#markov cousland

[askchanceoffates]

A Chance of Fates - ch 9

Sorry about the ridiculously long wait - somebody *side eyes @nightzilla333 * kept working on her novel instead

“Let's get to the Tower of Ishal!” Alistair yelled over the roar of the battle down below. The three Wardens and the Mabari ran across the bridge, narrowly avoiding the ballista fire.

Markov wondered briefly if Nym had joined the fray yet. He voiced his question quietly, not expecting a response.

Revas ran frantically passed Markov, panting, “No talkie. Only runnie.”

Markov shook his head bemusedly, muttering, “Cause that’s a word,” under his breath.

Alistair, Markov, and Furgus watched as Revas barrelled headlong into a tower guard. They went down with much flailing of their limbs and an unsightly shrill squawk from one of the two. Perhaps both.

“That didn't happen,” Revas said as she bounced back to her feet. “Shut up! That never happened!”

“What didn't happen? You running into a soldier and falling down squealing?” Alistair laughed.

“It wasn't a squeal, it was a shriek!” Revas glared. “And shut up!”

The tower guard slowly stood. “There's darkspawn in the tower!” He said in a panicky voice, uncertain if these were the Wardens or not. He hoped they weren't.

The three Wardens blinked at the tower guard. “How did darkspawn get into the tower?”

“They came up through the tunnels ser!”

“Tunnels?”

“Yes, the tunnels under the tower!” The guard was bemused by their confusion. “I told a different Warden about the tunnels earlier…”

The three Wardens shared a glance with each other, Revas’ eyebrows high on her face. “We were never told. Why weren’t the tunnels guarded better?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The tower guard shouted. “Follow me!”

The Wardens raced after the tower guard into the Tower of Ishal. At one point a mage had helped them with a battle, but a stray arrow from a dying darkspawn caught the poor man in the throat, spilling his life on the stone floor. The party worked their way through the throngs of darkspawn as they made their way up the floors of the tower. Not a word was spoken to each other unless it was a call of warning or a request of help.

Finally, finally, the small group had a chance to breath near the top of the tower in front of giant oak doors. Revas shook her curly red hair and then tossed her hair back, chest heaving. Markov frowned at the remaining arrows and fingered the quiver attached to his belt. The few arrows he had rattled around. Alistair wiped the blood off of his blade and looked around. “I really hope that Nym has better luck on the field.”

“I really hope that we aren’t too late,” Revas muttered, and winced at the glares that were shot her way.

“Let’s just go light the fire.” Alistair shoved past Revas and pushed the giant doors open.

The group stared in horror at the giant horned abomination that was chowing down on a body. Blood smeared the floors and the walls. Bodies were littered everywhere, more so than the Wardens had seen before. The stench of death was thick in the air.

“Andraste’s bountiful bosom, what is that?” Revas swore.

“An ogre.”

The body the ogre was eating was tossed at the group causing them the scatter. The disgusting beast roared, spittle flying from its mouth. Revas landed in a roll, quickly getting to her feet, and Markov had three arrows flying through the air, firing off the arrows lightning fast.

“How do we kill this thing?” Markov shouted, firing off another arrow. “This thing doesn’t seem to be getting hurt!”

“Just keep hitting it!” Alistair shouted back as he charged the monster and bashed it with his shield. The tower guard joined Alistair in a frontal assault as Revas circled behind and stabbed at the back of its legs. Furgus bit and clawed at the ogre’s ankles, narrowly avoiding being squished.

Revas yelped as she dodged a kick, her off-hand dagger slashing up wildly and nicking the monster in the ankle. Her yelp was covered, however, Markov shouting. “I’m out of arrows!”

Markov slung his bow over his shoulder and drew his family’s sword and shield. He looked for an opening against the ogre but could not get close enough to strike. Markov snarled, picked a loose stone off of the floor, and whipped the stone at the beast. Luck was on his side: as the stone spun through the air, the ogre turned its head. The stone struck right in its eye and the ogre roared.

The furious beast swung its arms around and grasped the nearest fleshy being it could. The tower guard screamed as he was lifted into the air, his legs kicking uselessly. He continued to scream as a giant fist hit him once, twice. By the third hit the soldier was silent, any and all movement stopped. The ogre hit the limp body twice more before dropping the corpse onto the ground.

Revas didn’t make a noise as she leapt onto the monster’s back, managing to stab it once before she was tossed off. Revas hit the stone wall hard. Her body landed in a limp pile on the floor.

“REVAS!” yelled Markov. He managed to get close enough to see that she was still breathing, then returned his attention to the ogre. Furgus stood guard over Revas’ prone form.

The ogre roared and charged at Alistair, who shrieked (in a very manly fashion) and jumped out of the way.

Markov ran up behind the ogre and slashed at the back of its knees; his blade went deep, blood spurting from the wound. Howling, the ogre spun around. Markov, putting all of his weight into it, rammed the monster with his shield. The ogre staggered back. Before the beast could regain its footing, Markov jumped. Planting his feet (as best he could) on the ogre’s ribcage, Markov plunged his sword deep into its chest. The ogre fell back and Markov finished it off by driving his sword home in the ogre’s face.

Exhausted, Markov awkwardly rolled off the corpse and collapsed spread-eagle on the floor. Alistair gave a breathy giggle and yanked the sword out of the ogre’s face before offering Markov a hand up. After a slight struggle to stand, Markov shuffled over to the signal fire while Alistair picked up Revas.

“You better light it. We’ve surely missed the signal!” Markov nodded sharply at Alistair’s words. He snatched a torch off the wall and tossed it onto the kindling. The signal fire roared to life, and Markov joined Alistair by the window.

Together they watched with mounting dread as Loghain’s troops made no move towards the battlefield. The two men looked at each in sheer horror as Loghain’s troops retreated, leaving those on the field to be slaughtered. Before anything could be done, the door leading down to the rest of the tower shuddered once, twice, and shattered. Darkspawn poured in and the last thing the Wardens saw were arrows flying towards them.

Run.

Nym swore under her breath as her shin smacked against a log in an attempt to jump over it. Twigs snagged at her robes as she fell. Her knee hit the ground hard and her staff tumbled out of her grip. In the distance she could hear the sounds of fighting. The screams. The slaughter.

Nym laid on the ground, catching her breath. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep. One, two, three. Breathe out. Her eyes opened and her hand crawled along the forest floor until it the smooth wood of her staff. Her fingers curled around it and drew it close. Bracing it on the floor Nym used it to pull herself up off of the ground. Her knee throbbed.

Run.

Nym rolled her eyes, and if she weren’t so dainty, the noise she emitted could have been described as a growl. She started to walk, one of her feet lagging behind the other. As she walked the limp became less noticeable, and soon she was able to walk as if she hadn’t had a hard fall.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking for, unable to keep track of time in the Wilds. She stopped abruptly, ears twitching. The air was suddenly thick with growls and snarls emanating from the bushes. The darkspawn erupted from the thick underbrush, surrounding Nym.

The first one went down in a flurry of ice and a whack on the head with her staff. She mind blasted the others close to her and darted to the side to give herself some room. Two more came after her at the same time. A twirl of her staff tripped the feet out from one of the monsters. She blocked the blow from the second in a continuing motion from the trip and struck the beast across the skull. Blood sprayed out from the wound on its head.

The one she had tripped started to get up, and two genlocks joined it. With a deep breath she wiggled her fingers and thrust her arm out. A fireball flew through the air and knocked the three darkspawn back. Their dying screams were nearly swallowed up by the sounds of the flames licking across them.

Vision blurring Nym steadied herself and spread her legs slightly, bracing. The scream of a hurlock signaled the rush, and her staff blocked another blow. The axe hooked onto the staff and yanked it out of her grip. Nym yelled and pulled a dagger into her hand from the confines of her outfit. She buried the blade to the hilt in an eye socket before yanking it out. She launched off of the falling body and into the fray of the darkspawn, a wild look in her eye.

Nym didn’t know how long she was able to block and twirl her way through her deadly dance, but she knew it was coming to an end when a sword hilt smacked her temple and forced her to her knees. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, daring the hurlock to finish her off.

A blade carved through the hurlocks shoulder, only coming to a stop midway down the torso. Nym rolled to the side as the body fell forward. She was on her feet in an instant, helping the new comer take care of the remaining darkspawn.

Finally, with the last three dead in a circle around her and the new comer, Nym turned. “Who’re you?”

“Carver. Andraste's ashes, I was not expecting to come across another person this deep into the thick - are…Carver Hawke! Where were you on the battlefield? Wait, no, sorry, shouldn't have asked that. You don’t have to answer that, you’re probably another deserter. Did you know you're really pretty? Why did I say that please forget I said that not that you aren't pretty oh Maker why am I still talking…” Nym watched with exhausted amusement as Carver babbled.

“I’m a Grey Warden. And, yes, I know I'm pretty. But thank you.”

“Ah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “We should probably keep moving. I’m heading to Lothering. I got family there. They’ll help keep us safe.”

Nym nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s where I was heading, anyway.” Nym swayed on her feet before pitching forward. She felt strong arms catching her, and then nothing at all.

Markov woke with a jolt and sat up in the strange bed.

“Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased.” The woman from the Wilds strode over to the bed Markov was sitting on. Looking around, Markov realized he was probably in the hut she had brought them to earlier.

“I remember you. Morrigan, right?”

“Indeed. We are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way,” Morrigan smirked as Markov noticed his state of undress and hurriedly pulled the blankets over his lap more. “How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother’s rescue?”

“I...remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…” He trailed off, rubbing at his headache.

“Mother managed to save you and your friends, though ‘twas a close call. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friends...they are not taking it well.”

“What happened to the Grey Wardens? And the king?” Markov choked out.

“All dead. Your friend has veered between denial and grief since he awoke. He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke.”

Markov nodded and looked around for his armour. “Thank you for helping me, Morrigan.” He started attempting to pull his armour on underneath the blanket; Morrigan rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

“I...you are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer.”

Markov smiled slightly at her back. “I guess I’ll go see your Mother then.”

