Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Camelia Brosca spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered up at the dwarf standing over her. A large gash above her eyebrow bled down her face and dripped into the dirt.

“Is that all you got?” she growled. “I’ve taken harder punches from a nug.”

The man curled his lip under a braided and greasy mustache. “Then why are you on the ground, eh? Yer not lookin’ so tough from where I stand.” He drew his leg back, preparing to send a kick into her ribs. He was stopped mid-motion, however, as a knife suddenly appeared at his throat. He didn’t even realise what was happening as the blade drew across his neck and spilled his life down his front and into a pool on the ground. He slumped, lifeless, into a crumpled heap. When he fell, it revealed another dwarf standing behind him. The newcomer wiped his blade clean with a stained handkerchief and slipped it into his belt before offering her a hand.

“Seriously, Cam? Did you really have to let him beat the piss outta you?”

She took his hand and staggered to her feet. She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Hey, you said to distract him. He was distracted.”

He scowled.”That’s not what I meant. There are other ways to distract a man.”

“I’m not flashing my tits, Leske.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that. To do that, you have to actually have tits–ow!” he yelped in pain as she punched him in the chest.

“Asshole.”

He rubbed his chest and pouted.

She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, job’s done. You can tell Beraht we took care of his stupid grudge. Maybe he can stop being pissed at us for that debt collection we messed up last month and start giving us real jobs again.”

“You’re not coming?”

“We both know he will be in a better mood if I’m not there. He might even pay us what he promised for a change.”

“Keep dreaming, Salroka.”

She made a face. “Hey, dreams are what keep some of us going.” She brushed the dirt off her trousers. “I’m gonna go home and wash up. Drop by the house with my share of the coin, yeah?”

“Always do.”

With that, the two friends parted ways and she walked the few blocks to her home. There were a few other dwarves out and about on the streets of Dust Town. None of them seemed bothered at all to see one of their own covered in blood and developing a black eye. The Casteless who lived here were no strangers to violence, and her neighbors probably saw her beat and bloodied at least a couple times a month.

She unlocked the door of her house with a rusted old key and pushed it open. She braced herself for a barrage of verbal abuse, as was the regular greeting she received when she returned home. Thankfully, it was silent, and she could see her mother passed out in a kitchen chair and slumped over the dirty old table, snoring. Empty bottles lay scattered around her, a couple even lying broken on the floor after seemingly rolling off the table and onto the rough stone flooring.

She sighed in relief and tiptoed past the kitchen and into the washroom. Her sister wasn’t home yet, it seemed. Good. She could get cleaned up and hopefully save her sibling a little worry.

A small mirror hung on the wall above the washbasin, hung there by her sister Rica so she would have a decent place to do her hair and makeup in the mornings. Her line of work required her best appearance, after all. Cam, on the other hand, mostly used it to address split lips and black eyes from skirmishes and bar fights.

She bent over the basin and began splashing water in her face to clear the blood from her features. Eventually she managed to clean herself up well enough to find her wounds. She patted her face dry with a tattered old towel and studied her reflection. Grayish-green eyes looked back at her, one half swollen shut and badly bruised. The black eye also had a decently sized gash above it that cut through her eyebrow. She poked it gingerly and winced. That was gonna feel great in the morning.

Her fingers traced over the tattoo decorating the uninjured side of her face, the bold “S” shaped Brand that marked her as one of the Casteless. Everyone around here had one of them. It was how the upper classes knew who to spit on.

She heard the door open and a pleasant but concerned voice spoke behind her.

“Camelia! What happened this time?”

She turned to face the pretty redhead. “It’s nothing, Rica. You should see the other guy.”

Her sister scowled. “That isn’t funny.” She stepped forward and took her younger sister’s face in her hands. There was a stark difference between Rica’s perfectly manicured nails and Cam’s scarred complexion. A stranger on the streets would never assume the two young women were sisters. The differences in their heights made them look even less like siblings. Rica was average height for a dwarven woman, but looked tall beside Cam. Even for a dwarf, Cam was short. She had always blamed it on her mother drinking through her pregnancy. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Cam diverted her gaze. The sadness in her sister’s eyes filled her with guilt. “I know you do. But what choice do I have? When Beraht gives a job…”

“I know, I know.” She smiled sadly and began dabbing at Cam’s injuries with a clean cloth.

Cam tried to pull away. “Rica, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to–”

“Hold still. If this doesn’t get cleaned properly it will get infected.”

She stopped struggling and begrudgingly allowed her older sibling to tend to her forehead cut. As much as she hated to admit it, she did appreciate her sister’s care. She would be lost without her. It wasn’t their mother who had raised her; it had been Rica, even though she had been a child herself. When Mother had drunk herself into unconsciousness and forgotten dinner once again, Rica had gone to the neighbors to beg for some food. When Mother had drank too much and took out her anger at Cam’s father for abandoning them, Rica had dressed her wounds. When she had torn her clothing in a brawl, Rica had sewn them back together. The list was endless.

Once Rica was satisfied with her treatment of Cam’s wounds, she tucked a strand of short ashen blonde hair behind her ear. Then she pulled back and smiled at her. “There. Much better.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you hungry? I brought home some leftover roasted nug from the party I entertained at.”

“Starving.” She returned her sister’s smile.

The two of them went and sat by the fire and chatted while they ate dinner. It was cold, but they were both too hungry to care enough to spend the time to warm it. Besides, the seasoning more than made up for the temperature. It wasn’t often they had actual seasonings on food. At some point their mother woke up, just long enough to be sick and have another drink. Rica left her share of dinner on a plate beside her on the table where she would see it whenever she was conscious again.

After dinner Cam went straight to bed. Tracking down Beraht’s hit had taken her and Leske all day, and she was exhausted. Her sleep was deep and dreamless, as it was for all dwarves, and morning came too soon. She could hear voices in the main living area and dragged herself out of bed. They were muffled by the door, but she could tell one was male. She assumed it was Leske, and with him a job from Beraht.

Her sleep clothes were left in a heap on the floor as she replaced them with an equally wrinkled shirt and trousers. Who cared if her clothes were a mess? Nobody was going to see them under her armor anyway. She strapped herself into her gear, a set of leather armor that had seen too many rough days to count, and made sure her equally beaten up weapon was secured at her hip. It wasn’t anything to look at, but she took special care to make sure the faithful longsword always had a sharp edge and a clean blade. It was about the only thing in her life she had ever felt any sort of pride about, even if it was a garbage castoff piece from the smiths’ forges.

With one last check to make sure everything was as it should be, she stepped out of the house’s singular bedroom. She shared with Rica, and technically their mother, though the old drunk never made it that far. She spent most nights passed out on a makeshift cot in the living room.

She made a disgusted expression when she opened the bedroom door and saw an unwelcome face as she barged into the conversation between her sister and their boss.

“Beraht,” she said, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have sleazeball crap to do?”

“Sister, please,” the redheaded woman pleaded softly.

“Sleazeball crap is exactly why I’m here,” the dark bearded crime lord replied with condescension. “Your sister, to be more specific.”

Camelia narrowed her eyes and snarled. “Don’t you dare speak of Rica–”

“Cam,” Rica interjected, firmly this time. “This is just about work. Please stay out of it.”

She scowled at her sister, but held her tongue. For her sister’s sake, and only hers, would she resist the urge to punch Beraht in his stupid, ugly face.

“Anyway. As I was saying, before we were rudely interrupted,” he said with a baiting glance at Camelia. The woman continued to hold her tongue, literally biting her lip to remain silent. “The other girls have found patrons. You’re the only one left. You’re running out of time, sweetheart.”

Rica nodded solemnly. “I am aware. Believe me, I am trying my best to grab the attention of a noble. I promise I will not disappoint you.”

“You better not. You’re not being a good return on my investment, and you know how I hate losing money on my investments.”

“I am aware,” she replied softly.

“I’ll give you…” he hummed thoughtfully. “One more week. If you haven’t found a patron by then, you go back to being a common street whore. And you.” He pointed at Camelia. “You have another job. Don’t bungle this one. You are hanging by a thread, Brosca. You and your pal Leske need to make this one work. I already told him what you need to do, so go talk to him. I’m done wasting time talking to you two.”
With an irritated wave of his hand, he bustled out of their shabby little house, muttering under his breath about useless whores and idiot thugs.

Once he was gone and the rusted door was shut behind him, Camelia looked to her sister, the fury evident on her face. “I hate that nug fucker. One of these days, I swear I’m going to beat his ass into the dirt.”

Rica smiled softly at her little sister, a twinge of sadness in her eyes. “That attitude is going to get you in trouble someday.”

“Yeah, so what? What trouble could be worse than dealing with Beraht and his shit?”

“You know the answer to that, Cam.”

Cam grumbled and crossed her arms. “I’m still allowed to hate him and what we have to do for him. What’s all this about a deadline in a week, anyway?”

Rica fidgeted anxiously with the buttons on the sleeve of her blouse, a fancy piece of clothing that looked refined while still managing to accent her breasts. “It’s this noble hunting business. All the other girls have caught the affections of a noble and a couple are even pregnant. Beraht is growing impatient with me because I haven’t yet.”

Cam wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That baby thing again, huh? Gross. I don’t know how you do it. If some rich asshole tried to touch me, I’d clock him.”

Rica sighed and shook her head. “If it gets us out of Dust Town, I’ll gladly bear a son to a noble. Everyone is desperate to get out of this place, to have a better life. I’m not strong like you are. This is the only thing I can do for a chance.”

“It’s still gross.” She scowled. “If only I could find some way to become a Paragon. Then you wouldn’t have to do any of this, and I could tell Beraht to eat a dick.”

“Your dreams are even loftier than mine,” she teased. “But it’s a good dream. Don’t lose that determination, sister. If you still have that, you can do anything.”

Cam rolled her eyes. “If that were true, we would’ve been out of this shit hole a long time ago. Thanks for believing in me, though, I guess. We know Mother doesn’t.”

“Mother is bitter and hasn’t been sober in years. Don’t take what she says to heart.”

“I try. I should get going and go find Leske. The sooner we get this job done, the better.” She wrapped her arms around her older sister, being careful not to wrinkle her blouse. “I’ll see you later. Good luck with the gross noble fucking.”

Rica chuckled. “And good luck with your barbaric thug shenanigans. Be safe, sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes, heading out the door. Right outside their door, she spotted her lifelong friend waiting for her. He was a good half a head taller than her, with dark braided hair and bulky muscles that made his battered leather armor fit poorly. The opposite problem Camelia had, but that was just what happened when one couldn’t afford properly sized armor. Or any armor, really. The only reason either of them owned what they did was because Beraht put a good deal of importance on his thugs looking appropriately intimidating.

“There you are,” he said with a smirk. “I was hoping your sister would come out first so I could catch a glimpse of that hot ass.”

She punched him in the arm. “You’re disgusting.”

“Oh, come on, you know you are into this fine stud of a dwarf,” he said with a wink, holding his arms out. “You sure liked it last week.”

“You and I remember that night very differently,” she said dryly. “If my memory serves me right, you got soft halfway through, then passed out drunk like a damn lightweight.”

His cocky smile evaporated. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes. And?”

He just glared at her, pouting about his hurt pride.

“So tell me what bullshit Beraht has for us to do this time,” she said, jumping right to the point.

“Huh? Oh, right. That.” He put a hand on his hip. “Nothing huge. Just some poor sod who embezzled some goods from a shipment with Beraht’s name on it and thought he would get away with it.”

“So are we supposed to get the stolen goods back? Kill him? Both?”

“You know Beraht doesn’t let anyone double cross him and live. But he really wants his goods, or at least the money for them, so we gotta shake him down first. If we don’t come back with that money, Beraht will take it out of our pay.”

“Then let’s get going. Got any info on where he might be?”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to spend most of his time at that tavern in the commons.”

“Tapsters?”

“Yeah, that one.”

She nodded. “After you. I don’t want you staring at my ass.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, which earned him another hard punch to the bicep. Then the two of them were off, headed to the main thoroughfare of the Commons district. They were allowed to go there, but they certainly weren’t welcome. Any casteless who stepped into the Commons were watched by every guard, merchant, and citizen and avoided like a disease. Most shopkeepers denied them business, and the citizens clutched their purses a little tighter when they were nearby. Today was no different. One of the guards stationed at the Dust Town gate looked at the two “Dusters” with disdain.

“Behave yourselves, Brands. You lift one finger, give me the tiniest reason, and I will stomp you out like the insects you are.”

Leske held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Easy, pal, we mean no trouble. We’re just here to enjoy the sights.”

“Unlikely,” the guard scoffed. “Scram. I don’t want your filth sullying my post any longer.”

Cam scowled and was about to snap off an insult, but Leske grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her away before she had a chance. “Come on, Salroka. It’s not worth it,” he said calmly. “Focus on the job.”

She grumbled under her breath but let him lead her away. As much as she wanted to tell that guard to kiss her ass, she begrudgingly accepted that the job came first. She looked across the plaza to a familiar tavern. They had been there a few times before, mostly on business but occasionally to enjoy themselves. Their ale was cheap and tasted like piss, but it was strong and that’s what patrons wanted. It wasn’t about enjoying a fine glass; that was for the upper castes. It was about getting shitfaced as quickly as possible.

They strolled through the front doors and had a look around. It was just as dark and dingy as always, with dirty stone chairs and tables and metal engravings hung on the walls that were so caked with rust it was impossible to see what the image was supposed to be. Behind the bar were a couple dwarves, busy pouring ale from large casks into tankards. The usual crowd was present, drinking their days away: men with faces dirty from the mines, a smith or two who smelled of sulfur and steel, some scantily clad women milling about, some warriors bragging about who had killed the most deepstalkers… the usual. In one corner was a grizzled old dwarf raving about some horrors he had seen in the Deep Roads, being largely ignored by the tavern-goers nearby. Off to another side was a dwarf with a beard the color of fire, so drunk he could barely stand, garbling some nonsense about his wife. At least, that was the best guess anyone could make. He was damn near unintelligible.

“Ah, good old Tapsters,” Leske said with a wistful sigh. “A true gem of Orzammar.”

Cam snorted. “That’s one thing to call it. So what does this… you never told me his name.”

“Oh, right. Oskias.”

“Oskias. What does this Oskias even look like?”

Leske points to a table across the room, toward the back. “Like that.”

She followed him to the man at the table, doing her best not to bump into any of the prostitutes milling about. The other patrons, not so much. She didn’t care about bumping into them, but the prostitutes deserved some respect for once in their lives.

“Hello friend,” the dwarf at the table greeted them, raising his tankard with a grin. “Can I buy you a drink? I just got paid.”

“We heard,” Leske said, sitting beside him. “From Beraht.”

The grin evaporated from his face. He looked to Cam, who remained on her feet, standing close to him to prevent him from fleeing. She silently stared back, her expression unreadable.

“Please,” Oskias said quietly, his voice quivering. “It was only a little lyrium. I-I’ll share it with you. You can sell it for way more than Beraht is paying you to do this, Just-just let me go. I swear I’ll disappear. He’ll never know you let me go.”

“You and I both know he will find out. He always does,” Leske replied, almost apologetically. “Sorry friend, but this is the end of the road for you.”

He started to get up. “N-no! Please! I still have the lyrium! You can take it all!”

Cam put an unexpectedly firm hand on his shoulder, much more than anyone would expect from a dwarf of her stature, and pushed him back into his chair. He whirled around, a dagger in his hand as he burst to his feet, sending his chair tumbling to the ground. He swiped at her with the dagger, aiming for her face. Thankfully, this was nothing she hadn’t seen before and easily dodged, earning herself no more than a shallow cut across her cheek. She knocked the dagger from his hand and grabbed his wrist, slamming him face-first onto the table with his arm wrenched painfully behind his back.

“Wrong move,” she growled.

Leske was on his feet a half second later, his own dagger in his hand and pointed inches from Oskias’ face. “That was really stupid, buddy.”

The man wriggled futilely in Cam’s grip, still trying to free himself. Cam wrenched his arm a little harder, nearly to the point of breaking it. She looked to Leske, who gripped his dagger and nodded to her. She nodded back and hauled the man to his feet, making sure she has a good grip on both his arms. Leske stepped close and held his dagger to his throat.

“I was gonna make this quick, but then you had to attack my friend,” Leske said, his voice taking a dark edge. Without another word, he thrust the dagger into Oskias, right below his rib cage, turning the blade up and twisting it before withdrawing it. He crumpled to the ground.

Leske wiped the blood off his dagger with a napkin from the table and sheathed it. “Well that sucked.”

Cam looked down at the bleeding man on the floor, imagining he was Beraht. Hopefully someday, she thought. She wanted nothing more than she wanted her and her sister to be free from the hold of that cave tick.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Leske tapping her on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here and get paid already.” He pulled a sack from under the table and peeked inside. “Shit. It’s all here. That idiot didn’t even hide it.”

She wrenched her eyes away from the floor and to her friend. “Seriously? He was just walking around with it?”

“Yup.” He handed her the sack, which she was not eager to take. She kept it at arm’s length and with the caution of a live explosive. Honestly an explosive would be safer. Contained or not, she had heard what lyrium could do to a person, and she preferred her brains to be un-melted. Leske tossed a coin to the head barkeep behind the counter. “Sorry about the mess.”

The barkeep nodded knowingly. This was not the first time they had been here to do Beraht’s business. The two friends exited the tavern and headed back to Dust Town, Cam being extra careful to hold the bag away from her body as much as possible. Leske laughed.

“Come on, Salroka, it’s not a dead nug.”

She scowled at him. “I’d prefer if it was. At least a dead nug can’t rot my brain.”

“Psh, you’ll be fine. I bet no one would know the difference.”

“Don’t make me hit you with this sack.”

He laughed again and they continued bantering until they reached their rendezvous point to meet Beraht, a dirty little shop that served as a front for their more nefarious deeds. One of many, as it were. She had heard whispers of a massive fortress of tunnels connected to a shop in the Commons, but only Beraht’s most trusted “employees” were allowed to know its location, let alone go inside.

They were greeted not by Beraht, but by another familiar dwarf, this one a harsh looking woman with dark hair. Beraht’s second in command.

“Jarvia,” Leske said with his usual suave grin. “What gives us the pleasure? You are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Save your flattery,” she replied flatly. “Beraht sent me to make sure you two got this job done right. He had more important people to talk to.”

“Harsh,” Leske replied with a playful wince, acting wounded.

Cam rolled her eyes and plopped the sack on the counter before the woman. “We did the job. Oskias is dead and all the lyrium is all right here. Now give us our pay.”

Jarvia ignored her demand and opened the bag, double checking to make sure they were being honest. Once she was satisfied, she closed the bag and put a handful of coins on the counter. “Here. I’ll let Beraht know you didn’t fuck this one up.”

Cam quickly took the coins and divided them in half, handing Leske his share before pocketing her own. They were about to leave when Jarvia stopped them.

“Oh, and one more thing. Beraht already has another job for you two. He didn’t give me the details, but he said to meet him here tomorrow morning. Early.”

They nodded, Leske suddenly not in a joking mood. Beraht never had back to back jobs lined up unless he had something big in the works. This gave him a bad feeling. “Early. Got it. We’ll be here.”

“You better be.”

On that note, they exited and headed back to their homes, parting ways with the usual “see you later.” Cam paused outside the front door to her house, equal parts ready to go to bed and dreading stepping inside. Rica would be gone, as she was most nights, which meant she had to be alone in the confined space with her drunk mother and her verbal beratement. The mean old bat had never said a nice word to her in her life, at least not that she could remember. Maybe when she was an infant, though she doubted it. She had been too busy resenting her children and their need to eat.

She braced herself and opened the door, which gave a lethargic squeal as the rusty hinges rubbed together. She hated that sound. Inside was silent and dark, lit only by a singular candle that had nearly burned itself out. Quiet was good. It meant Mother was sleeping. Or passed out. It was all the same to her, honestly. She padded inside, shutting the squealing door behind her and locking it. She did not feel like dealing with home invaders tonight. The snoring in the corner told her that Mother was still breathing. Good. She slipped past her, pausing to cover her with a blanket before heading to the bedroom. The candle would burn itself out soon enough. No point blowing it out.

Once in the bedroom behind a closed door, she lit a lamp and undressed. It felt good to get out of that armor. The poor fit caused chafing. After slipping on a raggedy tunic and some trousers, she flopped down onto her stone bed and fell asleep without even bothering to turn off the lamp. Tomorrow was another day, and Jarvia’s words had hinted she would need to be well rested for whatever dirty work Beraht had lined up for them. As she drifted off to sleep, she hoped this job would go smoothly. She really needed something to go right for once.

Chapter Text

As promised, Cam and Leske were at the shop bright and early to meet Beraht for their next job. Neither one was feeling particularly chatty, so they trudged inside in silence, Leske stifling a yawn as Beraht greeted them.

“Good, you’re here. And not late. You’re off to a good start.” He gestured for them to come closer. “Let’s get down to business, eh? What do they say on the surface? Burning daylight? Anyway.”

They stepped to the back of the shop, which wasn’t more than half a dozen paces, to join Beraht.

“So what’s this super important job you wouldn’t even tell Jarvia about?” Cam asked, already eager to get this over with. Rica had never come back last night, which was probably a good sign in terms of her work, but it made Cam uneasy nonetheless.

“It’s a big one. Get it right, and I might be happy enough to promote you two Dusters. But if you fuck it up, it will be on your heads. I have a lot of money on this.” He handed both of them a scrap of parchment. Cam looked at it blankly.

“Is this a joke? You know I can’t read this shit,” she snipped.

Beraht’s lip curled slightly in distaste. “It’s a pass into the Proving. Janitorial. It’s enough to get you inside.”

Leske deadpanned. “The Proving arena. You’re fucking kidding.”

“I am not,” he replied shortly. “I don’t joke around when it comes to coin. I have invested a lot in one of the warriors fighting today, and I will not accept him losing. Everd is his name. That’s why I need you two. His first opponent is a Proving veteran named Mainar, and I don’t like those odds. You’re going to fix those odds.” He pulled a small flask from his pocket. “This is a drug. It won’t kill him, but it will slow him down enough to give my guy the edge. If this goes right, it will be just a small enough change to not make any of the officials suspicious.”

Leske took the vial and pocketed it. Cam remained silent, thinking more and more that this was a big setup for Beraht to finally get rid of them. Like hell she would let him succeed if that were the case.

“Get going,” Beraht spat. “The warriors should be already preparing for their fights. Don’t fuck this up.”

Leske nodded. “Yes, boss. We won’t let you down.”

Beraht waved them off without another word, and they briskly headed to the Commons. They threaded their way through the crowds of citizens who were already gathering, waiting for the Proving arena doors to open so they could get good seats to watch the fights. Cam and Leske had a different entrance as their destination, a small nondescript door off to the side, hidden partially in shadows that kept it out of sight. This was where people like them were supposed to enter. Ancestors forbid they sully the ground of the main entrance. Leske showed their passes to the pair of guards at the door, who waved them inside without a word. To them, they were just another pair of dirty peasants here to scrub the floors and polish the warriors’ armor. Once inside, they looked around.

“I guess now we have to find where our guys are getting ready,” Leske mumbled. He spotted a dwarf with a mop and approached her with a friendly smile, turning on the charm. “Hey, good looking, mind if we ask you for some directions?”

Cam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The cleaning girl blushed lightly and smiled. “I’ll help if I can.”

“Thanks. My friend and I are new and got assigned to shine up the armor for the fighters. But the useless sods who hired us never told us where to go.”

“Oh! Of course!” She pointed at a corridor. “Down that way and to the left when it comes to a T. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a doll.” He winked at her before following her directions, Cam following half a pace behind him. Leave it to her friend to find someone to flirt with even in a place like this. Sure enough, the warriors’ prep area was exactly where the cleaning girl had said it would be. There was a main chamber, complete with servants hurriedly bustling around, grand statues of famous warriors, gossip mongers, and a handful of VIP’s. Branching off the main chamber were a few side rooms, assumedly the private areas for the warriors. It didn’t take too much detective work to figure out which rooms belonged to their target. They paused outside the door.

“Alright, what’s our plan?” Leske asked, keeping his voice low.

“You’re the roguish one. You’ll have better luck getting the poison into his drink. I’ll distract him.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s do this.” He opened the door and let them both inside. Cam made a quick visual sweep of the room and spotted the perfect diversion. She approached the warrior, doing her best to look awestruck and impressed.

“Mainar, sir?” she asked, maintaining a respectful distance. “Sorry if I’m out of place, but I just had to tell you I’m a huge fan.”

He looked at her, his ego clearly appealed to. “Praise is never out of place, even if it is from a Brand. It’s good for you people to recognise greatness when you see it.”

She nodded, her insides screaming to tell this pompous ass what she really thought of him. Instead she held her tongue, instead gushing more fake praise at him. He was focused entirely on soaking up the praise, leaving Leske a perfect window to slip the poison into his drink. Once he was done, he tapped Cam on her shoulder.

“Come on, Salroka, let the man get ready for his fight. We have our chores to finish, remember?”

She played up a pout at having her conversation with her “hero” brought to an end, before letting him pull her away. They exited the room and Cam let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, making a disgusted sound.

“I’m going to have to drink so much to cleanse that bullshit from my mouth,” she muttered.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll buy the first drink. I owe it to you for keeping his attention like that. Now come on, we need to find Everd’s room and give him the word.”

“Let’s do this. I can’t wait to get out of here. The ego is so bad in here it stinks.”

“That’s not ego you’re smelling, Salroka. That’s sweaty warrior balls.”

She made a face. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

He laughed and went about figuring out which room belonged to Everd. Once again, it was an easy and straightforward task. They found the correct door and let themselves inside.

“Well that’s not good,” Leske said upon seeing the sight that greeted them. Sprawled out on a bench off against one wall was their man, an empty ale tankard on its side on the floor beside him. He was out cold, snoring, clearly passed out drunk. He wasn’t even dressed fully. At least he still had his pants on, Cam thought.

“Shit. Now what. This guy can’t fight. I doubt he could find the right hole in a shirt right now, even if we did manage to wake him up. We’re fucked.”

Cam stepped over to the drunk man and shook his shoulder. No response. “Yeah, he’s gonna be like this for a while.”

Leske cursed and began pacing. “Beraht is going to be furious. We are dead. No way he’s going to let this slide. He won’t give a shit we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Cam straightened and put her hands on her hips, looking around the room. There had to be something. Her eyes landed on a large stone chest. The lid was open, and she could see a set of armor inside. “That’s it,” she mumbled to herself, heading for the chest. Leske was still focused on his panic and wasn’t paying attention as she began pulling the armor from the chest. It was all there, the full set, all polished and ready for the fights. Apparently Everd had gotten drunk before even bothering to unpack his things.

“Leske, shut up for a sodding minute. I think I got something here.”

He stopped mid-step and looked at her hopefully.

She gestured to the chest. “His armor is right here.”

“Yeah, so? Even if we dress him, that won’t help him out there in the arena.”

“Then one of us puts it on instead. There’s a helmet. No one will see who is wearing it.”

He paled. “You’re mad. One of us? FIght against experienced warrior caste? In the sodding Proving? Do you know what the nobles would do to us if we got caught?!”

“Then we don’t get caught. No one ever has to know it wasn’t Everd.”

“Did you forget the part where we have to fight against experienced warrior caste?!”

She leveled her gaze at him. “Not we. Me. It was my idea. I’ll do it.” She began pulling the armor from the chest and began suiting up.

“Salroka, please. This is insane. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Better than getting axed by Beraht,” she said bluntly as she continued with the armor, never pausing. “At least this way I have a chance. Now help me with this. We don’t have a lot of time before the fights begin.”

He hesitated, giving a desperate look in the direction of the passed out Everd before reluctantly helping her. The armor was a little big, but it had just enough adjustment freedom in the straps to fit her without handicapping her movement. Good thing she was used to getting around in armor too big. She walked around the room to get used to how this armor felt and how moving in it would feel. For how heavy it looked, it wasn’t cumbersome in the slightest. So this is what it felt like to wear something of quality.

After she was sure she would be fine, movement wise, she selected a weapon from the rack on the wall. She swung the greatsword around experimentally, loving the balance. This made her sword feel like a club in comparison.

“I gotta get me one of these.”

Leske snorted. Any snarky response he may have had in store was silenced by the sound of a loud horn signaling the start of the matches. Cam slipped on the helmet.

“Show time.”

She walked toward the arena doors with an air of forced confidence she hoped would make her blend in with the other warriors. It seemed to work, because no one gave her a second look except to send some general banter her way. She stayed silent, knowing her voice would immediately give her away, instead merely nodding in response. She and the warriors waited in the wings awaiting their matches. The excitement in the air was palpable. Everyone here had something to prove, glory to attain for themselves and their bloodlines. It was a whole different world from her struggle for existence, even though they all lived within the same stone. She found herself feeling an inferno of determination to win this day and throw her victory right in the face of that cursed caste system.

The first fight ended, signaled by raucous applause and the unconscious (or dead, it was impossible to tell from her vantage point) loser was dragged from the arena.

"Next we have a face off between Mainar and Everd!" boomed the announcer. That was her signal. She stepped forward to face her opponent. Mainar staggered on his feet slightly and slurred some half unintelligible banter her way. She winced behind her helmet. That poison seemed to be more potent than Beraht had led them to believe. She desperately hoped no one would suspect more than one too many pre-fight ales.

She barely paid attention to his words, simply responding with the universal "come at me" gesture. The crowd seemed to love the blunt gesture, answering with excited cheering.

"And fight!"

Mainar charged her, his mace held high. She blocked with her sword, nearly stumbling back half a step. His inebriation didn't seem to have much of an effect on his strength — it was a harder blow than she had anticipated. She responded by kicking him back with a swift boot to the torso, following up with a swing of his sword. The swing connected, stopped by his armor but still enough to knock him off his feet. He quickly stumbled to his feet and lunged at her, but in his haste he put too much inertia into his movement and missed her. He tried swinging at her again as he stumbled past her. She easily blocked this blow and returned it with another of her own. At this point the crowd was going wild. They circled one another, each looking for an opening. This time Cam struck first, feigning right then sweeping his legs out from under him, striking him as he fell. He crashed into the dirt face-first. She watched as he struggled to get his legs underneath him for a few moments before flopping back down, unconsciousness claiming him.

"We have a winner! Victory goes to Everd!"

The crowd applauded and she raised her sword in victory. One down. Maybe she could pull this off after all.

The duels continued, and within a few matches she was up again. This time her opponent was last year's something or another champion; she didn't pay much attention. Her focus was on the battle axe this opponent had. He was shaping up to be a much tougher opponent. This time would be a real fight.

He greeted her with salutations and some short spiel about glory going to the favored of the Ancestors. She nodded respectfully, making a face behind her helmet. Hell with the Ancestors. If she won it would be due to her own skill, not the will of some dead old bones in a crypt somewhere.

This fight indeed was a hard one, both of them taking a few hard blows. She was pretty sure she earned herself a cracked rib. She ignored the pain and kept going. Eventually her tenacity paid off, and she was able to knock her opponent unconscious, though just barely. If her reflexes had been just a tiny bit slower, the outcome may have been very different.

"Another victory for Everd!" the announcer exclaimed.

She once again raised her sword in a victorious gesture. Two down. Her chances were looking better and better.

There was a shorter break this time, and she had barely had time to catch her breath and get the pain in her side under control when she was called into her next match. This time her opponent was a member of the Silent Sisters. She had heard a little bit about that order of warriors. They idolised the Paragon Astyth the Grey, who had opposed women being banned from fighting. She had cut out her tongue, so the Silent Sisters did the same as part of their initiation ritual. Also, if she remembered correctly, their honor code dictated they fight to the death. This was going to get messy.

Her opponent nodded respectfully to her, and she returned the gesture. She could respect the dedication, even if she thought the whole tongue cutting thing was a little extreme.

"Fight!"

Her opponent was fast. In a blink she was closing in on her, daggers poised and ready to strike. She barely managed to step back in time to avoid the hit. Her approach was going to have to change if she stood a chance winning this fight. Duking it out and relying on stamina and strength wouldn't help her here like it did in the last fight. She had to keep her wits about her. Thankfully, Leske fought in a similar manner. She just had to think like she did when they sparred.

With that in mind, she focused on dodging, knowing it would only take a few precise strikes to have her out of commission. She landed a blow when she could, but usually had to knock her opponent off her feet with a kick before she got that opening. Those openings were few and far between, and she could feel fatigue threatening to creep in. She didn't think she would be able to outlast her opponent. She had to find a way to end this. Taking a chance, she risked exposing herself to a few blows. Lowering her defense allowed her to focus on landing hard strikes with her greatsword. Though she took a few jabs to her body, she managed to avoid any lacerations to her joints. It seemed the armor fitting her poorly would be her saving grace. Her opponent wasn't hitting the vital points she intended to. Seeing her big chance, she swung what she hoped would be the finishing blow. It connected, and her opponent fell.

"Victory goes to Everd!" the announcer exclaimed, and the crowd exploded in cheers and applause.

Her chest heaved as she panted to catch her breath. She wasn't sure how many more fights she had in her. How many rounds was this thing supposed to last, anyway?

Suddenly, a very drunk dwarf stumbled into the ring, cussing about being late. Cam felt her stomach hit her feet. It was Everd. He was awake. The jig was up.

"Hey! That's my armor!" he slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at her. A hush fell over the crowd.

One of the officiating dwarves stood from his seat. "An imposter! Who are you?"

She stood motionless. How did Everd get past Leske? He had stayed behind in the room. He should have stopped him.

"I asked you a question," the officiator snapped. "State your name."

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Fuck it, she thought. It was over. She might as well speak her mind. "I'm the one who defeated some of your best Proving champions. Isn't that enough?"

"It is not. Show your face!" he commanded.

She removed her helmet and tossed it aside, brushing her sweat-soaked hair from her face. An audible gasp echoed through the stadium.

The officiator's face turned red in anger, and his wasn't the only one. "A Brand!"

"Yes," she called out firmly. "And I still won. Your precious caste system is broken."

"How dare you! Guards! Remove this blasphemer!"

She spun on her heels to face the equally enraged guards. It seemed every guard on duty wanted a part in taking her down. She gripped her sword tightly. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Metal clashed as she fought against the mob of guards. She managed to knock a few down before they overtook her. She continued to struggle, all the way up until something hard struck the back of her skull. Then everything went black.

Chapter Text

When she came to, her head felt like it had cracked open. At least the pain told her she was still alive. She sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of her head. Her hand found matted hair, caked with dried blood, and a tender bump beneath it.

“Fuck,” she grumbled, blinking the blurriness from her eyes as she tried to take in her surroundings. It was dark, wherever she was, and smelled like damp rock, shit, and something dead. As her vision slowly came back to her, she could tell she was in a tiny alcove carved into the cave wall, the opening blocked by rusty iron bars. Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice nearby.

“You’re finally awake.”

She tried to locate the source of the voice. Outside her tiny pocket of misery, she could see more iron bars of other cells. Inside one of the other cells sat her dark-haired friend, leaning against the wall and barely visible in the shadows.

“Leske? Where the hell are we? Why am I not dead?”

He snorted. “You’ll probably wish you were once I tell you. Beraht must’ve had connections to someone at the prison. Hell, maybe he paid someone off. I don’t know. But we’re at his hideout. I’m sure he has something nasty planned for us.”

She cursed and kicked the wall in frustration. “Shit!” She stood, her head spinning a bit.Using the wall to steady herself, she stepped to the bars and grabbed them, giving them a rough tug.

“Don’t bother, Salroka. I already tried. This shit is solid.”

Cam growled and hit the rusted iron, cursing again.

“I’m sure someone will be back soon to rub it in our faces. Maybe they’ll do us a favor and kill us already.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck that. I’m not dying in this shithole. If they want me dead, they’re gonna work for it.” She continued searching the bars for any signs of weaknesses, whether that be a patch rusted through, a loose hinge, anything. Unfortunately, despite the unkempt appearance of the bars, they had no such weaknesses. In her focus to find a way to free herself, she didn’t notice the sound of incoming footsteps. Thankfully, Leske did, and he whistled at her to grab her attention. She looked up and stepped back from the bars.

Moments later, a harsh looking dwarf stepped into view, a keyring jingling on his belt. He saw Cam standing upright, leaning against the side of the cell, and grinned.

“There’s our star of the day. You really made a mess of things.”

She snarled at him. “Is there a reason you’re here? Or did you just come to piss me off?”

He laughed, the sound rough and grating, making her want nothing more than to punch him in his face. “Beraht wanted to know if you were awake, actually. He’s really pissed, you know. He could have left you to rot and be executed, but he wanted the pleasure of doing that himself. I’m glad I’m not you.”

She spat. “Could be worse. I could be you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She stepped forward, sneering at him. “Your face. You’re one ugly sod, even for one of Beraht’s lackeys. Did a nug chew on your face when you were a baby or something?”

“Listen you,” he growled, crossing the space to her cell within a few paces. So close. If only she could get him a foot or so closer.

“Oh, you’re even uglier up close. I think I can almost see the teeth marks from where the nug chewed on your nose.”

“A nug did not eat my nose!” he snapped, leaning forward and pointing at his nose. “This is from a fight. And I won. You should see what the other guy–”

His words were cut off as she reached through the bars, grabbing him by his throat. He answered with a strangled gasp, his hands gripping her wrists and trying to pry her hands free. She only tightened her grip in response. Despite her size, she had more strength in her than most of the men she knew. A girl had to be able to hold her own, especially in this business.

After a few minutes, he stopped struggling and slumped to the ground, the life gone from him. She grabbed his body through the bars and pulled it close until she could reach the keyring on his hip. She managed to tug it free and stood, quickly unlocking her cell and letting herself out. She stepped over the corpse of their guard and freed Leske, who was just staring at her with a deadpan expression.

“Salroka, you’re insane,” he said as he stepped free of his cell.

“Yeah, you’ve said that a lot today. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. I told you I’m not dying in this place.”

“I’m an idiot for doubting you,” he said with a small hint of a grin. “Lemme guess, your plan is to fight our way out of here.”

“Plan? When do I have a plan? You’re the plan guy.” She kneeled and began searching their guard for weapons, quickly finding a dagger and a shortsword. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She offered the dagger to Leske. “Maybe we can find some armor somewhere around here.”

He took the dagger with a skeptical look. “And let’s say we somehow manage to get out of here alive. Then what? Everyone in Orzammar knows what you look like by now. There’s no way we can lay low after this.”

“Sounds like something for the plan guy to figure out,” she said pointedly. “All I know is I need to make sure Rica is okay.”

“Nonononono,” he said, shaking his head. “This is one hundred percent your mess.”

She gave him the universally understood “Shut up and let’s go” look. He grumbled at her.

“Would you rather stay here and wait for whatever Beraht has in mind?” she asked bluntly, already heading for the corridor.

