only took him to that rooftop.

To that school.

He smelled smoke, and fire, and-

"Gods damn it!" He screamed, pounding his fist down into the railing so hard it shattered under him. He stumbled and would have fallen if a hand hadn't grabbed him by the back of his chest-piece and yanked him back. He spun, yanking himself free, and met Morrigan's entirely unamused glare head on. "What?"

"The Darkspawn are leery of this area, thanks to my mother's wards." She deadpanned, "But if they hear your squawking, their curiosity may outweigh their fear."

He wanted to argue, but…

He smelled smoke, and the fight just sort of… Left him.

"Fine." He sighed, turning and taking a step to lean on the still intact section of railing at the bridge's end. Quietly, he added, "Sorry. I-"

"Do not apologize." Morrigan cut him off sharply, joining him at the edge of the bridge and watching the forest with her sharp eyes. Quietly, she said, "I despise people who apologize all the time… If you're apologetic, be better."

"If it were that easy-"

"I never said it was easy, only that you should do it." Morrigan cut him off again, turning to give him a look he didn't understand. Almost an appraising one, though there was something else in her gaze he couldn't understand that muddied that feeling. Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"

"What?"

"You keep acting as if you mean to go to Ostagar." Morrigan explained, "Why? What do you want? To die?"

"No!" He scoffed, "Of course not!"

"Then what?" She demanded sharply, "What do you want there, if not to die? It's a ruin filled with corpses and worse. What is there to gain?

"I want to kill the Darkspawn!" He snapped, "And bury my friend!"

"You say you want to kill first." Morrigan pointed out, "Why is that?"

"Because I have to kill them to bury anyone at all!" He snarled, throwing his arm out to the side in the vague direction he thought Ostagar was in. "Because Duncan deserved better than to die like that!"

"All Wardens die to Darkspawn, in the end." Morrigan pointed out, "Do you not know this, somehow?"

"Of course I do!" Duncan had mentioned it, once or twice in passing, on their walk to Ostagar. It would take years, Duncan told him, before he even felt the start of the symptoms leading to that. Not that he'd cared much about it at all, at the time. Shaking the thoughts off, and the memories, he asked, "Why does that matter?"

"Because he died fighting Darkspawn." She answered, "As he would have anyways."

"No!" Jaune shouted, "He died because of Loghain! That bastard betrayed them all, and Duncan died for it!"

"So that's it, then?" Morrigan asked coldly, "You want revenge?"

For a second, Jaune wanted to argue. Wanted to say that no, of course he didn't. But…

Instead, he just turned to lean on the railing again and sighed, "What's so wrong with that?"

Morrigan only hummed, again, and lingered for a few moments. Before, finally, she left without a word backwards for him. He turned to watch her go, brows knitting together in confusion, head aching from trying to figure what the woman had even come out there for in the first place. After all, Flemeth had been powerful enough to come and get them from the tower, so whatever she could do, a few straggling Darkspawn close by enough to hear him couldn't possibly have been a threat worth worrying herself about. Right?

"Whatever." He sighed, turning back to watching the forest.

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They woke up the next morning and, once Morrigan had confirmed Alistair hadn't worsened any of what was left of his injuries, Flemeth packed them some preserved meats and breads for the day and sent them on their way, small packs on the backs of their waists. Alistair had lost his helmet at some point, and Jaune's sword had obviously broken, but otherwise they weren't in terrible shape for travelling towards 'Lothering' to resupply and, ideally, re-equip themselves. What they were in absolutely awful shape for, though, was heading back through the wilds to Ostagar - which Jaune understood perfectly.

As much as it broke his heart…

"Every Warden ends up the same way." Alistair said, sitting on a tall bit of dirty rock on the other side of the little bridge out from Felemth's Hut. "Dead and desecrated by Darkspawn. It's… Not great, but Duncan knew that this could-"

"Alistair." Jaune grunted shortly, pacing the path in front of him and watching the woods. "I get it. Just… Stop."

"Right." He sighed, tapping armored fingers on his rock for a few seconds before he asked. "Why do you keep checking the woods like that? Flemeth said she warded against the Darkspawn."

"Yeah, and isn't that a neat trick…" Hr grumbled even if, logically, he understood Morrigan's explanation - the wards didn't keep them out so much as redirect their interest, and weren't strong enough for the horde proper.

It was, apparently, mostly luck that had the horde pass by Flemeth's Hut by a few miles.

"Yeah, when all this is over, we need to get back here. See about commissioning a book on warding from the old hag. Who knows, maybe the Dwarves will grant us some more trade or… Something for them?" Alistair sighed, ignoring - or missing - the way Jaune cocked his head at the word 'Dwarves' and pointing out, instead, "And you didn't answer my question."

"Your-" He sighed, "Oh. Right. Uh, habit, mostly."

"Habit?"

"Where I'm from, monsters are drawn to negative emotion." He shrugged, standing straighter and looking up at a flock of birds drifting by overhead. "You get used to knowing when you're upset, and keeping an eye out. Or, well, if you can't…"

"Yeah, I get the gist." Alistair sighed, "Thank the Maker we don't have to deal with those, too, eh?"