“I will stay and make something to eat.”

Markov walked out of the hut, adjusting the last buckle on his armour. He saw Alistair and Revas standing near Morrigan’s mother while awkwardly avoiding all eye contact. Furgus bounded over to Markov, barking happily. The two Wardens looked up sharply at Furgus’ excitement, mixed emotions warring in their expressions.

“You…you’re alive! I thought you were dead for sure,” Alistair said, relief plain in his voice; Revas said nothing.

“I’m not, thanks to Morrigan’s mother.” He bowed his head to the older woman.

“This doesn't seem real. If it weren’t for Morrigan’s mother, we’d be dead on top of that tower.” Alistair breathed out. He seemed almost scared to speak with any force behind it. When Markov studied Alistair’s face he could see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad,” Morrigan’s mother said sharply.

Alistair seemed flustered. “I, I didn’t mean… but what do we call you? You never told us your name.”

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do.”

“The Flemeth, from legend?” Alistair gaped at her.

“Daveth was right, you are the Witch of the Wilds!” blurted out Revas. Like the first time they met Morrigan, she froze after realizing that she said something and promptly hid behind Alistair.

“And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you three well, has it not?” Flemeth crossed her arms and stuck out her chin.

“Why did you save us?” Markov raised one of his eyebrows. Even Revas seemed interested at Markov’s inquiry – she peeked out from behind Alistair.

Flemeth gave a dark chuckle. “Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

“The land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain.” Markov sneered around Loghain’s name, his hands shaking with rage. He noticed that Revas was in a similar state, her left eye twitching.

Alistair spoke breathlessly, pain evident in his speech. “Why would he do it?”

“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 does not see the true evil behind it.” Markov noticed that Flemeth really enjoyed speaking in pointed riddles.

Alistair gave a sharp nod as he spoke. “The archdemon.”

“Then we need to find this archdemon,” said Markov with more confidence than he felt.

“By ourselves? No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at their back. Not to mention, I don’t know how.” Apparently, Alistair was not as good at Markov at faking confidence.

“How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?” Again with the pointed questions.

“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.” Alistair looked back and forth between Markov and Flemeth, uncertainty on his face.

“You think Eamon would believe us over Loghain?” After what happened in Highever, Markov did not trust any of the Landsmeet.

Alistair spoke hesitantly, “I suppose…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,” he gained conviction as he went on, “Of course! We can go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

“Keep in mind that Loghain was also an honourable man.” Howe’s face flashed in Markov’s mind.

“The arl would never do what Loghain did. I know him too well.” Revas snorted at that, but the others ignored her. “I still don’t know if Arl Eamon’s help would be enough. He can’t defeat the darkspawn horde by himself!”

“We’ll find a way. It’s up to us, after all.” Furgus nudged Markov’s leg in encouragement.

“You have more at your disposal than you think.” Markov wondered if Flemeth was getting tired of spoon-feeding them.

“Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand help from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They’re obligated to help us during a Blight!” Alistair’s puppy-like energy was back in full force.

“I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…this sounds like an army to me.”

“So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?” Revas emerged as Alistair talked, ears perked up.

Markov sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I doubt it’ll be as easy as that.”

Flemeth laughed. “And when is it ever?”

“It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to stand against the Blight. And right now, we’re the Grey Wardens.” Alistair gestured to at them, making sure to include Furgus.

“So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?”

“Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth.” Markov bowed his head to her again.

“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.”

“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have guests for the eve, or none?” Morrigan strolled up to the group.

Flemeth smirked at her daughter. “The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you shall be joining them.”

“Such a shame – what?” Morrigan’s double-take made Revas giggle, which she quickly covered up with an obviously fake cough.

“You heard me, girl. Last time I looked, you had ears!” chided Flemeth.

“Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn’t wish to join us…”

Flemeth waved aside Markov’s concern. “Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde.”

“Have I no say in this?” Morrigan indignantly crossed her arms.

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

Markov nodded. “Very well.”

Alistair, unsurprisingly, appeared less sure of this development. “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.” Revas bobbed her head in agreement.

“If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower.”

“Mother…this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready –”

Flemeth grabbed her daughter’s chin. “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.”

Morrigan’s defiance deflated with Flemeth’s words. “I…understand.”

Releasing her daughter, Flemeth turned back to the others. “And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed.” She fixed the three Wardens with a serious stare.

“She won’t come to harm with us,” swore Markov, with his hand on his heart.

“Allow me to get my things, if you please.” Morrigan walked back into the hut. A few minutes later, she returned to the group with a pack slung over her shoulders. “I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a small 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 will simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

“No, I prefer you to speak your mind.” Revas rolled her eyes at Markov.

Flemeth laughed, “You will regret saying that.”

“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.” With that, Flemeth seemed to lose interest in the conversation and ambled away from the group.

Alistair grabbed Markov’s shoulder. “I just…do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?”

Markov groaned. “We need all the help we can get. Without Nym, we definitely need a badass mage.”

“I guess you’re right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them.”

Morrian rolled her eyes. “I am so pleased to have your approval.” The sarcasm was strong with this one.

Markov cleared his throat before any argument could start. “Well, I guess we should be going.” He was pleasantly surprised when everyone – even Revas – made noises of agreement and shouldered their packs. The party gave one last look at the hut and headed off towards Lothering.

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 8

When Duncan said early, he wasn't kidding. The sun hadn't even risen before the Wardens were barging into the recruits’ tents. Before the senior Wardens could even make it to her tent, Nym was walking out fully dressed with Markov stumbling behind her.

“How are you awake already? I figured Markov there would've tired you out,” the bearded man from the night before was laughing.

 Daveth, who was still rubbing sleep from his eyes, chimed in, “Didn't hear much noise from Nym though. What Markov, couldn't satisfy her? Or was her mouth full?” Daveth leered at Nym, who rolled her eyes.

 “Her mouth was probably full so she couldn't yell for help,” Revas muttered. “He is a noble, after all.” The senior Wardens, in the middle of teasing Nym and Markov, froze. Prior to Revas’ statement, Markov had been bragging to Daveth about how lucky he was. Afterwards, Markov couldn't think of anything to say. He just blinked in shock. Duncan unleashed a glare upon Revas, full of angered disappointment.

 Before he could say anything, a quiet, “What. Did. You. Just. Say,” broke through the silence. Nym slowly walked to Revas; with each step, ice gathered on the ground. “Did you really just imply that Markov raped me?” Nym grabbed Revas’ chin and forced her to make eye contact. “Did you dare to make such an accusation based solely on the fact that Markov is a noble? Because all nobles must only be capable of raping people instead of having consensual sex? Because to you, even though I reciprocated the interest, Markov must have forced me to do something I did not want to on the basis of his noble blood?” Everyone stared in shocked horror as frost gathered on Nym’s hands. “Do you honestly think that I am unable to protect myself? That if someone tried to rape me, they'd still be alive at this moment? This isn't the Tower; I'm allowed to defend myself here. And I would, if it was necessary. Apologize.” Nym threw Revas away from her in disgust and returned to sitting beside Markov, pointedly ignoring everyone's stares.

 Revas rubbed her face. “Sorry.” It wasn't much, but it placated Nym.

 Markov leaned close to Nym and whispered so only she could hear, “You were rather quiet. Did I… remind you of anything? Anything at all?”

 Nym smiled and patted him on the cheek. “Don't worry dear. You were very good. I merely had to learn to be quiet in the Tower or risk getting caught. And believe me, Irving or templars catching you during sex is not what you want.”

 The senior Wardens gaped at Nym’s sudden change in demeanor. Duncan breathed a sigh of relief that nobody was maimed. One of the Wardens cleared his throat. “What did you mean by-”

 Markov coughed loudly and looked over at Duncan. “You know, ‘early’ doesn't mean ‘before the sun has risen’. Why are we awake?” It was an obvious change of topic; Nym sent Markov a grateful smile.

 Duncan raised a brow. “It’s time.”

 “Time for what?” Revas finally spoke again, almost too quiet for anyone to hear. Duncan, however, didn’t bother with a proper explanation, and gave a brief wave with his hand, indicating that he should be followed.

 Nym and Markov looked at each other and shrugged, following the man who is in charge. Jory was quick behind their heels, Daveth clapped a hand on Revas’ shoulder and gave a squeeze. “I’m not going to say it’s not your fault for what you said,” Daveth started to lead Revas, an arm slung over her shoulder, “because it clearly is, but next time, think before you speak. I’m not a fan of nobles myself, but I like Markov. He’s a good guy. No idea why he wants to become a Warden, but he’s a good guy. Give him a chance. He may surprise you.”

 “This is the weirdest advice I have ever been given, because it is coming from you.” Revas deadpanned. “I should probably apologize though. To Markov, not Nym. I just hate apologizing when someone demands it. It makes it seem so weak.”

 “No, you just hate admitting when you’re wrong. Now, let’s catch up with the others and officially become Wardens. I hope nudity is involved.”

 Revas groaned and rolled her eyes, shoving Daveth away from her. “There’s the Daveth I know. It happened once, it was mediocre, and it won’t happen again. Nym might, because she did seem interested. But you and I? It’s not happening. I’ve had better sex in alleyways with guards.”

 Daveth gasped and placed a hand over his chest. “You wound me,” he laughs.

 When Revas and Daveth finally caught up with the others, Ser Jory was already starting to whine. “The more I hear about the Joining, the less I like it.”

 “Are you blubbering, again?” Daveth scoffed and raised an eyebrow at the knight.

“Why all these damn tests? Have I not earned my place?”

 “Maybe it’s tradition. Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.” Daveth shot back.

 Revas scooted away from the two squabbling men and tugged on Markov’s sleeve. When he looked down Revas looked away. She sighed, and said: “I’m sorry for accusing you of raping Nym.”

 Markov quirked a brow and smiled slightly. “It’s alright. You’re still probably just trying to deal with everything that happened at Denerim. I get it. Next time, though, actually think before you speak, ‘kay?” He patted the ginger elf on her curly hair.