“Cam, wait.”

She stopped. He never called her by her name. It was always salroka this, salroka that. Or they were exchanging curses and insults. She turned around and looked at him, her resolve almost cracking for half a second. Something in the tone of his voice made her stomach twist.

“There’s no going back from this. Even if we survive, it is all over. Everything.” His tone was somber, a rare manner for him. “We’ll probably have to make a break for the surface.”

“I know,” she said, biting her lip and regathering herself. “But I’m not giving up and rolling over to die.”

He looked at the dagger in his hand and sighed. “Dammit. You’ve always been a bad influence on me.”

Her lips curled into a slight smirk. “Guilty. Now come on, before someone starts wondering what’s taking our guard so long to report back.” She waved for him to follow her and started down the corridor, this time not stopping until they came to a split in the cave. She tried to listen for any signs of activity, but didn’t have much luck.

“Any suggestions?” she asked him.

He kneeled and studied the floor for signs of foot traffic. After a moment, he straightened and pointed. “That way. It seems like barely anyone ever goes the other way. Probably a storeroom or the shitter.”

She nodded and started down the corridor he indicated. Sure enough, soon they reached an iron door that was barely a crack open, just enough for them to hear the muffled sounds of voices behind it. She looked to him, her sword in hand, and made sure he was ready. He answered her with a nod and brandished his dagger. She went in first, kicking the door open. In other circumstances, Leske would have rolled his eyes at her aggressive approach. He would have preferred to attempt a sneak attack. But she was already charging in, so he had no choice but to follow her. To his relief, there were only two men in the room, both distracted by their conversation, and they proved to be an easy fight. Especially after the opponents Cam had faced in the Proving arena. They continued from that room to the next, finding it to be an empty weapon storeroom. Cam was quick to discard the stolen shortsword and replace it with a large axe that was almost as long as she was tall. Leske found himself a pair of nasty looking serrated daggers. The thought occurred to them to try to find some armor before they continued their escape, but that idea was quickly dashed by the sounds of voices coming their way up the corridor.

“Well shit,” Leske muttered. “Sounds like we are about to have company. At least three, I think.”

She responded by gripping the axe resolutely. He ducked behind a barrel so he could attempt an ambush. Sure enough, less than a minute later, four dwarves entered the room. The one at the front saw Cam before he saw the bodies of the two they had just fought, and drew his sword.

“What the hell are you doing out of your cell?”

Her answer to his question was a rude phrase and a swing of the axe. The other three men drew their weapons to attack, and that was when Leske struck. He emerged from his hiding place, unnoticed until his dagger found its way between the ribs of one of their attackers. With their newfound weapons, Cam and Leske made quick work of the four, but not without making a good deal of noise. They definitely weren’t going to be sneaking up on anyone else from here on out.

So they continued, fighting their way through throngs of thugs, encountering more and more as they fought their way toward the heart of the hideout.They didn’t make it without sustaining any injuries, but so far they both had managed to get through without anything too debilitating. Leske seemed to be faring better, as he had been relying on his agility to fight, whereas Cam had been relying on brute strength.

They finally reached a quiet area to catch their breath, an unused dead end of a cavern with a couple of half-rotted crates, abandoned spider webs, and some small animal bones. Cam leaned against the wall, panting and wiping blood from her forehead to keep it from running into her eyes. She had numerous slashes on her arms, and a large bleeding gash above her eyebrow.

“That last one was a close one,” Leske said, spitting blood from his mouth. He had taken a good punch to his face and was pretty sure he had a loose tooth. “Too sodding close. I don’t know how much more I have left in me.”

“We’ve gotta be getting close,” she responded. “The stuff in the last couple rooms looked expensive. You know he keeps the good shit close. Here, I found these on a shelf in that last room.” She reached into the pocket of her ragged and bloody trousers and produced two small vials of a reddish liquid. She offered one to Leske, who took it and narrowed his eyes as he studied the liquid.

“Well I’ll be damned. That’s a healing potion. A small one, but this shit is worth more than we get paid in a month.” He handed it back to her, but she shook her head.

“One for me, one for you.”

He frowned. “You need both of them. You’re a sodding mess. I’m not nearly as beat up as you are.”

“And I can take a lot more of a beating than you. Drink the damn thing or I’ll pour it down your throat.”

He tried to insist, but he knew she would make true on that threat. With a sigh, he popped the cork off the vial and held it up. “Cheers?”

She snorted. “Sure, cheers.” She popped the cork off her own vial and they downed them together, like a pair of old friends taking shots at the bar. Cam made a face and Leske coughed.

“Fuck! What do they put in this shit?” Leske exclaimed, trying not to gag.

“I’d rather not know,” she said, shuddering as a bitter taste lingered in her mouth. She could feel a bit of the pain from her injuries fading, and a few were noticeably smaller when she looked herself over. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough to get her through the rest of this place.

They rested for a few more minutes before continuing on their way, knowing they couldn’t afford to waste much more time. The next few rooms they encountered were empty of people.

“I guess everyone who was here already came after us,” Leske commented. Cam nodded in agreement, her eyes darting around the room for any more vials of red healing liquid. Most of what she saw were ornate tapestries, gilded items, and crates of illegal substances. If there were any potions, they were packed away somewhere they didn’t have time to search. So they continued, and the only other signs of life they encountered were a pair of drunk dwarves playing cards, a bronto in a cage, and a couple nugs scavenging through some trash. After a little more exploring, they finally reached a door that looked different from the others they had seen. This one was actually maintained, with only a few small patches of rust.

“I bet this is where we find Beraht,” Leske whispered. Cam nodded and clutched her axe, rage burning in her eyes.

“If he’s in there, his ass is mine,” she growls.

“Don’t worry, that is one fight I want nothing to do with,” he replied, a little frightened by her intensity. He had seen her angry before, plenty of times, but this was different. All those years of being spat on, bossed around, and holding her tongue as she watched him treat her sister like a piece of meat, all bottled up like a pipe bomb. He had heard tales of berserker warriors harnessing their anger to strengthen themselves in combat, giving them demon-like ferocity. This was what he imagined they looked like right before all hell broke loose.

She turned the doorknob, surprised but happy to find it unlocked, and threw it open. Their guess was correct. Inside was a large chamber, decorated with paintings and carvings and other effects, all looking quite expensive and undoubtedly obtained through less than legal means. In response to the heavy metal door slamming open, all inside whirled around to the source of the loud sound, their hands on their weapons in a split second. She counted a small handful of heavily armed guards, but her attention was on the man in the center.

“Beraht!” she spat, gripping the axe.

He smirked at her, a vile grin that made her anger boil even hotter. “Ah, speak of the devil. We were just talking about you. Your sister, actually. After I kill you, I’m going to help myself to that hot piece of ass.I might even let some of my men have a turn with her.”

“You’ll never have the chance,” she snarled.

“We’ll see about that.” His grin grew as he brandished his weapon.

She didn’t wait for him to approach her. She was on him like a rabid hound on prey, her axe swinging wildly as she roared in sheer rage. Her blow was blocked by his shield, the force of it nearly knocking him off his feet. He cursed and tried countering the blow with one from his own weapon, but with his balance compromised he missed. She swung again, this time knocking him off his feet. Before she got a chance to deliver another blow, one of his guards attacked, driving her away from him. The other came for her, but Leske jumped in, stealing his attention away from her. She swept her weapon low, aiming for her attacker’s legs. The dirty attack caught him off guard, and he was unable to dodge. He toppled to the floor with a scream and she quickly ended his suffering with a swift hack.

By now Beraht was back on his feet, his earlier smugness gone and replaced by anger. He spat a string of curses at her, calling her all kinds of things but none she hadn’t been called before. She barely noticed as she met his attacks, blocking a blow from him with the handle of the axe. Sparks flew from the impact point and she gritted her teeth, holding her footing. She shoved him back. Behind her she could hear metal on metal as Leske and the other guard fought, and she hoped he would come out on top. She didn’t have time to worry, let alone look and check, as Beraht was coming at her again. He spat promises of what he would do to her, how he would make her scream until her vocal cords tore. She ignored all of them, parrying his blows and countering them with attack after attack. He managed a few hits with his mace, but anger and adrenaline had dulled her senses and the injuries barely slowed her. Her ferocity, fueled by years of pent up rage, drove him back step by step. She managed to knock his shield from his hands, sending it clattering across the room. Without his shield to block her assaults, all he had was the maul in his hand, and it was no match for her massive greataxe. One of her blows knocked it from his hands as well. He looked at her, fear finally in his eyes as he saw the blade of the axe coming at his head like the blade of a guillotine. Then it made contact with his neck, cleaving his head clean off his shoulders. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground as his head rolled away. She watched it roll until it came to a stop against the wall.

“Fuck you,” she spat, kicking his body with her boot. It took her a few moments to regain awareness of her surroundings, and she realised it was quiet. She felt a hand on her shoulder and her friend’s voice behind her.

“Holy shit. You did it. You sodding did it,” he said in awe.

She didn’t say anything, putting the pommel of the axe on the floor and leaning on it for support as she tried to catch her breath. The adrenaline was already starting to ebb, the pain from her injuries finally reaching her. She swayed on her feet slightly, wincing.

Leske stepped in front of her and looked her over, his astonishment morphing into concern. “Salroka, you look bad. Like, really bad. Sit down, I’ll find some bandages or cloth or something around here and–”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice still strong despite how bad she felt. “Dust Town. We need to get to Dust Town. He might have sent someone after Rica.”

“Salroka–”

“No. I can rest once I know she’s safe.” She tried to take a step past him but her balance failed and she stumbled. He managed to catch her before she fell and put an arm around her waist, supporting her. He put her arm over his shoulders and took the axe from her, setting it aside.

“You’re impossible,” he grunts as he helped her walk toward the exit. The open door at the other side of the room opened into a small corridor, which ended with another door. He opened it and they found themselves in a familiar place. The two of them had visited the shopkeeper who owned this place a few different times to collect “protection money” for Beraht.

The shopkeep squeaked in surprise and horror as a shelf against the wall of his shop suddenly opened like a door on hinges and the two bloodied dwarves stepped into his business.

“Who are you? What is that? A secret passageway??” he said frantically, diving behind the front counter. They paid him no mind as they exited his shop.

They were only a few meters away from the shop when they were swarmed by guards. There had to be at least a dozen of them, all armed to the teeth and looking all too eager to strike them down where they stood. Leske steadied Cam, the arm around her waist gripping her a little tighter in an attempt to hold her back.

Cam swayed, the edges of her vision darkening. Still the fight had yet to leave her, and she curled her lip at the guards in a snarl. "You sodding nug humpers still not happy? Beraht being dead not good enough for you?"

"Shut up," Leske hissed under his breath, but his words didn't reach her as she tried, unsuccessfully, to free herself from his supportive grip.

One of the guards gripped his weapon a little tighter. "You Duster, I'll have your–"

He was cut off as a human shoved his way through the crowd, calling to the guards to stand down. He rushed to the front, and when he was close enough Cam could barely make out his dark hair and beard, lightly peppered with gray, and his well-kempt armor emblazoned with a sigil she had never seen before.

Chapter Text

She squinted at him, trying to get a better look at him through her blurred vision. What was a human doing here? To her knowledge they generally didn't let many of those into Orzammar. He must have been important. Or she was dying and this was a hallucination. That seemed much more likely, in her opinion.

"Thank the Maker I found you!" the human said, slightly out of breath as if he had been running. "When I heard you were no longer in the prison, I worried you were already dead."

Cam swayed again, almost falling. If not for Leske supporting her, she certainly would have hit the stone. "Who… what…?"

He paused and took a moment to assess her battered condition. "Come with me. I have supplies where I am staying. I'll treat your wounds the best I can and then we can talk." He gestured for her and Leske to follow him as he waved the guards away and led them to the diamond quarter. The sodding diamond quarter. By now Cam was sure she was dead and this was some after death hallucination.

After a short walk, which ended in Leske more or less carrying Cam by the time they reached their destination, they arrived at a manor and the human took them inside to the chambers in which he was staying. To say the place was nice would be an understatement. It was outright opulent. Intricate stone carvings and gold accents decorated the large space, which was multiple times larger than Cam's entire house.

Leske helped her to a decorative loveseat and sat her down as the human retrieved some poultices and bandages from his pack. He began treating her wounds, gently, and little by little she felt her awareness returning to her.

"I'm terribly sorry I can't offer a full healing," the man apologised as he worked on a deep gash in her thigh. "I am no mage, and I am traveling alone."

She blinked at him, too stunned by the recent turn of events to think of anything to say. Leske, also uncharacteristically silent, sat on an ornate sofa to the side of the room.

After a while longer, the man stood and nodded. "There. That's everything I can do. Do you feel alright?"

"I…" She blinked at him again. "I'm dead, right? I'm dead and this is a hallucination."

He chuckled. "No, my friend, it is all very much real. Please, let me introduce myself. I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

"The Grey…" she trailed off as she furrowed her brow and tried to remember where she had heard that term before. "Like from the stories? Darkspawn and stuff, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, exactly. I came to Orzammar looking for recruits to join the Wardens."

She looked blankly at him. "And what does that have to do with me?"

He chuckled again. "I was at the Proving. I saw what you did. That talent, that determination--those are the exact traits I am looking for in a recruit. Trust me, I have traveled all over Thedas. Not many have the strength you showed, or the tenacity."

"You missed the part where I'm Casteless and invalidated the whole thing by being there."

He waved his hand. "That means nothing to me. To a Grey Warden, one's social standing, one's past, are meaningless. Everyone from individuals such as yourself to the wealthiest of royalty stand on the same ground within our ranks."

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed. "And you want me to join you? Me?" She pointed at herself in disbelief.

He nodded.

"Out of a whole arena of experienced warriors, you want me?"

He nodded again.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm a thug, a nobody."

"And yet you fought your way through the Proving, against those with years of training. And was I correct in hearing you slew the Carta leader as well?"

Leske chimed in. "Damn straight she did. You should have seen her in there. It was sodding terrifying. That entire hideout is full of nothing but corpses now."

"Hey. It was them or us and I was not dying in that shithole," Cam stated bluntly.

Duncan smiled softly, a proud look in his eyes that Cam had never seen anyone look upon her with before.

"I know it is a lot to process. Why don't you two rest for a bit? I'll see if I can have some food brought to the room." He stood and strolled into the hall with a proud elegance that left Cam a bit in awe.

Once they were alone, Leske let out a long, astonished whistle. "Holy shit. Is that guy for real? A Grey Warden? You gotta do it, Salroka. Shit like this doesn't happen to people like us."

Cam stared at the empty doorway, trying to let her thoughts catch up to her. "I…" She was having trouble processing this. A few hours ago she was staring death in the face and fighting for the chance to live one more miserable day. And now she was being offered a chance to go topside and make something of herself? No way. Leske was right. Things like this didn't happen to people like them.

Leske sat beside her and put a hand on her knee. "Think of how proud your sister will be."

That was enough to snap her out of it. "Shit. Rica. She probably thinks I'm dead. Someone needs to find her and tell her–"

Leske stopped her before she could stand and reopen her wounds. "Relax, Salroka. When our friend comes back with the food, we can ask him to send someone to get her. I'm sure a big important guy like him would have no trouble asking for a favor like that."

“But–”

“No,” he insisted firmly, keeping her in her seat. “Keep your ass right there.”

She glared at him, and if she wasn’t feeling as bad as she was she would have considered punching him.

He chuckled at her sour expression and loosened his hold on her. Her glare remained on him, as if she were trying to burn holes through his skull with her eyes. He just leaned back against the backrest of the loveseat and enjoyed the silence between them, grateful to be alive.

It wasn’t long before Duncan returned, carrying a tray of food. “Sorry about the wait. The kitchen was busy preparing dinner. But I managed to persuade them to let me have a few drumsticks and some bread."

Leske eyed the tray hungrily. "Shit that smells good. Real meat. Not just some scraps off a half starved nug."

Cam was also eyeing the tray with a similar glimmer in her eyes.

Duncan chuckled warmly and sat the tray on a table. “Well go ahead. I think a good meal is the least I can do for you after what you have been through lately.”

Neither one of them needed to be told another word. Almost before he was even finished speaking, they were both reaching for the tray and grabbing large pieces of meat. Cam took a massive bite from hers, with all the manners of a feral hound. Leske’s manners were a tiny bit better, but not by much. They were silent as they chowed down, and didn’t stop eating until the tray was empty. Cam considered licking the juice from the tray, but decided against it. After all the trouble her new Warden friend had gone through to recruit her, she doubted he would change his mind about her over such a thing, but she didn’t want to risk it. She settled for licking her fingers clean instead.

Duncan pulled a chair to sit across from Cam and waited patiently for her to finish her meal. “How are you feeling? Have the healing potions done enough? Or do you think you’ll need a couple days to recover?”

Cam stretched her arms above her head and stretched experimentally. “I think I’m alright. A little sore, but I don’t think anything is broken anymore. And I’m not bleeding.”

He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d advise against getting into any brawls for the next few days, but if you’re feeling up to it, we can leave as early as tomorrow morning.”

She blinked in surprise. “Tomorrow? Shit, how did you convince them to let me go that fast? I figured the higher ups would make you jump through hoops for weeks before they agreed to let me go. Hell, I’m surprised they haven’t changed their mind already and busted down the door to come kill my ass.”

“Ah, yes, the authorities were not exactly eager to relinquish you into my custody. I actually had to invoke the Right of Conscription.”

She looked at him blankly, hoping he didn’t expect her to know what that meant. “The right of what now?”

He smiled softly. “The Right of Conscription. In the simplest terms, it gives the Grey Wardens the authority to conscript members into our ranks regardless of that person’s social standing, history, or other factors. Technically it can also be used to recruit someone against their will, though that method is not ideal in my opinion.”

She nodded in understanding as his words sunk in. “So, you’re telling me you went right over their sodding heads and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it?”

He chuckled. “Quite bluntly put, but yes.”

“Ha!” She let out a single, smug bark of a laugh as a grin spread across her face. “I bet those bastards were mad enough to pull their beards off.”

“They were certainly upset, yes,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But they respect what we do, even more than most. Your people are the most in touch with the threat of the Darkspawn.”

She nodded and fell silent as a thoughtful expression settled on her face. She was trying to imagine what her life would be from this day on, but she quickly found she had no idea how to even envision something different than the life she was used to. She knew nothing of life beyond Orzammar.

“”I can leave you be for a bit if you’d like. Do you have anything you’d like retrieved from your home? Wardens do not put much value in material possessions, but almost everyone has at least one small memento to remember their past.”

She shook her head. “All I really own is the shit gear Beraht gave us. I’ll be fine if I never have to be reminded of his ugly mug again. But…” She paused, her expression guarded. “Am I allowed to talk to someone before I leave?”

He nodded. “Of course. Who is it? I can have someone try to find them and bring them here for you.”

“My sister. Rica,” she said, the slight tremble in her voice betraying the emotions she was trying to keep hidden. “Beraht had her under his thumb as one of his noble chasers. I don’t know who she was seeing, or if she’d even be with whoever he is, but if she’s not at home she would be there.”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Please stay here and take it easy.”

Leske stood. “Let me come with her. I might be able to help you find her faster.”

Duncan nodded. “That would certainly help.”

Leske looked at Cam. “Keep your ass here. We don’t need another person to find after we track down Rica.”

She scowled and gave him a rude hand gesture. “Sod off. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

He gave her an unamused and stern look.

“I won’t go anywhere. Calm your tits.”

He rolled his eyes and followed Duncan out of the room. Cam watched them go, suddenly feeling her eyelids growing heavy. She had been too hyped up on adrenaline to realize it, but she was sodding exhausted. She stifled a yawn with her hand and laid down on the cushioned bench a few feet away. Sure, she could go for the bed, but that was all the way across the room and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Within moments of laying down, she felt her consciousness fading, and in less than a handful of minutes she was fast asleep.

She didn’t stir or budge the slightest bit, and the next thing she knew she was being roused from her slumber by a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She grunted and cracked one eye open, just enough to see a tall, familiar human kneeling beside her and trying to wake her.

“What…?” she mumbled blearily, It took her a long moment to remember where she was. Sleep clung to her like she had been asleep for a century.

“Sorry to wake you. I wanted to let you know we found your sister. It took us all night, but she is here now.”

“All… night…?” she repeated, trying to shake off the sleep. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes. It is early morning. You’ve been asleep since yesterday evening.”

“Shit,” she mumbled, yawning. “Wait, you found Rica?” she asked, his opening statement finally reaching her. The realization woke her as effectively as a cold bucket of water to the face. “Where is she??”

He held her shoulder firmly but gently. “She is in the next room. Your friend is catching her up on everything that has happened. I wanted to give you a chance to wake up and regain your bearings before bringing her in. She is… emotional. When we found her, she believed you had already been executed. Turns out rumors travel fast in the Diamond Quarter.”

Cam felt a knot in her throat. That kind of news would have absolutely devastated Rica. “I need to see her. She needs to see I’m okay.”

“And she will. But first, please let me give you a fresh change of clothes. You have dried blood everywhere.”

She paused and looked down at herself, wincing at the sight of the large reddish brown patches all over her tunic and trousers. “I guess I do look pretty bad…”

He stood and motioned to a stack of clothing on a nearby chair. There was a clean tunic, some pants, and even a brand new pair of boots. It was nothing fancy, but still way nicer than anything she had ever owned before. There was even a set of fresh underthings, though she could tell at a glance that they were much too large for her slight chest.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to gawk at the clothing.

“I’ll give you some privacy. When you’re ready, meet me in the hallway.”

She nodded and he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her new clothes. She undressed and checked herself over in the mirror. Fresh pink scars criss-crossed her body where she had open wounds just yesterday. Those healing potions had worked absolute magic. She couldn’t help but be in awe. If a good quality potion could do this, she couldn’t imagine what actual magic was capable of. Maybe she would get to see some magic in action once she reached the surface. She dressed in her new clothes and pulled on her boots. She briefly tried the too-large undergarment for her chest but quickly abandoned the attempt. It looked weird and felt even worse. She left it in the chair and pulled on the rest of the clothing. Aside from the slightly too long sleeves that she had to roll up to her wrists, and her usual mess of disheveled hair, the reflection looking back at her from the mirror looked pretty sharp. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair in a half-assed attempt to tame it.

She turned from the mirror and headed for the door. She slowly pushed it open and poked her head in the hallway. Duncan was waiting patiently, standing beside the door and leaning against the wall with his arms casually crossed across his chest.

“How do the clothes fit?” He asked.

“Fine.” She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. “So where is Rica?”

“Follow me,” he said calmly, motioning with his hand for her to come with him.

She did so, needing to almost power walk to keep up with his much longer stride. They strolled down the short corridor to a sitting room. He opened the door and Cam rushed inside the moment she saw the redheaded woman.

“Rica!”

Her sister looked up at her, away from Leske, who was sitting beside her. Her face was streaked where her tears had ruined her meticulously applied makeup. She jumped to her feet and rushed to meet her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

“Cam! By the Ancestors I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” She pulled back and held her at arm’s length, a hand cupping her cheek and studying her face. Her expression went from relieved to a little sad. “Oh, sister… you have more scars.” She ran her thumb over the largest of the freshly healed pink skin. “Beraht did this to you, didn’t he?”

Cam chuckled lightly, still too happy with seeing her sister to be upset. “Yeah, but it’s okay. He won’t be hurting anyone else ever again. Think of it as a badge of honor. Or a trophy.”

Rica sighed before a tiny smile cracked onto her face. “I’m glad you still have your spirit.”

Cam smirked. “No one is ever taking that from me.” She took her sister’s hands, feeling how soft and delicate they were in her own rough, calloused hands. “Leske told you everything, right? Even the Grey Warden thing?” she asked carefully.

Rica nodded, squeezing her hands lightly. “He did. I’m so proud of you, sister.” She smiled softly, her eyes welling up with tears. “My sister, a Grey Warden. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“But… I’m leaving,” she replied, her tone guarded and gentle. “Forever.”

“I know.” Her smile showed a tinge of sadness, but the pride didn’t leave. “That’s what you always wanted. To leave Orzammar behind and forge your own path.”

“Well, yeah, but I always imagined you being there too when I left.”

Rica squeezed her hands again. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll be okay. My fortunes have changed for the better as well, actually. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Cam blinked once in confusion, then again. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“The noble I’ve been courting has asked me to move into his estate so I am always close. He even offered a room for Mother. Our family is leaving Dust Town.”

Cam paused again as she tried to process the news. “But… Beraht is dead. You don’t have to–”

Rica put a delicate finger to Cam’s lips to shush her, smiling with a happy twinkle in her eyes that seemed so foreign. “I’m happy, little sister. He makes me so happy. He treats me like a real person, not just some Casteless whore to sate his boredom. I couldn’t imagine a better life.”

Cam took the hand from her face and lowered it gently. “If you’re happy, I guess I can live with it.”

“I am, truly.”

She nodded. “Alright.” She looked to Leske, who was quietly watching the reunion. “What about you? Will you be okay without me looking out for your dumb ass?”

Leske laughed. “Salroka, you’ve got it backwards. I’m the one who always looks out for your dumb ass.” He stood and crossed the space between them to lightly punch her forearm.
She punched his arm back, a little harder. “Whatever.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, I’ll be just fine. I’ve got Beraht off my back. I can do whatever I want. Maybe I’ll open a shop or something.”

“You, a shopkeeper? That’ll be one to see.”

“Hey! I’d be good at it!”

“Sure you would.” She shoved him playfully. “Seriously, Leske, take care of yourself.”

“You too, Salroka. Don’t fall into the sky up there.”

“I’ll try.”

There was a soft knock at the door before Duncan poked his head into the room. “My apologies. I’d love to give you all the time in the world for goodbyes, but our escort to the surface is getting impatient.”

Cam nodded, a giant knot suddenly forming in her stomach. This was it. She was actually leaving. Suddenly she found herself hesitant to leave. But she knew she didn’t have a choice.

Leske gave a lopsided grin, masking any emotions with his usual cool swagger. “Go kick some darkspawn ass, Salroka.”

She nodded, and was suddenly wrapped in a tight hug by her sister, who was struggling to hold back tears. “Camelia, I’m going to miss you so much. I’m so proud of you. Go show the world you’re more than just a whore’s little sister.”

Cam returned her hug, any words she wanted to say suddenly caught in her throat. The hug lingered for a long moment, yet at the same time not long enough. It was physically painful to let go, but she could hear impatient nagging from the hallway and Duncan trying his best to reassure the escort they were almost ready to leave. With one last look at her sister and best friend, she joined Duncan in the hallway and soon they were on their way. She had no belongings, aside from a change of clothes in a pack that Duncan offered to her as they were leaving.

“We can purchase more supplies once we reach the surface,” he said. “There is a busy marketplace right outside the gates of Orzammar. We will get anything we need there.”

Cam barely heard his words, her focus on the road ahead of them. She could feel the leers of guards they passed. It was no secret they were still unhappy about not seeing her on the executioner’s block. She walked a little straighter, her shoulders strongly set and her chest puffed out with pride. She was out of their reach, and it felt so damn good.

Chapter Text

Their escort led them away from the Diamond Quarter, then away from Orzammar as a whole. It took a few hours to travel the road that connected Orzammar to the surface, but time flew by in what felt like a matter of moments as Cam’s mind swirled with excitement and nervousness about what the surface would be like. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, it took a bit before she was aware of the dropping temperature. By the time she fully realised it, it was getting fairly chilly. She rubbed her arms with her hands.

Duncan noticed the action. “Ah, yes, I suppose the temperature is cooler than what you are accustomed to. Orzammar is stiflingly hot compared to Ferelden. I never considered that. I’ll make sure we find some warmer clothing for you as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, resigning herself to walking with her arms crossed tightly across her torso for warmth. By the time the large stone and metal doors appeared, she was close to shivering. In the low light of the cavern, she could just barely see her breath when she exhaled. That was a first for her – she’d never been anywhere cold enough for that to happen.

“Here we are,” the escort announced. He showed some papers to the guards manning the door and they motioned the group forward. They turned some gears on the wall, and with a loud groan of metal the doors began to open. Cam followed closely behind Duncan, squinting as the brightest light she had ever seen spilled in through the opening door and blinded her. She reached for him and her hand found his belt. He paused to see what she was doing and understood immediately when he saw her squinting so hard her eyes were almost closed.

“Your eyes will adjust momentarily,” he said comfortingly. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her outside. Once they were clear of the doors and the grand doorway, he paused and allowed her a moment to regain her sight.

She felt strange ground crunching beneath her boots as she blindly followed him, and was hit with a cold unlike anything she could have ever imagined. “Shit!” she gasped. “It’s sodding freezing!”

He chuckled. “These are called the Frostback Mountains for a reason.”

Her eyesight slowly adjusted, and soon enough she could see shapes in the blinding white. Everything was still white, but she realised that was because the entire landscape was covered in a blanket of snow. It was absolutely magnificent. The sight before her was unlike anything she had ever seen. There were mountains, hills, trees, and all kinds of other scenery she had never seen outside of paintings and carvings. She found herself unable to speak. She stared at the landscape in awe before her eyes drifted upwards, toward the sky. It was vast, limitless, but she didn’t feel the fear she had been anticipating upon seeing it. It did not feel like she was going to fall up into it. Instead she felt an intense feeling of freedom, as if she had taken a deep breath of fresh air after spending an eternity inside a crate, rebreathing the same stale air over and over. A bird flew overhead, a fitting metaphor for how she felt in that moment. The world was wide, limitless, and fresh, and she couldn’t wait to see more of it.

*****

She was pulled from her admiration of her new surroundings as her teeth began to chatter. The long sleeved tunic may as well have been nothing at all.

“How do people survive up here?” she said through chattering teeth.

“Winter clothing and a warm beverage will make a world of difference. Come.” He gestured for her to follow her, and she did so quickly. The snow was well above her ankles, halfway up her calves, which made walking difficult. She tried trudging through it by force, but a few steps of that almost had her tripping and falling into the snow on her face. So she changed to taking large, high steps, feeling quite ridiculous.

He led her to the marketplace. She was relieved when the snow became packed down and easier to walk on, though now she had to fight not to slip. The tent they approached first had crates and barrels stacked high with piles of furs and thick looking clothing.

“Good day!” chirped the shopkeeper, a human male in a fur parka. “You look cold as an icicle, miss. You’re fresh from Orzammar, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” she growled through clenched, chattering teeth.

He was taken aback by her gruff attitude, but quickly rebounded with a smile. “Just a hunch, just a hunch. I have some things that should be close to your size. Here, right this way.” He pulled her along to a clothing pile on top of a crate. “Here we are. These should be your size, miss. Do you have a fabric you prefer? Maybe a specific style?”

“Warm,” she snipped.

“Of course.” He nodded, this time not losing his demeanor. He dug through the pile for a moment before pulling a set of clothing from it, then found a jacket that matched. “Here we are! This should keep you warm.” He offered them to her, and she took them eagerly, clutching them to her chest.

Duncan handed the man some coins for payment. “Thank you, kind sir.” He looked at Cam. “Let’s head to the inn next. You can get changed and warm up while I stock up on supplies.”

She nodded enthusiastically. A warm fire sounded heavenly right now. They walked a short distance, just past the edge of the circle of tents that made up the marketplace. It was nothing special, just a small wooden cabin with an inviting trail of smoke floating from the chimney. The inside was equally as unremarkable, decorated simply with some tables and chairs and a small bar against one wall and a fireplace on the other. They approached the counter where an older and portly woman was waiting.

“Need a room?” she asked.

“Yes, but not for a full night. My friend here just needs a place to change clothes and warm up. I can pay if need be,” he offered with a friendly smile.

She leaned forward and winked. “For a nice man like you, I think I can let you use a room for a little bit. Especially if you buy some food and drink.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you.”

“Here’s the key,” she said, reaching under the counter and plopping a metal key on a braided cord onto the counter. “First room down that little hallway over there.”

“Thanks,” Cam said gratefully, snatching the key and hurrying to the room. She barely paid attention to the bed or any other furniture as she began getting changed into her new clothes. As promised, they were quite warm. Perhaps a bit large, but that hardly mattered to her. The extra length of the sleeves could keep her hands warm. The chattering of her teeth began to subside. She stuffed her original clothing into her pack and returned to the main room where Duncan was waiting, chatting with the woman behind the bar as she flirted with him. Cam returned the key with a grateful nod.

“Here, hon, take this and sit by the fire for a bit,” she said, pushing a mug toward her. “Your handsome friend here has already paid.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” she mumbled as she took the mug and sniffed it curiously. It smelled nice, of unfamiliar spices and a touch of liquor. Warmth radiated from it and she wrapped her hands around it to thaw her frozen fingers. She took a seat at the table closest to the fireplace and sipped her beverage. It was delicious. Probably the best drink she had ever tasted. And it was warm, which was a welcome sensation in this freezing place. She took a few large gulps and leaned back in her seat. After a few minutes, Duncan joined her.

“Will you be alright here while I go stock up on supplies?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I’ll be right here.” She was in no hurry to leave the warmth of the fireplace.

He nodded and exited into the freezing outdoors. She held her drink a little closer as a gust of cold slipped in through the door. The flames in the fireplace danced as she waited for him to return. It was a good while, which she was fine with – it meant she could spend more time warming herself. She was in no hurry to face the cold again. Trying her best not to down her entire drink in one go, she sipped at it and let it warm her from the inside out. Eventually the drink was gone and she returned the empty mug to the lady at the counter. She thanked her and reclaimed her seat by the fire, where she remained until Duncan returned.

He returned eventually, his pack fuller and clinking as he walked. “That should be everything. There’s just one more thing left to get, and then we can head out.”

She tilted her head at him. “One more thing?”

“Yes. Equipment. For you. There is a merchant here who sells goods directly from a smith in Orzammar. You’ll need a weapon and some armor before we leave.”

She hopped to her feet with a newfound energy. “Lead the way.” She could feel excitement rising within her gut. Actual smith-made weapons and armor. Not cast-offs from the garbage. She could hardly believe it.

They headed outside, and this time the cold didn’t hit her nearly as hard. Sure, it was still mildly uncomfortable, but it was tolerable now. Her new clothing really did make a world of difference. They headed to the merchant in question and Cam browsed his wares, her eyes large. Though his armor stock was a bit limited, she managed to find some chainmail that fit her better than anything Beraht had ever supplied. The weight felt good on her body. Next came weapons, and this time there was a larger selection. All the basics were here: swords of varying lengths, shields, maces, axes, daggers… Her eyes settled on a sword as long as she was tall and she gestured to it.

“Can I get that one?” She asked Duncan.

“If you feel confident in your ability to wield it,” he said with a nod. “Try it out. Give it a few swings. See if the balance works for you.”

The merchant handed her the sword and she stepped off to an open space behind the tent to test it out. She swung it around a bit, and loved it right away. It felt perfect in her grip, even better than the weapon she had used to slay Beraht. It almost felt as if it had been forged for her hands alone.

“It’s perfect,” she said, barely able to hide her excitement.

Duncan nodded and paid the merchant, who was happy to take his money. “Have a nice day, Warden,” he sang, placing the coins in his money chest.

“Shall we? If we make good time, we should be able to reach a good camping spot I know before nightfall.”

She nodded, holstering her new weapon on her back. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

With that, they were off, starting down the road that led away from the massive gates of Orzammar and the marketplace. They hiked for hours, only stopping when Duncan found some useful herbs and pointed them out to Cam with an explanation of what she could do with them. It was a lot to take in, and most of the plants looked the same to her, but she tried her best to absorb the new knowledge. She stowed the herbs in her pack so she could study them later and try to memorize them. They continued like this until they reached a valley between two mountains. It was perfect, tucked between the mountains in just the right way as to shield them from the bone-chilling wind.

“We made it. And just in time. Sunset should be coming within the hour.” He sat his pack on the ground. “We should have just enough time to make camp before it gets dark. Could you gather some firewood and start a fire while I set up the tent?”

“Sure.” She was relieved at the familiar task. She had started plenty of fires (some but not all in the fireplace of her old home) with scraps of broken crates she had found around Dust Town. She could do this. She sat her pack beside his and began searching the surrounding area for fallen limbs. Kindling was plentiful, and she barely had to venture a hundred meters into the forest to find a fallen tree that would be perfect for logs. She gathered as much kindling as she could carry and returned to camp to deposit it, fetching the axe from her pack. She then returned to the log and began chopping some logs for the fire. A few more trips and there was plenty of wood brought to camp to last them through the night. Satisfied, she made a crude firepit with some nearby rocks and began building the fire. She was able to get it going without much trouble. With the proper tools in her pack, it was actually easier than lighting fires in the hearth at home had been. By the time Duncan had the tent set up and had checked the perimeter for wolves and bears, the fire was already a healthy blaze. The sun was disappearing behind the mountains.

Cam was sitting close to the fire, almost dangerously close, rubbing her hands together and shivering lightly. Duncan chuckled and sat beside her.

“Careful. You’re going to catch fire if you get any closer,” he chided gently.

“If it warms me up, so be it,” she grumbled.

He chuckled again and began heating a pot of water on the fire. While it warmed, he handed her a portion of rations. She thanked him and tore into the food. To a normal traveler, the rations would have been tough and bad tasting, but to her, it was a meal and that’s all that mattered. More than one meal today, she thought to herself as she chewed. I’ve really stepped up in the world.

Duncan took the pot off the fire and added some ingredients to it, then poured some into a cup and offered it to Cam.

“Here, This will warm you up. Sip it slowly so you don’t burn your mouth.”

She eagerly took the cup, enjoying the warmth from it as it spread through her hands. She sniffed the strange beverage before taking a tentative sip. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so, but it was delicious nonetheless. She took another sip.

He poured himself a cup and sipped it as well, smiling softly as the liquid warmed his body. “Hot cocoa, imported from Antiva,” he offered. She blinked and furrowed her brow as if trying to remember something.

“Antiva… Yeah, I think Beraht had some smuggled goods from there once. Some tapestries or something.”

He nodded. “Oh! I almost forgot. Here, I bought you something while I was getting supplies” He dug an item from his bag. Two items, actually: a small notebook and a slender pouch. “A journal. So you can write of your new experiences on the surface or make notes of new things you learn.”

She took the journal hesitantly, then the pouch which she assumed contained writing utensils. “I, uh… thanks?” She looked down at the small leatherbound notebook with uncertainty.

He tilted his head at her. “Is something the matter?”

“Huh? N-no, nothing,” she said quickly, looking away with a scowl.

“Miss Brosca,” he said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Please talk to me. Something is bothering you. Did I bring up some bad memories? If I did, I’m so–”

She shook her head, her eyes still focused on the journal. “No, nothing like that,” she said, her voice stony. Duncan knew that demeanor well. He saw it all too often on the faces of soldiers who relied too much on their own strength and not enough on the ones around them.

