Chapter Text
The Warden-Commander lies awake on his bedroll, unable to sleep for yet another night.
It won’t be long now, he thinks grimly as he’s haunted by the inevitable nightmares that chills his bones and weighs his soul with a heavy sense of dread and despair.
On the other side of the tent, his newest recruit chokes back a sob.
Her back is turned to him, but he hears her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles in the night’s stillness.
It seems he’s not the only one plagued with horrors tonight, and his heart goes out to the poor girl.
Duncan only caught a glimpse of it during his visit of Highever.
Born as a teryn’s daughter, her nobility is only second to the royal family in terms of wealth and power.
Her father, Bryce Cousland, is a popular and well-respected man among the nobles and those serving under him. The way he had spoke about his children – with such pride and joy and how they’ll carry on the Cousland legacy – is enough to interest Duncan into recruiting his youngest into the Grey Wardens.
And it is the way she led her mother, Eleanor, through the siege of their vulnerable castle that proved she has the skills and talent he’s been looking for.
In one night, the girl lost everything she’s known. She has a home she could never return to, no titles or lands she can claim, and her entire family has been massacred before her very eyes.
He almost feels bad taking her from one tragedy and putting her into another.
But the darkspawn doesn’t discriminate the sad background stories, or even the happier ones. He must recruit every potential Warden he can find if they’re to survive a Blight.
Shortly after they arrive at Ostagar, he informs her that she must prepare for the Joining ritual and to seek out Alistair and the other recruits. He tells her to take her time, as they have until nightfall before they need to get things started. It isn’t long until Ser Jory and Daveth show up at his campfire.
“I wonder where that new girl is,” Daveth comments, catching the Warden-Commander’s attention.
“Probably by the mages camp,” Ser Jory guesses. “I heard the Revered Mother sent Alistair there to deliver another message for them.”
“Andraste’s blood, not this again…” Duncan groans. He should’ve known better than to leave the former Templar-in-training near the clutches of the Chantry.
He excuses himself and decides to find Alistair before the boy causes any unnecessary trouble.
It doesn’t take him long to find the Junior Warden, but it appears the Cousland girl has gotten to him first.
They haven’t moved from the spot where Alistair was bickering with one of the mages, and they somehow fallen into the ease of getting to know each other. Curiosity sparks between them, and Alistair answers each of her questions about the Grey Wardens with jest and enthusiasm.
A small crack of a smile forms on the Warden-Recruit’s lips – the first thing of anything like it since Highever.
The Warden-Commander chuckles and shakes his head. It figures if anyone could make the girl smile, it’d be Alistair.
He gives them time to finish their conversation, but Alistair catches his eye and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Anyhow, let’s head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”
“You don’t have to follow me, you know,” she tells him, leading the way. “I promise I won’t get lost.”
Alistair smirks and follows her steps. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
“Then, I look forward to traveling with you.”
She spins around then, and Alistair is stunned by her words. Duncan watches in mild amusement as the boy falls behind for a moment and stares at her with a curious look. Then, he shakes it off and breaks into a jog to catch up to them.