 Revas growled at him and batted away his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

 Finally, Nym seemed to have enough of Jory and Daveth’s arguing. “Enough. There is a reason for it.”

 “I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me I… it just doesn’t seem fair.”

 Markov glanced at Jory when he mentioned Highever, and his good mood at teasing Revas fell.

 “Would you have come if they warned you? Maybe that’s why they don’t. The Wardens do what they must, right?” It seemed like Daveth was trying to calm down Jory, if it was only just to stop him from his constant complaining.

 “Including sacrificing us?”

 “I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.”

 “Sorry, Jory, but I think we’re all with Daveth on this one. A chance to save all of Ferelden is more important than anything, at the moment. If we don’t stop the darkspawn, who will?” Markov shrugged.

 “So stop acting like a giant baby. Elves in the alienage are more brave than you. And they’re not trained to fight.” Revas snorted.

 “Yeah, Ser Knight, try not to wet your trousers until the ritual starts.” Daveth crossed him arms.

 “I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade.” Jory tried to explain.

 “Then you have never faced a true foe.” With that ominous pronouncement from Nym, everyone fell silent.

 “At last, we come to the Joining.” Duncan made a grand entrance, leaving the group of senior Warden’s behind. “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation.” As he talked, he walked over to a small pedestal, with a silver chalice resting on it. “So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint.” Duncan turned around to face the Warden recruits.

 “We’re…going to drink the blood of those creatures?” Jory managed to get out.

 “I knew it.” Nym sang, and held out her hand. The others, besides Jory, grumbled and dug into their pockets, pulling out a few coins, and dropped it into Nym’s open hand. Duncan stared at the group.

 “As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power, and our victory.” Duncan quickly recovered over the shock of the fact that there was, apparently, a betting pool going on over what exactly the Joining was.

 “Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon.” Alistair joined in.

 “Really?” Revas raised a brow at the both of them. “Sign me up. That sounds pretty cool.”

 “We speak only a few words before the Joining. But these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”

 Alistair looked at Duncan and nodded. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us, as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn, and should you do perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and, that one day, we shall join you.” All of the Grey Wardens had either looked down or closed their eyes, mouthing along to the words as if they were a prayer.

 Once Alistair was done speaking Duncan turned back around and picked up the chalice on the pedestal. “Revas,” he said, turning around, “step forward.”

 And Revas did, accepting the giant thing into her hands. “I could fit my head in here,” she mused, “I guess I’ll see you all on the other side.” And she took a sip. Her body grew taut and her head arched back. Her eyes had rolled so that the rest of the recruits could see the whites. Suddenly, as if someone had cut the strings to their puppet, her body dropped. Revas landed on her side, her curly hair splaying out around her. The rest of the people held their breath, waiting to see what the result was. Slowly, slowly, they noticed her breathing. Duncan nodded to two men waiting at the entrance to the area. “Quickly now, move her. Bring her back to her tent.” Then, to Revas’ body, as if she could hear him, “Welcome, Revas Tabris, to the Grey Wardens.”

 Then she was gone, her body being carried off to the tents.

 “Daveth, step forward.”

 Daveth did so, and took a swig from the chalice.

 Instantly, the Grey Wardens knew something was wrong. Daveth started to groan, but the groans quickly turned into screaming. He swayed back and forth on his feet, clutching at his head. When his eyes had opened, they were white, like Revas’ were. He grabbed at his throat and fell to his knees. Slowly, the scream’s died down to choking and gasping for air. At some point Jory had muttered “Maker’s breath.”

 “I am sorry, Daveth.” Duncan said. Daveth’s body sprawled on the ground, twitching. Finally, finally, Daveth died.

 As before, two Grey Wardens carried Daveth’s body away.

 “Step forward, Jory.” Duncan turned towards to backing up knight.

 “But…I have a wife,” Jory said, drawing his sword, “a child, had I known…”

 “There is no turning back.” Duncan started to approach him.

 “No, you ask too much! There is no glory in this!” Jory raised his sword, but he had backed up against a wall of the ruin they were standing in.

 Duncan stared at Jory and drew his own blades. The knight tried to attack, but Duncan was as quick as a snake. He deflected Jory’s blade with one of his own, and punctured the knight’s gut with the other. Duncan held Jory as Jory died. “I am sorry.”

 Duncan pulled his blade from Jory’s side, and let the body drop to the ground. “But the Joining is not yet complete.” Duncan stared at Nym and Markov.

 He approached the both of them, and Markov stepped forward slightly. “You both are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint, for the greater good.”

 Markov drank first. There was a pause between his drink and the reaction. Just as before with Revas, Markov’s body grew taut with the pain, and his eyes rolled back. However, instead of suddenly dropping to the ground, his body slowly lowered, as if Markov was controlling the fall. He landed, sprawled.

 “Welcome, Markov, to the Grey Wardens.” Duncan turned to Nym.

 Nym waited until Markov was carried away before stepping forward. Duncan handed the chalice to her in silence. She drank deeply, waiting for the inevitable pain. Nym gasped; her eyes rolled back and she staggered, but she didn't collapse. Duncan grasped her shoulders to steady her.

 “You are a Grey Warden.”

“Why didn’t I pass out like them?” Nym gestured to the tent where Markov’s and Revas’ unconscious bodies were lying.

 “I’ve heard of really heavy drinkers not passing out, but normally mages are knocked out like the rest of us,” one of the other Wardens commented from around the campfire.

 Nym coughed. “Ah. That would explain it then.”

 A couple of Wardens laughed. “How much could you drink? You’re tiny!”

 “No matter the case, you should eat up and rest. The Joining takes a lot out of you.” Duncan sounded almost fatherly.

 “I actually feel better than I did after my Harrowing.” Duncan gave Nym a disapproving look; Nym responded with a cheeky smile. A bowl of gruel was handed to her by yet another Warden, and a quick glance around told her she better eat, or else.

 “Once you’re done that, you WILL go rest.”

Nym groaned, “Fine. Father.”

 Duncan raised an eyebrow and sighed as the Wardens’ laughter was renewed.

“Where’s Daveth?” Revas asked as she pulled on her boots. “It’s dusk. Shouldn’t he and Jory be here too?”

 There was a sharp hiss as the Wardens took a collective inhale. Markov and Nym exchanged wary glances, not sure if it was their place to say.

 Duncan looked grim as he addressed the group. “Go to the King’s meeting. We will join you shortly.” He pulled Revas to the side as the Wardens, along with Nym and Markov, headed towards the meeting area.

Duncan and Revas caught up with the group as they approached the table, a heated debate already in session. Eventually, after much yelling from Loghain, it was decided that Markov, Revas, and Alistair would go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon to signal Loghain’s troops. Nym, along with the other Wardens, was to join King Cailan at the front line of the battle.

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 7

As the group headed into the Korcari Wilds, somehow everyone gravitated to be following Nym. Upon noticing this, she rolled her eyes. “Really? Let’s all hide behind the tiny elf? Excellent fucking strategy.”

Markov snorted. “Well, it’s not so much hiding as it is staying out of the way of fireballs.”

“And besides, the view from back here is niiiice,” Daveth added, throwing a leer Nym’s way.

Suddenly, a wolf pack appeared as if from nowhere and started attacking. Before anyone else could move, Nym decimated the wolf population with a well-aimed fireball. Markov’s and Daveth’s arrows killed the remaining couple.

“See?” Markov gestured to the burnt carcasses. “Avoid fireballs at all cost.”

The group muttered their agreeance and Nym snorted. “I have better control over my magic. I won’t hit you with a fireball unless I want to.” She tossed her bangs out of her face and continued on her march. The others stood still for a few moments before jogging to rejoin her.

Revas walked beside Nym once they were caught up. “Don’t feel too bad about them… us, I guess you could say, following you. You have that type of personality that demands a following.” Revas was silent for a few seconds. “Also, the fireballs hurt. A lot. I don’t know if you have ever been hit by one, but…” Revas trailed off, and Nym didn’t need to ask her to elaborate. Afterall, she did throw one at Revas earlier that day. Nym smirked and patted Revas on the shoulder.

“I don’t feel bad, darling. I just think that all of you are stupid for following the smallest member of the group, Furgus not included. If we happen to get attacked I will do little good to keep you all sheltered from attack.”

Before Revas could respond Alistair shouted “Darkspawn!” Suddenly, a group of the foul creatures spilled from within the trees and bushes, weapons swinging.

Daveth and Markov drew further from the group, firing off their arrows as fast as they could, Furgus retreating with them to help keep the darkspawn at bay. Revas, along with the two warriors dove into the fray, and Nym stood her ground, swinging her staff around and hitting the creatures with the magic infused wood.

It was a small group of creatures, and they weren’t hard to defeat. Even though the darkspawn had the advantage of surprise they were disorganized and were most willing to attack each other as well as the Warden recruits.

The battle was just drawing to a close when Nym heard Revas yelp. She swung her head towards her maybe friends direction, and watched the rogue take off the head of the beast with one sword while the other was imbedded in the monster’s gut. It’s axe was stuck in her armor, and her red hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail, was falling around her face. It seemed the band holding her hair had broken.

Once the remaining darkspawn were finished off Revas plopped down onto a nearby fallen tree, cursing in a language that wasn’t trade. Nym’s eyebrows rose when she realised that Revas was speaking Tevene. She watched as the redhead grabbed the axe by the handle and, with a grunt, pulled out the axe. She propped the blade up beside her and yanked her hair back. “Does anyone have a band I could use to keep my hair pulled back?” She glanced at the group, and slouched when she watched each of her team members shake their heads. “Great. Now what am I supposed to do?” She dropped the matted locks and shook her head, the curls falling around her face once more.

Nym smiled and pulled a smaller dagger from Daveth’s belt, ignoring his squawk of anger. “Don’t worry dear, you’ll never have to worry about your hair again. Not as long as I’m around.” She went behind Revas and gathered her hair so that it laid behind her head.

“Nym, that sound like you’re going to slit my throat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to cut your hair. It’s dangerous for you at this point.”

Revas hummed. “Fair enough, I hate having it this long anyway. Wouldn’t this be better with shears though? Or scissors?”