“You can tell me. It won’t change anything.”

She hesitated for a long moment before sighing, her facade lifting. “It’s a nice gift. I just… I can’t use it.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Cause I can’t read or write. Never learned.”

He nodded in understanding, almost seeming relieved. “I see. If you’d like, I can teach you.”

She looked up at him, taken aback by his reaction. At the very least, she had expected some belittling or a snide comment. Definitely not an offer for tutelage. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. You’d be surprised how many recruits are in a similar situation. I’ve taught a few others in the past.”

She just stared at him for a long moment. Once again, his kindness had rendered her speechless. After a prolonged silence between them, she awkwardly broke eye contact and turned her head to face away from him.

“I, uh… thanks…” she mumbled.

He chuckled warmly. “You’re very welcome, Miss Brosca.” He patted her shoulder. “We should get some rest. We have far to travel tomorrow. I’ll take first watch.”

“Sure.” She offered a halfhearted smirk that looked more like a wince than anything else. She held the journal in her hands in an oddly delicate manner as she stood, clutching it against her chest. “Goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight,” he replied with a soft smile.

She turned from him and retreated into the tent, eager to cocoon herself in her bedroll. She wasn’t sure how she was ever going to be able to fall asleep after everything that had happened. There was so much to process. However, the moment she was nestled into her bedroll, all those thoughts left her mind like smoke in the wind and she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

Their trek continued in the days to follow, as they made their way south from the Frostback mountains and toward Ostagar. Along the way he told her about Ferelden, about the way the government was organised and the groups of people that shared the country. She tried to file all the new information away in her brain but it was too much too fast. This was going to take her some time to keep straight. Then there was this Maker and Andraste religion nonsense. That part made zero sense to her. She had always thought the whole Ancestors thing was hokey. This was another level altogether. She decided that one was too deep a shithole to get into though, and let it go with a disinterested grunt.

She was far more interested in Grey Wardens and darkspawn. Duncan didn’t need to teach her much about darkspawn; she knew plenty of that from spending her whole life in Orzammar. She’d never seen a live one, but she had a feeling that would change soon enough. Most of her curiosity was directed at what made the Wardens so special. Dwarves killed darkspawn all the time. Why were the Wardens so crucial if there was a Blight coming? The beasts died the same as any other monster. No special magic needed. A little extra skill or effort, sure, but any competent warrior with a decent axe could manage it. She said just as much, to which Duncan replied with a chuckle and a coy “you’ll find out soon enough.” It pissed her off, to be frank. How hard would it be to give her a straight answer? Was he fucking with her? She snapped off some snide reply, but held back from doing anything more. She owed the man everything, and it would be wrong to throw all of that away over an annoying conversation.

The bandit attack soon after had been a welcome diversion. She finally had a chance to try out her new sword on some real enemies, and damn did it feel good. The balance was perfect, the pommel fit in her hands like it had been made for her, and the edge was sharp.It cut through the bandits like a carving knife through a roast nug. She could never go back to Smith Caste defects after this.

Even more impressive, however, was the way Duncan fought. Despite his apparent age he moved like a young warrior, but with the confidence and finesse of a seasoned veteran. She was in awe of his skill. He relied on dexterity and speed, striking before his opponents had even realised he was moving. It was a stark contrast to her reliance on raw strength.

Within moments, the bandits were reduced to a bleeding scattering of corpses, with nary a scratch on Duncan or Cam. Cam grinned up at him. “You’re damn good.”

“You as well,” he complimented, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow. “The other recruits will be intimidated.”

“Other recruits?” she asked curiously. She was already kneeling to search the bodies for any money or valuables. Aside from some pocket change, they didn’t have much of value. Scowling in disappointment, she stood and dusted off her knees. She then turned back to him and they continued down the path.

“Yes. Two others. They will be joining us at Ostagar,” he said with a nod. “Talented individuals such as yourself.”

“I see.” She looked up at the sky as they walked. The vast, endless sky. It was incredible, but she was still not used to seeing such a clear, bright expanse above her head. Maybe she never would be. She considered asking him for some details about her soon to be brothers or sisters in arms, but she’d rather have the mystery. It kept things interesting, and let her form her own opinions on them.

The next new thing to experience came soon: she saw a horse. It was being ridden by an unassuming man as it galloped past them on the road. First she saw a dark object approaching them and thought it was a bear. A really tall bear. Then she heard the sound of its hooves and didn’t know what to think. Duncan seemed completely relaxed, which put her a little bit at ease. She gawked at the tall creature as it came into focus, and when she saw the man on its back it looked even bigger somehow. Its legs were thin and nearly taller than she was, its neck was equally as long, it had sodding hair on its neck and tail, and it moved faster than anything she had ever seen around Orzammar. She continued watching it in bewilderment until it passed and disappeared into the distance.

“What the hell was that?” she finally said.

“A horse,” Duncan explained patiently, though there was a hint of amusement on his face. “You will see many of them here on the surface.”

“Huh.” She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to seeing them.

They continued on in comfortable silence, and by nightfall had arrived at a small trading town and found an inn. It wasn’t much, but it allowed them both to get a full night’s sleep without having to worry about watches and maintaining a campfire. It was a welcome reprieve, and after a peaceful sleep and a good meal, they were once again on the road.

The rest of their travel went about as uneventfully as it could have. An encounter with some wolves here or a bear there, maybe a stray group of bandits, but nothing they couldn’t handle. The days of walking bored Cam, and her feet ached a bit, but she never said so much as a single word about it. She could handle some aching feet. She wasn’t a baby. The boredom she had less trouble enduring. Thankfully, Duncan took it with good humor and promised her that soon enough she would have plenty of darkspawn to keep her occupied.

Finally, about midday on a decently sunny day, they arrived at Ostagar. The sky was clear enough that even from a few miles away, Cam was able to see the stone of the fort rising from the surrounding forest of the Korcari Wilds. It was an impressive sight, even for someone who had spent her life surrounded by dwarven architecture. One thing in particular that caught her attention was a tower that rose from the partially crumbling walls of the fort. It had to be the tallest structure she had ever seen. To her, it seemed to pierce the sky. As they got closer, the tower only seemed to grow taller. Its presence as it loomed over the valley below only added to its apparent height. She was so entranced by it that she almost didn’t notice the miniature city of tents on the ground below the tower, spilling out from the mostly intact walls of the fortress.

“That’s it,” Duncan said, seeing her taking in the sight of the fortress. “Ostagar. Looks like the King’s troops have already arrived.”

She shifted her attention to the tents. Even from a distance she could tell they belonged to someone important. There were flags and banners of bright (at least to her) colors decorating the camp, and she could hear the whinnying of horses somewhere. They strolled through the camp, taking the main path that led to the stone gates of the fort itself. A guard in well-kept armor stood post at the entrance. Duncan motioned to him as they approached.

“A Grey Warden,” the guard greeted, standing at attention. “You must be Ser Duncan. His Highness has been waiting for you.”

Duncan bowed respectfully. Cam watched the exchange, feeling painfully out of place.

“I will see him as soon as I can. I assume I can find him–” he was cut off by a chipper voice from behind the guard. A fair haired man in gilded armor approached, grinning ear to ear with his arms wide open in welcome.

“Duncan! You finally made it!”

“King Cailan,” Duncan said, bowing deeply in respect. “I didn’t expect–.”

The royal’s grin only widened. “A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun.”

“Not if I could help it, your majesty,” he replied, still trying to retain some shred of formality.

“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!” Cailan exclaimed, throwing his arms up in celebration. “The other Wardens tell me you found a promising recruit. Is this she?” he asked, gesturing to a mildly baffled Cam.

“Indeed. Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty–” Duncan started.

“There’s no need to be so formal, Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together, after all,” Cailan interrupted with a relaxed chuckle, then turned his gaze to Cam. “Hello there, friend! Might I know your name?”

Cam hesitated. She did not trust someone of his importance speaking with her so casually. Back home, this definitely would have been some sort of trap. She glanced at Duncan quickly, who nodded to her. “I, uh, I’m Cam– Camelia. Brosca. It’s an honor to meet you,” she said slowly.

“Pleased to meet you!” he chirped, shaking her hand vigorously. “The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I for one am glad to help them. It’s good to see one of the honorable stout folk outside Orzammar.”

She failed to hold back a snort. “Honorable? No, not me. I’m casteless.”

“I’m afraid I’m not too well versed in Orzammar’s social structure. Would it be fair to assume that means you don’t come from an affluent house?”

“Not at all,” she scoffed. “Casteless are nobodies, worth less than the dirt under your feet.”

“I see…” he said slowly, the wind leaving his sails. “Then may I ask how you drew Duncan’s attention?”

“Long story short, I entered the Proving illegally and pissed off everyone in Orzammar.”

He almost burst out laughing from her unabashed bluntness. “Ah, yes, the Proving. I do know a little about that. I have a standing invitation from King Endrin to attend one of your Provings, but so far I have not had the chance to accept. How is King Endrin, by the way? Is he well?”

Cam shrugged. “Fuck if I know. There could be a nug on the throne and it wouldn’t make any difference to me.”

“I see…” he said again, at a loss for words. “Well, regardless, allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The wardens will benefit greatly from having you in their ranks.”

“I’m excited to become one of them,” she replied, glad this uncomfortable conversation had left the topic of her home.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I must return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies,” he apologized, rolling his eyes and curling his lip at the word ‘strategies’, like a child looking at a disliked vegetable on their plate.

“One last thing, Your Majesty,” Duncan interjected. “I have been in correspondence with Redcliffe. Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces should be here within the week.”

Cailan laughed heartily. “Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles already against the monsters and the next will be no different!”

Duncan blinked, mildly taken aback. “I had no idea things here were going so well…”

“I’m not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn, but we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”

A flash of something akin to discomfort crossed his face, but only for half a second before he composed himself. “Disappointed your majesty?”

“I’d hoped for a war like in the tales. A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!” Cailain sighed in disappointment. “But I suppose this will have to do… Anywho, I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens.” He waved his hand and turned, disappearing into camp.

There was a moment of silence before Cam finally spoke. “Well, he was… interesting.”

“Yes, he is,” Duncan said with an amused tone. “He’s a good man, though.” He gestured for her to follow and they continued their walk through camp.

“You didn’t seem convinced with that stuff he said about the Blight,” she noted as they walked.

“I am not. It’s hard to explain to you now, since you haven’t gone through the Joining yet, but I can say with absolute certainty that this is a Blight.”

She nodded, though she didn’t understand a bit of what he was saying.

“Cailan also believes that because he has the Grey Wardens at his side, that his victory is guaranteed. That kind of confidence can be… dangerous,” he admitted.

She nodded again, this time with much more understanding. “He mentioned that an archdemon hasn’t appeared. How do you know he’s wrong? I know enough about darkspawn from living in Orzammar that an archdemon leads them during a Blight, but I’ve never heard of a way to tell if there is one behind them until encountering it.”

“It is a skill Grey Wardens have. You will understand soon enough.”

She furrowed her brow in annoyance at his vague answer. “You can’t just tell me?”

“No, not until the Joining.”

She scowled. This was reminding her too much of the Carta and their “need to know” policy. Being told what to do without a further explanation than “because I said so” was a sour taste in her mouth. “Fine. So when does this Joining thing happen?”

“Now that you’re here, we can begin preparations.” They stopped walking. Ahead of them was a large bridge overlooking a deep valley. The height of it gave her a dizzying sense of vertigo.

“This is where we part ways for the time being. I have some things I need to do. The rest of camp is across this bridge. You should find the other recruits over there.” He gestured. “There is also a Grey Warden named Alistair. Find him and tell him it’s time to prepare for the Joining. He’ll know what to do. Follow his instructions. I will meet you all at my tent after you have prepared.”

“Got it. Find this Alistair guy, do what he says. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

They parted ways and she looked across the bridge. The stone looked trustworthy enough, but there were a few areas where chunks were missing, and a railing was next to nonexistent. Hell with falling into the sky, she was much more afraid of falling off this damn bridge. Even if it was wide enough to drive a wagon across. She took a deep breath and started walking, doing her best not to look down into the valley below. Far below. She found herself freezing and staring down and had to wrench her attention back to the other side of the bridge. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, she made her way across. Some passing soldiers gave her sideways glances but she hardly noticed. When she reached the other side, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and spent a moment to recompose herself. She ran a hand through her hair.

“Sodding humans and their heights,” she grumbled under her breath. She looked out at the camp sprawled out before here. Dozens of tents, probably far more, were set up in an organized manner, with several smaller camps within the larger collection. She started walking, taking in the sights and sounds. Some were familiar: she heard the hammering of metal and saw a forge (though it was much smaller than what she was used to seeing), heard the clanging of swords as soldiers sparred. Familiar sights were far fewer than new ones, though. She heard the barking and baying of hounds somewhere out of her immediate sight. She saw a woman in robes giving a sermon and prayers to a group of kneeling soldiers. A particular circle of tents caught her attention. In the center were a group of people with their arms dancing in odd gestures, as colors and lightning and fire sparked through the air between them. She couldn’t help but stop and stare at the bizarre sight. She wanted to get closer and find out what was happening, but an individual in armor emblazoned with unfamiliar symbols held up a hand to stop her.

“Halt,” he commanded. “No one is allowed past this point.”

She tried to look around him. “What is that?”

He scoffed, his tone unamused even through his helmet. “Surely you know magic when you see it.”

“Magic?” She kept trying to crane her neck to see around his armored bulk. “So that’s what magic looks like…”

The guard grumbled. “I don’t have time for this. Leave. Now.”

She scowled. “What’s your problem, asshole?"

"My problem is a dwarf trying to distract me from my duties. Mages are dangerous."

She grumbled and considered punching his face through his stupid bucket helmet, but remembered what had happened the last time she had punched someone in a helmet. It had not ended well for her knuckles. So instead she settled on a rude hand gesture before stomping off, hopefully to talk with someone a little more pleasant.

As she walked, she felt the unmistakable feeling of someone trying to pickpocket her. Anyone from Dust Town knew what that felt like. Plus, she had developed something close to a sixth sense for it, thanks to Leske frequently trying to slip unpleasant things into her pocket. His stupid idea of a joke.

She wheeled around in a blink, her hand catching the pickpocket's wrist. The man, a scruffy but not unattractive human with dark hair, blinked in surprise before grinning at her.

"Good catch."

She raised an eyebrow. This had to be the first time a pickpocket had seemed happy to be caught. He laughed.

"I heard the new Warden recruit was finally here. I had to see for myself how good you were."

It took her a moment of blankly staring at him before she caught on to what he was saying and released his wrist. "You're one of the other recruits?"

"Correct!" he chirped, offering the hand she had just released. "I'm Daveth."

She took the hand, shaking it firmly. Maybe a little too firmly, guessing by the slight wince on his face as she did so. "Call me Cam."

"Cam," he repeated. "It's a pleasure. No one told me the recruit would be a cute little lady." He winked.

"Watch yourself. This cute little lady can break you in half," she said flatly, without menace. It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement.

"I don't doubt that one bit. I thought you were going to break my wrist when you grabbed me just now."

"Bet you won't try it again."

"Not a chance." He grinned. "So tell me a little about yourself. You're from Orzammar, right? You don't give me the same vibe as the surface dwarf merchants I've stole--er, met in the past."

She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him. “Uh huh… Well, you are right. I am from Orzammar. Unfortunately.”

He couldn’t suppress the snort of a chuckle. “Not a fan of the place, huh?”

“You could say that. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Me? I’m from Denerim.”

She paused and furrowed her brow. She knew Duncan had mentioned that name during the trip here. “Oh! That’s the capital, right?”

He nodded.

“So what’s your story? What made Duncan decide to recruit you?”

“Funny story, that. I tried to pickpocket him”

“You’re joking. I can’t see that ending well.”

“It almost didn’t. I thought I was a goner. He was on me like a warhound on steak. I thought for sure he would have me arrested and thrown in a dungeon somewhere, but then he told the guards he saw potential and conscripted me right there. Those guards were seeing red.”

She barked out a smug laugh. “Sounds like how I left Orzammar. Felt damn good.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

She grinned and did just that, telling him the whole story from crashing the Proving to fighting her way out of the Carta base and getting recruited by Duncan. As her story went on, a little of the color drained from his face and he listened, slack-jawed.

“Holy shit. And I tried to pickpocket you.”

“Luckily for you, we’re on the same side,” she replied with a wink. “There’s supposed to be another one of us, right? Duncan said there were two other recruits besides me.”

Daveth nodded. “Yeah, Ser Jory. I think I saw him listening to the Chantry sister’s sermon earlier. I’d check and see if he’s still there.”

She remembered the group of praying soldiers she had seen earlier. “I know where that is. I’ll go look. I’m supposed to be finding someone named Alistair too? Any idea where he might be?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t tell you where to look for him. He has been all over the place doing this and that. Maybe you’ll run into him if you keep walking around.”

“Right,” she said with a little sarcasm. There were so many people around here. She doubted she would know that she had even found him even if she bumped right into him. “Well, I’ll go see that Jory guy and see if he knows where to look. See you around.”

She headed back in the direction of the religious activities and started asking around for her other fellow recruit. After a few pointed directions (and some dirty looks from the Sisters for interrupting their preaching), she found a well put-together man off to the side, listening to the prayers and fondling a pendant in his hand.

“Are you Ser Jory?” she asked, looking up at the strong but prim looking man.

“I am.” He pulled his attention from his pendant and met her gaze. “Am I safe in assuming you are Duncan’s last recruit?”

“That’s me. Name’s Cam. Seems like everyone around here knows who I am.”

“Apparently there hasn’t been a dwarven Grey Warden in a good while, let alone a woman. You have been a hot topic around here.”

“What the hell does me being a woman have to do with anything?” she demanded with a scowl.

“Women among the Grey Wardens has always been a rare occurrence. I have never heard any reasoning as to why that may be, though. Perhaps it’s merely happenstance?”

“Probably because they didn’t want to be talked down to by a bunch of big strong men,” she grumbled, more to herself. “Well, I’m here and if anyone has anything to say about it, they can say it to my damn face.”

Jory nodded calmly, seemingly not phased by her aggressive defensiveness. “And they would be fools. I am sure you are extremely talented to be chosen by Duncan to join the Wardens. How did he become aware of your talent, may I ask? Was it the Proving? I have heard stories of the talented warriors that participate in it.”

“Well, yes and no. I wasn’t exactly supposed to be there…”

His face scrunched in confusion. She sighed and recounted her story again, pretty much word for word what she had just told Daveth. If one more person asked for her story, she swore she would turn it into a drinking game. Surely someone around this camp had to have some booze. She found herself wondering what surface liquor was like. She had heard rumors around Tapsters that surfacers made it with grain instead of cave lichen.

“I see,” he said once she finished her story. “The Wardens do indeed come from many different walks of life. I myself was a knight of Redcliffe before I was recruited. I caught Duncan’s eye when I won a tournament. Coming here was a difficult decision. I left my pregnant wife back in Redcliffe. But it is a sacrifice I am willing to make, if it means they can live in safety from the darkspawn.”

Her first reaction was to respond with a biting comment about his shining valor, but she bit her tongue. Even if his self righteous attitude rubbed her the wrong way, she had to at least try to be civil with her new allies.

“My sister is still in Orzammar,” she said instead, trying her best to relate to him. “I wanted to take her with me to the surface, but this would be no life for her. I just have to tell myself she’s doing alright.”

“As do we all, with the loved ones we left behind. I believe we are doing the right thing.”

“I didn’t really have a choice, but thanks I guess.”

An awkward silence fell over them as neither of them knew what to say from there. Neither could relate much to the other in terms of where they came from. Finally Jory spoke. “Well, now that you are here, we can finally do the Joining that Duncan has been hinting at.”

“Has he been as vague about the whole thing with you as he has with me?” she asked with some annoyance.

“Yes. Nobody outside the Wardens knows what the Joining is. I assume it is some kind of ceremony but the whole thing is steeped in secrecy. Nothing in all my reading has even given a sliver of information about it.”

“Well that’s just great.” She pursed her lips. “Guess I should go find Alistair so we can get this show on the road, whatever it is. Got any idea where I can find him?”

“Yes, actually. I saw him headed up that way just a few minutes ago.” He pointed in the direction of some more tents and an elevated stone walkway leading to a lookout platform.

“Awesome. Thanks.” She waved a ‘see you later’ hand at him before heading off in that direction.

*****

She continued her exploration of camp in a brisk walk. Well, as brisk a walk as she could manage with her short dwarven legs. In actuality it was barely enough to keep pace with a human. About halfway to the walkway, she was stopped by a woman’s voice calling to her from off to her side somewhere.

“Excuse me, miss,” the voice called. The voice was gentle and soothing, tinged with age. Cam slowed to a stop and looked for the owner of the voice. She easily found it: an elderly looking woman with her gray hair tied back into a tidy bun, wearing similar robes to the mages she had seen earlier. The ones being guarded by that grouchy bucket helmet man.

“Huh? Are you talking to me?” Cam asked, pointing to herself and tilting her head.

“Yes, I am,” she replied pleasantly. “I haven’t seen you around before. You must be new to camp.”

“Uh, yeah… I’m the new Grey Warden recruit everyone and their mother is apparently talking about,” she grumbled. “It’s getting old, honestly…”

“I thought so.” She offered a hand. Cam took it gently, almost afraid she could break the frail looking fingers. “My name is Wynne. May I ask what your name is?”

“Just call me Cam. It’s nice to meet you…?” she said with some uncertainty, caught off guard by this woman’s friendliness. Warm greetings weren’t something she was used to.

“I know that look. I see it on the faces of the new children who are brought to the Tower of Magi. You’re overwhelmed. I imagine you have seen many new things here.”

“You can say that again.” She tried to pull her hand back, but Wynne maintained a firm grip on it. It was surprising how much strength the old woman had in that thin hand. Cam blinked. “Is something…?”

Wynne frowned slightly as she continued holding her hand. “You are injured.”

“What? No, I’m totally fine.” She looked at the old woman like she was crazy.

She shook her head. “You are not fine. I can tell you have some injuries that have not fully healed. Right here.”

She pointed a delicate finger to Cam’s ribs, just below her breast. A faint blue glow emanated from the finger as she murmured some words in a language Cam had never heard before. The blue glow seemed to disappear through her armor and clothing and into her, followed by a soothing warmth. A few short moments later, a small pain she had been ignoring since she had left Orzammar melted into nothingness.

“There.” She lowered her hand and released Cam from her grip.

Cam put her hand over the spot and stared down at herself in astonishment. “What was that?”

“It was a small healing spell, nothing more.”

“You did that so easily…” she said in awe.

“I have had many, many years of practice,” she replied with mild amusement. “Healing the injured is why I was permitted to leave the Tower of Magi and come here for the upcoming battle.”

“We’re damn lucky to have you here, then. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome. I should leave you be now. I’m sure you have important Grey Warden business to attend to.” She made a shooing motion with her hand and turned to walk toward the medical tents. Cam watched her for a short moment, still processing what had just happened. What was the deal with that old woman? What was her angle? Surely she wouldn’t have wanted to introduce herself and heal her just out of a sense of inherent goodness? That wasn’t a thing people actually did, not in Cam’s experience. She figured it wouldn’t make any sense to her no matter how long she stood there, so she shook her head and returned to her quest to find Alistair.

Chapter Text

She headed to the stone walkway that Jory had indicated. At first, she saw nobody and was about to leave and search elsewhere, but then she heard the faint sounds of conversation. Though she couldn’t make much out, she did catch the words “Grey Wardens.” Thinking this could be a hint she was headed in the right direction, she followed the voices until she saw a man in the same robes as Wynne (a mage, she reminded herself) speaking with a handsome young man with light hair. From the tones of their voices, the conversation didn’t seem exactly pleasant.

“I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, sir mage. She desires your presence,” the light haired man said.

“What Her Reverence desires is of no concern to me,” the mage spat. “I am busy – helping the Grey Wardens by the King’s orders, might I add?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Should I have asked her to write a note?”

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner,” came a snippy reply.

“Yes,” the blonde replied, unable to hide a creeping note of sarcasm. “I was harassing you by delivering a message.”

“Your glibness does you no credit.”

“And here I thought we were getting along so well,” he replied, sarcasm taking over his tone completely. “I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.”

“Enough!” the mage exclaimed in frustration, throwing his hands up into the air. “I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool.” And with that, he bustled past the young man with a huff and stormed away.

The young man sighed and noticed Cam off to the side. He approached her with a grin, and he reminded her of a friendly airheaded farm dog she had seen on the way here. “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”

She blinked at him, her brow creased in confusion. “What?”

“It’s like a party,” he continues, his goofy grin spreading. “We can all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about.”

She continued staring at him blankly. “What??”

He paused and looked at her, seemingly actually seeing her for the first time. “Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don’t suppose you’d happen to be another mage…”

“You’re kidding, right? You know I’m a dwarf...”

“Right, right, sorry. You’re the new recruit. I should have recognised you right away. My apologies. I don’t handle mages well. My background makes mages nervous, and nervous mages make me nervous.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t want to be a toad. I like the way I am.”

“A… toad?”

“Nevermind. I’m Alistair, by the way.”

She tried her best to shake off her confusion at how little sense this man had made so far and extended a hand. “Cam. Glad I finally found you.”

He took the hand and shook it firmly. “Good to see you finally made it. How was your trip?”

She shrugged. “Alright, I guess. Bandits, bears, you know, the usual. At least that’s what Duncan made it seem like. I’ve never been to the surface before, so I’m just rolling with it.”

He nodded. “There must be a lot of new things for you to get used to, then. Maybe I can help you figure things out around here?”

“Yeah, actually, that would be great.”

“Sure, what do you have questions about?”

“What’s the deal with this Joining thing? No one wants to give me a straight answer.” She asked bluntly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Ah, yes, the secrecy is needed. Sorry about that. I really can’t tell you much, but I promise you’ll know soon enough.” He winced apologetically. “Maybe I can tell you about Darkspawn? Have you ever encountered one?”

“Not a live one, no. Saw a dead one in the tunnels once though. Sodding disgusting.”

“They’re not much less disgusting alive. First time I saw one, it really shook me up. I was not prepared. The stories don't come close to describing how horrible they are.”

She unconsciously reached over her shoulder and brushed her fingertips over the hilt of her sword. “I get the feeling I’ll be seeing some live ones soon enough?”

“Too soon, perhaps. We will be going into the Wilds shortly to make preparations for the Joining. Scouts have come back with sightings of darkspawn in the forest. Quite a few.”

She realised where her hand was and balled it into a fist, returning it to her side. “Trial by fire, then. What are we waiting for?”

He was a little taken back by her eagerness. “Hold on to your horses. We have to find Daveth and Ser Jory and get our instructions from Duncan.”

“Oh, I just talked to them. Jory was by the, uh, praying people.”

“The Chantry sisters?”

“I guess so? Is that what the women in the weird robes are called?”

He chuckled. “Yes. I take it they don’t have the Chantry down in Orzammar?”

“Hell no,” she says with a snort. “They’d chase out anyone who tried to worship anyone but their precious Ancestors.”

“Sounds like you don’t subscribe to that belief.”

“Not one sodding bit. If I have some sort of ancestors watching over me, they’re doing a shit job of it. No one is in control of my fate but me.”

He smiled. “I like that attitude. You’ll go far in the Wardens, I can already tell. Come on, let’s find the others.”

She followed after him, nearly having to jog to keep up with his brisk pace and his damn long human legs. As they walked, she tried to keep the friendly conversation going.

“So what was the deal with that guy you were talking to back there? He seemed really pissed.”

“Oh, that,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, that mage was not happy to have me talking to him.”

“Why? Did you spit in his food or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. See, I used to be a Templar. Well, a Templar in training. Duncan recruited me before I could take my vows. Regardless, it’s not exactly a secret.”

She looked up at him to continue, her clueless expression speaking volumes.

“Oh, right, I suppose you don’t know anything about mages and Templars, being from Orzammar and all that.” He winced apologetically. “Templars are special knights trained to, uh, handle mages…”

“You mean kill.”

His wince deepened. “Yeah, among other things. Like nullifying magic. But you can understand the animosity.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

Cam wasn’t sure what else to say, and an awkward silence settled over the two of them. Thankfully the silence wasn’t long-lived, as they soon found the man they were searching for. Ser Jory was still where he had been when she had spoken with him earlier. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Alistair. He joined the two of them and they spent a few minutes searching for Daveth. He wasn’t too far away, leaning against a tree and watching some soldiers practicing their swordsmanship. Once all the recruits had been gathered, Alistair led the small group to the circle of tents where Duncan was patiently waiting by the campfire. He looked up from the dancing flames when he heard them approaching and nodded.

“Good, I see you found Alistair,” he said.

Cam nodded. “It wasn’t that hard. I just had to listen for the sounds of sarcasm and pissed off mages.”

Duncan frowned at Alistair. “Antagonising mages again?”

The blonde held up his hands defensively. “It wasn’t my fault. The Revered Mother ambushed me for a favor. I swear, the way that woman wields guild, they should stick her in the army.”

Duncan’t frown deepened. “We can’t afford to be making enemies here, Alistair. We need to be a unified front against the darkspawn.”

Alistair sagged with a defeated sigh. “I know, I know. I’m sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult, sending me of all people, but what was I supposed to do? Say no to her?”

Duncan shook his head. “We will speak about this later. Right now we have more important matters.” He turned his gaze to Cam and the other two recruits. “I believe we have a Joining to prepare for.”

“Finally,” Cam blurted. “Alistair said we are going into the wilderness?”

He nodded. “That is correct. I have two objectives for you, actually.”

Alistair tilted his head in confusion. “Two? This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

“Yes. It has come to my attention that there are some old Grey Warden treaties in some ruins out in the Wilds. They could become very useful to us, especially with the Blight looming over us. I’ll need you to find the treaties and bring them back.”

“I see,” Alistair said with an understanding nod.

“And the other objective?” Daveth interjected with a curious tone.

“I assume it has to do with our Joining,” Jory added.

“Indeed,” Duncan confirmed. “Each of you will need to retrieve a vial of darkspawn blood.”

Jory paled, Daveth looked nervous, and Cam’s lip curled in a disgusted expression.

“Darkspawn blood? Seriously?” she asked with disdain.

“But that has the Blight!” Daveth said. “If we touch it, we will be infected and…” he shuddered instead of completing that thought.

“Indeed,” Duncan said calmly. “You will need to be careful, of course, but with your skills it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It still seems so risky,” Jory added softly. “And the Wilds are full of darkspawn. We could be walking right into an ambush.”

“That is why Alistair will be accompanying you. You will not be surprised by the darkspawn if he is with you.”

All three recruits looked confused rather than comforted. Cam didn’t bother asking, though. She figured it was some sort of Grey Warden training that they would be learning soon enough. And she was starting to get sick of all this talk. The anticipation was beginning to make her irritable.

“So we get the blood and find these treaties, then come back here?” she summarised.

Duncan nodded. “Correct. You should be able to complete your tasks and return by nightfall if you go now.”

“Alright. What are we waiting for? Let’s do this.”

Duncan chuckled. “Do be careful. There are still wolves and bears in the Wilds.”

She snorted with a determined smirk and started marching off, though she had no idea which way the gate to the Wilds even was. Alistair grabbed her shoulder before she could make it too far.

“The gate is that way,” he said, pointing in the correct direction.

“Oh. Right. Maybe, uh, you should lead,” she ceded. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of this whole sense of direction thing since coming topside. She could navigate old dwarven tunnels blindfolded, but out here where everything was all open and shit? She didn’t have a clue. She had always thought the dwarves were exaggerating their precious “stone sense” but now she was starting to think her people hadn’t been blowing that out of proportion after all.

Alistair took the lead and headed toward the large gates blocking the entrance to the Korcari Wilds. The gate wouldn’t actually be much help against an organized assault, but it was more than enough to keep wolves and bears out of camp.

Before they could reach the gate, however, a voice called to them from off to the side. Cam looked and saw a man waving them over. Behind him was a small collection of pens, all containing large, intimidating dogs that were nearly large enough to look her in the eye. That explained the barking she had been hearing. She shot a curious look to Alistair, who nodded and stepped toward the man.

“You’re going into the Wilds, right?” the man asked with a hopeful expression.

Alistair nodded. “We are, yes, on Grey Warden business.”

“May I ask you a favor?” he asked, his tone desperate. “I know you must have more important things to do, but I really need something for one of the hounds.”

Alistair nodded again. “What is it?”

“One of the hounds swallowed some darkspawn blood in a skirmish a few days ago. He will die without treatment. I can make a cure for him, but I’m lacking a key ingredient: a plant found in the Wilds. I’d get it myself but the Wilds are too dangerous for me to go alone, and I’m too busy caring for the hounds. If I describe it to you, could you find it and bring it back for me? I would be willing to pay you for your trouble.”

While the kennelmaster spoke, Cam knelt by the pen and looked at the dog inside. It was laying in a curled heap, whining and breathing raggedly. Even she could tell the poor animal was in pain, and she had never seen a Mabari before. The dog opened its eyes and met hers, and she found herself silently staring back into those dark pools for a long moment as something passed between them. A connection maybe? She couldn’t be sure, but she could see an intelligence in those eyes that surpassed anything she had seen in any animal before. It was almost like she was looking at a person. She decided in that moment that she would help this hound, even if none of the others thought it would be worth their time.

“We can try to look for your herb while we are out there,” Alistair started, his tone careful, almost apologetic. “But I can’t make any promises–”

“I’ll find it,” Cam interjected, still looking at the sickly hound. “Tell me what to look for. I’ll make sure we bring it back.”

“Oh thank you so much!” the kennelmaster exclaimed, shaking Alistair’s hand vigorously with gratitude. “Here, I actually have a sketch of the plant.” He offered a folded piece of paper to the young man, but Cam stood and snatched it before he could take it. She unfolded the paper and looked at the drawing, studying it for a moment as if she had any idea what she was looking at. It was a plant, sure, but anything that wasn’t a cave mushroom all looked the same to her. Thankfully, the kennelmaster continued by describing the plant’s colors, for which Cam was grateful. It saved her the embarrassment of asking a bunch of stupid questions.

Once they were finished speaking, she pocketed the paper and the group resumed their trek into the Wilds. This time they passed through the gates uninterrupted, save for having to quickly explain who they were and what they were doing to the pair of guards keeping watch of the heavy wooden gate. Once they heard the words “Grey Warden business” they were already opening it for them, wishing them safety on their expedition. The whole thing reminded Cam just the slightest bit of the Deep Roads door on the edge of town back in Orzammar. Only that door was much more heavily guarded. And stone. And capable of holding back hordes of darkspawn.

*****

The woods were abuzz with the sounds of wildlife: birds sang, insects buzzed, and somewhere in the distance the howling of wolves could be heard. It was all so strange and foreign to her. She had never heard so many ambient sounds before; it was as if the very air around her was alive. Honestly, it was unnerving. The road she had traveled to get here hadn’t been wild like this. There had still been compacted dirt or stone gravel beneath her feet. But here? Here the ground was soft. Her boots seemed to sink into the moist soil beneath her with every step she took. She did not like it one bit.

“What’s with the sour face?” Daveth teased, nudging her playfully. “You look like you stepped in horse dung.”

“It’s this sodding ground. Why is it so squishy?”

Daveth laughed. “The ground? It’s just dirt and grass.”

“It’s too soft.”

As if to accentuate her point, there was a soft squelch beneath her boot and she lost her balance due to the loss of stability beneath her. She pitched forward, slipping in the mud, and nearly falling on her face. She managed to catch herself with her hands, just barely, ending up with mud up to her wrists instead of all over her face and frontside. Not that her save made any difference in the stream of curses coming from her mouth.

Daveth burst out laughing, earning himself a withering glare from the dwarf. He bent over and offered a hand to help her up, still laughing and grinning. He was answered with a muddy hand slapping his away.

Cam stood on her own with a grumble. “Yeah, yeah, sodding hilarious. I oughta shove you into the swamp.”

That was met by an amused smirk from Jory. “I’d enjoy seeing that.”

“Hey!” Daveth replied indignantly with a playful pout.

Cam reached up and swiped her muddy hand across Daveth’s face, finally cracking a smirk at the disgusted look on his face. “There, that’s better. Now we’re even.”

He wiped his face, only succeeding in smudging the mud across his brow. “You know what, that’s fair.”

The group continued their trek. Cam slipped in the mud a few more times as she tried to adjust to the foreign terrain, but thankfully never fell again. She could feel moisture seeping into her boots, a cold, disgusting feeling. She was going to need to spend a long time in front of a campfire to get these boots wearable again. When their first encounter with some wolves finally happened she was glad for the distraction from her cold, soggy feet. The wolves didn’t put up much of a fight; after the first two or three went down, the rest retreated in favor of an easier dinner. Though the skirmish was brief, it was enough for Cam to get an idea of what her new traveling companions were capable of in a fight. She had to admit, she was impressed. Jory moved with the well-polished form of a properly trained knight. He held his greatsword with a proud confidence that was a little contagious. Daveth, on the other hand, moved with a scrappy quickness that reminded her of how Leske fought. It was the fighting style of someone who had been taught how to fight by a harsh life on the streets. Lightning fast jabs with a dagger in each hand, almost fast enough to miss if one didn’t know what to watch for. Alistair, however, had her a little stumped. At first glance he fought like other sword and board wielding warriors she had seen in Orzammar, but there was something about the way he blocked with his shield that struck her as a little odd. Instead of holding his shield straight up and down to protect himself, he held it in a tilted manner that seemed more intentioned to deflect. It was a minute difference, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she was even seeing things right. She would have to watch him a lot more closely to tell for sure, but that would have to wait for another time. She couldn’t afford to be distracted like that, not with the threat of darkspawn sneaking up on them.

“Good job,” Alistair said with an approving nod. “No that I expected anything less of Duncan’s recruits.”

Jory nodded in acknowledgement, Daveth grinned, and Cam shrugged casually.

“We should keep moving,” he added, and all three nodded in agreement.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Cam said. “Everything looks the same out here.”

“Don’t worry, I studied a map one of our scouting parties made,” Alistair reassured. He paused, then added with a little less confidence “well, glanced at one…”

Cam scowled. She almost wished she had managed to grab a map of the area from someone (she didn’t know who), but it would have been useless to her. She didn’t know how to read maps.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “If we get lost, I’m letting the bears eat you first.”