Jaune considered it for a moment, and then imagined all the horrors of the Grimm compounded into the horde of the Darkspawn and shuddered. The Apathy alone still filled him with anxiety when he thought about them - and he hadn't even fought them. He'd only heard about them second-hand and, to an extent, third-hand thanks to the journal they'd told him about.

"Yeah." Jaune sighed, "Thank… Whoever for that."

"Not a believer?" Jaune just shrugged, not really wanting to go into that lengthy explanation just now. Quietly, Alistair sighed and said, "Yeah, I get that. Especially right now. I'm guessing you aren't interested in talking philosophy right now?"

"Not particularly."

"Fair enough, fair enough." Alistair sighed, opting instead to say, "You know… I've never really seen someone fight like you before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Alistair smiled when Jaune gave him a look, one brow raised in curiosity. "You must have had a hell of a tutor, learning to fight like that."

"I… Yeah." He murmured, turning away and frowning as an old, old scar at the back of his mind throbbed. His eyes burned and he turned away, thumbing the wetness away with a sigh and choking out, "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I did. The best there was…"

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to… Bring anything up, I'm-"

"It's fine." He sighed, waving him off and letting his hand drift around to Crocea Mors, resting on the back of his waist. He fingered the bronze embroidering there and sighed again. "Just… Old wounds and new wounds not meshing well, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that…" Alistair answered, sounding more cheery as he added, "Oh, hey, look! A pair of nice distractions!"

"If that came from the other idiot I'd think that was a comment about my chest." Jaune rolled his eyes and turned as Morrigan and Flemeth reached them. The former wore a small satchel-pack at the small of her back, and carried a worn looking old walking stick with a gem wrapped in what looked like roots, while the latter just smiled absently as Jaune's eyes narrowed. Morrigan frowned and nodded, "Why yes. This is exactly what it looks like, Arc."

"Please tell me that is a joke." He sighed, "And for the fifth time, I wasn't-"

"I have eyes, Arc, and I know when men-"

"Morrigan, that's enough." Flemeth cut her daughter off with a sharp look. "He says he did nothing, you disagree. Leave it and stop playing the petulant child."

"...Yes, mother." Morrigan sighed, "As you say, mother."

"Very good. Now then." She sighed, turning back to the two Wardens and bowing her head slightly. "Now, as much of an imposition as I am sure it will be… I believe that, for your quest, magical support will be quite important."

"Magical support…?" Alistair frowned, "You mean Apostate support."

"You haven't seemed to mind my Apostate healing the last few days." Morrigan responded shortly, "Why should you mind it now, Templar?"

"Yeah," Alistair sighed, "that's fair, I guess."

"Apostates are illegal, though." Jaune pointed out quietly, "Isn't it dangerous to send her with us? Aren't you worried about your daughter's safety?"

"She's a grown woman, and already has been talking about going out to 'see the world' and all its inane baubles. Don't let her fool you, she was packing even as I told her she'd be going with you, talking to herself about all the 'shiny things' she could see out there." Morrigan flushed a bit when Jaune gave her a look, but Flemeth went on before he could say anything - or she could. "As for safety… My wards work better with less people here. And if the Darkspawn destroy Ferelden, well, she'll hardly be safe at all. Besides, she needs proper experience to hone her magical abilities. Also, she knows the way to Lothering from here."

"That sounds spectacular." Alistair bemoaned, "Yes. Let's take the wildlands witch with us. That's sure to result in grand things, and nary a Warden-turned-frog in sight. I'm sure of it."

"As long as she's useful," Jaune argued, "I don't see why we shouldn't. Besides, we owe them for saving us. This is the least we can do."

"Fine, fine, I guess having a fire-ball hurling witch that insists you harassed her in camp will be just fine." Jaune rolled his eyes and Alistair sighed, "But if she turns you into a frog, I'm not kissing you, just so you know."

Jaune just ignored his companion and turned, waving for Morrigan to follow and grunting, "Come on, then. I'm done wasting time here."

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General Sparda :

I have never heard of these abilities like 'Aura slam' before. I know those that STUDY IT can sometimes use it to do neat things, like Ren does in Initiation - but Jaune lacks that studying time or material. As for moving - he's already demonstrated an ability to jump and fall far exceeding that of his DA contemporaries.

And yes, Semblances can evolve - but the instances we've seen of that is like real evolution. Progression from one thing to a similar, mildly different thing.

Zenith Tempest :

Things have already changed, though. In this, for instance, Loghain didn't wait until the Warden lit the beacon to withdraw - he withdrew ahead of time. Other characters - five of them, lmao - will appear MUCH later with MORE changes, but right now, it's early days. And Jaune has only been here for a short time. Hell, he hasn't even visited Denerim yet.

It just takes time.

Lea :

Yeah, Jaune is gonna have a dark arc for a bit lol