“We don’t have any. Now, hold still dear. This may hurt if you move too much. I could also stab you by accident.” Nym grabbed a large chunk of hair and, with a quick and precise motion, cut it off. The curly read strands floated to the ground and landed without a sound.

Nym worked quickly. Within minutes most of Revas’ hair was on the ground, lying in clumps at Nyms feet. “I can’t style it here, dear. I’ll have to do that when we get back to the camp.”

Revas shook her head and stood up. “My head feels so much lighter.” She ran her fingers through her newly cut hair.

“You look like an Orlesian’s fancy dog.” Markov snorted from where he was standing.

Revas frowned at him. “Go suck on a rotten egg, Markov. I don’t care what I look like, I just care about not being hit anymore.” She went silent for a second. “I can save so much money by not having to buy hair ties anymore!”

“You bought your hair ties?” Nym raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, no. The feeling is the same though.” Revas shrugged. “Thanks Nym.”

Nym hummed. “Well, let’s continue. We still need the darkspawn blood so we can go through our joining. Alistair,” Nym turned to look at the only true Grey Warden among them, “Did we get any blood from this batch here?”

Alistair nodded. “Just one vial though. Hopefully we get more next time, or we will be here all day.”

The others nodded and Nym palmed Daveth’s dagger. Revas raised a brow at the sight, but stayed silent. She picked up her daggers and sheathed them.

The Warden recruits were sweating. Nym placed her staff on her back and blew her bangs out of her face. She watched in amusement as Alistair gathered the final vial of blood needed for them to complete their joining. Markov and Daveth started to pull their arrows from the bodies of the darkspawn, tossing aside the ones that were broken. Revas was off in a bush picking flowers. They only needed the one flower but Revas was picking every single one that they came across. Jory, Nym noticed with a snort, was praying.

“Alistair!” Nym called.

“Yeees?”

“Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to cut off one of the darkspawn’s ring fingers, place the vials over the wound, and squeeze?”

The group turned to stare at Nym. “Did that thought not cross any of your minds?” Nym groaned when she watched them either shake their heads or shrug. “Well, it’s not like it’s important now. What is done is done, I suppose.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture at the group and promptly wandered away from the rest of the group. A few seconds later a shrill whistle echoed through the area and Furgus went bounding after Nym. Once the rest were done what they wanted to do - collecting arrows, blood, and looting, they went looking for the tiny mage.

When they found her a squawk left Ser Jory’s mouth and a whistle left Daveth’s. Nym was bent over a corpse, pulling on extremely revealing robes. Her original robes, the robes from the Circle, laid in a puddle of fabric on the ground. She stood and fastened the holder for her staff onto her back. She turned around, smiled widely at the men (and, in part, Revas), and winked. “Like what you see?”

“Very much so.” Revas shot at the mage. Nym laughed.

“I was asking the boys, Revas, but thank you.”

“Anytime, lovely, anytime.”

Both girls looked at each other and laughed. The men were extremely confused, in part because they were unsure if they were allowed to be aroused. The girls exchanged another look and laughed before marching the group onto their next quest.

“Well well, what have we here?” A woman wearing robes more revealing than Nym’s descended the stairs of the old Grey Warden tower, strutting towards the group with the confidence of someone who knows how dangerous they are. “Are you vultures, I wonder? Scavengers poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” She came to a halt in front of Nym and crossed her arms. “What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

“How are these your Wilds?” Revas blurted out. A moment passed before she realised that she spoke. When she did, her eyes went wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Because I know them as only one who owns them could,” The strange woman replied in a condescending tone, quirking an eyebrow at Revas. Nym rolled her eyes at Revas, gesturing for her to not talk again.

“I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘Why are they here?’ And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don’t answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby,” Alistair whispered to Nym. However, the woman heard him.

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you!” She mocked, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated movement.

“Yes. Swooping is bad,” Alistair muttered dryly. Revas snorted with laughter.

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds she is! She’ll turn us all into toads!” Daveth was freaking out.

Nym exhaled derisively while the woman scathingly replied, “Witch of Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

“You there.” The woman turned  her attention to Nym. “Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“Nymeria. A pleasure to meet you.” Nym bowed her head, with the slightest dip of a curtsy.

“Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“Here no longer?” Alistair apparently did not have Revas’ sense to stop talking, as he continued, “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re some kind of...sneaky...witch-thief!”

Nym and Morrigan rolled their eyes simultaneously, causing everyone else to take a slight step back in alarm. Morrigan sighed, “Tell me, how does one steal from dead men?”

“Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.” Alistair managed to sound firm as opposed to nervous, which was quite an accomplishment.

“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.”

Nym cut in before Alistair could continue attempting to eat his own foot. “Who removed them?”

“‘Twas my mother, in fact.”

Exclamations could be heard from everyone in the group until Nym spoke over them, “Could you take us to her?”

Morrigan actually smiled at that. “Now that is a sensible request. I like you. Follow me.” She turned and led them deeper into the Wilds.

“I’d be careful, if I were you. First it’s ‘I like you,’ then ZAP!; Toad time…” Alistair whispered in Nym’s ear as they trailed after Morrigan. Nym’s eyes were starting to ache from all the rolling.

Revas zoned back into the conversation with Morrigan’s mother as large scrolls were shoved into her arms. Blinking rapidly, she realised that goodbyes were being said. Revas nodded at Morrigan’s mother and quickly followed the group as they walked away.

Markov whistled once Morrigan had left them near camp. Revas didn’t even wait to hear what he had to say, she just pulled ahead of the group, eager to bring the kennel master the flowers. Nym smirked at Markov and waited to see if her suspicions would be confirmed.

“Damn, she was sexy.” Nym laughed as she proven right. “I mean, wow.” Markov kept glancing over his shoulder, as if hoping to see Morrigan again.

Alistair and Daveth both stared at Markov as if he were insane, while Jory, horrified, sputtered, “What? How could you possibly find her attractive?!”

“She was!” Markov, Revas, and Nym all responded at the same time.

“But, but, she was a bitch!” Alistair seemed to have found his voice again.

Markov smirked a filthy smirk as he commented, “Well, you know what they say about doggy style.” Nym was doubled over laughing even as she high fived Markov. Revas, on the other hand, was attempting to look horrified instead of amused. And failing. So she pulled farther ahead.

The walk back to camp was a quick one, seeing as they weren’t very far and actually knew where they were going. Nym and Markov kept the others entertained (or uncomfortable, depending on who was asked) by continuously talking about how the combination of good-looking and dangerous was their favourite, which devolved into blatant flirting and innuendos. Alistair was bright red by the time they made it back to Duncan, and Jory was praying in an attempt to block them out.  

“Alistair, Jory, what in Thedas is wrong?” Duncan asked, glancing between the discomfited members of the group.

Daveth spoke up with a leer on his face. “It’s nothing really. Nym and Markov were just thirty seconds away from fucking the entire walk back. For some reason it made those two uncomfortable.”

Revas overheard him as she rejoined the group after having delivered the flowers. She promptly turned around and tried to walk away again, whispering “Why…”

Nym caught her arm and pulled her back to Duncan, who was smirking at her and Markov. Nym cocked an eyebrow. “What?” she asked, somehow managing to sound innocent and challenging at the same time.

Duncan’s smirk grew as he shook his head. “It’s just nice to see that Markov finally breaking out of his shell. Good to know Irving wasn’t exaggerating about you though.”

Nym’s eyes narrowed calculatingly. “What else did he say about me?”

Duncan laughed, and didn’t bother to elaborate. “Come on. You’re staying with the rest of us Wardens tonight.” The group followed Duncan through the army camp to where the Wardens had pitched their tents. A dozen or so Wardens were sitting around the fire, all humans. There were no women among them.

“So these are the newest recruits?” A big, bearded man called over to Duncan.

“Indeed. These are Nymeria, Markov, Revas, Daveth, and Jory.” Duncan gestured to each recruit in turn. “Everyone, get something to eat and relax. You have an early morning tomorrow.” He clapped his hands and walked away from the group, he and Alistair joining the others around the fire. Nym stood there a moment examining the Wardens before turning to Markov. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away to the tent amid hoots and catcalls from the Wardens, a smile on her face.

“Come along. Let’s go relax .”

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 6

The next morning was dominated by an awkward silence. Revas and Markov would not look at each other. Nym and Duncan occasionally spoke, but only a few words here and there as they ate breakfast and took down the tents.

Markov kept casting weird looks at Nym. She tried to ignore them, but the looks continued throughout them packing up camp, and she could feel Markov staring from behind her on the horse.

“What? I know I’m pretty, but why do you keep staring at me?” Nym demanded, turning as much as she could to look back at Markov. She really hoped he didn’t spill everything from their conversation last night. At her outburst, Duncan and Revas both glanced at them.

Duncan cocked an eyebrow. “Markov, no matter how pretty Nym is, I recommend keeping your hands to yourself as much as possible.” He chuckled, noticing that Markov already had a rather timid grip on Nym’s waist.

“I am! And I’m not staring!” Markov exclaimed.

Nym snorted, “Yes, you are. And you can grip my waist tighter, I won’t break. Or set you on fire. But as it is, you’ll fall off if you’re not.”

“Fine,” Markov grumbled, tightening his grip.

Revas finally spoke, “Why were you staring? You were totally staring at Nym.”

“I was just wondering about your accent. You sound like you come from Antiva, but you were in the Ferelden Circle. That’s a long way to go.”

“I am from Antiva. It was not my choice to come to Ferelden.”

“How’d you end up here?” It was Revas who asked this time.

“The Templars brought me here after they discovered my magic. I was around ten at the time.”

Markov had a stricken look on his face, and his grip, previously still loose, now tightened to painful intensity. “How long did you say you were in the Tower? Because I remember hearing seven years, and that would make you only seventeen. Not even an adult…”

Nym laughed, a cold and sarcastic sound. “Good job! You can do basic math!” She sighed. “Mages are considered legal adults once they go through their Harrowing. Besides, most of us in the Circle never had anything resembling what you might consider a childhood.”