Chapter Text

The four continued to banter as they walked, filling the calm of the next few hours by chatting and getting to know one another. Jory spoke fondly of his wife, telling the tale of how they met and describing their small, intimate Chantry wedding. He also spoke of his knight training. He and Alistair reminisced about Redcliffe, having learned they both grew up there. Cam and Daveth couldn’t relate, but found they had much in common with each other. Both of them had endured difficult upbringings in poverty. Cam had survived by joining the Carta and fighting for her right to survive; Daveth had made his way as a thief. She spoke of her sister, her best friend Leske. She told a few stories of memorable jobs she had done under the Carta. All three of the men seemed to find great amusement from one story in particular, involving a drunken chase through Dust Town after a cheese thief. Daveth added a story of his own cheese related mischief. She laughed along with her new comrades, finding she quite enjoyed their banter. Especially Daveth. The more she spoke with him, the more he reminded her of Leske. A softer, more respectful version, but the core was there. She tried to ignore the thoughts of her best friend. She could miss him later, when she wasn’t trudging through the mud and waiting for darkspawn to attack.

The wait for the inevitable darkspawn encounter finally ended as Alistair held up a hand, signaling for the group to stop. They all halted and looked to him with confusion. Their questioning looks were shortly answered as he drew his sword.

“Darkspawn.”

They all drew their weapons, and a few short moments later a few of the hideous creatures appeared. They were rushing toward them, screeching and making unnatural guttural sounds. Cam could hear Daveth swearing and Jory muttering a prayer behind her, but she was already charging to meet the monsters alongside Alistair. He ducked left to meet one that was moving to flank their group, and Jory moved in unison to head off the coordinated attack from another darkspawn. Daveth took a beat to remember how to move his body, the fear etched on his face. To his credit, he still dove into action, gripping his daggers perhaps a little too tightly.

Cam, on the other hand, gritted her teeth and went straight for the tallest one, a hideous creature wielding a wide, jagged blade. It swung down from up high, an attack she easily dodged as she ducked to the side and made a slash for the backs of its legs. Was it a dirty way to fight? Absolutely. But this wasn’t an honor duel, it was survival. Her blow connected, cutting deep into its legs and slicing tendons. It toppled to its knees with a snarl and she swung for its neck, which was now at a much more reachable height. Her heavy blade, powered by a swing that she put her weight behind, sliced clean through its neck. The force of her swing sent its head rolling and the body collapsed in a heap. Black blood the color of tar poured from it. She made a disgusted face and looked from it to see her companions were quickly dispatching their own opponents. Within moments, all the darkspawn were lying dead on the ground. Alistair reached into his pack and produced three glass vials.

“Good work. You’ll need these to collect the blood. Be careful not to get it on yourselves.”

The three recruits took their vials and did as instructed, none of them exactly enthusiastic about the process. Jory actually looked like he may have been close to vomiting, and Daveth wasn’t far off. Cam held her breath as she collected her own vial. Alistair had been right: fresh darkspawn didn’t smell any better than half-rotted ones. Honestly there wasn’t much of a difference. They all carried the same fetid stench of decay.

With their vials collected and safely tucked away in their packs, the group continued on their trek through the wilderness. They saw the remainder of the wolf pack from earlier in the distance once or twice, but the animals were clearly moving away from them. Their earlier confrontation had been more than enough to deter them from trying to prey on them again. There were signs of bear tracks, but the owner of them was nowhere to be seen. That was fine with Cam and the others. As they ventured further into the forest, the sounds of wildlife became more and more scant. The silence made Cam more than a little uneasy. She hadn’t been on the surface long, but she had already become accustomed to the constant chatter of birds and insects. This was the first time she could recall ever hearing utter silence.

“Creepy,” Daveth murmured. “Why is it so quiet?”

“Darkspawn,” Alistair replied quietly. “We may be getting closer to the bulk of the horde.”

“Should we turn back?” Jory asked. “We have the blood we need. Fighting more seems like an unnecessary risk.”

“Ordinarily I would agree with you, but we still need to find those treaties,” Alistair reminded him.

“Right, the treaties. Duncan said they would be in some ruins?”

Alistair nodded. “Correct. There are remains of an old Grey Warden outpost near here. They should be there, if time and nature haven’t claimed them.”

“That’s a pretty big if,” Cam interjected dryly.

“Yes. But if Duncan believes they are worth our time to look for them, they must be important.”

“What happens if we don’t find anything?”

He shrugged. “Then I suppose we return empty handed and tell Duncan we didn’t find anything and he thanks us for trying.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. That didn’t make any sense to her. He would accept a “failure” just like that? Surely she was missing something.

“What?” he asked. “Did I say something stupid? I do that sometimes…”

“No, not this time. Duncan is just… different than anyone I’ve ever worked for before.”

Alistair nodded and directed the group in the direction of where the old outpost ruins were supposed to be. They continued their trek through the wilderness. The forest remained eerily silent. It had them all on high alert, and any idle conversation they had been using to pass the time evaporated. Cam could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The closest she had ever come to being this on edge was a time she had escorted an illegal shipment of lyrium for the Carta. The shipment had to be transported through a series of forgotten mine tunnels that had been taken over by giant spiders. The worst part of that job had been knowing the hungry beasts could drop from the ceiling at any moment. One wrong step or a brush against a web strand was all it would take to alert them to their presence. But this was even worse.

When the next group of darkspawn finally made their appearance, Cam sprung into action with the momentum of a cork off a shaken champagne bottle. It was almost a relief to finally have an outlet for her nervous tension.

The group of enemies was small, thankfully, but the commotion drew more. Before they knew it, nearly a dozen were rushing at them. Cam gritted her teeth and plunged into battle. She did not come all this way just to die in some stupid forest. Adrenaline powered her blade through one enemy, two, five. Combat became a blur, and she wasn’t acutely aware of exactly how many they had slain until it was all over and they stood surrounded by many more than a dozen corpses. Black blood poured from them and into the grass, and she swore she could see the grass withering and dying upon contact.

“Everyone alright?” Alistair asked between gasps to catch his breath. He was answered by all three of them, each with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Good. Stay sharp.”

Onward they continued, and thankfully, they soon could see a half-ruined structure peeking at them from between the trees. The sounds of wildlife returned, bit by bit. The forest around them seemed almost normal again. Cam allowed herself to relax, just a bit.

“This seems awfully nature-y,” Cam noted, doing her best not to trip over some vine-buried bricks. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Positive.” Alistair brushed some foliage to the side to reveal a Grey Warden crest carved into the stone of a wall. “Look for a chest: the Wardens who were stationed here wouldn't have left something so important unprotected.”

The group split up, all within earshot of one another, and began searching the area for any signs of their quarry. They dug through plant life and rubble for a good while, but none of them had any luck. It seemed as if the treaties, or anything at all, had been claimed by nature or lost altogether.

Cam was about to kick a broken piece of pottery across the floor in frustration when she saw a flowering bush off to the side. The colors were what initially caught her attention, but when she stopped to look at it, she recognised it as the flower from the drawing the kennelmaster had given her. She rushed over to the plants and pulled the folded piece of paper from her shirt to compare the two.

“Yes!” She victoriously plucked a few and tucked them into her pack. At least this wasn’t a totally wasted side trip. As she was fastening her pack back in place, she heard a voice nearby.

An unfamiliar voice.

A woman’s voice.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

Cam spun around, hand on her weapon. She hadn’t heard anyone approaching, which was bizarre. With all of the mess of leaves and vines everywhere, she didn’t know how anyone could have snuck up on them. But the owner of that voice was close. It was almost as if she had materialised from the very air.

“Lower your weapon, I mean you no harm,” the voice said calmly. Her tone was soothing, but there was something else in there. Confidence? Condescension? She couldn’t be sure.

She finally found the source of the mysterious voice, a thin, raven-haired woman descending a nearby staircase. Cam’s confusion, and suspicion, only deepened. She had checked up those stairs earlier. They led up a half-collapsed tower with nothing but open sky above.

“Who are you?” Cam demanded, her hand still on her weapon.

“She’s a witch!” Daveth cried from nearby.

Cam looked to her companion with a raised eyebrow. “A what?” she asked incredulously.

“A witch of the wilds! She’ll turn us into toads!”

Cam bit back a laugh. Turn them into toads? She’d never heard anything so stupid. Apparently her expression spoke for her, because the mysterious woman chuckled.

“It seems you do not share your companions’ fears, miss. Not the superstitious type, are you?” she asked with amusement.

“You could say that.” Cam’s hand drifted from the hilt of her weapon, but barely. This stranger had the perfect opportunity to ambush them, if she had meant harm. She probably meant no harm. Probably. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.These ruins have been undisturbed for ages. What brings you here? What are you after?”

“Don’t answer her!” Alistair hissed. “She could be an apostate!”

The look Cam gave him screamed “I couldn’t give less of a fuck.” She turned away from him and put her hands on her hips. “Grey Warden treaties. Know anything?”

She smiled. “An honest answer. I shall give you one in return.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped walking. “You are in the correct place. There were such documents here, once. But no longer.”

“You stole them!” Alistair interjected. "You're some kind of... sneaky witch thief!" Cam shot him a glare, and probably would have punched him were he within reach.

“I did not.”

“Lies! Those are Grey Warden property! Return them!”

“I cannot,” she replied calmly. “For it was not me who took them.”

Cam considered picking up a rock off the ground and pelting Alistair with it to shut him up. Before he could say anything else to antagonize the stranger, she grabbed the reins of conversation from him.

“Do you know who did?” she asked.

“I do. ‘Twas my mother.”

Cam nodded. “Can you take us to her? Those treaties are important and we kinda need them.”

“A sensible request. Will your male compatriots be joining us? They may need to work on their manners if they will be. Mother does not take kindly to hostility.”

“That’s up to them,” she replied with a pointed glance at Alistair and the other two. “If they can’t get their shit together I’ll just go alone.”

“No way!” This time it was Daveth who interjected. “You can’t go alone to a den of witches!”

“Are you saying I can’t handle myself?” she bit out, starting to let her annoyance seep into her tone. “You boys just stay here and maybe stop pissing yourselves by the time I get back.” She wasn’t leaving any room for argument. They had all just fought a few dozen darkspawn, plus some wolves, all without issue, and now they were acting scared shitless at a woman who looked like she could blow away on the breeze. “And if I don’t come back, you can tell Duncan I got turned into a toad.”

The raven-haired woman chuckled. “Then it is settled. Come, mother’s hut is not far from here. I will return you to your friends within the hour.”

Cam nodded and followed her, leaving the three men to wait in the ruins for her return. “I never caught your name.”

“Ah yes, I suppose our introductions were a bit abbreviated. My name is Morrigan. And may I ask yours?”

“Cam,” she replied.

“Is that all?” Morrigan asked with mild amusement.

“All that matters,” Cam said with a shrug. “My full name is Camelia, but no one calls me that.”

“Ah, I see.”

The two women chatted as they walked, mostly about the darkspawn. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a small hut on the edge of the water. It was quaint, unassuming. Morrigan opened the door and invited her inside. An elderly woman was seated at a table in the corner, preparing some herbs.

“Mother, I have returned. And I brought a guest.”

“I can see that, girl,” the old woman said without turning around. Cam bristled slightly at her tone. She was reminded of her own mother, just barely.

Morrigan sighed. “Mother, please be hospitable. This is Cam. She only wants to know about the documents from the old ruins nearby.”

She perked up at this news and finally stood and turned to face them. “You should have lead with that.” She smiled down at Cam. “Tell me, stranger, why are you interested in some dusty old papers?”

Cam briefly explained what she could: that the documents were important Grey Warden treaties, that her superior wanted them, that they could be important in dealing with the looming Blight. The old woman nodded along.

“Yes, yes, I see. Well, if it will help you fight this Blight, I am more than happy to let you have them. I have them safely tucked away right over here.” She shuffled over to a weathered old wardrobe and began digging through it.

“Thanks.” As she waited for her to produce the documents, she shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and had a look around. There was nothing too interesting that she could see. Just furniture, plants she didn’t recognise hanging from drying racks, a fireplace with a dented cooking pot, a couple artifacts hung on the walls that gave the space a touch of decor… nothing she found remarkable. The plain-ness reminded her of her own home back in Orzammar, only it smelled better.

“Here they are,” the old woman chirped. She turned with a few scroll cases in hand. Much to Cam’s surprise, they were in pristine condition. Definitely not what she had expected from something that had spent the past few centuries abandoned in the wilderness.

She took them and tucked them into her satchel. “Duncan will be happy to see these. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Not as much help as you’re certain to be soon,” she mused.

Cam raised an eyebrow and gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, just the ramblings of an old woman.”

“Right….” Cam said uncertainly. “Well, uh, I should get back to the guys before they think you did weird magic shit to me.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” she chuckled. “Off with you, then.”

She turned toward the door, then paused and looked back at her. “What should I tell Duncan if he asks who to thank for keeping these treaties safe? A name? I can’t just call you Morrigan’s Mother.”

“You may call me Flemeth,” she replied. There was an odd twinkle in her eyes as she watched Cam for a reaction. Cam, of course, did not have a reaction to speak of, other than wondering how many marbles this old lady had lost over her years.

Crazy old bat, she thought, but held her tongue. “Flemeth. Thanks again.” She looked at Morrigan, who had been quietly standing aside while they had been conversing. “Uh, can you show me the way back?”

“Of course.” She seemed eager for an excuse to not be alone with her mother again. It didn’t take a detective to see the two weren’t exactly close.

“Thanks. I don’t know how anyone finds their way around topside.”

The two left the hut and walked the short hike back to the old outpost ruins. When they were close enough to see the ruined structure, but not within view of Alistair and the others, Morrigan nodded. “Here we are. I trust you can rejoin your friends if I part your company here?”

“What, you don’t want to hear more bullshit about toads?” she teased.

“I have had my fill of Chantry fearmongering for the day, thank you.”

Cam laughed. “Can’t say I blame you.” She waved her goodbye and turned her back to her. When she looked back one last time, Morrigan was gone. A raven flew overhead, but she thought nothing of it.

With a shrug, she returned to the men who were all waiting with visible anxiety. Alistair was pacing, Jory was tapping his fingers on his sword as his eyes darted around, and Daveth was flipping a dagger into the air. She stepped out of the brush and into view.

“Ribbit,” she said with a shit-eating grin. All three men jumped, and Daveth’s dagger clattered to the ground.

“You’re okay!” Alistair exclaimed, rushing over to her and looking her over. “She didn’t do any witchy-ness to you, right?”

“Nope. Just talked. And gave me these.” She lifted the flap on her satchel to reveal the scrolls.

“I can’t believe you just waltzed into a witch’s den!” Daveth said in awe, retrieving his dropped dagger.

“It wasn’t a den. It was just Morrigan and Flemeth and a tiny little house.”

All three men went pale.

“Ancestor’s balls, what now?”

“You… you said Flemeth,” Alistair stammered.

“Yeah? So?”

“Flemeth,” he repeated. “As in, the Flemeth??”

“No, surely it is a coincidence,” Jory added.

“How many witches in the wilds are named Flemeth? It had to be her!” Daveth exclaimed.

“Will one of you please tell me what the fuck the big deal is?” Cam finally snapped.

The men all stammered for a bit, all too terrified to make much sense. She was able to piece together some things from their overlapping talking. Something about an ancient or immortal witch who ate little girls? It was preposterous nonsense.

“Look, it was just a senile old woman. Can we just move on? I got the treaties. We have the darkspawn blood. Let’s get back to Duncan while we still have some daylight left.” She was itching to learn what this Joining was all about. Thankfully, there was no argument on that point, and they began their trek back to Ostagar.

Chapter Text

Duncan had been relieved when they had returned safely. His relief grew further when he saw they had managed to find the treaties. Cam retrieved the scrolls from her satchel and handed them over to him, and as she did so Alistair told her about their unexpected run-in with the “suspicious apostate witch.” She rolled her eyes at his description of her.

“Her name was Morrigan and she was perfectly fine,” she interjected with mild annoyance. “Her mother was kinda weird, but she was also old as shit. Probably just senile.”

Alistair, Jory, and Daveth all shared the same spooked expression, but thankfully Duncan remained unperturbed.

“Thank you for telling me about them. We owe them our thanks for returning these to us. Now,” he sat the treaties aside and held out his hand. “I shall take those vials of darkspawn blood and prepare for the Joining.”

“So we finally get to know what this thing is all about?” Daveth asked with barely disguised anticipation.

“Soon,” Duncan replied as they placed their vials in his open palm. “Preparations should not take long. Meet me at the northern lookout balcony in an hour.” He gestured in the direction of the aforementioned balcony. “Alistair, if you could come with me please?”

Alistair nodded, suddenly more serious than Cam had yet to see him, and the two men made their exit. There was a moment of awkward silence as the three recruits just looked back and forth at each other, all wondering what they were supposed to do to fill the next hour. Suddenly Cam remembered the flower she had in her pack.

“Oh! I need to give this to the dog guy!” She exclaimed. She rushed in the direction of the kennels, leaving Jory and Daveth in the dust. Thankfully she remembered the layout of camp enough to remember where the kennels were and managed to not get lost. The kennelmaster saw her approaching and waved his arm in the air.

“You’re back! Did you find it??”

She produced the flower from her pack. “I hope so. Is this what you needed me to find?”

“Yes! Thank the Maker!” He took it from her. “I’ll whip up this potion real quick! I know you’ve already done so much, but if I could ask for one more favor, could you help me give it to him? He’s in a lot of pain and sometimes these hounds get a little… bitey… when they feel unwell.”

She nodded. “Sure, I have an hour to kill.”

The relief and appreciation on his face said more than words ever could. He went to a nearby workbench to make the medicine, and she looked into the pen at the sick dog. It was lying in the same position as before, looking even worse for wear. Its breathing had shallowed and it barely seemed conscious.

“Hang in there, big guy,” she murmured.

The kennelmaster was at her side in a few short moments. “Okay, it’s ready. He shouldn’t give us any trouble, but just in case, I need you to hold his head while I open his mouth and pour this into his throat.

She nodded, and he opened the gate to the pen and the two of them stepped inside. The dog opened its eyes and looked at them and greeted them with a soft whine. She knelt and followed the man’s instructions on how to hold the dog’s head and lift it so he could give the medicine. She was surprised at how heavy and muscular its neck was. Seeing it was one thing, but actually feeling it was a whole different matter. She expected some resistance, but was met with none.

“Do you think he knows we are trying to help him?” she asked as the kennelmaster opened the hound’s massive jaws. He poured the medicine into its mouth and massaged its throat until it swallowed.

“Good boy,” he murmured soothingly and looked at Cam. “Oh I know he does. These dogs are highly intelligent.” As if to prove his point, he pointed at the dog’s rear end. “See? He’s even wagging his tail. I think he likes you.”

She smiled softly and adjusted so she could sit, and the dog weakly lifted its head just enough to place it in her lap. She was slightly taken aback by the action.

“I take it back. He definitely likes you,” the kennelmaster said with a chuckle. “Go ahead, you can pet him.”

She gingerly placed a hand on top of the dog’s head, and was answered with another wiggle of its stumpy tail. She began stroking its head and neck, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. It was the same warmth she remembered feeling as a child when she would wake up crying from a nightmare and her sister had hugged her and comforted her until she fell back asleep: calm, safety, affection.

“Will he be okay?” she asked.

“He should be. You can see his breathing is already normal again. He looks like he’s not in pain anymore, either. I expect he will make a full recovery.”

“That’s great.” she scratched behind its ears and that tail wiggled even harder. She wasn’t sure how, but she already felt some sort of deep attachment to this animal.

“He should be awake and alert by morning,” the kennelmaster continued. “If you like, we can see about potentially making him yours. His handler was killed in the last skirmish, so he will be available once he is healthy again.”

“Really?” She couldn’t hide her excitement at the prospect. “Is that allowed? I’m a Grey Warden recruit. I don’t know if we are allowed to have dogs…?”

“This isn’t a pet. This is a warrior with fur. He would do great amongst the ranks of the Grey Wardens. I would be honored to help that process.”

“Then I guess it’s a deal.” She grinned and looked down at the dog. His eyes were open again and he was looking up at her. “Whaddya say, boy? Wanna be a Grey Warden?”

More wiggles.

“That looks like a yes to me.”

She continued petting him for a while longer. Slowly he nodded off into a peaceful sleep, and even began snoring a little. She could tell her hour was nearly over and reluctantly extricated herself from the sleeping warhound. With much effort, she managed to free herself without waking him, and tiptoed out of the pen. As much as she would love to stay all night with him, she had a Joining to attend. She promised herself (and her new canine friend) that she would be back at morning’s first light, and turned her attention to the next task.

*****

Jory and Daveth were already waiting for her near the lookout balcony.

“There you are! We were starting to think you had gotten lost,” Daveth said with a stupid grin.

Jory was wearing a serious expression and did not join Daveth in his bantering, but he was at least relieved to see her. “We did not want to go ahead without you. We are comrades in arms now. The three of us should arrive together.”

“Thanks for waiting.” She realised she had dog hair on her trousers and halfheartedly brushed some of it off. “I was just, uh, helping with the Mabari.”

Daveth looked her over with an amused smirk. “I can see that.”

“Anyway, let’s do this. Whatever this is,” she said resolutely. The three of them ascended the staircase together, Cam a couple steps behind them as she struggled to keep pace on the human-sized stairs.

The stairs led to a circular balcony that overlooked camp, but offered privacy that they wouldn't have found anywhere else in the area. A few small torches lit the perimeter of the round platform, and a larger brazier stood in the center. Standing before the brazier were Duncan and Alistair. The jovial attitudes of Cam and Daveth evaporated the moment they saw the solemn seriousness on their faces. Cam nearly didn’t notice the large silver chalice in Duncan’s hands. The glinting of the torchlight reflecting off the surface of the polished metal was what drew her attention to it.

Alistair gestured for the three recruits to come stand before him and Duncan, which they did. Cam stood between the other two recruits and looked briefly to her left and right at Jory and Daveth. They were all sharing this newfound nervousness.

“The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation,” Duncan began, his words deliberate and rehearsed. His monologue continued through an account of the First Blight. It was a story she had heard before, from a different perspective. All dwarves knew about the First Blight. It had caused the downfall of their once widespread and thriving underground kingdom, after all. But this was the first time she had heard the tale of how those events had gone on the surface.

“...so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.” Duncan concluded.

Cam blinked. Surely she had misheard him. Drink darkspawn blood? No, that couldn’t be right. Darkspawn blood was poison. Dwarves who were exposed to it went raving mad, and she had heard it did even worse things to other races. Chewing on lyrium would be better for one’s health.

Jory was the first to speak. “You expect us to… to drink darkspawn blood?” he said incredulously.

Alistair nodded. “Yes. This is how us Wardens gain the ability to slay an archdemon. It is why only we are capable of such a task. Those who survive the ritual gain immunity from the taint and–”

“Survive?” Jory croaked.

“Get it together,” Cam hissed. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but she had made it this far. No way was she turning back now. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To be a Grey Warden and protect people from the Blight?”

“O-of course! But I had no idea that this kind of a risk…”

“Now you understand why the Joining is such a secret,” Alistair said, almost apologetically.

Jory sputtered and fell silent. Cam looked at Daveth, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. He had paled considerably, but otherwise seemed calm. Well, calm enough.

Duncan gave them a moment to settle before continuing once again. “Few words are spoken prior to the Joining, but these words have been spoken since the First. Alistair, if you would?”

Alistair nodded. He stared at his boots as he recounted the words from memory. “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 perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you.” He looked back up as Duncan lifted the chalice to chest level.

“Daveth. Step forward.”

The man swallowed thickly and did so. His legs were trembling ever so slightly, barely noticeably. He took the chalice from Duncan with shaking hands and Duncan nodded to him. He took a deep breath and took a drink, and Duncan took it back.

There was a long moment of silence as everyone watched Daveth, all holding their breath. He swayed on his feet, and Cam was debating on whether or not to steady him when his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground. A horrid, strangled gurgle escaped him as he hit the floor. She recoiled internally. She knew that sound. Only a dying man made that sound. She had heard it plenty of times in her years working for the Carta. Alistair kneeled beside him to check his pulse, but she knew what he would find.

He wordlessly looked up at Duncan and shook his head, and the older man sighed sadly. “I am sorry, Daveth.” He took a few breaths to compose himself, and then turned to the remaining recruits. “Ser Jory. Step forward.”

The knight took a step back. “N-no… I… I can’t….” He looked at Daveth’s body and backpedaled a few more paces. “I have a w-wife, a child… if I had known…” He looked over his shoulder with that look that said he was going to make a break for it. In that split second, Duncan closed the distance between them.

Cam thought he was grabbing him before he could flee. It wasn’t until she saw the glint of steel and blood dripping to the ground that she realized what had actually happened. Duncan withdrew his dagger and helped Jory make a gentle fall as he slumped to the ground.

“I am so sorry, Ser Jory,” he murmured. There were tears in his eyes as he stood and sheathed his dagger. He took a few steadying breaths and retrieved the chalice from Alistair, who had somehow wound up holding it during the commotion. He then turned to Cam.

“Camelia. Step forward.”

She bit her lip resolutely and took a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides. This was it. She reached for the chalice and her eyes met Duncan’s with steely determination. This was not the end of her journey. It was only the beginning.

She tipped the chalice to her lips and drank. To say the taste was rancid would be like describing the lake of lava beneath Orzammar as “warm.” It tasted of death, bile, fire, and a hundred other horrid things she never hoped to be able to pinpoint. The chalice found its way back into Duncan’s hands, though she wasn’t cognizant of whether she handed it to him or if he took it. Her vision blurred and went to black; her sense of hearing faded into an indistinct buzz. Her blood boiled in her veins, filling every inch of her insides with searing pain as the Taint tore through her being. Then came the images. They came in flashes: darkspawn, gore and viscera, blood as black as night, an army of the unholy creatures further than the eye could see, the open maw of a dragon with diseased flesh… Each image came with a tidal wave of putrid hatred. It desired nothing but destruction, to kill every living thing and use its innards to decorate the ruined landscape in its wake.

The pain, the images, the madness, it all clawed at the inside of her skull for far too long. Hours, days? Time had no place in that maelstrom of insanity. When consciousness finally returned to her, she was sure a lifetime had passed. Much to her surprise, she was met by the sight of two fuzzy figures hovering over her. Two figures that slowly focused into familiar shapes. She tried to speak, but all that left her mouth was a disoriented groan.

“She’s waking up!”

She recognised that voice. It was Alistair. She blinked a few times to try to regain more clarity in her vision. Hands on her arms and back pulled her upright into a sitting position. For a moment the change in position made her dizzy, but the feeling didn’t last.

“How do you feel?” Duncan’s voice this time, soft and comforting.

She groaned in response and rubbed her eyes. Her body had that heavy, foreign feeling she associated with a bad hangover. The worst hangover of her existence. “Fuck,” she grumbled. “My head…”

“It will pass,” Duncan reassured, offering her a canteen. “Water.”

She took it and took a sip, thankful to have something to wash that rancid taste from her mouth. Another few sips and she felt the pain in her head begin to ebb.

“Did I pass out?” Her throat felt like sandpaper, and she took another couple sips.

“Only for a few minutes. That is normal.”

“You actually woke up faster than most recruits,” Alistair added.

Her vision was mostly back to normal by now and she looked at the bodies of her two fellow recruits on the ground a few yards away. “Is that… also normal?”

“Unfortunately,” Duncan said with a resigned sadness. “The Joining is not an easy process to endure.” He nodded to Alistair, who handed him a small object attached to a cord of leather. “Which is why all Grey Wardens receive this after their Joining.” He handed the object to Cam.

She looked at it in her outstretched palm. It was a small metal locket-shaped pendant, with the Grey Warden insignia on the front.

“It contains a small bit of darkspawn blood,” Duncan explained. “To remember our oath, and those who we have lost along the way.”

She nodded and spent a somber moment to take it all in. She had been looking forward to getting to know her new comrades in the days and weeks to come. Ser Jory had been a little stuck up but he was a good man, trustworthy. Daveth had made her feel more at home in this surface world full of unfamiliar things. They had been well on the way to a sibling-like relationship. She felt a profound sense of loss at the realisation she would be going forward alone, without either of them. She closed her fist around the pendant and closed her eyes before her emotions could get the best of her. A few deep breaths allowed her to pull herself back together and she slipped the cord around her neck.

She stood, accepting Alistair’s outstretched hand to help her to her feet. “What happens now? Do we…” It occurred to her that she had no idea what surfacers did with their dead.

Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder. He must have seen the way she had been looking at the two bodies. “I will handle things. You should rest. Alistair, will you take Camelia back to our tents and get her some tea?”

“Yes, I can do that.” He offered an outstretched arm to Cam. She stumbled over to him and almost tripped. He caught her before she could fall. “Woah, easy there!”

Her cheeks colored in embarrassment. She would have preferred if he had let her fall. “I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“Please let me help you. We are comrades in arms now.”

She glared at him, but didn’t argue further. Her legs still felt like jelly. She huffed. “Fine. Just this once.”

Satisfied, he took her arm and placed it around his waist, his own arm going over her shoulders to support her. Together, they descended the stone stairs back to camp, and she was (begrudgingly) thankful for his support. She definitely would have eaten shit if she had attempted those stairs by herself. They made their way back to the small circle of tents around Duncan’s campfire and released her so he could pull a supply crate to the fireside. He helped her sit on the crate. “You like tea, right?”

She nodded.

He fetched some supplies from Duncan’s tent and started brewing a pot. “It won’t be as good as when Duncan makes it, but it should help you feel better.” He sat on the ground beside her and tended to his tea kettle. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too,” she said, staring into the fire. “When you went through that, did you lose people too?”

He nodded. “Only one of us, but it was still terrible.”

She rolled her pendant between her fingers. “I’ve never lost anyone close to me before. I don’t let anyone get close. Nobody except Rica and Leske. I didn’t know Daveth or Jory for long, but somehow… I don’t know. It was different with them. In the Carta I knew I couldn’t trust anyone, except Leske, you know? But I trusted them. And I think they trusted me too.”

“They absolutely did.”

“How do you deal with that? I liked them and now they’re dead, and there’s nobody I can even be angry at about it. And that pisses me off.”

“Why do you need to be angry at someone?” he asked, looking up at her with genuine curiosity. It wasn’t a look she was used to seeing. There was no judgement in his expression. It was like he wanted to understand her, not just chastise her or tell her she was being ridiculous.

“Because if I’m not angry, what am I supposed to be?”

“You can be sad. You’re allowed to grieve.”

She looked back to the fire. Grieve. How would she even do that?

He saw her troubled expression and continued. “And then fight in honor of them. Use their memory to help save people from the Blight. Fight in their place.”

She cracked a tiny smile at him. “I’m good at fighting. That much I can do.”

He offered a small smile of his own. The kettle began whistling and he removed it from the fire. He poured them each a cup and offered one to her. “Careful, it’s really hot. Don’t burn your mouth.”

“Thanks.” She took the cup and blew on it, appreciating now the warm cup felt in her hands. Now that her senses were returning to her, she was starting to feel how cold it was getting with the sun gone from the sky. She held the cup close and tried to absorb as much of the heat as she could from it while she waited for it to be a drinkable temperature.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Despite the darkness of night, camp bustled around them. If anything, it seemed even busier now than it had during the day. And it seemed to be picking up with every passing moment.

“Is something happening?” she asked. She tried a sip of her tea and it was still hot, but not so much that it burned. She took a few long drinks. She could feel warmth through her body as she swallowed, and it felt wonderful. She quickly drained her cup.

“It appears so…?” Alistair stood and looked around with some confusion. “Normally it is pretty quiet this time of night–oh!” His attention was grabbed by an elf running in their direction. It was someone Cam had seen around camp throughout the day, always running here or there. She assumed he was some kind of messenger.

“Are you Grey Wardens Alistair and Camelia?” the elf huffed, slightly out of breath. He looked a little frantic.

“We are,” Alistair replied. “What’s the matter? What is happening?”

“Warden Duncan sent me to find you. He is waiting at the King’s war table. He said it was urgent!”

“The King’s… Y-yes, right,” Alistair quickly composed himself, but Cam definitely saw his surprise. “Thank you.”

The messenger nodded and then sped off, likely to deliver more urgent messages. Alistair looked at Cam. She was already on her feet, glad to feel them firm and steady beneath her once more.

“You know where this war table thing is, right?”

“I do.”

“Lead the way.”

The two of them rushed through the mounting chaos of camp. On-duty soldiers were grabbing weapons, the off-duty ones were donning armor, Templars were barking orders at mages and each other, the Mabari were barking ferociously, and the Chantry sisters were trying to throw their voices above it all as they prayed fervently. There was too much commotion to be able to pick out anything specific, but she definitely heard something about darkspawn.

Duncan was waiting at the war table with the man Cam had met upon her arrival to Ostagar. The King, she remembered. There was also a severe looking older man with dark hair. His armor told her that he was definitely important, and the scars on his face told her he had seen many battles.

“Good. The messenger found you,” Duncan said. “Camelia, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. What is happening?” she asked bluntly.

“You’ve already met King Cailan. This is Teyrn Loghain.”

She nodded. “I remember your name. You’re the strategy guy.”

Alistair seemed slightly mortified at her casual manner of addressing him. She paid him no mind.

Cailan laughed. He appeared to be oddly cheerful. Almost… excited?

Loghain cleared his throat. “Let me be direct: darkspawn have been spotted in the valley. Hundreds of them. They are planning an assault on Ostagar.”

“We aren’t giving them the chance,” Cailan interjected. “We are taking the fight to those monsters.”

“That explains the pandemonium,” Alistair muttered. He was unsettled, to say the least. Grey Warden or no, hundreds of darkspawn were hundreds of darkspawn.

“So we are going down there to fight, yeah?” Cam asked. She didn’t understand why they were summoned to speak with the King and his top general. Those orders were pretty straightforward. Anyone could have passed them along.

“No,” Duncan spoke this time.

“No?” Alistair asked incredulously.

“We have a different task for you.” He gestured to the setup on the war table, which Cam noticed for the first time. It looked oddly out of place given the surroundings. Here they were, in the middle of a camp set up in the ruins of an old fort, surrounded by wilderness, yet on the table was a very well-drawn map of what she assumed was Ostagar and the area around it. Different colored tokens were placed around the map, but she had no idea what they were or what significance they held.

“Across the bridge is the Tower of Ishal. You would have crossed that bridge upon your arrival to camp. We need you to go to the tower and light the beacon.”

Alistair frowned. “We won’t be fighting alongside you?” The question was directed at Duncan.

Duncan shook his head. “I will be in the valley, on the front lines with His Highness.”

“But why can’t we be there too? Any messenger can light a beacon. Two Gray Wardens will be much more effective–”

“No, Alistair,” Duncan interrupted, a rare sharpness to his tone. “You and Camelia will light the beacon. That is an order.”

Cam leered at the map and tokens on the table, but they still made no sense to her. She gave up and looked to the Teyrn. “Is the tower dangerous? Is that why you need us to do it?”

“It shouldn’t be. But this task is of utmost importance. That beacon will signal to my armies when to enter the battlefield. We cannot risk something going wrong.”

“I think I understand,” she said. She was with Alistair. She would rather be fighting on the front lines. But orders were orders, and she respected Duncan. If he agreed this was where they would do the most good, she would just have to accept that. “Cross the bridge, light the beacon. Sounds idiot proof.”

“Then it is settled,” Duncan said. “Get your gear ready and hurry to the gate. There will be some soldiers waiting. They know the quickest way to the top of the tower.”

Cam and Alistair nodded.

“May the Maker watch over us all.”

Chapter Text

Consciousness returned to Cam slowly. Somehow she felt even worse than she had after the Proving. It wasn’t even a close race. If that had felt like being trampled by a bronto, this felt like she had been run down by an entire herd, then thrown down a mine shaft. What the hell had happened to her???

When she tried to open her eyes, she was met with light that probably wasn’t actually too bright, but in that moment felt like daggers in her skull. She squeezed them shut and tried to focus on her body instead. That too, proved to be a mistake. Everything hurt, from the bones in her fingers and toes, to her insides, to even her teeth. She couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened to make her feel like this.

As she laid there with her eyes squeezed painfully shut, she tried to think back to the last thing she could remember. There was Ostagar, the sick Mabari she had bonded with, and the Joining. All of those things were clear. But after that? There were brief flashes, more like static images than actual memories: a map on a war table, the bridge, The Tower of Ishal. She focused on the image of the Tower until it made her head hurt, but she couldn’t force anything more.

With a resigned sigh, she tried opening her eyes again. This time the light was less assaulting and she was able to keep them open. Her vision was still blurry but she could make out a wooden ceiling above her. Was she inside a building? Everything at Ostagar had been built from stone. Where was she? She stared at the ceiling and blinked the sleepy blurriness from her eyes until she could see properly again. Yes. She was definitely in a room, a small one. There was a wardrobe, a standing mirror, and some other furniture — all normal things to see in a bedroom. It was then that she was aware enough of her surroundings to see that she was in a bed. Whose bed though?

She sat up and pain shot through her entire body, and for a moment her vision swam again. She clenched her teeth and pushed through. Her bones felt like they were grinding against each other with every movement she made. It took a moment to gather herself enough to try standing. That action took even more effort. She slowly slid her legs off the side of the bed and rose to her feet. Her muscles screamed but she didn’t let that stop her. With the steadiness of a drunk on stilts, she shuffled to the standing mirror to have a look at herself.

She was nearly naked, clad only in her bra and underwear, and fresh pink scars criss crossed her pale skin. She traced her fingertips over the worst of them and tried to remember what had done this to her. More images floated back to her;

A jagged blade ripping through her flesh where the scar on her ribs was.

An arrow piercing her thigh where the healed remains of a hole had been.

Claws of a shriek tearing through her cheek below her Brand.

Wait. A shriek? That was a darkspawn. She studied her scars more carefully. Yes. The jagged blade on her ribs had been a darkspawn weapon. She could see it now, and the hand of the monster holding it. She had been fighting darkspawn, many of them. In her memories she could see the black blood of the creatures coating the blade of her sword, pooling on the ground, flying through the air as she cut her way through the horde. Alistair was there, too. She could finally see him beside her, his own sword and shield spattered with darkspawn blood. That answered some of her questions. But not all of them. She still didn’t know what had happened to put her in this state, how she had gotten here and where “here” even was, what had happened to Alistair…

She needed answers. She was about to walk out the door as she was, but stopped. No, she needed to put clothes on— it could be cold outside. She looked around and saw a folded pile of clothing on top of the bedside table. Had the owner of this place left them for her? She sat on the edge of the bed and started dressing. The clothes were human, that much she could tell from the length of them. (Or an elf, she supposed, they were also tall. Everyone was tall next to her.) The pants were slim and she couldn't get them over her hips, so she quickly gave up on them and moved on to the shirt. It was nearly long enough to be a dress, reaching to her knees, so she felt a tiny bit better about having no pants. The shoulders were tight and the sleeves were way too long. She rolled the sleeves up the best she could, but there was a lot of extra fabric so it looked kind of ridiculous. There were no shoes anywhere to be seen, so she shrugged and left the room.