Silence descended once again after that pronouncement, but only for a moment. “Markov, do you mind loosening your grip?”

“Sorry.” Markov smiled sheepishly. He leaned forward and whispered to Nym, “You’re just so pretty, I couldn’t resist.”

“Well played, handsome.”

“You guys, we already took down the tents. If you’re gonna fuck, you’ll have to do it in the bushes. And make it quick, it looks like Duncan wants to leave soon.” Revas rolled her eyes at the two. “Also, I’m not walking today. My feet are killing me.”

“You didn’t have to walk Revas.” Nym and Duncan spoke at the same time. They glanced over at each other, a smirk playing on Nym’s mouth and Duncan’s eyebrow cocked.

“Well, someone has to. We only have two horses. One can take two people, but the other one has all of our supplies, meaning it can only hold one rider.”

Nym sighed. “Or, we could evenly distribute the supplies between the two horses, and probably have two riders on each horse.”

“Or Markov could suffer for groping me in my sleep.” Revas supplied.

“It was an accident! Furgus moved while we were sleeping!”

Nym sighed and dismounted. Before anyone could blink, she had half of the supplies off of Duncan’s horse and was arranging them behind Markov. Once done, she remounted in front of Markov. “There. Now Revas, climb up in front of Duncan, and let’s be on our way.”

Revas sighed and hopped up onto the horse behind Duncan. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but it got her in the place she needed to be. Markov snorted. “Revas, have you never ridden a horse before?”

“This is gonna be the same answer to the tent question. Don’t ask stupid questions, or you’ll get stitches.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Markov rolled his eyes. “Why would I get stitches?”

“Snitches get stitches.” Three voices echo each other. Revas snorted out a laugh, Nym smirked, and Duncan cocked a brow.

“That still doesn’t make sense!”

The other two joined Revas in her laughter. Rather than responding to him Duncan spurred his horse into motion, Nym following soon after. It was quiet while the horses trotted along, Furgus loping along beside them, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Revas had fallen asleep behind Duncan, head pressed against the metal backing of his armor, her mouth open slightly. Duncan himself didn’t seem to mind that the elf had fallen asleep against him, and was smiling slightly. They rode like that for a few hours, until Duncan deemed it was time for lunch, and a much needed bathroom break.

Markov ran off to the woods. Duncan turned around slightly and shook Revas awake, the same gentle smile on his face. She awoke with a snort. Rubbing her face, she asked “Duncan, why is your armor so freaking comfy? It doesn’t make sense, and it seems highly impractical.” Duncan laughed and patted her head.

“It’s not comfy. You must have just been tired.”

“Mm. Nightmares. They didn’t really make any sense. I usually have them after I talk about my Mom. Don’t know why though.”

Duncan smiled sadly and dismounted his horse before helping Revas off. Markov returned and Nym went off into the woods. Revas was still rubbing her eyes. She was glad that the bruise she got from being hit by the noble finally faded, otherwise rubbing her face would prove to be hard. Once Nym came back from the woods Revas took off.

When everyone was back at the temporary rest stop Duncan handed out the jerky strips that they used for snacks. While they chewed they watched the merchant carts and citizens fleeing from the monsters in the south. Every once in awhile a child would come running up and ask if they could pet the mabari hound. Revas and Markov, Nym noticed, managed to agree on one thing. That thing being that children are allowed to pet the puppy.

With their short break over the horses were mounted again. Their pace remained the same as they moved along. By evening they would be in Ostagar.

Their small group managed to make good time. The sun was just starting to set when they arrived at Ostagar, the king and a small group of soldiers meeting them at the gates. As they approached the small group, the riders pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted. The king approached Duncan with arms opened wide, a grin on his face.

“King Cailan! I wasn’t expecting-”

“A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun,” Cailan laughed and clasped Duncan’s shoulders. He turned to the Warden recruits and jumped in surprise. “Markov! I didn’t expect to see you here. Your brother is off with a scouting group. Where’s your father? We were expecting him to be here already.”

Markov shifted uncomfortably, his eyes becoming distant. “I’d like to speak in private, if you don’t mind.”

Cailan looked puzzled, but shrugged. “As you wish. Now,” he gazed at Nym and Revas, “may I ask for your names? And how you were recruited?”

“I killed an arl’s son for raping my cousin.” Revas said, glaring at Cailan.

“You-what?!”

“That is not quite how I would have put it. There have been events in the Alienage that you should know about, your Majesty.” Duncan spoke quickly.

“When I voted for you, I thought there would be change!” Silence followed Revas’ outburst, everyone staring at her. She cocked her head. “What?”

Nym leaned over to Revas. “You don’t vote for kings.”

“WHAT?!? I wanted to be king!”

Nym gave Revas a flat stare. “Seriously?”

“No. But I distinctly remember campaign posters saying ‘Change’ and going to vote…”

Nym laughed excitedly, “Really? It worked?”

Duncan, Cailan, and Markov all looked at her cautiously. Revas just looked curious. Duncan sighed, “What worked?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Cailan cocked an eyebrow at Nym, then shook his head before asking, “And you?”

“I am an enchanter.”

“What is your name, enchanter?”

“There are some, who call me...Nym.” She said this while attempting to look mysterious. The effect was somewhat ruined by her small smirk and the mischievous sparkle in her eye. “But seriously. Nymeria Surana, at your service. I helped my friend escape the Circle, but was caught. This time. But, he did still escape. So I’m counting it as a win. And, I mean, I got out too. So…”

“Double win!” Revas sang. Nym and Revas high fived.

“Ah.” Cailan glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder, towards the templar encampment. “Will this be an issue with the templars here?”

“Probably.” Nym shrugged. “But don’t worry about it. I won’t burn down your army camp or anything - or anyone - important.”

Duncan cleared his throat. “Well, I think that’s enough chatting. Nymeria, Revas, go find a Warden named Alistair.”

“How will we know him?” Revas asked.

“You’ll know him when you see him. Oh, and if you can, let the other two recruits know we’ve arrived.”

“But how will we know them?” Revas sounded rather annoyed.

“We shall ask!” Nym declared as she grabbed Revas’ hand and dragged her away.

As they walked off, they heard Cailan saying quite seriously, “Now Markov, what did we need to talk about?”

“WYNNE!” Nym yelled as she barreled into an older woman.

Wynne sighed, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been recruited into the Grey Wardens.”

Wynne gave Nym a very stern glare. “What did you do?”

“Well...I helped Jowan escape. But it turns out he lied to me, and is in fact a blood mage. Dick.”

“Language!” Wynne scolded.

Nym looked down sheepishly. “Sorry Gran.”

Wynne sighed deeply. “And who is this?” she asked, nodding to Revas.

“Fellow recruit.” Nym nudged Revas forward.

“I’m Revas...are you actually related?”

“No.” Nym and Wynne spoke at the same time, shaking their heads the same way. Revas slowly backed away, glancing between the two. Upon noticing this reaction, Nym and Wynne both chuckled.

“It’s a side effect of living in close proximity for years. Surely you have similar habits to others in the alienage?” Nym commented, cocking her head to the side.

“Well, yeah, but we’re actually related.”

“So? Since when does blood matter?” Nym questioned.

Wynne coughed. “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to, as I do.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll see you later.” Nym and Revas started walking on and waved bye to Wynne.

Nym slowed to a stop not far from Wynne and muttered, “You go on ahead…” before running off.

Revas blinked. And blinked again. “Why the fuck am I alone?”

Revas sighed. She was getting nowhere. Ostagar was bigger than she had initially thought, and quite a few people were rather rude to her. The armor seller was rude until she mentioned she was a Grey Warden…ignoring the recruit part. She had expected Nym to appear and help her find the missing recruits, and that Alistair guy, but she hasn’t shown up since she told Revas to go on ahead.

“Hey!” Nym jumped down from...somewhere, landing directly in Revas’ path. “Have you found anybody?”

Revas jumped, a hand over her heart. “Where the fuck did you come from? And no, I haven’t found anyone, cause somebody fucked off instead of helping me. For an hour. ”

Nym smirked, “I found other people I know. Don’t worry about it.”

Revas sighed and looked to the side. She lowered her hands onto her hips and cocked one eyebrow. “I have the strange feeling, and this is nothing against you, I just want you to know that, I just have this strange feeling that when you say that I shouldn’t worry about something, that I should definitely worry about it .”

Nym didn’t respond, and just gave a closed smile to Revas. She started walking away. After a few steps she noticed that she wasn’t being followed. She didn’t bother to look back, but whistled and snapped her fingers and motioned for Revas to follow her. Revas sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She considered ignoring Nym for a couple of seconds, then gave in and followed the raven. She figured that she would have a better chance finding people if she were with Nym.

“This way,” Nym led Revas up a flight of stairs to the infirmary.

“I’ve been up here already,” Revas whined, “No one is here except for a couple soldiers.”

“Oh really?” Nym cocked an eyebrow. “What about him?” She asked, pointing to a balding man standing near the priestess.

“He’s a soldier. He was praying earlier. Don’t interrupt people while they pray.”

Nym snorted and tapped the man on his shoulder-plate. “Are you a Grey Warden recruit?”

The man whirled around. “Uh, yes...Ser Jory, at your service. May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Nymeria Surana, and this is Revas Tabris. We are two more recruits. Duncan sent us to find everyone.” Nym explained, smirking at the look of annoyed shock on Revas’ face.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that women or elves could join the Grey Wardens. Those in the valley are all male and human.”

The temperature of the surrounding air dropped rather suddenly as the look on Nym’s face froze in a sickly sweet smile, a hand on Revas’ shoulder to stop the other elf from attacking the man.

“Do you have a problem with us being women, or elves?” Nym asked, her voice frostier than the air around them. She wasn’t entirely sure what noise Revas was making; it seemed to be a mix of grinding teeth and an attempt at growling.

“What? No, no! Clearly Grey Wardens are recruited based on their merits,” Jory lifted his hands defensively and took a step back. A slight whimper escaped.