When she opened the door, she found herself facing a more familiar living room. She had been here before, and recently, too; this was the home of those witches she had met in the Wilds. A familiar old woman was hunched over a pot on the hearth and looked up in response to the sound of the bedroom door opening.

“Good, good, the stout one awakes!” she chirped. “You’re a tough customer! You should be dead, you know.”

“You’re… Flemeth, right? Sorry, I’m shit with names.”

“That is the name I gave you, yes. Come, come, sit down before you fall over and ruin all my hard work.” She patted a chair by the fireplace.

Cam had no argument to offer – the fire looked nice. She was already missing the warmth of bed. “What do you mean? What hard work?” she asked.

“Healing you, dearie,” Flemeth sang as she returned to her pot. “That was no easy task, I’ll have you know. You weren’t much more than a sack of broken bones and blood.”

“You… healed me?” she repeated slowly. “I guess I owe you then.” She paused and looked at the fire. “How did I get here? Last thing I can remember is a shit ton of darkspawn.”

She clicked her tongue and hummed in amusement, but didn’t answer her. Instead she spooned something from her pot into a bowl and offered it to her. “You should eat. Eating will heal what even my magic couldn’t.”

Cam blinked. She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. The old woman was pretty kooky, after all. She accepted the bowl and sniffed the contents. It seemed like soup. She took a sip. It was actually decent. Good, even. She sipped the bowl some more. The thought crossed her mind to ask for a spoon, but she didn’t care enough.

As she enjoyed her soup, the old woman prattled on about some nonsense she only halfway paid attention to. The senseless chatter filled the otherwise painfully empty silence. When her bowl was empty she asked if she could have more, and Flemeth happily filled the bowl again. She wound up eating three full bowls before the hungry gnawing of her stomach ceased.

“There you go! Fit as a fiddle,” Flemeth sang. “Well, maybe not a full fiddle quite yet. But you’re at least as good as a harmonica now.” She laughed at herself. “Your things should be in the wardrobe in the bedroom, little harmonica. Morrigan did her best to fix them up. I think your Grey Warden friend might be a little flustered to see you without any pants.”

“Grey Warden friend? Someone else made it?”

“Yes, yes! Everyone needs a friend, don’t they?” She cackled. “A handsome young man, too. You should hurry before Morrigan loses her patience and turns him into a toad to quiet him. He’s too handsome to become a toad.”

“Alistair?” she asked hopefully, but Flemeth merely shooed her away with an admonishment about pants. So she returned to the bedroom and checked the wardrobe in question. As promised, her gear was all there. Her sword had been cleaned and her clothes had been washed and mended. Her armor was a different story. It had been mangled beyond any hope of repair. After she had changed into her own clothes she pulled the armor from the wardrobe and sat it on the floor to have a look at it. She shouldn’t be alive, that much was clear. Nobody should survive whatever did that kind of damage. Dried blood was caked all over the ruined gear, likely hers. As she looked her things over, another memory returned to her.

This time a full scene played out in her mind. Alistair was there, a few paces away with a torch in his hand. He was rushing toward a large brazier. The beacon! Yes! They were supposed to light a beacon. But she wasn’t lighting it with him. She had her sword in her hand and turned her back to him to face something coming at them. A massive something. It materialised in her memory and she recognised it as an ogre. She charged at it. She had to hold it off at least until Alistair finished lighting that beacon. So forward she dove, swinging her sword with all her might at the mountain of a creature. She landed a few good strikes and was starting to believe she might actually stand a chance. Then it grabbed her. Its enormous hands gripped her in a crushing grip and it lifted her above its head. She saw the stone of the floor rushing toward her and then… then…

She groaned and rubbed her throbbing temples. There was nothing else. The memory ended in darkness, but she could assume what had happened next. Judging by the state of her armor and the aching in her body, it must have slammed her around like a ragdoll.

“Well fuck,” she mumbled. She pulled on her boots and returned to the living room, where Flemeth was busy washing dishes. The woman merely waved her toward the door and continued her chores.

Outside, Alistair was pacing like a caged animal. The grass was flattened all around him. Clearly he had been at it for a while. Morrigan was standing nearby with her arms crossed over her chest, looking very annoyed.

“Morning,” Cam greeted, though judging by the sun it was late afternoon.

Alistair nearly jumped clean out of his skin. “Cam!” He ran to her and wrapped her in a massive bear hug. She grunted in pain but he didn’t seem to hear. “You’re alive! Maker’s breath you’re alive!” He was nearly sobbing.

“Not if you crush me to death,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry!” He released her. “I wasn’t sure you would ever wake up! You were hurt so bad and she healed you for days but you still wouldn't wake up and you didn’t even move in your sleep so I thought you were in a coma and you were going to die anyway and–”

She cut off his frantic rambling. “I’m okay, Alistair. See? Walking and everything.”

“Thank the Maker! If I had been the only one to survive, I don’t know–”

She cut him off again. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Ostagar. It was a disaster,” he said, his expression devastated.

“How? Did we light the beacon? What about the other Wardens? Duncan?”

“Dead. All of them.” Alistair was on the verge of tears again.

“What the fuck happpened?”

Alistair fumbled for words, but couldn’t manage to choke anything coherent out. Morrigan stepped in.

“It seems you were betrayed,” she stated. “When the beacon was lit, your reinforcements turned tail and fled the battlefield.

“But that beacon was supposed to tell Loghain’s troops to advance,” Cam insisted.

“I saw it with my own eyes. His troops retreated and the soldiers on the battlefield were slaughtered.”

“But Duncan was down there. And the King.”

“I suppose it makes it a coup then,” Morrigan concluded matter of factly.

She bit her lip and looked at Alistair. She knew from the look on his face that it was all true. Anger began simmering in the pit of her stomach. “That son of a bitch,” she spat. “Where is he now??”

“Probably well on his way back to the capital by now. It has been nearly a week.”

Cam nearly sank to her knees. A week. She had been unconscious for a whole week. In that time, her entire world had changed yet again. This time the feeling of loss was profound and new. When she had left Orzammar, she had been happy. She knew she wouldn’t see her sister again, and she was sad about that, but she knew her beloved sibling was still alive and her life was getting better. But this? She had just started to find her place in this surface world. But that was completely gone now.

“Are we… the only Grey Wardens left?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“In Ferelden, yes,” Alistair replied gravely. “There are others all across Thedas, but the closest are in Orlais. Even if we had some way to send for them, they wouldn’t be able to gather their forces and make it here in time to stop the Blight. We’re doomed.”

Cam wanted to argue. Duncan had said they had the ability to slay an archdemon. If they did that, the Blight would end. The darkspawn would have no leader and would return underground. But she didn’t know how to find an archdemon, or how she was supposed to get to it? And then what? If an ogre had kicked in her shit that bad, what would an archdemon do to her? There were only two of them, and she was pretty sure Alistair wouldn't fare much better than she had.

“Giving up so soon?” Flemeth’s voice said from the doorway. She seemed almost teasing. “After all the hard work I did to get you out of there?”

“Yeah, about that,” Alistair added with suspicion. “How did you get us out of there?”

“I already told you, I turned into a giant bird and plucked you right up,” she said with glee. Cam raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. It was impossible to tell if the woman was joking or being truthful.

“Right…” Alistair said. “Why did you save us, anyway?”

“Why indeed?” she mused.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Mother, please. This is not the time for your games.”

“Oh you are no fun.” Flemeth pouted playfully. “Fine. My motives are not so complex. The Blight threatens my home, just as it does the rest of this land. Only a Grey Warden can stop the Blight, so you must do so.”

“But how?” Alistair said, still looking defeated. “There are only two of us.”

“Perhaps these can help,” Flemeth offered, brandishing a trio of familiar scroll casings.

“The treaties! How did you–”

“A woman has her ways,” Flemeth said with a sly grin. She handed them to Alistair. “With these, surely you can find some allies to help you fight this Blight.”

Alistair gawked at her, then at the treaties in his hands. “Allies… yes…” Gears were visibly turning in his head. “It’s a long shot, but…”

“Out with it,” Cam said impatiently, peering at the scrolls even though the words on them meant nothing to her. She found herself wishing with a pang of grief that Duncan was still around to continue teaching her to read.

“These treaties promise aid to the Grey Wardens in a time of need. This certainly qualifies. There’s one for the Circle of Magi, one for the Dalish, and one for Orzammar.”

Cam made a face at the mention of her old home but didn’t interrupt.

“We could use these treaties to gain support from those groups,” Alistair continued, his voice gaining a hint of hope.

“That sounds like an army,” Morrigan noted.

“Yes… yes! We can build our own army! Then we would have a chance at stopping the Blight!” A thought seemed to cross his mind. “We could visit Redcliffe too! I know Arl Eamon. He would certainly offer support as well!”

“Will it work?” Cam asked. It sounded outlandish. Two people, building an entire army from some pieces of paper.

“It has to.” He gripped the treaties in his hands. “We will build an army, stop the Blight, and then make Loghain answer for what he did.”

Cam smirked. Determination looked good on him. “I like the way that sounds.”

“Then it is settled!” Flemeth chirped. “The three of you will embark on an epic journey and–”

“Three?” Cam and Alistair interjected in unison, both equally confused.

“Yes! Handsome not-toad,” she pointed at Alistair, “strong little harmonica,” she pointed at Cam, “and Morrigan.”

This time it was Morrigan to interject. “Excuse me? Do I not have a say in this?”

Flemeth rolled her eyes. “Oh please, girl. You have been itching to leave the Wilds since you were a young thing. This is your chance.”

“Well, yes, but… this is so sudden. I would need to prepare…” She seemed less than enthusiastic.

Alistair shared her lack of enthusiasm. “Are we sure that is a good idea? She’s an apostate.”

“Can you afford to be choosey about your allies?” Flemeth countered. “You are facing a monumental task. Morrigan is very skilled with magic, particularly kinds you will not find practiced by mages under the thumb of the Chantry. She is an asset you cannot afford not to have.”

“But…”

“Can we not talk about me as if I am not here?” Morrigan snipped.

Cam scowled. This back and forth was beginning to irritate her. “Alistair, Flemeth is right. We need allies.” She looked at Morrigan. “I don’t know shit about magic. But you’ve helped us once before, so I have no reason not to trust you.” She offered a hand. “Wanna come with us?”

The corners of Morrigan’s lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile and she took the outstretched hand. “I shall accompany you.”

“Great!” Cam grinned. “Now let’s get our shit together and get this show on the road.” She took a step forward and stumbled with a wince. Alistair rushed to her side and caught her before she could fall.

“Cam!”

She tried to shrug him off, tell him she was fine. But suddenly she did not feel so fine. The pain deep in her bones was returning to the forefront. Her vision swam just a little.

“You need one more night of healing,” Morrigan said. “Your body isn’t ready for travel yet.”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ve already wasted a week. I can’t piss another day away.”

“You should listen to her,” Alistair said gently. His voice was full of concern. “In this state you’ll collapse on the road.”

She scowled. If she did that, she could slow them down even more. “Fuck. Fine. One night. That’s it,” she ceded.

He helped her inside and back to the bed. She didn’t remember much of the rest of the evening. Her consciousness ebbed, never fully deserting her but coming quite close many times. Flemeth healed her late into the night. Or maybe it was Morrigan. She wasn’t aware enough to tell.

Chapter Text

When dawn came, she found herself waking from a sleep she hadn’t realised she had fallen into. This time, waking came with far less pain than it had the day before. There was a dull ache, similar to the feeling she would get after a day of vigorous exercise. Nothing she couldn’t ignore. She left the bed and got dressed and gathered her things. She considered taking her shattered armor with her, but quickly decided against it. There was no way anyone could fix that. It would just be extra weight to lug around. She haphazardly shoved it back into the wardrobe and slung her sword holster across her back. At least her weapon had survived.

Morrigan and Alistair were outside already, Alistair finishing his breakfast and Morrigan tucking a few last minute items into her backpack. A well-worn supply pack held together with hand-sewn patches sat by Alistair’s feet. She assumed it was food and some other odds and ends Flemeth had donated to their cause. She picked it up before Alistair could protest and slung it over her shoulder. No way was she letting him carry everything by himself.

“You look better,” Morrigan noted.

“I feel better,” Cam agreed. “I owe you and your mother big time.” She looked around, noticing for the first time that the old woman was nowhere to be seen. “Where is your mother?”

Morrigan shrugged. “I do not know. She said she had some business to attend to and disappeared before first light. She made it clear she would not return before we leave.”

“Huh. Oh well.”

Alistair shoved the last of his bread in his mouth and brushed some crumbs off his chest. “Are we ready?”

“I’m ready if you guys are.” Cam paused. “Do we even know where we’re going?”

“North?” Alistair offered unhelpfully.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, unamused. “There is a small village not too far from here called Lothering. I have visited it a number of times. We should be able to find more adequate supplies than Mother was able to offer, and perhaps find you some new armor?”

Cam winced. “Yeah, I guess that would be helpful.”

“Then it is settled. Let us go, lest we lose more daylight.”

The three of them walked in silence, Morrigan in the lead and Cam a few paces behind her. Alistair lagged in the back, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a palpable cloud of gloom. Cam wanted to strike up a conversation, ask him how he was holding up. Obviously the answer would be “not well” but checking in with her fellow Warden was something she was supposed to do, right? Comrades in arms and all that. In reality, though, she had no idea how to have that kind of conversation. What was she supposed to say? Talking about feelings was something her sister was good at. The skill had never rubbed off on her.

Cam was pulled from her thoughts by an odd new sensation. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, an unsettled feeling not unlike a ball of wriggling worms. The sensation also came with a hot bile-like feeling in the back of her throat. Though she didn’t actually taste anything, the feeling came with the memory of the taste of the darkspawn blood she had drank for the Joining, so strong that she may as well have actually tasted it. She had never felt this sensation before, but somewhere deep down, she instinctively knew what it meant: darkspawn were nearby. So this was what it meant for a Grey Warden to be able to sense darkspawn before they appeared.

Her sword was in her hands before she was fully conscious of the action. In the distance she could see a handful of shapes coming toward them, appearing over the top of a nearby hill. The unsettled squirming in her stomach told her that those were the darkspawn that she was sensing. She was so focused on them that at first she didn't see that they were chasing something. As they got closer, she finally noticed what the darkspawn were pursuing: a tan-colored Mabari. A very familiar tan-colored Mabari.

The dog closed the distance between them and she charged forward to meet the approaching darkspawn. The sound of metal on metal rang out as her sword clashed with the blade of her adversary. Behind her, she could hear Alistair engaging an opponent of his own. It was in that moment that she realised she had no idea what skills Morrigan had, or if the slight woman was even capable of defending herself in a situation like this.

Thankfully, her concern was short-lived, as a wave of ice crashed over the rest of the incoming darkspawn, freezing them in their places. Cam took advantage of the distraction and used that moment of lapsed focus to strike down the darkspawn before her. She swung her sword to fling some of the tar-colored blood from its edge and watched Morrigan. The woman made a flourish with her staff and the ice shattered, reducing the group of frozen darkspawn to shards. Cam had to admit, she was impressed.

A nudge to her ribs caught her attention. She turned her focus to the canine. It only took her a moment of looking into those eyes to confirm that this was, in fact, the same dog she had met at Ostagar.

“Well I’ll be damned. Hey big guy!”

She was greeted by a cheerful wiggle of the dog’s stumpy tail. He nudged her again and she saw he was holding something in his mouth.

“Whatcha got there buddy?” She held out her hands and he plopped the object into them. She recognised the item immediately and her eyes grew wide in amazement. It was the small, leather-bound journal Duncan had given her on her first day on the surface. A lump materialised in her throat and she found herself unable to speak.

Alistair peered over her shoulder curiously. “A journal?”

The dog barked proudly, nudged the journal, and then nudged Cam’s arm.

“He must have picked up your scent on that journal and used it to track you,” Alistair offered.

She swallowed the lump before it could force any further memories or emotions about Duncan, or the other events at Ostagar. “Is that true, buddy? Did you use this to find me?”

Another proud bark and a stumpy butt wiggle.

“That kennelmaster wasn’t exaggerating when he said Mabari are smart,” she said in amazement. “You’re a pretty amazing guy, aren’t you buddy?”

He barked enthusiastically in agreement.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “You came all this way to find me. Wanna stay and fight the Blight, boy?”

He barked again and pranced in a little circle.

“I guess I can’t just call you Good Boy forever… You deserve an actual name…” she hummed thoughtfully.

He sat and tilted his head attentively.

“Let’s see… maybe something heroic? I could name you after a Paragon?”

He whined.

“Yeah, you’re right. Orzammar shit can stay in Orzammar. How about Knight?”

He whined again.

“Brutus?”

Another whine.

“Breaker of Armies?”

This time he growled softly.

“Okay yeah, that one was stupid.”

“What about Barkspawn?” Alistair chimed in.

Cam and the dog both answered him with a withering glare. He held up his hands. “Geez, nevermind.”

Cam bit her lip in thought. “Well… you’re kinda like a siege machine on legs… how about Tank?”

This time she was answered with a happy bark.

“Tank,” she repeated. “Yeah, I like it too. Welcome to the party, Tank.” She offered a hand, more as a joking gesture, and was surprised when he plopped a massive paw into her outstretched palm. She chuckled and shook his paw. She had to admit, he had a firmer handshake than a lot of people she had met.

*****

Their trek continued, now as a group of four, along the dirt and gravel path. By midday they reached a T in the path where it intersected with a much larger road. That one was paved with stone and wide enough for two carts to pass one another. Cam eyed it as they stepped onto the stone. It reached farther than the eye could see.

“The Imperial Highway,” Morrigan explained. “It is a direct road to the capital. Follow it, and you will eventually reach Denerim, though I have never traveled farther than Lothering.”

Cam nodded. “Good to know?” she said with some uncertainty. She didn’t really know what to do with the information right now, aside from filing it away for later.

Morrigan noticed her uncertainty and chuckled. “You need not concern yourself with the capital right now. I am sure your traitorous Teyrn has already returned and made himself quite at home with his ill-gotten power. You will need more allies before you should think about marching into his den to confront him.”

Cam’s lip curled at the mention of Teyrn Loghain. “That son of a bitch better enjoy it while it lasts. I will personally have his head for what he did to us.”

“I do not doubt that one bit,” she replied with a hint of amusement.

They walked along the stone roadway for a few miles, and soon enough a small village came into view. The area surrounding it was a sizable tent city. She heard Morrigan say something about refugees, but she was too focused on the village to really hear her. After spending her entire life up to this point in Orzammar, it was a strange sight. The buildings were made out of wood, for crying out loud! Wood! To an average surface dweller, however, it wasn’t remarkable in any way: a handful of houses, a couple larger buildings that she would guess to be an inn and some shops. What drew her attention most was the tall spire atop the biggest of the structures. She hadn’t seen a building with something like that on its roof before.

“Ah, Lothering,” Alistair said. “Pretty as a painting.”

Cam shrugged. “I guess? I’m not really an art person.”

Alistair gave a little chuckle, but the conversation quickly died. Cam found herself feeling a little awkward and wondered how her sister would have kept that conversation going. She really was terrible at this. She stared at her boots and kicked a pebble as they continued walking.

“It looks like we have company,” Morrigan stated, pulling her from her thoughts.

She shifted her attention to the road ahead. A group of men were standing in front of a half-assed blockade. Honestly, it was just a battered old wagon parked sideways across the road, and a couple stacks of crates and barrels. She scowled. She knew a shakedown when she saw one.

“Wake up, gentlemen, more travellers to attend to!” one of the men chirped. It was pretty obvious he was their leader.

“Err… they don’t look much like the others, you know,” another of them said. Cam almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t seem very bright. He was the kind of person she had seen get taken advantage of time and time again, back home in Dust Town. “You know, uh… maybe we should just let these ones pass…?”

“Nonsense!” The leader strolled up to Cam and her travelling companions. He was way too cheerful — it annoyed her. “Greetings travellers!”

“Highwaymen, preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose,” Alistair muttered under his breath. Cam could hear the disgust in his voice.

“They are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan added. “I say teach them a lesson.” She flicked her fingers, and Cam saw the slightest hint of frost on them.

“Is that any way to greet someone? Tsk tsk!” The man continued. If he noticed the cold magic at Morrigan’s fingers, he didn’t let on. Judging by how everyone around here seemed to shit themselves at the mention of magic, Cam’s money was on him not noticing. “A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on.”

“You should listen to your friend. We’re not refugees,” Cam replied, her tone sharp. She did not have the patience for this.

“What did I tell you?” The dull one added, beginning to grow anxious. “No wagons, and this one looks armed.”

The leader flipped his hand dismissively, his con man’s smile never wavering. “The toll applies to everyone. That’s why it's called a toll and not, say, a refugee tax.”

“Oh right.” He nodded, his anxiety gone at his leader’s reassurance. “Even if you’re no refugee, you still gotta pay!”

“Forget it,” Cam growled. “I'm not paying. And this operation you’re running is pathetic. I could do better myself.”

“Well I can’t say I'm pleased to hear that,” Leader said with mock disappointment. “We have rules, you know.”

“Right!” another henchman piped in. “We get to ransack your corpse. Those are the rules!”

Cam stood her ground, crossing her arms. She was about to put a fist through all of their noses. “Go ahead and try. You’ll see what happens when you pick a fight with a Grey Warden.”

“Did she say Grey Warden?” Dullard gasped. “Them the ones who killed the king!”

Alistair replied with a confused and indignant yelp, and Cam narrowed her eyes. “Killed the king? What the fuck are you going on about?”

Leader had his hand on the hilt of the sword on his belt. There were dollar signs in his eyes. “Traitors to Ferelden, I hear. Teyrn Loghain put quite a bounty on any who are found.”

That was it. Cam was at her limit. She drew her sword, and she could hear Tank growling beside her. “I’d like to see him try,” she snarled. She would get to the bottom of this bounty nonsense later. Right now there were a handful of bandits that were about to become red spots on the roadway.

The skirmish that followed was over nearly before it began. Cam dove into action with her dog at her side, and Alistair was half a beat behind them. Morrigan lashed out with an icy wave of magic. In no time at all, the bandits had met the same fate as the darkspawn they had encountered on the road.

Cam found that dispatching the lowlifes hadn’t done much to improve her mood. She started rifling through the bodies, and when that turned up little of worth, she turned her attention to the crates and barrels. “What was that bullshit he was spouting about the Wardens killing the king?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair said with a troubled expression. “We should be careful. If Loghain has put a bounty on our heads…”

“Then we kill anyone who tries to collect. Sooner or later that son of a bitch will have to come for us himself,” she spat. She shoved the lid off a large crate with her foot and began digging through it. It was full of random items and keepsakes, things that had probably been valuable to the people they had belonged to. She moved on to the next crate, and it was much the same thing. One crate had a pouch of coins, but that was the only thing of monetary value she could discern. She shoved it into her pack without a second thought. Dead men didn’t need coin. “These assholes were just taking anything they could,” she noted.

She pulled a small doll made of sackcloth from the crate. It had yarn for hair and little button eyes and a smile stitched on its face. Seeing it brought back an old, buried memory from when she was little. Rica had made her a doll like this once, way back when she was teaching herself to sew. It had been a sad, ratty little thing, but Cam had loved it. Then their mother had taken it from her in a drunken rage and thrown it into the fireplace. Cam had burned herself trying to save it. Later that evening, after Rica had cleaned and bandaged her hands, she had asked if she wanted her to make a new one. Cam had refused, knowing it would just meet the same fate.

She shook her head as if it would clear the memory from her head, and tucked the doll into her pack. Then she stood, dusted off her knees, and gave the body of the bandit leader a final disgusted look.

“Are you finished?” Morrigan asked. “It seems you did not find much of use?”

Cam shook her head. “Just some money. The rest is probably only valuable to the refugees it was stolen from. We should tell them the bandits are dead so they can get their things back.”

Alistair nodded in agreement. “That would be the right thing to do.”

They left the road and headed into town. To get to the town, though, first they had to pass through the tent city of refugees. Cam and Alistair spoke with a few and told them of the fate of the bandits, and word spread like wildfire through the encampment. Many rushed to hopefully reclaim some of their belongings. Then they had encountered a merchant who was buying things from the refugees for next to nothing and reselling at insane prices. Cam had a little “talk” with the scalper and persuaded him (with some possible assistance from a fist and a growling war dog) to stop taking advantage of the refugees. Cam had to admit, it felt good to know they had helped these people in some way. It was strange, being the “good guy” for a change.

Chapter Text

After passing through the tent city of refugees, the group paused and Alistair spoke up. “We should go to the Chantry next. The Templars should have information and supplies to help us.”

Morrigan made a face at the mention of the Chantry, and Cam furrowed her brow. “Duncan told me that word… It’s a surfacer religion thing, right?”

Alistair visibly flinched at the mention of Duncan’s name. “Yes…”

Morrigan sighed. “You aren’t going to start with the sulking again, are you?”

“Is my being upset so hard to understand?” Alistair snapped. “Have you ever lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died??”

Morrigan snorted. “Before or after I stopped laughing?”

Alistair scowled. “Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked.”

“If only I could. But to answer your question, no, I have never lost someone important to me,” she said levelly.

“Oh I get it,” Alistair scoffed sarcastically. “This is the part where we’re shocked to discover you’ve never had a friend in your entire life.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed at him. “I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

“Will you two fucking cut it out?” Cam barked, cutting off their spat. “We need to stay focused. Alistair, you said you think your Templar friends could help us out?”

“Well, they’re not my friends, per se. Not all Templars know each other. But yes. I believe they can.”

“Great. Then let’s get a move on. I need to ask what this nug shit about us killing the King is all about.” She did not wait for an affirmation. She started making a beeline for the building with the tall spire thing. At least she couldn’t get lost with a landmark like that.

She heard the shouting before she noticed the small crowd of people outside the Chantry. They all seemed to be gathered around someone. She couldn’t get the best look at him, but he was wearing the same style of armor and clothing that some of the men she had seen at Ostagar had been. What had Duncan called them? Chainsd?

“The legions of evil are on your doorstep! They will feast upon our hearts!” He shouted. “There is nowhere to run! This evil will cover the world, like a plague of locusts!”

“Please, you're scaring the children,” a spectator begged fearfully. This man’s ranting had the crowd uneasy.

“Better to slit their throats than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!” He continued. “There!” He spotted Cam and threw an accusatory finger in her direction. “One of their minions is already amongst us! This woman bears their evil stench! Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her?!”

Cam stopped in her tracks and raised an irritated eyebrow at him. “What the fuck is your problem?” She saw a Templar standing nearby, a safe distance from the crowd but close enough to step in if things got violent. Though judging by his crossed arms, he wasn’t likely to do such a thing. “Why haven’t you shut this nutjob up?”

“Be my guest,” the Templar replied dryly. “I have no urge to try out that axe of his.”

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Cam grumbled.

The mad ranting never ceased. “I watched the black horde descend on my people! Darkness swallowed the marshes whole! This minion is but the first of those who will destroy us!”

“You’re a sodding idiot. I’m a dwarf, not a darkspawn.”

“No! I have seen them! You cannot run! You cannot fight!”

“I beg to differ. They’re really not that hard to kill.” Though her voice was still level, the irritation in her tone was growing with each passing moment.

“No! They killed my family! Dragged away my wife! I can still hear her screaming!”

“And this is how you’re fighting back? By telling all these people they’re doomed and should just accept death?”

He finally stopped, and Cam judged by the red in his cheeks it was the first time he had paused for a breath since all this crazy talk began. “Are you… calling me a coward??”

“I mean yeah, kinda,” she growled.

The man sputtered. Cam glared daggers at him and he withered under her gaze. The wind had been taken out of his sails, and it had been the only thing keeping him going, it seemed. He turned around and ran out of sight, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The tension of the crowd lessened, but only a little. Now the people were all looking back and forth at each other and speaking in hushed, panicked whispers.

“He was right, wasn't he? There's no hope for us!” “But what can we do? We can’t fight…” “We’re all going to die too, aren’t we?”

Cam rubbed her temples. Killing darkspawn she could handle. But dealing with panicked masses? That was beyond her pay grade, so to speak. Thankfully the crowd had begun directing their panic at the Templar instead of her, so she used the chance to slip away and head inside the Chantry.

Once the heavy wooden doors had closed behind her and her friends, she let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t silent in here, but it was so much quieter and calmer than it had been outside. There were a few dozen people milling about, speaking softly; some priests and Sisters (she recognised what they were wearing as the same robes as the ones at Ostagar) were praying, some handing out blessings, some tending to citizens with minor injuries. Off to one side there were a handful of men in matching robes. At first she thought they were simply conversing with the refugee family in front of them. When she got close enough to discern what they were saying, however, she heard them speaking in an odd cadence. Were they… speaking in verse?

She looked up at Alistair in confusion. “Why are those men talking like that?”

“Hm?” He followed her line of sight as she indicated what she was talking about. “Oh, the Chanters?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“They’ve taken a vow and only speak of the Chant of Light,” he explained.

Her confusion only grew. “What? That’s a thing? They just… recite scripture all day?”

“That is a simple way of saying it, but yes, essentially.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But… what if they need to talk?”

“They use passages from the Chant.”

“What if they need to go take a shit?”

“I…” He faltered. “I don’t know…”

Morrigan snorted in amusement.

The trio, plus the dog, proceeded further into the Chantry. Alistair suddenly perked up as he seemed to recognize someone off to the side. He veered in that direction and Cam followed him. Morrigan hung back, not in a hurry to acquaint herself with too many more people here. She was hiding it well, but Cam could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled about being inside a Chantry. She didn’t blame her. From what she had learned about how mages were treated here on the surface, it was a reasonable hesitancy.

“Tank, why don’t you keep Morrigan company?” Cam said softly, just loud enough for the dog to hear. “Make sure no one gives her a hard time?”

He wiggled his little stump tail and trotted after the mage.

“By the Maker! Ser Donall, what are you doing here?” Alistair exclaimed as he approached a knight leaning against the wall.

The man looked at him and grinned widely. “Alistair? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m a little taller since the last time you saw me.”

“That is an understatement! You were still a boy! It is good to see you!”

The two men embraced. Cam looked the knight over quickly, and realised with a pang in her chest that his armor looked very similar to what Jory had worn. She didn’t hear much of what they said to each other next – she was too trying to shove that pain in her chest away before it could become something bigger. She couldn’t afford to be weak right now.

“Cam,” Alistair said, pulling her from her thoughts. “This is Ser Donall. He is one of Arl Eamon’s knights from Redcliffe. Donall, this is Cam, my fellow Grey Warden.”

“A pleasure,” the knight said, extending a hand. Cam took it and gave him a firm handshake. Maybe a little too firm. “I’m glad to see you two made it out of Ostagar. I heard what happened.”

“Yes, about that…” Alistair said, his expression darkening. “What exactly have you heard? What we have been hearing has been… troubling.”

Donall nodded. “I assume you mean the bounty set by the Teyrn?”

“Yeah, that,” Cam added. “Son of a bitch is telling people we murdered the King?”

Donall flinched slightly at her directness. “That is correct.”

“You don’t believe it?” Alistair said hopefully.

“Of course not. I don’t think anyone from Redcliffe does. If Arl Eamon were well, I’m sure he would stand up to the Teyrn and–”

“Wait, what do you mean if he were well? The Arl is sick??” Alistair interjected.

“You haven’t heard? Arl Eamon fell ill and no one can figure out what is wrong. His brother Teagan is acting in his stead at the moment. The Arlessa brought in healers and everything, but nothing can even wake him. Now she has sent most of Redliffe’s knights out to hunt down the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

Alistair was stunned and fumbled with his words for a moment. “The Urn…. of Sacred Ashes…? But… that is only a legend…”

Cam looked blankly between the two. She had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Maybe this Urn was a rare medicine? She’d have to ask Alistair about it later. Right now something else was taking precedence. “Seems awfully convenient for Loghain. A political threat falling ill right before a power grab? That’s a move anyone from Orzammar could see.”

Donell shook his head somberly. “I hate to agree, but you may be right. Maker help us, if the Teyrn is behind it, the implications…”

“He did pull his troops and leave Cailan to die at Ostagar,” Alistair added. “And then framed the Grey Wardens for it.”

“I can’t believe it,” Donell said, panic behind his eyes. “Maker help us, all of this and a Blight? Ferelden is still recovering from the war with Orlais. We can’t withstand a civil war and a Blight.”

“Leave the Blight to us,” Alistair said. He was trying his best to be reassuring, but Cam knew his confidence was a mask, and a flimsy one at that.

Cam nodded to back him up, hoping her own reassurance would make Alistair’s more convincing. “We have a plan. You should head back to Redcliffe and let your people know the truth about what happened at Ostagar.”

Donell nodded. “I agree. If this does come to a civil war, we will need to get our feet under us as soon as possible. I will speak with Teagan. I am sure he will want to recall all of the knights out searching for the Urn so Redcliffe has a defense against the darkspawn and Loghain’s troops.”

“Teagan is a good man,” Alistair agreed. “He will do what’s best for Redcliffe.”

Donell looked between them and drew in a deep breath. “If I want to get back to Redcliffe in a timely manner I should be leaving. Hopefully someone around here has a horse they’re willing to sell to me. I can’t waste the time it would take to make the trip on foot.” He put a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “It really was good to see you again. Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over us both.”

*****

The Chantry didn’t hold much more of help to the group. Nobody had any information beyond what they already knew. Cam did pause to accept a few odd jobs from a bulletin board right outside the Chantry. The jobs seemed easy enough, and they could use as much money as they could get. Morrigan had grumbled about her “senseless charity” but she sighed and went along with it when Cam insisted they needed the coin.

“The inn is just across that bridge,” Alistair said. “We can drop in and see if anyone there has better information. Then we go outside town and do those jobs?”

Cam nodded. “Makes sense to me. We should be able to finish that stuff in a couple hours and still get back on the road for a couple miles before sundown.”

“Are you certain?” Morrigan questioned. “That is a lot to do in one afternoon.”

“It’s just some bandits and giant spiders. I’ve finished bigger jobs before breakfast. You just gotta know where to stab ‘em. If you can flip them onto their backs, their bellies are the softest spot. Or you can just stick a sword in the middle of all the eyes. You gotta be faster on the eye thing though. They’ll see you coming and you can get a face full of poison spray.”

Alistair made a face. “Lovely…”

“Hey, you’ve got a shield. You’ll be fine,” she said, clapping him on the back with a grin. He remained unconvinced and they proceeded across the bridge. He and Morrigan did, at least.

She paused before the small stone bridge. It crossed a stream that cut through the middle of town, not quite wide enough to be called a river, but large enough that a horse would struggle to jump across it. She eyed the water skeptically. She still wasn’t used to seeing open water like this, and the fact that it was moving made her even more uneasy.

As she was staring down the water and preparing herself to cross the bridge, a small voice spoke up behind her. “Um, hello, miss?”

Cam paused and turned around to see a little elf girl who was barely as all as she was. She was definitely one of the refugees. The poor thing was thin and dressed in tattered clothes and had some dirt smeared on her face. Cam was reminded of herself at that age, though this child wasn’t sporting a black eye like Cam had on more than a few occasions.

“Hi?” she said uncertainly.

“You.. you are a dwarf, right?” the little girl asked timidly.

“Last time I checked, yeah,” Cam replied, trying to ease some of her tension with a poor stab at humor. Judging by the child’s reaction, or lack of one, her joke had fallen flat. “Yeah, I’m a dwarf. Why do you ask?”

The girl perked up a little at this. “The grown ups are saying a dwarf got rid of the bad men on the road. I’ve never seen a dwarf before, but you aren’t an elf or a human so I thought they were talking about you.”

“Oh. Right.” She shifted her weight awkwardly from one leg to the other. “Yeah, that was me. Those assho–uh, I mean, jerks… won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“Oh thank you! Those bad men took all of my parents’ money and all of our things. Even my dollie.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“They stole your doll?” she asked with disgust. If she hadn’t already killed them, she would have marched off right there and gone to finish the job.

She nodded and sniffed, wiping her face with her dirty sleeve. “Yes… they said she had to be my tax because my parents didn’t have enough money.”

“Sodding dickheads,” Cam grumbled. “Hold up, what did your doll look like?” She remembered the item she had tucked into her pack in a rare moment of sentimentality and dug into it to retrieve it. “Did it look like this?”

The girl gasped. “Dollie! You saved her!”

“Here you go, kid,” She said, handing it to her. She took it and hugged it tightly.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!” She then hugged Cam before she had a chance to react.

Cam stiffened. “Uh, yeah, you’re welcome,” she said awkwardly, giving the girl a soft pat on the head. Thankfully the girl let go after a moment and grinned at her.

“I’m going to go tell my parents Dollie is okay! You’re a hero! Thank you miss dwarf!”

Without another word she ran off, leaving Cam in stunned silence. Tank, who had been sitting beside her this entire time, licked her hand. The slobbery tongue on her fingers snapped her out of her daze.

“A hero, huh? Gotta admit no one has ever called me that before.”

Her dog wiggled his stump as if to agree with the child.

“We should catch up to the others…” She shouldered her pack and returned her focus to the bridge. Tank nudged her with a soft whine. “Yeah, I’m okay buddy. It’s just water.” She took a deep breath and stepped onto it. At least this one had railing. That was better than what she could say of that bridge at Ostagar.

Less than a dozen rushed paces later, she was safely back on dirt once more and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Thankfully Alistair and Morrigan were too busy bickering with each other to notice her hesitation at crossing the water.

“Thanks for waiting,” she said, interrupting whatever stupid spat they were having. “Let’s check this inn.” She had to admit she was feeling a lot more comfortable with walking into this building than she had the Chantry. In her experience, inns always included taverns, and she was very familiar with those. Maybe she’d even get a chance to try some more surface ale.

Chapter Text

Her dreams of grain-made ale evaporated the moment she flung open the door. The first thing she saw was a half dozen or so soldiers, their armor emblazoned with a familiar symbol. She’d seen the same symbol on some of the troops at Ostagar.

“Well look what we have here men. I think we've just been blessed!” the leader of them said. He was grinning wickedly.

“Uh oh,” Alistair murmured. “Loghain's men. This can't be good.”

“Didn't we spend all morning asking about a dwarf by this description? And everyone said they hadn't seen one?” the leader continued, stepping forward with a hand on the hilt of his sword on his belt.

“It seems we were lied to,” one of his men added with an equally unsavory look on his face. Cam knew that look well. She had seen it too many times to count on the faces of Beraht and his inner circle.

A young red-haired woman stepped out of the gathering crowd of spectators. She was wearing Chantry robes and had a thin, unassuming figure with a gentle face. “Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge,” she said, calm despite the violence in the soldiers’ eyes. Her accent was strange, unlike any Cam had heard before. She definitely wasn’t from Ferelden.

“They're more than that,” the leader snarled. “Now stay out of our way, sister. You protect these traitors, and you'll get the same as them.”

Cam held up a hand to the young woman, trying to motion for her to stay back. “Miss, please, you should get out of here. This could get ugly.” She looked back at the soldiers and narrowed her eyes in challenge. “These idiots don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I served at Ostagar! I know what happened! The teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens’ treachery!” one of the soldiers shouted, drawing his sword.

“Enough talk!” the leader snapped. “Teyrn Loghain demands the arrest or death of any Grey Wardens for treason!” He drew his sword as well, taking another two steps forward and motioning for his men to do the same. “Take the Warden into custody! Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way.”

“Wrong move, dumbass,” Cam growled as she drew her own sword. She met the leader head-on with a crash of metal on metal. What followed was pandemonium: bystanders screamed and scattered, Alistair and Morrigan jumped into battle, Tank was barking viciously and leaping to action, and the Chantry sister joined the fray with a dagger in each hand. Cam almost didn’t see her at first; she moved swiftly and gracefully, like some sort of dancer, and one of the soldiers fell before he even had a chance to raise his blade. The other soldiers fell soon after, and the fight ended as quickly as it had begun. Cam had managed to disarm her opponent and had him pinned on the floor, her knees on his arms and her hand on his throat. Tank stood over the man’s head, snarling down at him with his teeth inches from his face.

“I yield! I yield!” he cried. “Please don’t kill me!”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to convince me not to,” she growled. “I know you’re just going to run back to Loghain and… wait.” A fire sparked behind her eyes. “Actually, yes. Going back to Loghain is exactly what I want you to do. And when you do, deliver a message for me.”

“Yes! Anything!” he said frantically. “I’ll do anything you ask!”

“Tell Loghain the dwarf Warden survived Ostagar. And tell him I am coming for him. His days are numbered.”

“I will do that! I promise!”

She released him and he scrambled to his feet, running straight out the door without even retrieving his weapon. She watched him go, fury still boiling in her veins.

“I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help,” the Chantry sister said, tucking her daggers back into her robe. She smiled at Cam, and she felt the fire in her blood begin to cool. Something about this woman was calming, comforting. Maybe it was the melodious softness of her voice. Or maybe it was her hair, the same shade of red as her sister's.

“That was some impressive knife work. I didn’t realise the Chantry taught its people how to fight.” Cam holstered her sword. Tank sat beside her, back to his usual friendliness like he hadn’t just been ready to bite off a man’s face.

“Oh, I wasn't born in the Chantry,” she explained. “Many of us had more… colorful lives before we joined. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering.” She offered a hand to Cam to shake. “Or, I was.”

Cam took her hand and shook it, being deliberate not to be too firm this time. She was surprised at the strength she felt in the handshake. “Okay…?”

“You are a Grey Warden, yes? You fight darkspawn,” Leliana continued. “I know after all that has happened, you will need all the help you can get. That's why I am coming along.”

“I'm sorry, what?” Cam blinked, caught off guard and forgetting to release her hand. “Why?”

“The Maker told me to.”

“Uhh…” Cam deadpanned.

Leliana sighed. “I know, it sounds absolutely insane – But it's true! I had a dream! A vision!”

“Right…”

“More crazy?” Alistair muttered. “I thought we were full up…”

“We will need more than prayers,” Morrigan said with a frown.

“I can fight. I can do more than fight. As I said, I was not always a lay sister. I put aside that life when I came here, but now… if it is the Maker's will, I will gladly take it up again. Please let me help you!”

Cam looked at her dog, who was wagging his tail. He seemed on board. Trusting a dog’s judgement wasn’t the craziest thing she’d done. “Okay, fine. Welcome aboard.’

“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought,” Morrigan mumbled.

“Thank you! I will not let you down!”

Around them, the tavern crowd was returning to normal. Patrons reclaimed their barstools despite the blood and bodies of the soldiers on the floor merely feet away from them. Cam stepped past the bodies and approached the bar. The barkeep was polishing a glass that was never going to look clean with all the polishing in the world.

“Hey, sorry about the mess.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” the barkeep said with a shrug. “This kind of thing happens all the time in here. Besides, they had it coming. They’ve been a pain in my ass all day.”

“Can I at least buy a drink and make up for it?”

“Hell, you can have it on the house.” He plopped a tankard on the bartop. It was a dirty, beat up looking thing, but still looked better than anything she had drank out of at Tapsters. “Consider it my thanks for getting rid of my headache.”

“I can live with that.” She took a large swig. Damn, surface ale was good. “Seems like the shit is getting deep around here,” she offered, hoping to sus this man out for some rumors.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied, resuming his idle glass polishing. “The refugees keep flooding in, the Chantry is a day or two away from closing up and fleeing town, the townspeople have all either left or have holed up in their homes – some of the farmers are even setting up crazy defenses in their fields. I had one of them in here yesterday buy up everything he could possibly use to make poison. I don’t even know if poison works on darkspawn, but I wasn’t telling him that. That old coot is crazy on a good day.”

Cam took another swig. “Sometimes you just gotta let the crazies do their thing.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” A patron down the bar waved for a refill, and he slid the man another mug before turning back to Cam. “Fear does things to people, and Maker knows there’s more than enough to be afraid about. Darkspawn are about to come knocking on our doors, the King is dead – but you know about all that already, I bet. I heard them saying you’re a Grey Warden.”

“That isn’t a problem, is it?” she asked, wondering if she should be suspicious of the free drink she was enjoying.

“No, no, not to normal people. We all grew up hearing tales of the Wardens. They’re heroes. And we need heroes, now more than ever.”

“That’s refreshing to hear. Between those soldiers, and the bandits outside town, I was starting to think everyone had it out for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I imagine so.”

She gulped down more of the ale. “So Loghain has set a bounty on Wardens. Sounds like he’s calling the big shots. Does that mean he’s king now?”

“Not exactly. Technically Cailan’s widow, Queen Anora, sits in the throne, but she’s Loghain’s daughter so who’s to say she’s the one really in charge?”

“Loghain is the Queen’s father?” She rubbed her temples. “Fucks sake. And I thought Orzammar politics were shit.”

He chuckled. “Don’t know much about how things work down there, but as far as I’m concerned politics is all shit, no matter where you are.”

“That might be the most truthful thing I’ve heard all day.” She downed the rest of her mug. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for the drink.”

“Good luck with your Warden-ing, miss.”

“Thanks.”

She headed outside and found her (ever growing) group of friends waiting just outside the inn. Things seemed amicable enough: Leliana was getting to know Alistair and Morrigan. Maybe letting the Sister tag along wouldn’t be so bad after all. At the very least she could offer some peace to balance out the hostility between Alistair and Morrigan.

“Is everything alright?” Leliana asked upon seeing Cam’s return.

“Yeah, I was just having a chat with the barkeep. Turns out Cailan's wife is Loghain’s daughter. Talk about a sodding mess.”

Alistair just blinked. “You didn’t know that? Everyone knows that.”

“Maybe everyone on the surface,” Cam replied with a scowl.

“Oh. Right.”

“You’re from Orzammar?” Leliana asked as the group started walking to the outskirts of town.

Cam nodded and told her a little about what her life had been like back home. Leliana was an attentive audience, asking her plenty of questions. She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her, which was not something she was used to. People here on the surface were full of surprises.

Cam slowed to a stop. She could hear something, but she couldn’t quite tell what it was. It almost sounded like talking, but it was only one voice and too soft to make out any words. Praying perhaps? She tried to follow the sound, more out of curiosity than anything else. The speaking got louder as she got closer, but she still couldn’t understand any of the words. They seemed to be in a foreign language. Eventually she found where the speaking was coming from: there was a very large man in some sort of cage. He had dark grayish skin and light hair braided back into tight, uniform plaits. She had never seen anyone like that before.

“What the hell? Why is there someone in a cage all the way out here?”

“The revered mother mentioned him,” Leliana said. “She called him a ‘savage from the far north.’ Supposedly he murdered an entire family in cold blood.”

“Huh.” She approached the cage, now more curious than ever. She didn’t know there were other peoples besides dwarves, humans, and elves.

The man noticed her approach. “You are not one of my captors.”

“Nope.” She stopped just within arms reach and crossed her arms over her chest. Now that she was close, she could fully appreciate the man’s height. He was twice her height, for sure. She was essentially eye level with his stomach.

“I have nothing to say that would amuse a dwarf. Leave me in peace.”

“I assume you’re a prisoner?”

“I am in a cage, am I not?” he replied flatly. “I have been placed here by the Chantry.”

“For killing a family, I hear?”

“Correct.”

She met his eyes and there was a moment of intense silence as they simply stared at one another.

“You’re not a human, are you?” she finally asked.

“I am not.”

“You gonna tell me what you are then?”

“If it will stop these pointless questions.”

She maintained firm eye contact and silently waited for him to continue.

“I am Sten of the Beresaad – the vanguard of the Qunari people.”

“Cue… what?”

“Qunari.”

“And what is a cue..nar…ee…. doing here?”

“It matters little now. I will die soon enough.”

Behind her, at a safe distance, Morrigan spoke. “This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake.”

“Mercy?” Alistair asked incredulously. “I wouldn't have expected that from you.”

“I would also suggest Alistair take his place in the cage.”

“Yes, that's what I expected.”

“Guys,” Cam interjected. “Focus.”

“Please,” the mountainous man said. “Leave me to my fate. I shall face atonement in death.”

Cam frowned. “You’re a warrior and you’re just going to lie down and let the darkspawn kill you?”

“I am but one man. Even if I wished to stand against the darkspawn, what difference would it make?” he asked, quite matter-of-factly.

“I’m not letting that stop me.” She gestured to Alistair. “The two of us are going to find a way to end this Blight, even if we have to do it alone. No one else can so it’s up to us, end of story.”

He paused, something akin to curiosity hinting in his eyes. “You speak of ending the Blight? Are you a Grey Warden?”

“Sure am.”

“Surprising. My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens’ strength and skill. To think I would encounter one…”

Her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head. “Say… do you think the Revered Mother would let you go if I tell her I need your help?”

“Perhaps?” he replied. “It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here.”

“I’ll be back,” she said, abruptly turning on her heels and rushing back toward town. Her companions nearly had to jog to keep up with her.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Alistair asked.

“I’m getting us another ally,” she said simply. “You saw that guy. If he’s a vanguard like he says, he could really help us out.”

“Well sure, but what about the whole murdering an entire family thing?”

“Duncan said Grey Wardens don’t care about a person’s past. He gave me a chance, and I was just a criminal too.”

She didn’t give him time to argue any further. She was already at the Chantry’s doors and pushing them open. It occurred to her that she didn’t know what a Revered Mother was or what she looked like. She skidded to a stop and looked around as if the answer would materialise in front of her. In a sense it did, in the form of Leliana.

“The Revered Mother should be in the back, in her office. Follow me,” she offered. Cam wasn’t sure if she had read her mind, or if this was just her normal way of trying to be helpful, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Leliana led them to the office in question and knocked gently on the frame of the open door. “Your Reverence, do you have a moment?”

“Ah, Sister Leliana. Please, come in. Who are your friends?”

Cam hung back and let Leliana do the talking. She introduced Cam and Alistair as Grey Wardens, and neatly summarised why they were here to speak with her. The woman had a way with words. Cam never knew talking could be done so delicately, and she made it look so effortless.

“You want to free the Qunari? Absolutely not!” the old woman said, shaking her head. “He has already murdered too many people. I refuse to let him add you to his victims.”

Cam fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s one man. I can handle him.”

“Please, your grace,” Leliana pleaded. “These are dire times. Can we afford to throw away a potential ally against the Blight?”

The Revered Mother bit the inside of her cheek, looking conflicted. After a moment longer, she sighed in defeat. “Alright, I will give you the key to his cage. I pray this does not turn out to be a mistake.”

“Thank you, Your Reverence!” Leliana took the key with a grateful bow of her head.

*****

The group returned to the cage on the outskirts of town. Sten seemed mildly surprised to see them.

“You have returned,” he stated.

“Yep, and we have the key.”

He blinked in surprise, the most emotive gesture Cam had yet to see from him. “I confess I did not think the priestess would part with it.”

“It took some convincing. But she agreed to release you into my custody. Barely.”

“So be it. Set me free and I will follow you against the Blight. I have spent my life in the Beresaad – I know war. And your lands need all the help they can get. I will follow you into battle against this Blight. In doing so, I shall find my atonement.”

“Sure, cool, whatever works for you.” Leliana handed the key to Cam and she wasted no time shoving it into the keyhole and turning it. The lock clicked and the door to the cage swung open. Sten stepped out.

“May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere.”

“You and me both. Wanna help clear out some bandits and spiders? It would give me a chance to see how you fight.”

“I have no weapon.”

“I’m sure we can find something for you.”

“Very well then. Lead the way.”

Onward they went. As they walked away from town, to where the bandits and spiders were supposed to be, Cam tried to get some more conversation out of Sten. All her prompting was met with grunts or one word answers. Eventually she decided to let it go. If he wanted to be all tight-lipped about what had happened with the family he had murdered, or why he was in Ferelden to begin with, then she would just have to give him space. Maybe he would loosen up with some drinks; most people did.

The bandits saved them the trouble of searching by attacking them first. Cam and Tank probably could have taken them down alone; with the added help of Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana, it barely even counted as a fight. Sten watched from a not-too-safe distance, placid as a rock. It seemed he was studying the way his new compatriots fought. He picked up a greatsword from one of the bodies and tested its balance. The look on his face didn’t betray much, but Cam could tell he wasn’t impressed. Nonetheless, he claimed it and the group continued on its way.

Not too long after the first group, a second group of bandits attacked them. Cam muttered something about “idiots with a death wish” and this group went down even quicker than the first. One of the bandits was of a similar complexion and size as Sten. He had horns, though, which was new to her. She’d never seen a person with horns before. She stepped up beside him and studied the corpse. “One of your guys?”

He made a sour face, the most emotion she had seen from him. “No. This one was Tal Vashoth.”

“Tal va-what?”

“Tal Vashoth,” he repeated. He was stripping the dead man of his armor and donning it himself. “One who has strayed from the Qun.”

“Right,” she said, her tone saying she didn’t understand at all. At least he had some armor now. She had been concerned they wouldn’t be able to find anything his size.

The surrounding farm fields seemed to be bandit-free now. That left the spiders. Just as the bounty had said, they were able to find the nest in a small cave by a nearby riverfront. Cam tried her best to ignore the water as she considered the best way to deal with this. She knew charging into the cave would be a pretty terrible idea. It would be much easier to draw them out somehow and fight them in the open.

“Let me. The webs are flammable,” Morrigan noted, holding up a hand with flames dancing between her fingertips. She extended her hand and shot a small orb of fire from it, into the darkness of the cave. Before smoke could even begin to billow out, a flurry of hairy arachnid legs exploded out of the den. The spiders were harder to dispatch than the bandits had been, but that wasn’t saying much. It still wasn’t a difficult fight by any means. Cam did see Alistair almost take a faceful of acid, but he had raised his shield in time. Just like in the Wilds, she noted that he did indeed hold his shield slightly differently than other warriors she had seen. In this situation, it benefited him greatly, as the angle he held his shield acted to deflect the poison away from him instead of splashing it up where it could get in his eyes.

She yanked her sword out of the corpse of the final spider and looked her companions over. “Everyone alright?”

Tank barked an affirmative, and everyone else answered with their own positive responses. Satisfied, she led the party back to town and collected their payment. The small bag of coin felt nice in her hand. It was probably the most money she’d ever had to her name. She knew it wouldn’t last, but she was going to relish it while she could.

“I pray we haven’t found any more distractions to occupy our time?” Morrigan said.

“Nope, let’s get back on the road.” She had been hoping to find more supplies for their travels, but with the flood of refugees there just hadn’t been anything left. Something else to figure out on the fly, she figured. She marched toward the road and they resumed their travels, now two people stronger. If this trend continued, maybe gaining allies and building an army wouldn’t be as impossible as it seemed.

Chapter Text

Cam felt that increasingly familiar sick feeling in her stomach. She motioned to the rest of them and drew her sword, and heard Alistair doing the same. “Darkspawn,” she said, her eyes darting around as she tried to figure out where they were. She would have to ask Alistair later if there was any way to hone this Warden sense and use it to sense their location.

Ahead on the road, she could see the unholy creatures charging toward them, toward a single wagon being pulled by a stout animal with horns on its head. She had seen others on the road in her travels with Duncan. What had he called them? She didn’t have time to remember that right now. She ran forward, desperate to reach the wagon before the darkspawn did. Tank blazed forward, leaving her in the dust, and Sten wasn’t far behind. Then was Leliana, then Alistair. Morrigan’s magic arced over all of them and raised a wall of ice across the road to slow the darkspawn. Cam cussed up a storm, not appreciating being the slowest of them. Damn her short legs.

She caught up only a few beats behind them, but to her it felt much longer, embarrassingly so. She directed her frustration at the nearest darkspawn, glad there was something left for her to kill. When that one was dead, she leaped at a second opponent, then a third one after that. By the time she was done with the third one, the fight was over. Everyone seemed uninjured, thankfully, and she turned her attention to the wagon. Two dwarves were trying to calm the horned animal (ox! She suddenly remembered. Duncan had called it an ox) and get it under control before it could topple the wagon. The younger of the dwarves, barely in his teens, took the ox’s enormous nose in his hands and it seemed to calm the moment its eyes met his. The older dwarf breathed a sigh of relief. He made sure the harness was still secure on the animal and smiled at Cam. Despite the near-death experience, his smile was confident. This dwarf was oozing the type of charisma that only an Orzammar-born merchant possessed.

“Mighty timely arrival there, my friend!” He greeted. “You really saved me and my boy!”

Cam sheathed her sword. “I’m just glad we got to you in time.”

“Not as glad as I am, I can assure you!” He offered a hand. “May I ask the names of our saviors?”

Cam took his hand and shook it. “Cam. And this is Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, and Sten.” She gestured to each of her comrades. Tank barked indignantly. “Sorry. And this is Tank.”

“Gladly met! My name is Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy.”

The younger dwarf came to stand beside his father and nodded shyly. “Hello.”

Bodahn patted his son on the back encouragingly and continued. “Road’s been mighty dangerous these days. Mind if I ask where you are headed? Perhaps we are going the same way?”

“That’s… kind of a complicated answer,” Cam admitted apologetically. “Grey Warden business.”

He hummed. “Grey Wardens, hm? My, that does explain a lot.” He gestured at the dead darkspawn around them. “No offense, but I suspect there’s more excitement on your path than my boy and I can handle.”

“None taken.”

“Are you looking for someplace safe?” Alistair asked. “If you are, I suggest Redcliffe.”

Bodahn nodded. “Redcliffe, yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. Thank you.” He gestured at his wagon. “Perhaps I have something among my wares to repay you for saving our lives?”

“What do you have?” Cam asked.

“Odds and ends, this and that. Some clothing, a few antique pieces, maybe a helmet or two, some soldiers’ rations I got for real cheap, a very fancy cheese knife…”

“Rations?” Cam perked up.

“Yes, yes, a good amount of them! Some potions, too, if I remember correctly. Have a look!” He invited her into the wagon. She followed him and he opened a crate to reveal exactly what he had promised: plenty of rations, some minor potions, and a handful of other things that looked potentially useful.

“This is perfect. How much do you want for the whole crate? And maybe some backpacks to carry it in?”

“Take it,” he said. “Consider it my thanks for saving me and my boy from those darkspawn.” He dug through another crate and produced a few backpacks. She helped him load the rations and potions and supplies into them and they exited the wagon. Cam handed the backpacks to the others.

“Thanks for all this stuff,” she said, offering her hand to shake once more. He took it with a smile.

“You’re very welcome. May our paths cross again, in a safer place.”

****

Together the group made good time, and managed to put a few miles of road behind them before the sun started creeping toward the horizon. They found a place to make camp far enough away from the road to not be in immediate view of any highwaymen. After the events of the day, Cam really wanted a night of uninterrupted sleep. With multiple sets of hands to help, camp was made in no time at all. Even Tank joined the team effort and helped Cam gather firewood and carry it to camp.

Alistair chuckled when he saw the dog proudly dragging a tree limb thicker than a grown man’s leg. Cam added her armful to the stack and had a look around. There was only the tent Morrigan had brought, so the bedrolls they had acquired from Bodahn laid under the open night sky, but the sky was clear and the fire was burning strong. She made a mental note to find some tents and sat beside Morrigan. The mage was boiling a kettle that smelled of some not-so-pleasant herbs.

“What is that?” she asked, unable to keep her nose from wrinkling.

“Simply some tea,” Morrigan replied.

“I’ve had tea. It did not smell like that.”

“You can try some, if you like?”

Cam shook her head. She could only imagine how bad it would taste if it smelled like that. “I’ll pass.”

She held her hands out toward the warmth of the fire. The sun was gone from the sky by now, taking its warmth with it. She noticed Sten was also creeping closer to the source of heat. He towered over the fire pit, rubbing his hands together.

“Not a fan of the cold either, huh?” she asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Is it warmer where you’re from?”

“Much.”

She waited for him to say more, but he was silent. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, but she knew he wasn’t going to be very forthcoming with answers. It would have to be something she tried later, after finding some way to get him to warm up to her a little.

Alistair pulled a map from his pack and rolled it out in the grass. “We need to figure out where we are going first.”

Cam tucked her fingers into her armpits to keep them warm. “What’s closest?”

Alistair indicated their current location on the map, then indicated the locations they would need to travel to in order to use the treaties. “The Circle of Magi is here, on Lake Calenhad. Redcliffe is over here. You know where the gates to Orzammar are, but that’s probably the longest trek because we will need to go into the Frostback Mountains. Then there’s the Dalish, who are somewhere around here, but we need more information to know exactly where to look. They move around. My vote is for Redcliffe, personally.”

To Cam, his explanation didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Duncan had shown her a map of Ferelden once, but the brief crash course hadn’t been enough to teach her a whole lot. “My vote is anywhere but Orzammar. What about you guys?” She looked at the rest of the group.

“I vote we speak with the mages,” Morrigan offered. “The more magic we can get on our side, the better. The Dalish would also be a good option, but you are correct about us not knowing where to find them. The Brecilian Forest is vast. Blindly searching would waste valuable time.”

“I agree,” Leliana said.

Cam looked at Sten. “What about you? Thoughts?”

Sten shook his head. “I do not know these groups well enough to have an opinion. I will follow wherever you decide to go.”

“Sounds like the Circle of Magi, it is,” Alistair said. “We should be able to reach it in a few days if we make good time.”

“Then it is settled,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps we will obtain some information about the Dalish along the road.”

“Fingers crossed.” Cam looked at the map for a moment, for what reason she wasn’t sure. It still made as little sense as it always had.

With their huddle finished, the group turned its attention to dinner. The rations were as bland and dry as they looked, but a meal was a meal. They ate in silence, all lost in their own thoughts. Fatigue was starting to settle over all of them. Eventually Leliana broke the silence. “I think I am going to retire for the night. Morning will be upon us sooner than we like.”

“Good idea,” Alistair agreed. “Who wants to take first watch?”

“Allow me,” Sten said.

Alistair seemed hesitant. It was pretty obvious he did not trust him. Cam answered before he could argue.

“Thanks.” She wasn’t worried. Sure, he wasn’t chatty, but she saw no reason not to trust him with a watch. If he wanted to do something to them as they slept, he would have to do it without waking up the dog. She couldn’t see that happening.

A quick conversation later, they had the entire night’s watch schedule settled, and everyone but Sten retired to their bedrolls. Cam wrapped herself in her blanket as tightly as she could to fight off the cold night air. It helped some, but she wished she had about five more blankets. Tank seemed to pick up on her discomfort and laid down beside her, so close he was nearly laying on top of her. She was thankful for his body heat and was able to finally drift off to sleep.

Her sleep was not the welcome rest she was so desperate for. Instead it was fitful, full of visions of darkspawn so vivid she could swear they were real and breathing before her eyes. But that wasn't even the worst part. There was a dragon there, an actual sodding dragon. It roared, the sound reverberating through her and resonating deep in her bones. It made her shudder. Somewhere deep within her, she swore she could almost feel the words it was speaking. She didn't understand its intention in words, but the malicious intent and bloodthirst was so palpable that words were unnecessary. As it roared, it turned in her direction, its eyes piercing into her. She knew it saw her, and she woke with a strangled cry, shooting upright in her sleeping bag. She was drenched with a cold sweat and her body was quivering.

"What the fuck was that?!"

Alistair was kneeling beside her, and Tank was whining and licking her hand worriedly. Alistair did not seem overly worried, just sad in an odd way.

“You saw the Archdemon,” he explained. “Some of the older wardens used to say that they could understand it, but that has never been the case for me.”

She hugged her blanket, still trembling. She was positive her heart was about to pound straight out of her chest. Or she would vomit. Maybe she would vomit up her heart. “What? The? Fuck? Just? Happened?”

“You dreamt of the Archdemon,” Alistair explained patiently, gently. “That’s how Duncan knew this was a Blight, actually. An Archdemon only appears during a Blight.”

“That’s…. That’s bullshit. I’m a dwarf. Dwarves don’t dream,” she bit out defensively, like a cornered animal.

“I don’t know how it works,” he admitted apologetically. “But we all have dreams like that. It’s thanks to, well, you know.”

She did know. The secrecy of Grey Wardens having the Taint seemed a little irrelevant right now, but she didn’t have it in her to make anything of it. She just nodded. “Dreaming is shit,” she growled. “How the fuck does anyone get any rest if they just hallucinate the whole time they’re asleep?”

“Not all dreams are nightmares.”

The look she gave him told him she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He sighed.

“Wait a second,” she gave him a confused frown. “You said I saw the Archdemon. It’s a dragon? A sodding dragon??”

He nodded. “It is.”

“Shit. We have to kill a whole fucking dragon.”

He nodded again. “I’m sorry. I should have thought to warn you sooner.”

Tank whined and sat his massive head in Cam’s lap. She scratched behind his ears, finally feeling her fear trickle away thanks to the massive hound.

Morrigan stepped over to her, offering a cup of steaming liquid. It was the same foul-smelling brew from before. “Drink this. It will help you sleep.”

Cam made a face. “I don’t think I want to sleep ever again.”

“And I don’t want to have to look at Alistair. But we must all make sacrifices.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scoff or laugh. She took the cup with a pout and knocked it back in one gulp, like she would a shot of bad liquor. The taste still touched her tongue and she fought the urge to gag. It was uncomfortably warm as it went down her throat, but not so hot it would actually do any damage. Morrigan blinked in mild surprise, taken aback by her action.

Cam shuddered from the horrible taste, but within moments she felt a comforting feeling settle over her like a warm blanket. Her eyelids suddenly felt much too heavy and she laid back down with a yawn.

Her eyes closed, and she knew nothing until morning’s light, when a slobbery tongue roused her from her slumber. She groaned and tried to pull the blanket over her head. Tank responded by taking the blanket between his teeth and pulling it away from her. She tried to grab it back, but he proudly pranced away with it. She sat up with a grumpy muttering of a few choice words, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The others were already up and moving and had camp nearly packed up.

“You finally wake.” Morrigan handed her a half loaf of bread. “If I had known you were going to chug that herbal tea like a cheap tavern ale, I wouldn't have made it so potent. I was beginning to think Alistair was going to have to carry you,” she admonished, though a hint of a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Hey, it did the trick,” Cam replied flatly and yawned. She felt great, more rested than she had any right to be after that whole nightmare mess. She ate her bread and soon they were all packed up and on the road once more.

Chapter Text

“Admit it, Alistair. We’re lost.”

The young man scowled at his dwarven friend, though to her it looked more like a pout. Maybe that was just his face, though. “Hey, it’s not my fault that one of us - and I’m not going to say any names,” he mumbled under his breath with a glance at Morrigan, “had the brilliant idea of trekking through the wilderness instead of staying on the road.”

“Do you have amnesia on top of being an utter fool?” Morrigan snapped. “You saw the collapsed bridge the same as the rest of us did. The road was impassable.”

“We could have at least kept to the river until we found a way across.”

“IF we found a way across. We don’t even know for certain there was another way across. We could have followed that river for days and wound up who knows where.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we have already wound up who knows where.”

“Friends, please,” Leliana interjected. “Arguing will not make us less lost.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Morrigan said with venomous sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Should we pray to your Maker for guidance?”

Cam tried to tune out the arguing. Tempers had been rising all morning, hers included. She could really go for a bandit attack right now to blow off some steam.

A diversion did soon appear, just not in the way she had expected. There was a sudden, blinding flash of light. A fraction of a second later, a loud, earsplitting boom echoed across the landscape. It reminded her of the explosions she would sometimes hear back in Orzammar, when the mining caste would set off charges to collapse unused tunnels to keep the darkspawn away from the city. This was louder, though. Much louder. Maybe because it wasn’t muffled by a quarter mile of stone.

“What was that?!” Alistair yelped, though Cam couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears. Her eyes darted around, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. A few moments later, a plume of smoke began to rise in the distance.

Cam pointed and said something, but her words were lost to her temporary deafness. The others at least saw her gesture and followed it to see what she was indicating. She started toward the smoke in a light jog, curiosity driving her forward, and the others had no choice but to follow. By the time she reached the source, her hearing had mostly returned to normal. Tank barked and sniffed the air. That’s when she smelled it: amongst the smoke was an odd metallic odor. It was reminiscent of a forge, but not quite. Her curiosity grew. There was no reason for a forge to be out here. There was no sign of civilization at all. They hadn’t even seen a farmhouse since yesterday evening.

She approached what looked like a small crater, only a few yards apart, and peered over the edge. In the hole was a dark round object, about the size of a small melon. It was smoking and smelled hot. Very hot. She saw that the surface of it was glowing ever so softly, like cooling embers in a fireplace.

“I thought so,” Sten said, speaking up for the first time since they had left camp this morning. “It appears to be a sky stone.”

Cam looked at him incredulously. “A what?”

“A sky stone,” he repeated unhelpfully. “A stone that falls from the sky.”

Her incredulity only grew. “You’re telling me that stones just fall from the sodding sky??”

“It is rare to see one happen, but yes. They come from the stars.”

“There’s no way that’s a real thing.”

“What would I gain by deceiving you?”

She looked back to the crater, baffled. “Stones fall from the sodding sky. That’s just unnatural.”

“They often contain metal.”

“Wait, seriously? Like, metal metal?” A glimmer sparked in her eyes. “Is it metal of a quality that could be made into a sword?”

“It is possible, though I have no way of knowing by looking at it. I am not a smith.”

She bit her lip in thought. They would be headed to Orzammar eventually. If she could find a smith somewhere down there who could work with it…

“Someone is coming,” Leliana interjected. She gestured to an approaching figure. It was a man, average in height and of a slight build. He waved an arm in a friendly gesture. Cam waved back with a bit of hesitation. Until she knew this stranger’s intentions, she was not letting her guard down.

“Greetings!” he called. “I see I wasn’t the only one to hear that explosion.”

“Yeah, Sten said it fell from the sky,” Cam replied with a gesture at the towering man beside her. “Not sure if I believe him though.”

“Oh! A meteor! That explains it!” the man chirped.

“Meteor,” Cam repeated. She had head that word somewhere before, but she couldn’t remember for the life of her where that had been. Probably a story Rica had told her when they were kids. Unlike Cam, she could read. While Cam had been learning to brawl, Rica had been learning to read and write. She would often practice by finding books and reading them aloud to Cam before they went to bed.

The man got close enough to peer into the crater and nodded. “Yes, that looks like a meteor. They’re quite valuable, you know?”

Cam narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re here?”

He held up his hands. “Originally that was my intent, yes. But you got here first, so you have a right to it. Besides, I wouldn't stand a chance against one of you alone, let alone all of you. I am no fighter.” He walked around the hole in the ground so he was within arms reach, and offered a hand. “Name’s Levi Dryden, by the way.”

She took his hand and shook it, quickly introducing herself and her friends.

He looked at her and paused, his eyes suddenly affixed to her chest.

She followed his eyes to her chest and scowled, her cheeks coloring. “What the hell do you think you’re looking at?”

“Oh!” He shook his head. “N-no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t…. It’s your necklace. That is what caught my attention.

“My necklace?” She fiddled with her Joining pendant. “This one?”

He nodded. “Yes. Is that a Grey Warden insignia?”

She blinked. “Uh, yeah… what’s it to you?” She remembered the bounty on any Wardens and felt her suspicion growing again. In her periphery, she saw Alistair stiffen. She wasn’t the only one with suspicions.

“What fortune!” he exclaimed, either not noticing her suspicion or ignoring it. “I had given up hope after hearing they all died at Ostagar. The Maker Himself must have brought our paths together!”

“What?”

“I need a Grey Warden’s help.”

“With what? You’re awfully calm for someone with a darkspawn problem…”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s… a bit of a long story. “An ancestor of mine was a Grey Warden, you see. But she was accused of some pretty terrible things. Treasonous things. It has been a stain on my family name ever since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alistair said sympathetically. “But what could we possibly do to help?”

“I believe you can help me clear my family’s name. I was actually in correspondence with an old friend who was in the Wardens, but he had something urgent come up before he had the chance to help me. Then news came through about Ostagar, and, well, I suppose you can figure the rest.”

“Indeed,” Alistair nodded gravely. “We were the only two Wardens to survive Ostagar. Who was your friend, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“His name was Duncan.”

Alistair and Cam both flinched at the mention of the name. Levi noticed.

“You knew him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

The trio fell silent for a while. Eventually Levi spoke up. “I’m sorry. You must have much more pressing matters than my troubles. I should leave you be.”

Alistair was first to stop him. “No, it’s alright. If Duncan agreed to help you, he must have found some great importance in it. Let us help you, in his honor.”

“Are you certain?”

Cam nodded. “Yeah.” She fidgeted with the pendant of her necklace. “It’s what he would have wanted.” She took a deep breath, pulling herself together. She made a point not to look at Alistair. If the tone of his voice had been any indication, he was on the verge of tears again. Looking at his face right now would only make her own struggle to remain composed even tougher. She looked at the rock in the crater. It was no longer glowing, and the smoke coming off of it was tapering off to a wisp. “Why don’t you tell us more about this ancestor of yours while we wait for that thing to cool off?”

Levi recounted what he knew of his family’s history. His great-great-grandmother, Sophia Dryden, had been a Grey Warden way back during the rule of Ferelden’s King Arland. Cam had never heard that name before, but that was to be expected. Cailan was the only human king’s name she had actually ever heard, and that hadn’t been until she had met him at Ostagar. Maybe Orzammar’s more prominent citizens knew the names of human kings, but what good would that knowledge have served her while fighting for her existence in the slums? She just nodded as he continued his story. Apparently this Sophia woman had been the last Warden-Commander in Ferelden, whatever that meant. It sure sounded important. She had led some sort of rebellion against King Arland at a place called Soldier’s Peak. Some sort of Warden fortress, from what she could infer. Obviously the rebellion against King Arland had been a failure, so the king had banished the Wardens from Ferelden entirely. The Dryden family had been stripped of their nobility and lands, and for the last nearly 200 years, the Drydens had tried unsuccessfully to regain their status. Eventually they had found some footing as merchants, and remained as such until the current day. Apparently Levi had met Duncan a while back and the two men had planned to reclaim Soldier’s Peak for the Wardens and find evidence to redeem the Dryden name. That part did make sense to Cam. Most of the nobility of Orzammar held their positions of high status with their family names alone. With the ancient Thaigs lost to the darkspawn, there was no actual territory to lay claim to. Name was everything.

That made her think of all the expeditions noble families had led to their lost Thaigs, and how nearly all of them ended with the expeditions disappearing altogether and assumed dead. The expeditions that did return almost never came back with anything to show for it.

“What makes you think anything is left?” she asked, hopping into the hole to test the temperature of the space rock. It was still warm, but had cooled off enough to handle. “If it’s been two centuries, surely bandits and scavengers would have picked the place clean?”

“No one has been to Soldier’s Peak since the rule of Arland. At least none that have come back to tell about it. It’s only accessible through a maze of tunnels through the mountains, and no one knows the way. Well, except myself. I finally found the way back a few years ago. I’d been slowly mapping out the passages for years.”

She picked up the chunk of material, surprised by its weight. It was heavier than she expected for a rock of that size. It must have been from the metal in it. She brushed the dirt off it the best she could before tucking it into her backpack. Then she tilted her head at Levi in confusion. “Wait, if you know where it us already, then what do you need help with?”

“The tunnels are safe, unless you find a corner where some spiders or a bear has settled in. But the Peak, well… it’s supposedly haunted.”

She looked at him blankly. “It’s what?”

“Haunted. You know, with ghosts and demons and Maker knows what else.”

She just blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh… are there not ghosts in Orzammar?”

“Uh no?” She felt a pang of embarrassment, though she wasn’t about to let it show. Was it really so obvious to even strangers that she wasn’t familiar with anything here on the surface? “I’ve heard that some places in the old Thaigs and the Deep Roads have enough lyrium that it traps the memories of something that happened there and replays it over and over again – like a stage play. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never seen it.”

The two just looked at each other in silence, neither quite understanding what the other was describing. Morrigan chuckled. “I will explain along the way, should we choose to assist this man. It is related to the Fade, and by extension. Magic.”

“Oh.” Cam said dumbly. “Well, uh… what do you guys think? An old Grey Warden base sounds useful to me. There might be equipment we can use.”

“And reclaiming it would offer a potential stronghold for us to rebuild the order in Ferelden once the rest of this mess is resolved,” Alistair added.

Sten and Leliana both nodded in agreement.

Cam climbed out of the crater. “Great.” She offered a hand to Levi. “Guess we’re on board. Lead the way.”

*****

It took less than half a day to reach their destination, and half of that had been following Levi through the system of caves. Cam felt some relief at being surrounded by stone on all sides again; Alistair seemed less enthusiastic about it. At some points he seemed almost claustrophobic. And then there was poor Sten: he had to crouch and squeeze himself through some points. Once or twice Cam was unsure if he would be able to make it. But he had remained calm and composed and had negotiated the tight spaces with success.

While they walked through the darkness, following the light of the lantern Levi had brought, Morrigan talked Cam through the fundamentals of magical theory. She explained the Fade, The Veil, spirits, demons, how it all related to magic, and a dozen other things. Cam tried her best to keep up, but it was so much to remember. In the end, all she really had a solid grasp on was that magic came from the Fade, spirits and demons lived there, the Veil separated it from the “real” world, and demons really wanted out. The thing that confused her the most was that the Fade wasn’t anywhere, but was also everywhere all at once. The idea of a place without a solid location was way over her head.

Eventually they were emerging into sunlight.Cam made a face when she saw the snow. The cave had been uncomfortably chilly, so she should have expected to see white on the ground once they left the passageway. Nonetheless, she was less than thrilled to see the cold powdery nonsense covering the dirt.