“No shit.” Nym rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we have others to track down. Go find Duncan.” With that, Nym waved her hand, dismissing him as she turned away to head back down the stairs, once again not looking to see if Revas followed.

Revas followed Nym after one last glare at Jory. “How did you know he was a recruit?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry, is that another question?” Revas shook her head vehemently, denying all knowledge of everything. “Good.” Nym headed to the quartermaster’s at the base of the stairs.

“Don’t bother talking to him; he’s an asshole.”

“I had no intention of talking to the quartermaster.” Nym sauntered over to a tan man leaning against a pillar. “You the other recruit we’re supposed to find?”

The man looked Nym up and down and whistled. “I sure hope so. The name’s Daveth.”

“Nym. Revas.” Nym gestured to herself and turned to find Revas, only to see something unexpected. “Revas, why are you fighting the quartermaster?”

“Fucker insulted me!”

“Why did you start talking to him in the first place?”

“‘Cause he was nicer to me when he found out I was a Grey Warden recruit.” Revas stopped and stared at Nym and Daveth. She sheathed her blade and tripped the quartermaster. He shouted out a quick “hey!” and “that’s dirty fighting!” to which she responded with a shrug and “I’m a city elf. We fight dirty.” She joined the other two.

Daveth was laughing at her. “I like that reasoning! I wish I could use that.”

Revas regarded him with a raised brow. Suddenly a wicked smile grew across her face. “I like you. Wait. I think I know you. Cocky. Bad at stealing… Daveth?”

Daveth stared at her for a few seconds more. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up. “Maker’s breath! Tabris! I didn’t know your name was Revas. I haven’t seen you in what, a year now?”

“A year and two weeks. You’ve changed. You lost some weight, cut and changed your hair colour. What happened to you?”

“Guards, mostly. I was just released a few months ago.” Daveth shrugged. “Wait. What do you mean that I’m bad at stealing? I steal stuff all the time!”

Revas snorted. “You’re bad at stealing. You’re good at running, but bad at stealing and not having people notice it.” She raised her shoulders in a weak attempt at a shrug, hands splayed out in front of her. “Nym is better at stealing than you and she was locked in a tower all of her life. I think.”

“Not quite. Only the last seven years. I was brought to the tower when I was ten.”

Revas did a proper shrug this time. “Still. A large part of your life. Anyways, Daveth, we should catch up later. I think we still have one other person to find before we can join the others. That being said, go join the others.”

The two rogues hugged each other quickly before Daveth patted Revas on the back. He winked at Nym, and Nym sent him a sultry smile back. Nym and Revas watched him walk away, a grin on both of their faces. As soon as he was out of earshot Nym leaned over and asked “Do you think he noticed that you lifted his change purse from his person?”

Revas snorted. “Nah. I’ve been stealin’ from him for years. He didn’t notice then, I highly doubt he notice now.”  Revas pulled the tie from her hair, grumbling at the length of it. She shook her head, and with quick hands, yanked the mess of curls back into a tight ponytail. Once finished she threw a smile towards Nym. “All right, One Who Knows All and Tells Me Not To Worry About It, where to next? Seeing as you have been able to find the others without any trouble.”

“First things first: have you looked around? Because before we find Alistair and head back to Duncan, we should pilfer everything we can. I guarantee the quartermaster takes stolen goods. I know I got everything from the mage encampment, and I think found anything good from over the bridge. Some of these soldiers have a lot of silver on them...” Nym trailed off when she noticed Revas’ wide-eyed stare at her. “What?”

“I know I joked about you stealing, but I just...wasn’t expecting that.” Revas shifted awkwardly. “Wait, how do you know that he takes stolen goods?”

“Look at him. He’s shifty, uncomfortable under scrutiny, and if you look in his storage chests he definitely has smuggled goods.”

“Huh.” Revas scratched the back of her head. “I usually pick up on those things, but I don’t really care for taking notice of people when they treat me like I’m not good enough. Then I end up fighting them or robbing them blind. And, I mean, I’m okay at reading people, not the greatest, but not the worst, but damn you’re good. Better than my mom was, and that was basically her job, y’know?” Revas gave Nym a look, as if she was expecting an explanation from Nym without having to ask another question. Nym just gave her a shit eating grin.

“Okay,” Nym sighed, “I think that’s everything.”

The quartermaster stared in shock as the two young woman in front of him piled up weapons, armor pieces, and other goods in a stack almost half their height. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to get the words out to express his disbelief. The two elves smirked at his imitation of a fish. With a smile on her face and a hand held out, Nym said, “Well, I do believe that all of this would equate to around a hundred gold.” Revas nodded along side her, fixing her hair once more.

Nym snapped her fingers to regain the quartermaster’s attention. He didn’t even question the questionably high amount of gold that the elven mage had requested, just handed it over. When Nym was done dealing with the man she turned to find Revas had abandoned her. Apparently, something had caught the rouge’s sharp eye.

It was a dog. A mabari hound, specifically. When Nym caught up to Revas she was already entering the fenced off area the dog was holed up in. The poor animal reeked of sickness.

Nym turned to the kennel master. “What’s wrong with the hound?”

“Poor bugger’s got the Blight. I need him muzzled before I can get close enough to treat him. Your friend here just hopped the fence.”

“Hey Revas!” Nym yelled.

“What?” Revas’ was slightly muffled, as her face was buried in the hound’s fur.

“Put a muzzle on the dog, would you?”

“Why? That seems mean.”

��The dog is sick. He needs to be muzzled so the kennel master can treat him,” Nym patiently explained, as if speaking to a small child.

“Oh. Fine then.” Revas pouted as she put the muzzle on the hound.

When Revas showed no indication of going to exit the kennel, Nym called out, “We still have to find Alistair, remember?”

“But puppy!” Revas whined.

“Whine again and you burn.”

Revas looked horrified. “B-but you might hurt the puppy!”

Nym just grinned. “No, I won’t. I have excellent aim.”

Revas grumbled to herself as she climbed out of the pen. She stomped over to Nym, who hadn’t stopped smirking. As the two elves turned to leave, the kennel master called over to them, “Are you going into the wilds anytime soon?”

Nym and Revas exchanged quick glances. “We might be. Why?”

“If you do, can you keep an eye out for a white flower with a red centre? It can be used to treat the hound.”

“We’ll look,” Nym promised before grabbing Revas’ arm and walking away “Come along dear. Let us go find this Alistair fellow.”

Nym and Revas climbed the stairs to the one area they had not yet checked. As they ascended, the sounds of an argument drifted towards them. They couldn’t make out the words, but to Nym it sounded like it was between a templar and a mage.

“What her ‘Reverence’ desires is of no concern of mine!” A rather irate mage was bellowing at some hapless blonde fool, who resembled something of a kicked puppy. As the two passed under an archway, they were shoved aside by the mage. Revas lifted his change purse as compensation.

“Fuck you too, Jim!” Nym yelled as the mage - Jim, apparently - stormed off.

Revas gave Nym a quizzical look. “Jim? Really? Shouldn’t he have a more, I don’t know, magical name?”

Nym just stared at Revas until the redhead turned away.

“Well, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.” The blonde man had joined them at the top of the stairs.

Nym laughed. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s like a party! We should all join hands and sing songs. That’d give the darkspawn something to think about.”

Nym smirked while Revas seemed confused. “You’re a very strange human.” The ginger stated and cocked her head. “I like you.”

“So what was that argument about?” Nym inquired.

Alistair shifted awkwardly, “Well, the Revered Mother sent me with a message for the mage.”

“That’s offensive because…?”

“You see, I used to be a templar.” Nym stiffened and took an immediate step back.

There was an uncomfortable silence, short lived when Revas clapped her hands together. “All right, I’m bored. Let’s head back to camp and get ready to go into the wilds. I got a puppy to save. Nym, we’re done with everything else, right?”

The raven mage slowly nodded her head. “We are. I suppose we should be heading back.”

“Sweet, lead the way.” Revas sidestepped and let the mage lead them back to their camp.

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 4

The sky had finally grown dark when they stopped to make camp. They had spent the entire day in silence. Duncan gestured for Nymeria to sit down and told Revas and Markov to set up the tents while he started the fire.

“Why does she get to sit?” Revas asked, a whining tone evident in her voice.

Duncan sighed. “Because Nymeria went through her Harrowing last night, and from what I understand, that is one of the most exhausting experiences in existence. So she gets to sit.”

“Thank you Duncan.” Nym smiled weakly as she lowered herself to the ground.

“But she doesn’t seem tired. In fact, she looks like she’s ready to get in another fight with templars. How tired can she be?” Markov rolled his eyes at Revas’ question. One look at the dark circles under Nym’s eyes was enough evidence for him.

Nym cleared her throat, sounding annoyed when she spoke. “Well, let’s see. First, I was woken up in the middle of the night. Then I stuck my hand in a bowl of fucking lyrium and a spell was cast. I woke up in the Fade, which is really just a physical rendering of what my mind produces. I had no weapons aside from my will. I dueled a Spirit of Valor, riddled with a Sloth demon, and fought a rage demon. Then I had to resist possession from a Pride demon, which just happens to be the most powerful type of demon in the hierarchy. I passed out again, and woke up back in my dorm. And you know how today went. So yeah, I’m tired.” By the end of her tirade, Nym’s voice was about to give out.

Revas’ ears drooped. “Sorry,” she mumbled, staring very determinedly at the tent in her hands.

Nym sighed, “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m always up for a fight with templars.”

Revas perked up at that. “So, what you’re saying is that if I ever get into a fight with a templar that I want you to be by my side?”

Nym laughed slightly. “Yes, yes I am.”

Revas threw her a smile and went back to the tent she was holding in her hands. She glared at the offending material and poles that were supposed to hold the tent up. Her ears fell flat against her head, and she growled slightly. How, in the name of all that is Holy, does Markov put this thing together? She sighed, and glanced to where Markov was sitting, Furgus panting beside him. She could ask him, and she almost did, until she remembered that Markov was a jerk. Revas looked away from the man, muttering under her breath. It can’t be that hard, maybe if I just did this… a loud ripping noise went through the air, causing the others to look at her. Revas flushed red and held the material of fabric away from her, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Markov started to laugh. Nym smiled slightly, a tired look in her eyes, and Duncan just shook his head.