“Fuck me,” she grumbled, noticing with disdain that she could see her breath. “And my coat is still at Ostagar…”

Somewhere ahead, she could hear the faint sounds of shouting. It was eerie, hearing voices despite there being no tracks in the snow aside from their own. And the voices didn’t seem to echo. With the tall stone walls of the fortress rising into the cloudy sky above, that shouldn’t have been possible.

Then, without warning, the shouting was around them, and translucent shapes materialized out of thin air. Those shapes solidified into the forms of soldiers, bustling around them. Cam was about to reach for her weapon. She didn’t know where these things had come from, or what they were, but she didn't appreciate getting snuck up on. However, as she reached for her weapon, one of the spectral figures passed straight through her as if she wasn’t even there.

“What the hell?”

Levi stood behind them, looking spooked, but Cam saw that Morrigan was utterly unphased.

“The Veil is thin here,” she stated. “Someone must have done something here to weaken it.”

“I’m liking this less and less,” Alistair mumbled.

Around them, the soldiers continued bustling about. Their voices blended together in a jumble of indiscernible words, but it was easy to tell what was happening: they were preparing an assault on the fortress. The scene continued for a few moments longer, before the soldiers faded away in much the same way they had appeared.

Cam stood, dumbfounded. “The fuck…?”

“Be alert!” Leliana shouted. She drew her bow and aimed it at some approaching shapes. These were solid. She let an arrow fly, and it struck one of the approaching figures and it fell with an unholy, garbled cry.

“Corpses, possessed by spirits,” Morrigan stated, brandishing her staff. “This should not be much trouble.”

Indeed, Morrigan spoke the truth. Between her magic and Leliana’s arrows, the shambling corpses fell before they could even get close enough to engage in face to face combat. The group continued up a massive stone stairway, wide enough for a dozen men to walk side by side. At the top of the stairs was a pair of massive wooden doors. Time and ice had seized the hinges, and it took both Cam and Sten to push them open.

Inside, it was just as cold as outside, but at least there was no wind. Cam rubbed her arms. “Okay, now what? What are we even looking for?”

“Anything, really,” Levi answered. “Documents, journals, letters… surely someone kept a record of what truly happened here. From what we saw outside, we know that King Arland’s men attacked Soldier’s Peak. But we don’t know why. Was it in response to the rebellion? Or did the Wardens rebel because they were attacked?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

They walked through the main entryway, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. A second pair of doors stood at the end, and these thankfully opened much easier. In the next room, more ghostly figures stood gathered around a raised balcony. They were all wearing armor or robes with a familiar griffon insignia. Up on the balcony, a woman stood, addressing the crowd.

“That’s my great-great-grandmother!” Levi exclaimed. “She looks just like her portrait.”

“Men, I won’t lie to you,” the ghostly woman said. Her voice was strong, authoritative, despite her incorporeal form. “The situation is grim. Our forces outnumbered….”

“A pep talk?” Alistair murmured, and Cam quickly silenced him with an elbow to the ribs.

“But we are Wardens! Darkspawn flee when they hear our horns! Archdemons die when they taste our blades! So are we to bend knee to a mere human despot? No! I, for one, will never give up. I, for one, will never surrender, just to dance on Arland’s gallows. So I propose, here and now, in these hallowed halls where generations of our brethren stood vigil against darkspawn and evil, that we send a message to that fat bastard! In this sacred place, proud men, strong men, stood defiant and would rather die than submit to tyranny!”

The surrounding men cheered, and soon the entire scene faded away just like the soldiers outside had.

“Wow,” Levi breathed. “Grandmother was so inspiring. No wonder her men looked up to her.”

“It kinda sounds like this Arland guy was a piece of crap,” Cam offered. “She called him a tyrant?”

“Perhaps? Not much is known about King Arland himself. The war of succession that followed his death caused so much chaos and destruction that many records were lost.”

“We keep going, then,” Leliana said. “The answers you seek may yet lie ahead.”

Chapter Text

Cam led the way through the halls and stairwells of the fortress. They encountered more reanimated corpses and skeletons in many of the rooms, but it was nothing a few arcane bolts and a sword couldn’t handle. The group fell into a comfortable rhythm of clearing rooms of undead and checking them for any kinds of records. Any books they did find had been burned nearly to ash. Levi was beginning to look discouraged.

Cam clapped him on the back, maybe a little too roughly judging by the way he winced slightly. “Hey, don’t give up yet. We still have a lot of fortress to search.”

“But everything has been burned to a crisp. Everything. What if the entire place is like this?”

Alistair shook his head. “I don’t think that will be the case. If this entire place had been torched, the doors would have been destroyed. Most of them are intact. This is more concentrated, possibly done with magic.”

“Or demons,” Morrigan added.

Alistair shot her a nervous glance. “Or demons.”

They continued their sweep of the old fort. Now that she was conscious of it, Cam noticed that a lot of the centuries-old scorch marks were vaguely “people-shaped.” She assumed that was what Alistair and Morrigan meant when they said they thought it was demons. She had never seen one so she couldn't say.

As she opened the door to the next room, an acrid scent hit her nose– one of smoke and ash and sulfur and death. She scrunched up her face at the odor.

“Ah, we have found the demons,” Morrigan noted, her casual tone a stark contrast to the nervous and paling expressions of Alistair and Levi. Cam didn’t have time to see how Leliana or Sten were handling this. A bolt of fire struck the doorframe mere inches from her face, splintering the wood. She flinched away and felt a couple shards graze her cheek.

“The fuck was that?” she yelped.

Alistair yanked her away from the open doorway and behind his shield. “Are you okay?”

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and scowled at the blood smeared across it. She always hated how much facial wounds bled. “Yeah, it’s just a scratch.” She went to pry his hand off her arm so she could charge back into the fight. Her hand lingered on his for a split second and she felt a strange twinge in her chest. The concern in his gesture was something she was not used to. Sure, her sister and Leske had cared for her, but it had never felt quite like this. She didn’t know what to make of it. She quickly pulled away and gripped her sword. Without saying another word, she charged into the room.

Sten and Tank had already rushed inside and were handling a cluster of walking corpses. Arrows from Leliana whizzed past the open door frame and into some others on the opposite side of the room. Morrigan was also taking potshots through the open door, sending bolts of ice toward her own target. Cam saw what she was aiming at, and for a split second she didn’t know what to make of it. It was large, probably close to Sten’s size. The best way she could describe it was if a bucket of lava had been dumped over a man. It had defined arms, but the head and neck had melted into its shoulders, and instead of legs it seemed to be melting into the floor. How the hell was she supposed to fight that?

She tightened her hands around the hilt of her sword and gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t know if a blade could hurt it unless she tried. It had drawn her blood first, so it was personal now. She would kill this sodding thing, even if she had to take Morrigan’s staff to do it.

She swung at it, and was pleasantly surprised when her blade hit something fleshy. She didn’t know how, but somehow this flaming…thing…had a body under that molten exterior. Good. That meant she could damage it.

It roared and swiped at her with its claw-like fingers. She ducked and it missed easily, and she took the opportunity to make another swing at its midsection. It snarled in pain and anger. She kept dodging and striking, and it wasn’t long before the creature’s attacks began to slow. Since it wasn’t bleeding or showing physical wounds, she wasn’t sure how much damage she had been doing. Seeing it slow was a good sign she was making progress. A few blows later it let out a deafening screech, and collapsed into a shapeless heap on the floor. That heap evaporated into nothingness, leaving a round patch of scorched flooring.

“Okay will someone tell me what the fuck I just killed?”

“That was a rage demon,” Alistair said, stepping up beside her with his sword and shield still in his hands. He poked the scorched floor with the toe of his boot. “You’ve really never seen a demon before?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “There’s not exactly a ton of magic and demons in Orzammar.”

“Could have fooled me. You handled that like a Templar.”

She stared at the floor. “Where did it go when I killed it? There’s no body…”

“That’s just what happens,” he said with a shrug.

“But it’s actually dead, right? It didn’t, like… disappear and is gonna pop up somewhere else?”

He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. There will probably be more, but this one is gone.”

“Good enough for me.”

Their attention was drawn by an excited shout from across the room. Cam looked in the direction of the shout and saw Levi leaning over a table, delicately leafing through a marginally intact book. The cover and corners were singed, and it looked about ready to fall apart. But he appeared to be reading, so at least some of the text must have survived.

“...months without supplies… running low…” he read aloud. Cam peered around his elbow to look at the book. She couldn’t make out any of the words, though she did recognise at least a couple letters. That was more than she could have said before leaving Orzammar.

Levi continued reading what he could make out. Much of the handwriting was smudged, but he was able to piece together some details about the Wardens stationed here planning a rebellion against King Arland, and a drawn out “starve them out” siege by Arland’s men.

“There is no mention of my grandmother, but this is a start.” He straightened, and he had some light of optimism in his eyes. “Let’s keep going. If this journal survived, there may be others.”

Cam smirked. “That’s more like it. Glad to hear no more quitter talk.” She went to clap him on the back again. He flinched in preparation for what he knew was coming, so she just patted his arm with a chuckle.

*****

Things were quiet for a while. The next handful of rooms they searched were devoid of pretty much everything. There was an empty crate here and a barrel there, or a pile of empty burlap sacks. She assumed these rooms must have been where the Wardens stationed here had kept their supplies, and after months of being trapped here those supplies had evaporated. After finding nothing more than cobwebs, the group ascended a large spiral staircase.

Before they could even reach the top of the stairs, Cam could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She had never felt anything like that before. Before she could ask, Morrigan gestured for everyone to stop.

“There is something wrong with the Veil up there,” she said. “Be on your guard.”

Everyone gripped their weapons just a little tighter, except Levi, who looked like he was either going to wet himself or faint.

“I think I will stay here on the stairs,” he murmured nervously.

“That would probably be a good idea,” Cam said. The man was no fighter, and having him hang back in a safe location would keep them from being distracted by protecting him. “Ready, everyone?” Cam waited a beat for everyone to confirm that they were indeed ready for whatever waited ahead. Then, with her greatsword resting across her shoulders, behind her neck, she grabbed the handle of the wooden door at the top of the stairs and threw it open.

She had been expecting to see more of those molten lava demons. Instead what she found was another spectral “memory” replaying events of the past. The woman from the main hall was standing amidst a flurry of fighting, barking orders. Soldiers and Wardens clashed blades.

“Make them pay for every inch, men!” the woman shouted. Behind her, some mages were chanting and making strange motions with their hands. Cam didn’t know what they were doing, but it didn’t look good. Glowing circles on the ground throughout the entire room shone brightly. From those circles rose demons like the one she had fought downstairs, along with some others that looked different. Some had spindly, skeletal limbs; some had sagging, rotted flesh hanging from their bodies. The demons charged into the fray, shredding soldiers to shreds in seconds. The soldiers began to retreat, some screaming and straight up turning tail and running.

“More Avernus!” the woman shouted. “Whatever it takes!”

One of the mages behind her, seemingly the one in charge, changed more strange words and even more demons emerged from the summoning circles. These, however, attacked the nearest person regardless of who they were. Soldiers and Wardens were struck down indiscriminately.

“No!” the mage, Avernus, cried. “I command you to fight the king’s men!”

A particularly large demon emerged from the circle nearest Avernus, one of the horrific rotted flesh looking ones. Its voice was deep and raspy and horrid as it towered over him and spoke. Cam didn’t know the things could speak. That was mildly unsettling.

“Fool,” it said, its voice somehow clear despite the chaos around it. Cam wasn’t sure if that was because of some sort of demon magic, or if it was a weird thing that happened with this haunting crap. “So much death… suffering… and oh yes – blood!” it growled, that terrible voice somehow gleeful. “The Veil is torn now. Your soul is mine, Avernus!”

The mage backed up a step, then two. “Acolytes, retreat!” he said, his voice trembling. “The battle is lost…” The mages around him were struck down by other demons and he turned around and sprinted out of sight.

“Avernus!” the commanding woman shouted after him, but it was pointless. Demons continued slaughtering anyone they could, and just like before, the figures began to evaporate into nothingness.

The silence that followed was deafening. After all of the sounds of battle echoing through the room, it was jarring to suddenly hear nothing at all.

“Blood magic and demon summoning. Fantastic,” Alistair mumbled sarcastically. “That explains a lot.”

Cam looked at him blankly. “It does?”

“Yes, those things weaken the Veil and can cause it to tear and spew out demons.”

Cam bit her lip thoughtfully as she tried to file that information away with everything Morrigan had explained to her on the way here. There was no way she was ever going to keep all this straight. Magic was even more complicated than reading. “Right… So what do–”

She was cut off by barking at her side. Demons were beginning to climb out of the summoning circles around the room. She hadn’t even realised the circles were still there. A thick layer of dust had covered the entire floor and had hidden them from view. The presence of her group must have stirred the dormant rings back to life.

“Let’s get this over with,” Cam said, drawing her weapon.

This fight was a bigger challenge than the walking corpses had been, for sure. Demons could really take a beating before they went down, especially the fiery ones. By the time they had all been felled, Cam was breathing heavily and had broken out in a sweat despite the cold.

Levi peeked his head out of the stairwell when things quieted down, and emerged only when he was positive the demons had all been dealt with.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, looking around at the mess of summoning circles. “The Wardens, they… they summoned demons. And my grandmother… she knew. She encouraged it…” He was shaken up by this revelation.

Cam winced sympathetically. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. His earlier hope for a redemption of his family name seemed to be in tatters.

“What do you want to do?” Alistair asked gently. “I’m afraid you aren’t going to find the answers you had been seeking. Would you like to leave?”

Levi sighed. “No, we have already made it this far. Maybe there is something of my grandmother’s somewhere I can salvage so I don’t walk away completely empty-handed.”

Cam nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, you still owe us a fortress, remember?”

Levi chuckled, cracking a tiny smile. “Indeed I do.”

*****

Morrigan expressed some concerns about leaving the summoning circles, but there wasn’t much that could be done about them. She would have to study the enchantments for hours, maybe even days, to figure out how to unravel them. And Cam was not eager to stand guard and fight an endless stream of demons while that happened. So the group settled on locking the door behind them and barricading it with some broken furniture before moving on. It wouldn’t stop anything from pursuing them, but at least it would buy them a little extra time. Sten and Morrigan agreed to stay at the barricaded door in case demons started to break through. Leliana offered to stay with them as well. Counting the dog, that split the fighting force of their group in half perfectly, which seemed like a solid plan. That way, neither group was more likely to become overwhelmed should something happen.

The hallway beyond their haphazard barricade was silent as the grave, and about as cold as one. Cam shivered as the cold air settled into the sweat on her brow. She would kill for a fire and a warm ale right about now. The hallway came to a T, both ways ending in more heavy wooden doors. One of the doors had frost around the edges. Cam figured that one must lead outside. No wonder it was so damn cold in here. She headed for the other door instead. She was not ready to face the frigid outdoors yet.

The door at the other end of the hallway had a Grey Warden griffon crest painted on it, faded by time. Cam shot Alistair a questioning glance, but he only answered with a shrug. It was the first time a door in this place had been decorated with anything. This room had to be important, but there was no way to know for sure until they opened the door and looked inside. Cam turned the handle and the door opened with a creak of rusty hinges.

“What the fuck?” she blurted upon seeing (and smelling) what waited inside. It was definitely the room of someone important, with a bunk in one corner and a desk in the middle of the room. A few weapon racks lined one side, and moth-eaten tapestries hung on the walls. That wasn’t what had gotten her attention, though. No, that was the figure of a woman in full plate, sans helmet, sitting at the desk. She had her feet on the desk and was reclined in her chair. Her face was colorless and splotched with decay, her eyes sunken into her skull. The stench of decay hung in the air. At first glance Cam thought she was looking at a body. But then the body blinked, grinned with its shriveled lips, and sat up.

“Step no further, Warden. This one would speak with you,” the corpse spoke, its voice similar to that of the demon in the spectral flashback.

Cam stopped mid-step. Behind her, she could hear Levi gasp and say it was his grandmother. Or her body, at least. She reached for her sword, resting her hand on the hilt but not yet drawing it.

“The fuck?”

The corpse rose to its feet. “This Peak is mine,” it said. It gestured at itself. “This one is the Dryden. Commander. Sophia. All these things.”

Cam tightened her hand on her weapon.

“You have slain many demon ilk to get here,” it continued. “This one would propose a deal.”

“Don’t listen to it,” Alistair hissed. “It is a demon, possessing the corpse of Levi’s grandmother.”

“Indeed,” the demon said. “The Soldier’s Peak traps me. This one sees so many tantalizing places in the Dryden’s memories. This one would see the world herself.”

“But you’re… trapped..?” Cam asked slowly. None of this made any sense to her. No way was she going to make a deal with this thing, but she at least wanted to try to get some answers from it.

“Yes. Trapped. For this one to be free, into the old mage tower you go, and destroy.”

“Mage tower?”

“Out the door, across the walkway,” it answered, pointing in the direction of the frosty door Cam had been all too happy to avoid. “Something inside keeps my kind locked away.”

“And why the hell would I do something stupid like that? Free you? Out of the goodness of my heart?” she said sarcastically.

“I offer a deal. In return for freedom, this one seals the Veil. No more demons, no more enemies. Your Peak would be safe.”

She furrowed her brow. “Yeah no, that sounds like nug shit. I’m not an idiot.” She finally drew her sword.

The demon chuckled, a deep and raspy sounds like nails on slate. “You will regret that.”

She said nothing more. From here on out, her sword would speak for her. And it did, though the demon put up a better fight than she had come to expect from the other walking corpses they had fought so far. But it went down, eventually, just like all the others had. The fight had been a little more than Cam had counted for, however. When it was over and the corpse laid lifeless on the floor, she leaned against the desk to catch her breath. She looked at Alistair, and he was doing the same. Even Tank seemed to be showing some signs of fatigue as he panted.

“I vote we go back downstairs and make camp,” Alistair said.

She glanced at a nearby window. Though it was clouded with dust and cobwebs and frost, she could see less light peeking through from outside. “Shit, is it almost night already?” She had definitely lost track of time, between all the fighting and exploring.

“It would seem so.” He offered a hand. “Come on, let’s call it quits for today and get some rest. Soon it will be too dark in here to do much good anyway.”

She took his hand and stood up from her lean against the desk. They headed back into the hallway to rejoin the others. She almost forgot to let go of his hand for a moment, but thankfully realised her mistake before the others were in sight and pulled it back, pretending she had to adjust her belt.

The others were still where they had left them, Sten was standing watch with unblinking focus and Cam wasn’t sure if he had even blinked. He did seem mildly relieved to see her, though. Or that could be her imagination. Leliana and Morrigan seemed more relaxed, though there was an air of tension between them.

“We heard the fighting and thought about coming to back you up,” Leliana said.

“Correction,” Morrigan added. “She considered rushing to your aid. I had faith in your abilities.”

Cam glanced between the two women and decided she was too exhausted for whatever nonsense the two had going between them. Better to disregard Morrigan’s quip entirely. “Any more demons?”

Sten shook his head. “No. Only petty squabbling.”

That explained his relief.

“Right,” she said awkwardly. It dawned on her in that moment that everyone looked to her as some kind of leader. That was unsettling. “So… we should probably make camp for the night.”

“Agreed,” Sten said. “Fatigue will only hinder us if we continue.”

“Our thoughts exactly. Let’s go back downstairs.”

Chapter Text

They returned to the first floor and set up camp in what had probably been a mess hall at some point. The tables were mostly broken, which made them easy to push off to the side of the room to make space for their bedrolls. The broken wood also provided more than enough material to burn in the large fireplace against one wall. They got a healthy fire burning and set up their bedding, and Morrigan got a pot of stew cooking on the hearth. Cam pulled her bedroll closer to the warmth of the fireplace. As Morrigan cooked, she laid back on her bedroll and felt the fatigue settling over her body. She was going to sleep like a rock tonight, so long as those sodding nightmares stayed away.

She hadn’t realised she had dozed off until she felt someone gently shaking her shoulder.

“Dinner is ready,” Alistair’s voice said.

She groaned and opened her eyes with a yawn. “Did I fall asleep?”

He smiled softly. “Only a little.”

She sat up with another groan. Her body had begun to stiffen, but there was more than just that. Something deeper felt… off. The fatigue and stiffness ran deeper. She hadn’t ever felt quite like this before.

Alistair must have seen the look on her face and was about to ask something, but she didn’t hear what he said. She sneezed once, then twice, and then a third time. She sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Morrigan was handing out bowls of stew, and Alistair took one for Cam and offered it to her when she was done sneezing. He winced sympathetically. “Looks like you’re coming down with a cold.”

She took the warm bowl and wished she could climb inside of it. “Of course I’m cold. It’s sodding snowing outside.”

“No, I mean…” He tilted his head at her in mild confusion. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a cold before?”

She frowned.

“You’ve seriously never been sick before?”

“What? Of course I’ve been sick.” Her frown deepened. He was making less and less sense. “There’s always something making its rounds in Dust Town. And the bad food doesn’t help. But I don’t know what.--” she sneezed again.

“A cold is a kind of illness,” Morrigan offered as she sat nearby with her own dinner. “Perhaps you’ve never caught one before because it is warm where you are from?”

“Are you telling me the cold can make me sick?” she grumped. Just when she thought the temperatures up here weren’t bullshit enough…

“It is more complicated than that, but I doubt you care for a full explanation.”

She just grumbled and turned her attention to her stew. It was warm and made her feel a little better, but only because she was less freezing. That relief didn’t even last long, and soon after finishing her meal she was wrapped up in a blanket and scooting ever closer to the fireplace. The sneezing kept getting worse and her nose was running like a damn fountain. She had half a mind to shove some fabric scraps into her nostrils to plug them, as she had done a few times in the past after taking a fist to the nose. She would probably just sneeze them out, though.

“Fuck this. I’m going to bed,” she grumbled. She threw herself into her bedroll, blanket and all. “Someone wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.”

Her eyes closed and, despite the cold and her miserable sneezing, she was asleep within moments. She slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable. Every time she turned to her other side, she could feel something moving inside her face and the other side of her nose would start running worse. It was only after Tank had laid down beside her and put the weight of his head on her was she able to finally settle into any actual rest.

Morning came, and her first thought was to demand why no one had woken her to take a shift on watch duty. That thought quickly left as she realised just how shitty she felt. Last night had been nothing compared to this. She could barely breathe, her whole body ached, her head felt like it was being crushed under a boulder, and on top of all of that, she had begun coughing too.

“Oh boy,” Alistair said. He was already awake and helping clean up camp. “You look really sick.”

“Do I?” she snipped sarcastically. Her voice was nasally and bounced around in her head. In all her past broken noses, she had never sounded this bad. Not even when she had broken her nose so bad that Leske had to punch her in the face from the other side to straighten it back out.

“You should rest today. Let the rest of us take care of things. If we find anything useful, we will let you know.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not laying around all day like some sort of invalid. I’ll live.” She stood and started rolling up her bedding to demonstrate just how much she abhorred that idea. He tried to argue, but she didn’t even pretend not to hear him. Over her dead body was she going to sit around while everyone else did all the work. She packed up her bedding and forced some breakfast down, even though her appetite was nonexistent. Morrigan offered to make her some tea or a remedy to help her symptoms, but she was in no rush to try anything else that tasted like whatever she had given her that first night at camp.

With camp put away and the fireplace down to embers, the group returned their attention to the task at hand: reclaiming Soldier’s Peak. With the tear in the Veil, there was no question that the demons would continue to run rampant. Levi decided it would be safest if he remained down here. The others could fight more freely without having to worry about his safety.

As they made their way back to where they had left off yesterday, Cam told Morrigan about the demon’s attempt to strike a deal with her to fix the Veil.

“You were wise to refuse,” she said. “Demons will lie to get what they desire. It likely would have fled the moment it was free. However,” she said with a thoughtful hum. “It may have spoken some truth. I can sense powerful magic of some kind nearby. That tower in question may hold something of use.”

“That was my plan anyway,” Cam stated. “If you think there’s something important over there, that just makes me think I had the right idea.” Despite how terrible she felt, she felt a hint of pride. Maybe she was capable of this whole leadership thing after all.

The sigil room was empty when they reached it, but only until they entered. Once they got close enough to the summoning circles, demons began to emerge from them once more. There weren't as many as yesterday, thankfully, but there were more than enough to reinforce the importance of repairing the Veil. They made quick work of the demons that emerged and continued onward before their presence drew even more. Like yesterday, they barricaded the door to slow down anything that tried to follow them.

Cam eyed the frost-covered door with disdain. It was going to be so damn cold out there. “Whose idea was it to make an outdoor walkway to the tower? Couldn’t they have just made a sodding hallway?”

Alistair chuckled and patted her shoulder. “It’s probably just some battlements that connect the two areas.”

She scowled. “It’s still stupid.” She kicked the door lightly with the toe of her boot, causing some ice to chip off. Her scowl deepened.

“We shall remain here to keep any demons at bay,” Morrigan said. “If you need my assistance with anything magical, come back and we can regroup.”

“Sure.” Cam nodded and gripped the doorknob. It felt like a block of ice in her hand. She cursed and tried to open it, but it was frozen shut.”

“Allow me to do something about that,” Morrigan offered, holding up a hand. Little tendrils of flame danced across her fingertips.

“I got it,” Cam growled. She backed up half a pace and then kicked the door with the full force of her lower body. She had tried to aim for the wood beside the knob, but unlike the dozens of doors she had kicked down in the past, this one had been built by humans. Annoyingly tall humans. The knob was roughly at chest height for her, so she wound up kicking it lower than intended. Fortunately, the door was old, and she heard the wood crack. She kicked it again and saw some daylight. She could push it open the rest of the way, but decided to seal the deal with one final kick instead. The door flew open with a splintering of wood.

She stepped out into the cold, cussing up a storm as a frigid breeze whipped around her. Maybe she should ask Morrigan to set her on fire.

Thankfully the walkway was relatively short, with only a half dozen archer slits or so. She reached the door on the other side (and almost slipped on a patch of ice or two) and jiggled the doorknob. Locked.

“Fuck you,” she growled, either at the door or whoever had left it locked. She prepared to kick this door down as well, but Alistair stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He jangled a keyring.

“I found these.”

She huffed in mild disappointment but stepped aside. He tried a couple of the keys before finding the correct one, and soon the door opened with ease. She was a little surprised this one hadn’t been frozen shut like the last one, but she found the reason for that once the door was open.

It was WARM inside. She rushed in without a second thought and slammed the door closed the second Tank and Alistair were inside as well. Only then did she allow herself to look around.

Originally the room had served as a simple foyer, but it had been converted into a combination living space and study. A welcoming fire burned in the fireplace. There was a small cot on one side, made up with meticulously tidy blankets and a single pillow. The bedding was old, but clean and well maintained. There was also a dresser and a wash basin, but her attention was drawn by the study setup on the other side of the room. There were bookshelves, a desk, and so many drawings and papers nailed to the walls that none of the actual wall was visible.

“Someone is living here?” Alistair murmured in disbelief.

“Seems like it. Dunno where they went though.” She shrugged and paced over to the desk. It was covered in piles of books and loose papers and a handful of other items she didn’t recognise. “What is all of this?”

Alistair stood beside her. “Research?” He took a moment to study the items and uneasiness crept on to his face.

“What?”

“These are magical research tools,” he said. “For pretty advanced magic, too, I think. I’ve only ever seen these tools used by senior mages, not apprentices. We should be careful.”

She began leafing through the piles of papers. She couldn’t read a word of any of it; even if she knew more than a few letters, the handwriting was way too messy for her to attempt to discern. “What does this stuff say? Should we go get Morrigan?”

Alistair spotted a journal and carefully began thumbing through it. His expression went from nervous, to uncomfortable, to downright horrified.

“What is it?”

“Blood magic,” he said in a hushed tone. “Whoever wrote this was doing experiments with blood magic – on Grey Wardens.”

She raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

He began reading some excerpts from the journal, pausing to skip over the more gruesome parts. He was struggling to stomach even reading those entries to himself, let alone aloud. Even with his omissions, it painted a pretty clear picture: this person had been trying to unlock further Grey Warden abilities, and had burned through all of his “subjects” in the process.

“Wait a second. Call me crazy, but the way this guy talks… Does it sound like he was a Grey Warden too? He was doing this shit to his friends??”

Alistiar winced. “I was hoping it had just been me.”

“That’s fucked up. Do you think the person who wrote this is the one living here?”

“I don’t see how that would be possible. The dates on these entries are too old. My guess is someone else is trying to make sense of this research.”

“Well that’s disturbing. Some random asshole trying to pick up old blood magic Warden crap?” A sick feeling settled into her stomach, though she wasn’t sure if that was dread or just the way she was feeling today. “If Loghain gets his hands on this…”

Alistair paled. “I like this less and less.”

She began searching through the drawers of the desk.

“What are you looking for?”

“I dunno. Anything? We still need to find a way to fix that demon problem. Maybe there’s a notebook around here that says something about that mess.” She opened one drawer and it clinked with the sound of empty glass bottles rolling against one another. Her eyes narrowed. She shoved her hand inside and felt around the bottom until she felt what she had been searching for: a small, finger sized notch. “Gotcha!”

Alistair peered over her shoulder with curiosity as she yanked the false bottom free. A few of the empty bottles spilled from the drawer and shattered on the floor. She paid them no mind, instead producing a small bottle that definitely wasn’t empty. There was also a piece of folded up paper, which she handed to Alistair.

“What does it say?”

He took the paper and unfolded it carefully. “The product of my research,” he read. “There is still much to be improved upon, but this is a productive first step. This will surely augment the abilities of the Taint for any Warden, even if it isn’t what I was trying to do.”

“Huh.” She held the bottle up and swirled it, seeing it was filled with a dark, viscous liquid. It reminded her of what she had drank during the Joining, but had more red to it.

“There are some more notes about what it may do for different individuals, based on pre-existing strengths, and – wait, what are you doing?!”

She popped the cork off and gave it a sniff. Even with her congested nose, the scent stung her nostrils. It smelled terrible, for sure, with a heavy metallic undertone, like if someone had mixed the darkspawn blood from the Joining chalice with that disgusting sleep tea Morrigan had made.

“Cam, please, put that down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not… Look, you’re sick. You're not thinking clearly.”

She pitched into another sneezing fit. “My thinking is just fine, thank you.” She hadn't been intending to actually drink it, but now that he had opened his big mouth, she was pissed off and was going to do exactly that. She raised the bottle to her lips.

“Please,” he begged, “this is dangerous. You don’t know what it will do.”

“Good!” she snapped. “Maybe it will kill me.” Before he could make a move to stop her, she threw it back and downed the entire thing in one gulp, like she was taking a bad shot. It tasted almost as bad as she had expected. Her cold had dulled her sense of taste just enough to make it bearable. Even so, it still burned as she swallowed it. It really was like a bad shot. A REALLY bad shot. The burning went all the way down to her stomach, then she could feel it trailing down her nerve endings through the rest of her body. The feeling faded a few moments later.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair rushed forward to steady her, but she pushed him away at arms length.

“I’m fine,” she growled. She wobbled on her feet but managed to remain upright.

“You don’t look fine,” he argued worriedly.

“You really know how to make a girl feel nice,” she shot back sarcastically.

“What? N-no, I didn’t mean – you look good,” he sputtered, his cheeks reddening. “I-I mean, not like that, but you know…”

She punched his chest lightly. “I’m just fucking with you.” She sniffed and wiped her running nose with her sleeve again. “I don’t think it really did anything. I feel the same.”

He pouted with that kicked puppy look, and she made herself look away before she could have any feelings about those eyes of his.

“Come on, we should keep searching for a way to fix our demon problem.”

Chapter Text

The door to the next room wasn’t latched and it opened with a soft creak when Cam pushed it. When she saw what was on the other side, she wished she hadn’t. The scene awaiting them was like something out of a nightmare: the remains of dozens of corpses were strewn about, none of them fully intact. Some were strapped to tables, some were chained to a wall, some were in cages, and there was a pile of undiscernible body parts spilling from an overflowing crate. Bloodstains covered nearly every surface. Gruesome-looking tools were laying here and there, most of them also caked with dried blood.

“Maker’s breath, what is this?” Alistair murmured in horror. He looked like he was going to be sick, and honestly, Cam wouldn’t blame him if he lost his breakfast. She had seen some vaguely similar things in her time with the Carta, but never anything on this scale.

“I think we found the research lab,” Cam muttered with a lip curled in disgust. “I almost wish the piece of shit who did this was still alive so I could kill him myself.”

Tank growled at her side, his sight fixed on something on the opposite end of the lab. Cam followed his eyes and saw a figure standing over some sort of desk or table.

“Hello?” she called. There was no response, or reaction at all from the figure. She inched closer, her hand drifting toward her sword. “Hello?” she called again, once she was half a dozen paces away. Now she could see that it was a man with grayed hair, and dressed in robes that looked oddly familiar. His back was to her, and he had yet to acknowledge her. “Can you hear me?”

Finally, he spoke. “I hear you. Don’t disrupt my concentration.” His voice was raspy with age, but still clear and measured.

“Excuse me?” She put her hands on her hips and frowned. Alistair hovered behind her, unsure what to make of this man.

The man hummed, but still didn’t turn around to face her. “The demons have quieted a bit. Are you to thank for this welcome but temporary respite?”

“If you’re asking if I killed them, then you’re welcome,” she grumbled. “Who are you?”

The man finally turned around, and even though his features were wrinkled and his eyes sockets were sunken, she could recognise him from one of the visions they had seen yesterday. “You… you’re that Avernus guy. The one who summoned the demons.”

“Indeed I am,” he said.

“Are you a demon in a flesh suit too?”

The old man chuckled. “Ah, I see you met dear old ‘Sophia.’ No, I am not a demon. My body is sustained by a similar source, but my mind and volition are intact.”

“I call bullshit. You would be over two hundred years old.”

“Yes, indeed, I have been here quite a while.”

“Blood magic,” Alistair murmured nervously. “There’s no other way he could still be alive after all this time…”

“I’ll take your word for it?” she shrugged, but didn’t take her eyes off the stranger to respond to Alistair.

“Why are you here?” Avernus continued. “What is your intent?”

Cam deflected his question, instead gesturing to the lab with a gesture of her arm. “What’s the deal with all of… this? It’s fucked up. How could you do something like this?”

“But necessary. Any tool, any iota of information that could defeat the demons was justified.”

“Justified? Are you fucking kidding me?” She clenched her hands into fists.

“I did what I did for the greater good. As a Warden, you should know that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never told you I’m a Warden…” She wondered if her Joining pendant was visible and he had identified her from it, but she remembered tucking it inside her shirt this morning.

“You didn’t have to. I can sense it with a combination of my own Warden abilities and blood magic.”

“Called it,” Alistair mumbled under his breath.

Avernus ignored Alistair and continued. “But even without that, who else would brave Soldier’s Peak? Which returns me to my question: why are you here?”

“We came for some answers.” Cam stated, her hands back on her hips. This old geezer’s “smarter than you” routine was really grating on her nerves. She was growing the strong urge to shove him out the nearby window.

“To which questions?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again. “The man who brought us here wanted to know some things about Sophia. He should be the one to ask.”

“Then bring him here.”

She made a face. “I am not bringing him in here. You can talk to him in the other room where there aren’t a bunch of dead bodies.”

“If you insist. Get him, then. I shall wait.”

“Yeah no, I’m not leaving you alone to plan some kind of ambush. Tank?”

Her loyal hound perked his ears and tilted his head.

“Go get Levi. And make sure he doesn't get attacked by any demons on the way here.”

He answered with an affirmative bark and trotted away. Cam kept her eyes on Avernus as she and Alistair accompanied him back to the converted foyer. She was glad to be back in the same room as the fireplace.

Tank returned a few minutes later, tugging Levi along by the sleeve of his shirt. Levi seemed confused, and nearly tripped over his own feet in shock when he saw Avernus.

“You… you’re the mage from the…”

“It’s a long story,” Cam explained. “Levi, this is Avernus. Avernus, this is Levi Dryden.”

Avernus nodded in recognition. “Ah, Dryden. That explains much. You are related to Sophia.”

“Y-yes sir mage,” Levi stammered. Tank released his sleeve and sat beside Cam with a proud wiggle of his tail. She patted his head. Levi took a deep breath to gather his wits. “Sophia was my great-great grandmother. My family name has been worth less than dirt since King Arland’s time. Do you have any proof Sophia was a hero? It would really help my family.”

“Your great-great-grandmother was the best of us,” Avernus replied. “She was brave, charismatic, fiery – utterly devoted to the fight. But still we lost. We fought against a tyrant, and we were blind to the consequences of our actions. But proof? I’m afraid there is none to be had.”

“Well shit,” Cam muttered with an apologetic glance to Levi. “Sorry bud.”

“Hey, you tried. I thank you for that.” He smiled softly. “I will return to the others now, if you don’t mind. This place is giving me the creeps.

Cam pictured the scene in the next room and nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. Go ahead. Tell Morrigan and the others we will be back soon.”

“Of course.” He made his exit, and Cam turned her attention back to Avernus.

“I’d like to ask about this ‘research’ of yours now,” she said icily. “Then I’ll decide if I want to throw you off the battlements or let the demons tear you apart.

He didn’t even flinch, completely unthreatened “Ask away,” he replied.

“We read your journal. What were you hoping to gain from torturing your comrades?”

“To unlock the true power of the Taint, and to stop the demonic tide. I wished to correct the miscalculations of my past. Blood magic comes from demons, this much is commonly known. That means they can counter every bit of lore I know. We have been at a stalemate. But the darkspawn taint? That is alien to them. It holds power.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Wardens use it merely to sense darkspawn. A triviality. My research has discovered so much more, hinted at greater heights! This knowledge could not only save Soldier’s Peak. With it, the Wardens could grow even more powerful. In time, with the proper materials, I could learn so much more!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! After everything you’ve done, you still want to continue??”

“I did what I had to. I do not regret that. But… I do acknowledge I have made mistakes. Let me undo the greatest of those – let me cleanse this place. Repair the Veil. Then I will accept whatever justice you feel I merit.”

She crossed her arms. “Summoning that many demons was stupid. Even I know that.”

“It was survival. For months I prepared those summoning circles, researched the darkest depths of the Fade. That moment was a triumph! Dozens of demons called by my hand! But… with so many variables… I suppose calculation errors were inevitable. I was so close.”

“Calculation errors?!” Cam sputtered angrily. Her face felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the fever. This mage was begging for her fist through his face. “Hold up, you said you prepared that shit? Does that mean Sophia knew what you were planning?”

“Knew? She was the one who gave the order,” he said matter-of-factly. Cam was glad Levi wasn’t around to hear that part. “I would have done it regardless. Only under the freedom of the Wardens can true magical research continue. A change to rediscover the secrets of ancient Tevinter,” he finished wistfully.

This time Alistair interjected. “What about the whole Black City thing? The darkspawn?” He wasn’t as hot as Cam was, but he was definitely getting there.

Avernus rolled his eyes. “Chantry lies, told to subjugate the mages, to keep them docile.”

“How do you know the Chantry is wrong?” Alistair snarled.

“And how do you know they are right? Their faith would have you swallow a great deal for small comfort.”

“Enough!” Cam snapped. “I don’t know what any of this means or why the hell it even matters right now. Let’s just get rid of the summoning circles and fix your Fade or whatever. I’ve had enough of this place.”

“So be it. I do have one final request,” Avernus said. “If justice or vengeance drive you, stay your hand until the demons are dealt with.”

“Deal,” Cam said.

“Let us return to the great hall. There, I will repair the damage to the Veil I caused so long ago. There will be peril. The demons will fight us every step of the way.”

“Fantastic,” Cam grumbled sarcastically. “More sodding demons. Let’s get this over with.”

*****

They regrouped with the others and Cam briefly introduced Avernus to them. Their reactions were less than warm, but she didn’t give time for conflict. She wanted to be done with this demon nonsense as quickly as she could and get back somewhere less frozen.

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve again, but it was cold and wet with snot and didn’t actually do any good. She was going to have to wash this shirt multiple times before it felt clean again.

“Come on. I’m sick of this place.”

She threw open the door. Avernus was right behind her, chanting words in that language she heard him using in the vision yesterday. In response to his words, the summoning circles on the floor began to glow.

“Great, more of this,” Cam grumped, drawing her sword to prepare for the demons she knew were coming. The others entered the room with their own weapons drawn.

“We must act quickly,” Avernus explained. His hands danced in the air as magic began to swirl around him. “I will unravel the summoning circles I drew so long ago. Then I shall repair the Veil. Waves of demons will come through and try to stop me. Dispatch them.”

“Kill the demons. That much I understand.”

She dove into the fray. Just as Avernus predicted, demons were clawing their way from the summoning circles in droves. It took all of them fighting with everything they had just to keep their numbers from surpassing their own. Her sword cleaved through demon after demon; Sten did the same; Alistair did his best to position himself and his shield to intercept any spells the demons fired at Leliana or the mages. Morrigan’s magic took out more than its fair share of opponents and Leliana’s arrows felled any that escaped her spells. Tank tore through his own multitude of demons, dashing wherever he was needed. They seemed to have found a great rhythm and worked well as a team. But there was no way they could keep this up forever. Sooner or later, their energy and mana would run dry.

Cam risked a glance at Avernus to see if she could gauge his progress, but he was still reciting incantations and doing those gestures with his arms. She had no idea what progress was even supposed to look like. Her split second of distraction came at a cost. Searing pain tore through the back of her shoulder. She yelped and swore, and turned her head back to see the demon towering over her. Her blood dripped from its claws and it raised its hand for another attack.

“Fuck!” Her grip on her sword loosened. That strike had sliced deep into her muscle and she couldn’t move that arm much. It wasn’t her dominant arm, but she still needed it to swing her sword with proper strength.

Suddenly the blood pouring from her wound shot into the air, forming into a thin arc and striking the demon. It was knocked away from her with a screech of surprise, and Tank was on it before it could recover. She dropped her sword in shock.

She didn’t have time to process, or even question, what just happened. Avernus must have finished his incantations, because he shouted a final word and the circles evaporated in wisps of smoke. The few remaining demons were quickly dealt with and silence fell over the room.

“It is done,” Avernus said, his breathing heavy. Whatever magic he had done clearly had drained him. “The Veil is strong now.”

“Thank the Maker,” Leliana sighed.

“Are you okay?” Alistair said worriedly. He tried to look at her injury but she pushed him away with her good arm. After whatever had just happened with her blood, she didn’t want him getting too close.

“Stay over there. Something is wrong with me.”

He stopped in confusion. He clearly hadn’t seen what had happened. “What are you talking about?”

Avernus stepped forward. “I wondered which of you had consumed the product of my research,” he mused.

Cam clenched her hand into a fist. “What did it do to me?!”

“Enhanced your abilities. Quite remarkably, too, if I do say so myself.”

“Stop complimenting yourself and tell me what the hell just happened,” she snarled.

“It seems you can use your own blood as a weapon now,” he stated. “Most fascinating. I had been focusing on the magical aspects in my research, but to see what it has done for someone with no magical aptitude… Yes, most fascinating…”

Alistair looked between Cam and Avernus in horror. “Blood… as a weapon? But that’s blood magic!”

“But at the same time, also not,” Morrigan noted with mild entertainment. “Dwarves have no affinity for magic. It can’t be magic if she is using it, yes?”

Cam shook her head. This was a lot to take in, and she was starting to realise she felt a little dizzy. Judging by the puddle on the floor and the splatter from where the strange blood attack had fallen to the floor after striking the demon, she was definitely suffering substantial blood loss. “We can figure this shit out later.” She turned her attention to Avernus. “First, I have a mad scientist to deal with.”

Avernus held his hands out to his sides in resignation. “I did promise I would submit to your judgement. My fate is yours to decide.”

Cam bit her lip. She had been intending to end him for what he had done to the other Wardens, but this new development had her hesitating. Maybe he could help their cause. And she might need his help with this new ability of hers.

“You know what? I’m feeling charitable. I’ll let you live.”

Alistair yelped a shocked “What?!” but she lifted a hand to shush his protests.

“But I have conditions. One, you will stay here where Loghain can’t find your research and use it against us.”

Avernus nodded. “I would prefer that as well. My laboratory is here.”

“And two,” she continued, her voice sharp. “You still have to atone for what you’ve done. I will never forgive you for the shit you did to those Wardens. So you are going to help the Wardens, ETHICALLY. No torture, no sacrifices, no demons, none of that shit. I WILL be keeping tabs.”

He nodded, a little deflated but still standing proud. “Very well. With whatever time I have left in life, I will do this. It may take months, or even years, for my research to reach fruition. When it does, I will send for you.”

“It’s a deal,” she said, offering her hand. He shook it, and returned to his tower. Cam watched him go before turning back to her friends. “I guess that’s that. Let’s get out of here.”

She stumbled toward the stairs, and Alistair caught her. “Woah, slow down. You’ve lost too much blood. You need healing, now.”

She glared daggers at him, but the concern in his eyes softened her mood. “I guess a little wouldn’t hurt. If Morrigan has enough magic left…?”

Morrigan huffed indignantly, but it was playful. “Don’t start worrying about me. You’re the one with the injury.” She placed a hand on Cam’s back, over the wound. The area around it was filled with that same warmth she had felt when the old lady mage at Ostagar had healed her cracked rib. “There, I stopped the bleeding and closed the wound. You will need to rest for your body to replenish the blood you lost, but you are in danger no longer. I can do another session later if you wish for me to erase the scar.”

Cam shook her head. “I’m fine with a scar. I bet it looks cool as fuck.” She offered a grin despite her spinning head.

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

They returned downstairs. Cam wanted nothing more than to leave this place behind, but the group decided she needed one more night here before attempting travel. She didn’t really have the energy to argue. She sat by the fireplace and dozed off (or possibly passed out, she couldn’t tell) while they set up camp. Now that she wasn’t moving anymore, she felt like hell. Mostly because of the illness, but her weakness from blood loss was not exactly making it better.

After dinner, Levi sat beside her on the floor. “I wanted to thank you,” he said. “Even though we didn’t find anything to help my family, you turned over every stone you could to search.”

“You’re a good guy, Levi,” she said. “Jury is out on your grandmother. But you? You’re good people. The past is for the dead.” She gave a wry smirk. “Our ancestors don’t define us. Your future is whatever you make of it. That’s the great thing about the Surface. If someone like me can make something of myself up here, anyone can. You just gotta be stubborn and keep at it.” She winked. “Be a pain in the ass.”

He chuckled. “I will remember your words.” He looked into the fire for a moment, contemplation on his face. After a bit he looked back at her. “You’ve got a whole Grey Warden fortress now. What happens next?”

“Well…” she hums. “As much as I LOVE the place, I’m afraid I won’t be staying. Got an archdemon to kill and all that. Why don’t you take care of it for me? I can’t use it if I’m on the road all the time. You might as well use it in the meantime. Build a home base for your trade empire.”

“What trade empire?”

“The one you and your family is going to build.” She winked. “Make your future, remember?”

“You know what? I think I will. You’re very inspiring.”

“Glad someone thinks so.”

The two chuckled and remained by the fire, enjoying the peace and quiet of a demon-free fort. Cam was beginning to nod off again and figured it was about time to retire to her bedroll. She left the fireplace and trudged the couple meters to where her bedding was set up.

Alistair was sitting on his own bedroll, sharpening some chips out of his blade it had sustained during the fight with the demons. He sheathed it when he saw her approaching and smiled softly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fucking awful,” she grumbled, flopping onto her bedding.

“I could make you some herbal tea,” Morrigan offered from a short distance away. “Or a tonic to speed up your recovery.”

“No thanks,” Cam grumped. “That stuff tastes like shit.” She buried her face in her pillow.

Alistair’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor in disbelief. “It tastes bad??” he stammered. “You drank BLOOD MAGIC!”

She simply grunted into her pillow. She didn’t have the energy to say anything witty. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.

Chapter Text

With Levi’s directions, the group managed to find their way to their original destination: the docks at Lake Calenhad that serviced Kinloch Hold. Levi said he had business in the area, and had been happy to guide them. And Cam had been grateful for his help. Her scant patience was down to vapors with this cold she was trying to get over. She did not have it in her to deal with more directional trouble.

They arrived just after nightfall a couple days later. Thankfully by then her cold was gone. Levi said his goodbyes and repeated his thanks for the thousandth time, and headed off to one of the local businesses to do whatever it was he had to do. Before his departure, he had recommended the local inn for the night. It was the only one in town, so it wasn’t like they had any options, but it beat the hell out of camping again.

It was too dark to discern much about the small town, but it seemed eerily silent. Aside from a Templar or two standing guard, Cam didn’t see anybody out and about.

“Seems kinda deserted for a supposed trading post,” Cam noted. “Levi made it sound like this place would be bustling."

“It usually is,” Alistair said. “Maybe the Blight has people going somewhere else?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. Let’s get some rooms at that inn – he said it’s called the Spoiled Princess?”

Even without the ability to read the signs on the businesses, Cam was easily able to spot this inn. It was the only building that still had any kind of lanterns lit. She opened the door and stepped inside, the others filing in behind her.

A little bell on the door rang as she opened it, and they were greeted with a tired and bored sounding male voice from the bar across the room.

“Welcome to the Spoiled Princess,” he yawned. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got any rooms open?” she asked. “We’ll need a couple, probably.”

“I ain’t got no rooms taken at all,” he replied. “You’re the first business I’ve seen all week.”

She dug the coin pouch from her bag. It had a good weight to it. She had managed to add to their earnings from Lothering by searching Soldier’s Peak after the demons had been taken care of. “How much? We’ll probably need at least two rooms?”

He gave her the price per room. “I’ll charge you for two rooms, but if you want to use more, be my guest. You can make up the difference by buying some drinks, yeah?”

“Sounds fair to me.” She reached into the sack of coins and placed them on the counter. At least no one could say she didn’t know how to count money. Reading hadn’t been necessary to knock skulls for the Carta, but counting money definitely had been. “I’ll definitely be back for a drink once we get settled. Do you have food too?”

“I’m sure my server would be happy for something to do. I’ll tell her to put something on when you go upstairs.”

“Great. Thanks, man.”

The group headed up to the second floor of the establishment. It was a singular hall with rooms on both sides. Morrigan went straight for the room at the end of the hall and claimed it for herself. Sten chose a room with a single bed, right at the top of the stairs, where he could keep an eye on everything happening in his surroundings. Leliana offered to share a room with Cam, an offer which she accepted. It came to her attention that she had never actually slept in a room by herself before. The idea made her oddly nervous, especially with those damn archdemon nightmares she had been having. Alistair called dibs on his own room, and custody of the dog for the night. Tank didn’t seem too upset at the idea - he knew Alistair was a softie and was going to spoil him.

Cam dropped her bag on the floor beside her bed and went back downstairs. She plopped down in a chair at one of the tables. The smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen wafted into the dining area, making her stomach growl.

The man from earlier placed a tankard on the table in front of her. “Dinner’ll be ready in a little bit. Usually we have stew and a roast on the fire, but since we’ve had no business we’ve had to stop doing that. Hope you’re okay with some potatoes and cured ham. Felsi makes a good sauce.”

“That sounds sodding delicious.” She took the tankard and drew a large gulp.”Wow, this is really good! Even better than the stuff they had at Lothering!”

He chuckled. “Thanks. Brewed it myself, actually! The Templars who come here from the Tower drink it by the barrel, but none of the regulars have come by lately.”

“Yeah, I noticed it looked like a ghost town out there. What’s the story with that?”

“Dunno,” he replied. “No one has come out of the Tower in a while, and they’re not letting anyone go over there. Templars aren’t even answering questions about why.”

“Well shit,” she scowled. “I need to get to that Tower. That’s the whole reason we’re here.”

He winced sympathetically. “Sorry to say it, but you’ve wasted a trip. Them Templars have even taken over the independent fishing boats. They’re not letting anyone close.”

Her frown deepened. “And there’s not a bridge?”

He shook his head. “Not for the last few hundred years, at least. Most of it has collapsed into the water.”

“And no one fixed it?” she asked incredulously.

“Nope, they like it that way. Gives the mages no way to escape.”

“Unfuckingbelievable, “ she growled, then took a few more gulps of her drink.

“Why are you so bent on getting over there, anyway? Nothing over there but mages and Templars and more mages.”

“The mages are exactly why I need to get over there. I need their help.”

His curiosity began to shift into apprehension. “Help? From mages? That spells trouble…”

She rolled her eyes. These surfacers and their fear of magic was starting to get ridiculous. She had half a mind to come out and tell him exactly why she needed to speak with the mages, but after their encounter with Loghain’s soldiers at Lothering, she was hesitant. This was shaping up to be a big enough pain. She didn’t need Loghain’s people making it even worse.

Alistair appeared and took a seat at the table with Cam. “I smell dinner! It smells delicious!”

Tank sidled up between them and wiggled his tail.

Cam chuckled. “I know boy, I’m hungry too. It should be ready soon.”

His tail wagged a little faster.

The innkeeper retrieved two mugs of ale, one for Alistair and another for Cam. She contentedly drained her first mug and started on the second. As she enjoyed her beverage, Leliana joined them. Sten wasn’t far behind, and before he could sit at a table across the way, Cam waved at him to sit with the rest of them. He grunted but complied, sitting on a side of the table where he could see the entire room, front door, and stairs. At this point, Cam was pretty sure the man even monitored his surroundings in his sleep. Finally, Morrigan appeared and took a seat as well. The innkeeper placed a mug in front of each of them and once again promised dinner would be soon. Then he returned to the kitchen and Cam turned her attention to her friends.

“So it sounds like getting across the lake to the mages is gonna be a problem.” She was answered by confused and worried expressions, and elaborated further, telling them everything she had learned from the innkeeper.

“It would seem something has happened with the mages,” Morrigan surmised. “Something that has the Templars spooked.”

“I would have to agree,” Leliana said. “All the more reason for us to get over there and find out what is happening. They may need our help.”

“Do we really have time to help every person we encounter?” Morrigan countered. “The Blight will not wait because we are busy doing good deeds.”

“If it gets us the mages, then yes,” Cam said. “We can’t afford not to have them on our side. I’ve seen what your magic can do. We need as much of that as we can get.”

Morrigan smirked slightly. “A most pragmatic argument. The magic the Circle teaches is different from mine, so keep that in mind when setting your expectations.”

“Nonsense,” Sten grumbled. “Magic is magic. It is all dangerous.”

Cam just blinked at him. “Sten. We are ALL dangerous. Look at yourself. You’re the size of a damn mountain. Leliana fights like a sodding assassin. Tank is a siege machine on legs. And Alistair is… well, he’s Alistair,” she finished with a teasing smirk.

“Hey!” Alistair yelped indignantly. A light blush colored his cheeks. She found herself finding it kind of cute. She quickly looked away.

“So yeah, we will check out our options in the morning. Maybe somehow we can talk one of the Templars into taking us over there. It’s too late to do anything about it tonight. Might as well rest up while we have the chance. Who knows what we will find over there.”

*****

Dinner came soon enough, and it was well worth the wait. If surface ale was good, then surface food was phenomenal. Cam devoured at least three plates, much to the cook’s amusement. The dwarven serving girl kept the plates coming, as both Cam and Alistair were eating enough for a small army. She even brought a plate for the dog, who was just as excited about their dinner.

Felsi, she had eventually introduced herself as, chuckled as she brought out the rest of the ham on a cutting board. “I take it the food is to your liking?”

Cam grunted and nodded, her mouth full of potatoes, and Alistair gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Cam had never eaten this much at once, and was a little taken aback by the pile of plates that had stacked up on the table by the time the meal was over. At some point the others had finished and retired to their rooms, leaving the two Wardens (and the dog, who was happily gnawing on a cow femur under the table) alone. Even the innkeeper and Felsi had disappeared, likely gone to bed as well.

“Holy shit,” she said, patting her belly. It felt strange beneath her hand, all full and bloated. That was a new sensation, for sure.

Alistair laughed. “I guess I forgot to mention that fun little tidbit about being a Warden: bottomless appetite.”

“There’s no way that’s a real thing,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“No really! It’s true! I once ate half the larder when I was a fresh recruit!”

“I think that just makes you a glutton,” she teased. She knocked back the rest of her tankard and sat it by the pile of empty plates. There was a collection of tankards there already. Like the food, she hadn’t really been paying attention to how much she was having. Now that she had paused, she could tell she was feeling a little wobbly.

“It’s late. We should go to bed soon,” he said. He stood and offered a hand to her.

“Wait, I gotta pay for all this.” She fumbled the coin pouch from her pocket and started counting. She got the first few drinks’ worth counted out, then lost her place and started over. She lost her place again even sooner. “Eh, fuck it.” She clumsily slapped a handful of coins onto the table. It was definitely too much, but she was too drunk to care.

Alistair blinked at her. “Just how much did you drink…?”

“A whole fuck bucket,” she slurred. Yep, it was really hitting her now. She took his hand and stood, stumbling and falling right into him. He caught her and she face planted into his chest.

“O-okay,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing as he grabbed her shoulders and straightened her into a standing position. “Let’s get you to bed.” He guided her to the stairs, where she stumbled once more. After a couple failed attempts to scale the larger-than-dwarf-sized steps, he sighed and scooped her up in his arms.

“Hey! Lemme go!” Her cheeks burned. He was too close and she could feel his chest through his shirt and he smelled nice and she was having none of it.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Good!”

“No, not good.” He ignored her protests and carried her to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs, she managed to squirm free, which resulted in him nearly dropping her on her head. She leaned against the wall for support and stood once more, scowling and her face bright red. It looked as if she was going to say something more to him, but words failed her and she retreated to her room with a huff.

She face-planted in the bed and buried her burning face in the pillow. Stupid Alistair.

*****

Morning came with the chirping of birds outside the window and bright sunshine through the curtains. Cam groaned and sat up in bed, rubbing her temples. She might have had one drink too many last night. It wasn’t the worst hangover of her life, not even close to the top ten, but the sun was still too bright and it did nothing for her headache.

“Water,” she grumbled to herself. “I need some sodding water.”

She trudged downstairs, still barefoot and in her sleep clothes. The dining room was blessedly empty and quiet. The female dwarf from last night was there, quietly wiping down a table. She saw Cam and smiled.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice soft. She gave a playful wink. “I know that look. You went pretty hard on the house ale last night. Have a seat, I’ll bring you some water and some breakfast.”

Cam did so with a grunt of acknowledgment. The waitress returned a moment later with a large glass of water and some buttered toast with eggs.

“Thanks.” She took the water and gulped down half of it. It felt great on her dry throat.

The waitress went ahead and brought a second glass of water, knowing she would need it soon.

“You’re a lifesaver. Didn’t catch your name last night. Or maybe I did and I was just too smashed to remember.” She chuckled and shoved some eggs into her mouth.

The waitress chuckled as well. Talking with her was comfortable, like an old friend. “Felsi. You said your name was something Brosca, right?”

“Cam,” she offered. “Just call me Cam. That name didn’t do me any good back home. It can stay in Orzammar.”

“Another wayward child of the Stone, then,” Felsi replied with amusement. “Nice to meet someone else like me. Most of the dwarves that come through here are surface-born. They’re alright, but it’s nice to talk to someone who knows what it’s like to leave.”

Cam nodded. “How long have you been topside?”

“Too long? Not long enough?” She shrugged. “I had to leave after… an embarrassing incident. I burned all the bridges I could when I left. I don’t think I can face anyone after what happened.”

Cam quirked an eyebrow. “Should I ask?”

“No, you really shouldn’t.” Felsi made a face.

“I can respect that.” She shoved more food in her face. “Did everyone else wake up already?”

“I think so, unless you have more friends than the ones I saw last night.”

“Nope, that’s all of us. Do you know where they went?”

“Not all of them. I think that big tall guy is right outside the front door. I went out to get some wood for the oven and he was just standing there. It was pretty creepy. It’s like the guy is expecting an ambush, but all the time.”

“That’s just how Sten is. He’s… different. Doesn’t talk much, either. But he’s damn good with a sword.”

“I have no trouble believing that.”

The two chatted for a little while longer while Cam ate her breakfast. When she was satisfied and feeling much less hungover, she returned upstairs to get dressed. She threw on her gear and weapon and headed outside to explore a bit, now that it was daylight.

*****

Sten was indeed stationed outside the inn, still as a statue and vigilant as always.

“Morning Sten,” Cam greeted. He answered her with a grunt. “Anything noteworthy going on out here?”

“No,” he responded. “Nothing.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Doubtful. Every place has something happening. The lack of activity makes me uneasy.”

She blinked. He had a point. “Any idea why it’s so deserted?”

“I am unsure.”

“Come on, take a guess.”

“A soldier of the Beresaad does not guess.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh come on. Humor me.”

He looked down at her with something adjacent to puzzlement. “I do not understand the humor in making an uninformed assumption.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not supposed to be – you know what, nevermind. Let me know if anything report-able pops up. Where are the others?”

“Around.”

“That’s helpful,” she said with a sarcastic snort.

“Then ask a more specific question.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or punch him. Sometimes she wondered if maybe he was actually a golem. He was about as good at conversation as one. “Fine. Where is Morrigan?”

“By the water, gathering herbs.”

“That tracks. Leliana?”

“Gathering information. At least that is what she said. Are you sure she is truly a priest? She acts like a spy.”

She shrugged. “She said she wasn’t always a priest or a sister or whatever. I wasn’t going to prod if she didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure that is wise?”

She looked levelly at him, unamused. “Are you saying I should be suspicious of someone because they don’t like to answer my questions or talk about their past?”

“Point taken.” There was something behind his eyes that shifted ever so slightly. Was it… approval?

“What about Alistair? Know where he went?”

“He said he wanted to ask the Templars about getting across the lake to the mage tower. I would suggest checking the docks.”

She nodded. “That’s helpful. Thanks, Sten. Oh, what about Tank? Have you seen him around?”

“I assume the hound is doing as hounds do: sniffing and urinating on a bush somewhere.”

This time she couldn't hold back the snort of amusement.

Chapter Text

She did indeed find Alistair down by the docks, speaking with a Templar. When she approached, she could hear them arguing about something. Alistair looked frustrated, and the Templar looked annoyed.

“What’s going on?” she asked, announcing her presence. Both men stopped their bickering and looked at her.

“I’m trying to get us to the mages,” Alistair huffed. “But this man is refusing to do anything.”

“I told you,” the Templar replied with exasperation.” Nobody is allowed in or out of the Tower until further notice. Orders of Knight-Commander Greagoir.”

“But this is urgent Grey Warden business!”

“Yes, and I’m the Queen of Antiva.”

“Ancestors balls, shut up!” Cam snapped. She had half a mind to throw this Templar in the lake and row the boat herself. Except she didn’t actually know how to row a boat. Or how to even get in it without capsizing it. “I’ve got the sodding treaty right here. I can shove it into your eye socket if you don’t believe us.”

The Templar held up his hands and took half a step back. “Woah, easy there little miss. I’m only doing my job.”

She could feel her pulse beating in her temples as she fought back her anger. Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder, which thankfully snapped her out of it. She forced herself to take a steadying breath. She was focused on reining herself in so much that she didn’t notice Sten approaching.

“What will it take for you to change your mind?” she said, her tone tight with restraint. “Money? A favor?”

The Templar hummed thoughtfully. “Well… now that you mention it… I am feeling a bit peckish…”

She just deadpanned at him. After all that, he was going to ask for a snack???

Sten spoke up behind her, and as much as she wouldn't admit to it, she did jump just a little at the sudden gruff voice above her head. How a man his size could move so silently, she would never know.

“Parshaara!” he huffed. “Here, munch on these if you like.” He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to the Templar. Much to Cam’s disdain, he handed the item to the man directly over her head.

“Ooh! Cookies!” he exclaimed. He happily took the offering and took a bite out of one of the sweets.

“I am content to part with them if it saves us from this fool,” Sten stated bluntly.

Cam gawked at Sten, forgetting all about the pass he had just made over her head.

“Where the hell did you get cookies??” She said in astonishment.

“There was a child – a fat, slovenly thing – in the last village we passed,” he explained as the Templar shoved cookies into his face like a squirrel gathering acorns. “I relieved him of these confections. He did not need more.”

She nearly burst out laughing in that moment. “Wait are you serious? You stole cookies from a child?!”

“For his own good,” Sten insisted, still completely serious.

Cam forced her gaping jaw shut and made herself look away before she completely lost her composure. She turned her attention back to the Templar.

“So we’re good? You’ll take us across?”

He nodded and grunted around a mouthful of cookies.

“Great. I’ll get the others and we’ll–”

“How many others are we talking?” He interjected, barely understandable through the mouthful of cookie.

“Well there’s the three of us, Morrigan and Leliana, the dog, our supplies…”

He shook his head and swallowed so he could speak properly. “You’re all not going to fit.” He gestured at the boat. “Counting me, that boat can only hold four people. Maybe closer to three if he comes,” he said, gesturing to Sten.

“Then we’ll make more than one trip.”

“No can do. I’m already sticking my neck out taking any of you over there. I am not digging myself into a deeper hole by pushing my luck. One boat. The rest of your friends are just going to have to stay here.”

She scowled and crossed her arms. This was going to require a group huddle. “Alright. We’ll talk it over and figure it out. And you better still be here to keep your deal when I come back,” she said, a threatening tone to her voice. “Or Sten here might take back those cookies you just ate.”

He looked up at Sten and paled slightly. He absolutely believed the hulking man would tear him open and retrieve his sweets. “Of course. I will be right here.”

“Good.” She gestured for Alistair and Sten to come with her, and together they rounded up the rest of their group. She quickly explained the situation to Morrigan and Leliana.

“I will stay here,” Morrigan volunteered. She almost seemed eager to do so. “I an not exactly eager to walk into a den of Templars.”

Cam nodded in agreement. She absolutely understood. “Alistair, I need you to come. You were going to be a Templar. You know how they operate.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he agreed.

She looked between Sten, Leliana, and Tank. “Okay, that leaves room for one more. I’m open to suggestions.”

Alistair was the first to speak. “No offense, but if we are expecting to negotiate, Leliana would be our best choice. Not that I don’t think you are a capable and valuable member of our party–” he started, but Sten thankfully cut him off.

“I am not offended. The Sister knows about your Templars and mages. I do not.”

“Agreed,” Leliana added. “Alistair and I are best equipped to keep things civil.”

“Sounds like we have a plan,” Cam said. “I’ll leave the money with you so you can keep your rooms at the inn. Hopefully this won’t take long, but there’s something fishy going on. Better to cover our asses just in case.”

Tank whined. She patted his head apologetically. “I’m sorry buddy. I wish the boat was bigger too. I’ll make sure Sten and Morrigan pay for you to have some extra helpings of that delicious roast.”

He perked up a little at this and she grinned. “I bet she’ll give you plenty of bones too.”

This time he wiggled his butt and licked his chops. She chuckled.

The next step was to go back to the inn and decide what supplies to bring. She honestly had no idea what a Circle was like and ended up letting Alistair pack while she talked with the innkeeper and Felsi. The innkeeper was happy to have some guests, and Felsi was already handing a large beef bone to Tank before the conversation was even finished. That made Cam feel a little better about having to split up their group.

Once things were settled, she returned to the docks with Alistair and Leliana and a small backpack of supplies. Alistair had reassured them that none of their camping supplies would be needed, so all they really had were potions and some other odds and ends. Cam made sure her journal was in her pack. After losing it at Ostagar, she felt oddly sentimental about being apart from it.

“Are you ready to go?” the Templar greeted, his mood much better now that he had devoured his snack.

“Yeah, let’s get going.”

They piled into the boat and Cam found herself hesitating at the edge of the dock. She could get in the boat with a decent hop, but the way it was rocking on the waves made her very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Alistair noticed her hesitation and offered a hand. She looked at it and tentatively reached for it, then pulled her hand back. She would have to step even closer to the edge of the dock to grab his hand. Her stomach did a somersault and she looked out at the water. The mage tower looked further away than it had just a little while ago. With another flip of her stomach, she found herself wondering how deep the water was. It dawned on her that she didn’t know how to swim. If she fell in, she would be a goner. She would sink right down to the bottom like a rock. She suddenly found herself wishing she would just fall into the sky.

“Cam?” Alistair said. His hand was still outstretched for her. “Are you alright?”

She swallowed and shook her head like a dog trying to shake off water, as if she could shake her fear of the water out of her skull. “Yeah, just peachy,” she muttered. She took a moment and tried her best to shove aside her fear, but she wasn’t quite able to calm herself. She was just going to have to rip off the proverbial bandage and jump.

Well, not quite jump. She took a large step and halfway stumbled off the dock as the weakness in her knees won. Alistair caught her as she more or less fell into the boat. “Gotcha!”

It took her a moment to process what had happened. When she did, her cheeks flushed and her heart hammered in her chest.

“Th-thanks…”

He smiled that goofy, idiotic smile she was starting to feel some fondness for. He helped her sit on the little board that functioned as a bench. Leliana was already seated and looked between them with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, but said nothing. Cam wasn’t even sure if she had really seen it. Maybe it was just the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.

The Templar untied the boat from the dock and began rowing them across the lake. The journey across the water seemed torturously long to Cam. With each wave her stomach did more somersaults. It would be a miracle if she didn't lose her breakfast. She thought about asking him to row faster, but she was pretty sure if she opened her mouth she would throw up.

A particularly large wave rocked the boat, and Cam found herself grabbing Alistair’s arm in a bone-crushing grip. She wasn’t even conscious of it until she heard Alistair make a little whimper of discomfort. Still, there was no way she could force herself to let go of him. Her entire body was rigid. She clamped her eyes shut, but that made her nausea even worse. With her jaw clenched so hard it hurt, she focused her eyes on the slowly growing shape of the mage tower.

When they finally reached the shore of the little island on which the Tower was standing, their Templar friend looked up at the looming structure with unease. He didn’t say anything, but anyone could see he was eager to row back across the lake and away from here.

“Welcome to Kinlock Hold,” he said in a fake cheery tone. There was no hiding his unease. “Good luck with your ‘Grey Warden’ business.” He gestured for them to get out of the boat. They did so, Leliana and Alistair with ease but Cam with a little difficulty. Her joints felt like they had been filled with hardened mortar from her tenseness, her knees felt like jelly, and Alistair nearly had to lift her out of the boat. Once her feet were back on solid earth, she relaxed enough to release him from her death grip. He rubbed his arm with a slight wince.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Naw, don’t worry about it.” He gave that stupid smile again and she stared at her boots, hoping her hair would hide her reddening cheeks.

“Come on, let’s get inside and see if we can find out what is happening here,” Leliana said, and Cam was beyond glad for her interruption from this awkward moment.

*****

They had to pound on the heavy doors for several minutes before they swung open. They were greeted by a pair of Templars who looked like they hadn’t slept in days, and were too afraid to try.

“Who are you?” one of them asked.

“Grey Wardens,” Alistair replied, producing the scroll case containing the treaty from his bag. “We need to speak with your Knight-Commander and Grand Enchanter about assisting us against the Blight.”

The Templars looked between each , their expressions pained. “I’m afraid you will only be able to speak with the Knight-Commander.”

Cam blinked. “What? Why?”

“We’re sorry,” the other one apologized, his tone showing his stress. “The Grand Enchanter is probably dead…”

Alistair frowned worriedly. “Can you let us inside please?”

“Of course. I’m afraid you have wasted your time coming here, though. We are in no shape to do anything about a Blight right now.” They stepped aside and allowed them inside. Cam noticed with discomfort that they locked and barred the door as they shut it.

“Why? What is going on here?” she asked as the two Templars led them down the entry corridor. It was eerily silent.

“It would be best if you got your answers from Knight-Commander Greagoir.”

They opened a second door. Inside was a large open room that seemed to be functioning as some sort of crisis encampment. A few dozen Templars milled about, most of them sporting bandages. A few were laid out on the ground with worse injuries and some Chantry Sisters tending to them. On the other side of the room were a handful of mages, even fewer in number, seated on the floor and huddled together. They all shared the same look of terror and trauma, and the Templars were watching them with mistrust.

“What in the world…?” Alistair murmured. The Templars who had let them in escorted them across the chamber to a graying man in armor. Cam assumed by the difference in his armor that he was someone of rank.

“Knight-Commander,” one of their escorts said.

The man looked at their visitors with confusion. “It is too soon for… no, forgive me, you are not Templars. Who are you?”

“Grey Wardens,” Cam explained. “We have this treaty for the mages to help us fight the Blight, and….”

Sorrow and panic filled the man’s eyes and Cam found herself trailing off.

“We are dealing with a very delicate situation here,” he said. His tone was measured, but his eyes gave him away. “You must leave, for your own safety.”

She frowned. “I don’t need you to be worrying about my safety–”

Alistair cut her off. “What my colleague means to say is that we do not need you to expend your resources for our sakes. We only came to seek the aid of the mages.”

Greagoir shook his head solemnly. “You will find no allies here. The Templars can spare no men, and the mages are… indisposed.”

“Indisposed?”

He drew a steadying breath. “I shall speak plainly: the Tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the Tower’s halls.”

Alistair paled. “What happened?”

Greagoir’s expression fell even further. “I… I don’t know. We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike. I knew we could not defeat them all, so I told my men to flee.”

Cam’s lip curled. “You fled? Isn’t dealing with demons your job?”

He seemed too weary to take offense at her disapproval. “They took us by surprise. We were prepared for one or two abominations, not the horde that fell upon us.”

She opened her mouth to say something biting in response, but stopped. As much as she hated to find common ground with this tin can-wearing old man, she knew what it was like to look at a sea of enemies and know there was little she could do against it. She never wanted to feel powerless like that again.

Greagoir continued. “I would destroy the Tower, raze it to the ground. But I cannot risk more of my men.” He gestured at a set of stone doors off to one side of the room. “Those doors will remain shut and protect us for now.”

She eyed the doors skeptically. Sure, they were big, but nothing like she had seen back home. “Those doors wouldn’t hold back a handful of stubborn enough darkspawn. I have a hard time believing they can stop a bunch of demons.”

“We do not mean for the doors to stay shut forever,” he explained. “Just long enough. I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.”

Alistair gasped. “The Right of Annulment?! But that’s…” he looked around and paled as the pieces clicked into place. Cam looked up at him with confusion.

“The what? What are you talking about?” she asked.

Alistair met her gaze, his tone grave. “It gives Templars the authority to… neutralise a mage circle. Completely.”

Her stomach dropped. Neutralize? Completely? “You’re describing mass murder…”

“We have no other choice,” Greagoir insisted. His tone was grave, but firm. “There is no alternative. Everything in the Tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again.”

“But what if there are still some survivors in there? They’re innocent, right?” She could feel her temper rising. This tin bucket was going to murder a bunch of mages because of some stupid demons.

Pain flickered in his eyes. “No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find… nothing.”

The fragile wall of her temper cracked. “So that’s it?” she snapped, venom in her voice. “You’re giving up? You’re the one who shut them in there!”

“And what was I to do?” he asked quietly, regretfully. “Leave the door open as the abominations poured out?”

Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cam, but he’s right. Those doors are the only thing preventing even more tragedy. Those doors – all Circles have them, They are made specially to prevent abominations from getting loose.”

She shrugged off his hand. “This is just a glorified prison.” She looked at the huddled mages with a newfound sense of protectiveness. They had incredible abilities she couldn’t even understand, yet they lived under the Templars’ boot. They weren’t allowed to live normal lives just because they had been born into a certain group of people. She could relate. “Just how many mages does this place hold?” She asked coldly.

“I believe a few hundred,” Alistair offered hesitantly.

Greagoir sighed. “What you are seeing here is all that is left of Ferelden’s Circle of Magi. The rest have been killed by abominations or have become them.”

Alistair shook his head in disbelief. “Andraste’s mercy…”

Cam clenched her fists. “I refuse to believe that. I’ve seen what mages can do. I believe there are survivors trapped in there.”

“Denerim must have received our message by now,” Greagoir said. “It cannot be much longer.”

“Then I better get in there,” she said through gritted teeth. She was already walking toward the heavy protective doors. She would get inside and find any surviving mages, even if she had to break down this door herself. Alistair and Leliana followed her, both visibly nervous at what she seemed to be planning.

She placed a hand on the door. It felt strange. She had expected it to be cool to the touch, but it was oddly warm. She felt the hairs on her arm stand up as a light tingle of electricity surged through her from where she was touching the stone. This must have been what Alistair had meant when he had said this door was built specially for use in mage circles. There was also a very faint humming in the back of her mind, like the sound of distant singing being muffled by a wall. She pulled her hand away with some discomfort, and the humming ceased.

Greagoir could see the resolve on her face and his shoulders sagged in resignation. “There is nothing I can say to dissuade you, is there?”

“Nope.”

He sighed and motioned for a few of his men to come to him. “Very well. I will open the doors. If by some miracle you survive and manage to destroy the abominations, I will do what I can do to have the Templars assist the Grey Wardens. But I will not delay the Right of Annulment.”

She nodded resolutely.

“A final word of caution,” he added. “Once you enter, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe.”

“What kind of proof?”

“I will only believe it is over if the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is truly lost.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. It did not go unnoticed by Cam. This Irving must be a special friend, or perhaps more. She really didn’t have the time or desire to poke at the issue.

“Got it. I find the First Enchanter and you call off this Murder Annulment thing. Come on, guys, let’s get in there.”

“May Andraste lend you her courage,” Greagoir said.

Cam rolled her eyes. “You need it more than I do.”