“I can fix it!”

Markov laughed even harder. “Revas, have you ever put a tent together before?”

“No? I lived in a city my entire life. I lived with a solid, slightly leaky, roof over my head my entire life. I never had to make a tent together before. I never had the need to.”

“You’ve never left the city to go hunting or anything like that?”

“No.” The look on Revas’ face turned sour. “The elves in the alienage weren’t allowed to have weapons. I mean, we didn’t listen to that rule because we have every right to protect ourselves from others, but we weren’t really all that trusted. Not everyone grew up in a fancy silver palace lined with marble like you did Markov.”

“Hey, now, I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m just surprised is all.”

Revas rolled her eyes and tossed the fabric to the ground as if it offended her. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Why don’t you take care of pitching the tents then?” Revas stomped over to the fire and settled on a log.

Furgus joined Revas at her feet and laid his big head onto her thigh as she watched Duncan cut the vegetables that they bought at The Spoiled Princess right outside of the tower. Nym stretched out, arms raised above her head, and her spine popped before she relaxed again.

Nym’s eyes flicked between Revas and Markov before she nodded to herself. “Are you two fucking? Because you sound like you two are fucking, and you just don’t want to people to know about it.” Nym questioned, sick of hearing the two fight. Ever since she was picked up from the Circle they had been bickering nonstop. It was always over the tiniest things too. Who got to sleep in a tent with Furgus, who got to ride double now, and who rode with who. She didn’t know why the two were constantly fighting, or who started the fighting, but all she knows is that she was tired of it.

Revas and Markov looked towards Nymeria so fast that she was surprised they didn’t get whiplash. “I would never…” “Why would I…” they both spoke at the same time, faces turning bright red.

Nym smirked. “Oh, yeah. You two totally act like you are fucking on the side. You’re reactions didn’t help you any.”

The two looked at each other then looked away. It was silent until the food was finished cooking, and they were silent while they ate. Revas grabbed the tent she tore and pulled out thread and a needle from her bag, and Markov grabbed the cooking pot and went to the nearest water source to clean it out. When it came to deciding who was to sleep with who now that they were down a tent, they didn’t even argue about the dog. Nym, however, deciding not to take any chances, decided to share a tent with Duncan.

“Revas, take first watch. Markov, you’ll have second. I’ll take third. Nym, you don’t need to take watch tonight, gather your energy. We have an early morning and a long day tomorrow, and we will all need our rest.” The others nodded at Duncan’s words.

They separated into their tents, Furgus opting to stay outside with Revas, falling asleep at her feet. Revas ran out of thread before she could fix the tent, and decided to run through her movements with her swords. She continued at it until the embers of the fire started to fade, and she could feel her muscles ache. When that happened she went to the tent her and Markov shared, and woke him with a kick to the ribs. With a snort he woke. “What?”

“Fire’s almost out. It’s your turn for watch.”

Markov nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You want me to send Furgus in? So you can sleep?”

“As much as I appreciate the thought, it would be safer for him to be out there with you. Can’t have you dying from bandits now, can we?” Markov groaned and rolled onto his stomach. He pushed himself to his feet. He shoved past Revas, and Revas collapsed into the tent.

Markov kept watch until Duncan woke up. When Furgus and Markov entered the tent he saw Revas sprawled out across both of the bed rolls. She wasn’t even under the covers. He rolled his eyes and readjusted the elven girl until she was only taking up one of the bed rolls and was tucked under the covers. When she was taken care of he tucked himself back into bed. Furgus laid between the two. He was asleep within minutes.

When he woke the next morning it was to Nym laughing. “I would have thought Revas was a screamer!”

Revas woke with a start and screamed. Markov’s arm was around her, and his hand was under her shirt. Furgus had moved from between the two to where their feet laid. Markov screamed himself, and yanked his arm away from her.

“Markov, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t do anything! I swear!”

“I didn’t fall asleep like that! I fell asleep on top of the covers! Across the beds! Not like this!”

“I know! I rearranged you when Duncan took watch. Furgus was sleeping between us.”

Nym was curled in on herself, laughing so hard tears were squeezed from her eyes. “I fucking knew it! You two are fucking!”

“Nymeria, we’re not fucking!” Both yelled at her. Revas shoved her way past her two fellow recruits. Duncan already had his tent packed up, and the cooking pot and other things on the horse. Nym was still laughing, but she hoisted her pack and was clearly waiting on Duncan’s orders. Markov started to take down the tent and Revas was making sure none of their weapons were going to be left behind. Nym whispered something to Duncan which caused him to smirk and shake his head.

“What’d she say?” Markov sounded concerned.

“Nothing overly important. Just a theoretical question.” Duncan’s smirk grew.

“About what? If it’s not important, why not tell us?” The concern in Markov’s voice grew.

Nym laughed again. “I was simply wondering if you two would be able to tell when I’m fucking with you.”

Markov’s jaw dropped. “You-you were just fucking with us!?”

“Yep!”

Markov was still trying to glare at Nym, but was starting to laugh. “Not bad.” He shook his head, chortling at the look of indignation on Revas’ face.  

“I hate you all. I’m walking to Ostagar.” She slung her own bag onto her shoulders, picked a direction, and started walking.

Duncan shook his head and laughed. “Revas, you’re heading in the wrong direction!”

A scream left her lips. She threw her hands in the air and turned on her heel. “Can we just go already?”

They set off, in the right direction this time. Markov and Nym were sharing a horse, and Duncan was riding on his own. Revas kept to her word and walked alongside the horses, with Furgus trotting at their feet. Sometimes he would dart ahead, but with a shrill whistle from Markov he would come running back.

Duncan was right when he said it was going to be a long day. They could already tell.

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 3

“Get up apprentice!” Nymeria jolted, gazing at the Templar who so rudely awakened her. “You’re coming with me.”

The Templar hauled her to her feet and dragged her stumbling along after him. Never had she been so glad that older apprentices slept in their robes. She shuddered at the thought of a Templar seeing her vulnerable in her nightgown, not to mention going…wherever he was taking her. Actually, now that she thought about it…

“Where are you taking me?” No harm in asking.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the Templar growled as he shoved her up the stairs.

Well. What. An. Asshole. As Nym and her delightful companion climbed the never-fucking-ending staircase (seriously – who thought that a tower was a good place for mages?) she worked on eliminating possibilities. Passed the second floor – not seeing Irving then. Passed the third floor – not Greagoir either. That left either the Templar’s own quarters or…holy shit. The Harrowing Chamber.

“Come in child.” First Enchanter Irving beckoned her closer. She drew further into the room, glancing around nervously at the Knight Commander and the bowl of glowing lyrium.

Irving and Greagoir started what must have been a rehearsed speech about how if she fucked up, she would die. Apparently she had to go into the Fade and fight a demon, and they thought that reminding her of impending death was a good motivational tactic?

“Good luck apprentice.”

Nymeria reached out and touched the lyrium. Blinding pain tore through her body, then nothing…

She gingerly sat up, holding her head. When the pain receded enough for her to look around, she almost passed out again. She was in the Fade.

Goody.

Nymeria sighed as she killed another wisp. She walked a little farther but was stopped by an angry squeak. If a squeak could be angry. Which this was.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Nym jumped. And looked side to side. Then up. Then down. And blinked. There was a rather large mouse. Which talked.

She needed a drink.

“Another apprentice thrown to the wolves.” As Nymeria watched, the mouse shifted into a human wearing red robes. Like senior enchanter robes.

“You’re a mage?”

“I was. But I took too long and the Templars killed me. Now my spirit is stuck here.”

“That’s awful. But it won’t happen to me.”

“So confident. I was the same. All apprentices are. Then they die.”

“Can you offer any advice?”

“Be quick.”

“Wow. Thanks.” She went to walk on, and realised the mouse/apprentice was following her. Meh. She could use the company.

She dueled a spirit of Valor, riddled with a sloth demon, and defeated a rage demon. Yet she was still in the Fade. Something was not as it appears.

“You just need to let me in.”

Mouse. He called himself an apprentice, yet…

“Why are you wearing senior enchanter robes? The other demon wasn’t my test, was it?”

“…You are a clever one. The real dangers of the Fade are misconceptions, careless trust, pride…” Mouse grew, and grew, until he towered over her, with horns and claws and fangs. She may have whimpered (but she’ll deny it until her dying day) but Nymeria held her ground. “Take care apprentice.”

A bright flash, and then blinding pain, again…

“Nymeria! Are you okay? Wake up, please!” Jowan poked his friend yet again in his efforts to wake her.

“Poke me again, and you die.”

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was getting worried! I woke up to the Templars putting you back in your bed. You looked dead!”

“Weellll, as you can see, I’m not dead yet,” Nym huffed, rolling her ice blue eyes at Jowan’s antics, “Why are you poking me?”

“Irving wants to see you in his office.”

“About what?”

“Something important. Probably. Most likely. I doubt he’d ask you to tie his shoes,” Jowan rambled.

Nymeria put her hand over his mouth, “You’re going to be quiet now. And I’m going to be leaving now. Honestly.”

Nym walked briskly through the Tower to Irving’s office. Upon reaching the door, her ears perked up. Ooh, sounds like arguing. Fuck knocking. Nym smirked as she opened the door quietly and slipped through, her robes swishing softly around her ankles.

“We have committed enough of our own to this war effort!” Greagoir practically yelled, not noticing her entrance.

“Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages?” Irving calmly responded, also not realizing Nym entered the room. She looked around the room, barely restraining herself from being visibly startled at the sight of two strangers. One older man, with an air of command. Dark skinned, black hair. Wait, is that…a Grey Warden crest?!? Why are there Wardens in the Tower? Standing next to the Warden is a younger man, possibly another Warden. No crest on him though. He looked remarkably similar to the older man, just slightly paler. And oh praise the Maker, he is yummy. Nym had to resist the urge to lick her lips, but wasn’t able to stop the cocking of her eyebrow as she slowly drew her gaze from his head to his feet…

“Are they fucking? They kinda sound like they fuck,” Revas muttered to Nym, having apparently snuck up behind the mage.

“I don’t know. There is a betting pool. I’m going with yes,” Nymeria didn’t even think before responding. No questions asked about who the fuck Revas was or why in Thedas she was in the Tower.

“Betting pool?” Irving sighed, “What are you betting on now, Nymeria?”

“Nothing!” Nymeria and Revas chorused together, and even Mr. Yummy made as if to respond. The older man just shook his head.

“Hmm. Of course it’s nothing. Just like the pink dye in the Templars’ soap was nothing. Or the time Anders charmed the cat to roar like a lion was nothing.”

“The cat has a name. He’s Mr. Wiggums. He keeps everyone in solitary company, especially Anders,” Nymeria stated with a completely blank face, no sign of amusement.

The mysterious Mr. Yummy cocked an eyebrow at Nym and mouthed “Mr. Wiggums?” She just stared in response, as if she was staring into his soul.

“I see you other matters to attend to, Irving. We shall continue this discussion later,” Greagoir commented as he made his way from the office. Nymeria smirked ever so slightly as she saw the other elf swipe the Knight Commander’s coin purse.

“Anyway, congratulations on completing your Harrowing,” Irving turned to address Nym, clearly trying to move past the awkward pause, “You are now a full member of the Circle. Your phylactery has been moved to the Denerim vault.”

“My leash, you mean.” Everyone in the room noticed the slight drop in temperature as Nymeria spoke.

“It’s not as bad as that dear,” Irving scolded, shaking his head ever so slightly at her.

“Excuse me, what is this phylactery?” The older man stepped forward, looking questioningly between Nymeria and Irving.

“It is a vial of blood taken from all apprentices when they enter the Tower which can be used to track them down.”

The other elf looked confused, “Soooo, you use blood magic? I thought that was bad.”

Nym just sighed, “Amateurs.”

“It’s not blood magic as it is used by the Templars’ abilities. No true magic is involved. And the blood is not used in casting, a simple tracking – device, I’ll say – is used on the blood to find the mage in question,” Irving explained in what Nym liked to call his ‘teacher’ voice. The other elf looked as confused as before.

“Irving, I don’t mean to be rude, but who in the Fade are these people?”

“Oh I’m sorry. Nymeria Surana, meet the Warden Commander of Ferelden, Duncan. And two of his recruits, Markov Cousland and Revas Tabris.” So. Mr. Yummy is a Cousland. Huh. Wonder why a noble is a Grey Warden recruit.

“A pleasure to meet you. It’s an honour to have Wardens in the Tower, especially one who is so good at pickpocketing.” Nym smiled at Revas, which rather shocked Irving. It had been quite some time since Nymeria genuinely smiled.

“Here child are your new robes, staff, and Circle ring. The tranquil should be bringing your things to your own room as we speak.”

“Thank you, First Enchanter. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, actually. Could you escort the Wardens to the guest chambers?”

Nym blinked once, twice, before she looked at the Wardens and said, “It’s a circle. How can you get lost?”

“Just go.”

“…fine.”

Nymeria wandered through the Tower, thinking about the Grey Wardens she had just met. Duncan and his recruits. What it must be like to see the world outside, to walk on the grass and feel the rain against your skin. To fight darkspawn. Nym wanted that. She wanted to fight. She wanted to actually live, not just stay locked in this prison. She slumped against the wall and suppressed a sigh. She should have gone with Anders on his last escape.

“Nym! I’ve been looking for you.” Jowan came running up to her, keeping his voice low.

“Hey Jowan. Why are you whispering?”

“I have something to tell you. Can we talk someplace more private?” She just nodded, letting her best friend lead her someplace where the Templars weren’t watching.

A priest. Jowan was sleeping, and apparently in love with, a priest. And wanted her help to escape. Well, that she was willing to do.

After conning Owain and Senior Enchanter Sweeney into giving her a rod of fire (and clearing spiders out of the Tower’s storehouse), Nym, Jowan, and Lily went to the phylactery chamber. Which was locked with stupid magic nullifying runes. So they proceeded to fight their way through the repository. Why are there so many fucking sentinels?

And finally, they broke down a wall and climbed into the phylactery chamber. Nymeria walked briskly up the stairs, reading shelf after shelf of phylacteries. There it was. Jowan’s.

“Found it.” Jowan and Lily ran up the stairs and skidded to a dead halt. They were speechless.

“This, this tiny vial is what is keeping me here?” Jowan picked up his vial, and ever-so-slowly, let go. The vial shattered on the ground, blood staining the stone. “I’m free.”

Nym cocked her head. “It’s a pity they’ve taken mine to Denerim.”

“Why? Would you destroy yours too?”

“Of course I would. I could leave this place and the Templars wouldn’t be able to find me. Ever. Any who came close would pay. However, that’s neither here nor there. Let’s go.”

Lily glanced sideways at Nymeria as the three of them climbed out of the basement. She turned her head away, unable to meet the pity in that gaze. Jowan led the way to freedom…

…and stopped. Surrounding the door, and the three now-lawbreakers, were Templars, Knight Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. Shit. Oh, and the Wardens. Double shit.

Well. Who could have guessed that breaking into the repository, destroying a phylactery, and being a smart ass to the Knight Commander would lead to being recruited into the Grey Wardens? Not Nymeria.

She sat in the rowboat, playing with her long, black braid. She stared out over the water, taking in the scenery she hadn’t seen in seven years. Nym also studied Revas and Markov. Markov seemed distant and sorrowful, as if a great tragedy had befallen him. Revas seemed sad as well, but there is rage burning behind the sorrow. Nymeria wondered what had happened to her fellow recruits to make them as such, but she knew she couldn’t ask. Not just yet.

[askchanceoffates]

Chapter 1

It would happen that way. Markov didn't really have any other way of explaining it other than a twisted fate pulled by the Maker. Markov was okay with that. He was fine with it. But did they have to destroy his family in the process?

The oak doors swung open to the chamber, but it didn't distract his father from what he was saying. In front of his father, the man his father was speaking to, was Arl Howe. A traitor. A rodent. A fucking rat. Honestly, his father should have known, once a traitor, always a traitor. He looked like a fucking rat to begin with. He would act like one too. There was a man standing beside his father, and Markov didn't recognize him. But there were rumours running around... He joined his father and the rat. He was embraced and called pup. Tears still run down his face. A slight grin, a broken grin, grows at the memory. His father was leaving tomorrow, his older brother tonight, and he was leaving with the Howe's men. They were late. Not late. They stayed behind. A plan. It was all part of the plan. While his father was away he would be in control of Highever. Markov wanted to go battle with Father. It was stupid. HE was stupid. His Father always babied him. He was just trying to keep his youngest son safe. Marriage was brought up. Howe's daughter took after her Mother, thank the Maker, but that wasn't the Howe Markov was after. Nathaniel however... How could he look Nathaniel in the face again? He took after his Father. Markov would only be able to see a traitor ever again. The strange man was introduced. The rumours were right. Duncan. A grey warden. Looking for recruits. A chance to join something greater than just nobility. Never mind. His father just went father wolf again. It's funny. Looking back it. They say that Mothers are the ones that are protective of their children. His father looked like he wanted to take Duncan's head between his hands and remove it. Markov was chased out, told to go help the solider get his hound from the kitchen, while his Father and the rat and the grey warden discussed war.

Furgus had chased the two elven kitchen servants out of the pantry. The poor things were so scared. The poor things. Markov had slept with both of them. They were always scared of Furgus. The Maker had made it so clear to him. He just ignored the warnings. The Cook was threatening to quit again. She always was. Markov and Fergus, his older brother, had always caused her trouble. Their Mother always managed to keep the cook on. She was a fierce woman. Right up until she died in the blaze with the elves. Fighters until the end. All of them. Markov went to grab his dog. There were rats in the cellar. Furgus had sniffed them out. It was all so clear now. Right up to Furgus smelling rats. The rats were dealt with. Furgus ate the carcasses. Chase out again by the cook, Markov went hunting for his Mother.

His Mother was talking to Bann Lorren’s wife – Lady Landra – along with her lady in waiting - an elf - and her son Dairren, Father’s squire. He was to ride out tomorrow. Not all of them were rats. His Mother brought up marriage too. Why were they trying to marry him off all the time? Both he and the Arl's daughter weren't interested in each other that way. They pushed to have Markov say good bye to his brother before he left for war. As if Markov wouldn't say good bye to his brother before he left. He loves his brother. His brother is still alive.

His brother was wishing his wife fair well when Markov found him. He may have been distracted by the elven lady in waiting and the scribe by inviting them to join him later in his chambers. His brother told him to look after his wife and child while he was gone. Markov promised to keep them safe. He promised not to let anything happen to them. Oh Maker. He failed. He failed them all.

Furgus started barking and growling at the door. Both the elven lady and the scribe were trying to calm him down.

Markov left the bed and pulled Furgus away from the door. As soon as he did the door had burst open, arrows flying free from bows and piercing his two temporary lovers. Furgus had pounced on one of the soldiers, his Mother, dressed in armor donning a bow and quiver took care of the other solider. Such brave fighters. They checked on his sister-in-law and his nephew. The poor things. Dragged out of bed and murdered. He failed. He failed and his brother hasn't even been gone for a day. Their home was burning around them. They had to find his Father. They had to get him out. Duncan had joined them. They found his Father. He was bleeding. He was dying. He wouldn't make it out. He told them to get out. His Mother refused to leave. She forced them to go.

He was on the horse beside Duncan, Furgus standing beside him. Duncan had ridden the horse he was on next to him. "We will bring Arl Howe to justice Markov. I will see to it personally." Markov nodded, not really paying attention to what the Grey Warden was saying. "What do we do now?" "We head to Denerim. We still have time before we head to Ostagar." Duncan watched Markov for a few moments more before spurring the horse forward. Markov watched his home burn.