A/N: A brief note to start with, I've taken a few liberties with what you can actually do in-game. Nothing lore-breaking, just stuff like attending the Landsmeet before collecting all the treaties etc.

All characters and places in this story belong to Bioware, the author claims no ownership of anything within, and no money is being made.

"I would like to give you this mace," the corner of Duncan's mouth twitched, just slightly, "since you don't have many possessions of your own."

They'd taken everything that wasn't nailed down on their way through the Carta hideout, and Leske and Donni Brosca grinned at each other, weighed down by their ill-gotten loot.

"Much appreciated," Donni accepted the weapon politely and added it to her collection. The dwarf took a deep breath and glanced at her sister and her best friend. "Well, I hope I don't mess this up."

"Wouldn't worry about that, salroka. All you need to do is kill enough darkspawn and when you come back they'll make you a paragon." Leske thumped her on the back, although Donni could hardly feel it through all the items in her pack.

"Right, and then you'll want me to marry you I suppose?"

"No offence, but I think I'd prefer your sister. She'd be a noble too, right?"

She smacked him in a friendly sort of fashion on the arm. She was going to miss her friend, and despite everything he said, she knew he'd take care of Rica. But she didn't feel sad, or even all that nervous. When she gazed up at the Grey Warden who'd saved her from execution, she felt something she'd often professed, but rarely truly felt.

Pride.

He'd seen something in her that her face brand had blinded all other dwarves to. He'd spoken up for her in defiance of his hosts' traditions. He'd given her a fine weapon, and a second chance. The Grey Wardens, the Blight, even the darkspawn held little meaning for her, but a kind word and a mace were enough to make up her mind.

She was going. Really going. She hugged her sister, and hit Leske one last time for good luck and gave him more than half of the loot they'd collected. She held her head high, determined and proud as she walked beside the Grey Warden.

In all the excitement she wasn't really prepared for the surface. She was still imagining her triumphant return to Orzammar with a friendly crew of fellow Grey Wardens to show off when she found herself at the gates of the city.

Duncan preceded her into the sunlight, and Donni marched right out behind him.

"Oh." She raised her gaze to the limitless vault of the sky above them, squinting with eyes that had never seen the sun before.

"Ah, of course. This is your first time on the surface. Take a moment, if you need it." She heard Duncan talking to her, but he sounded distant as a wave of vertigo washed over her.

She reached out and steadied herself on his arm. "I think I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled, staring at the ground between her feet and trying to take deep breaths. To her relief, the feeling soon passed, and she didn't vomit all over her shoes. The last thing she wanted was for Duncan to change his mind.

"Okay," she raised her head. "I'm good. Let's get going. Um, where are we going anyway?"

"We will be travelling south, to the ruins of Ostagar at the edge of the Korcari Wilds." Duncan continued to explain, but none of it meant a lot to Donni. They were heading south to fight darkspawn, and that was enough for her. She listened attentively, nevertheless, and watched the sunlight gleam off Duncan's armour and the ring in his ear.

He was, she decided, kind, strong and utterly gorgeous.

As they travelled down from the Frostback Mountains he did little to change her opinion. Her life in Dust Town had taught Donni the importance of information, and he was a rich vein she mined assiduously, on a variety of subjects from darkspawn to surface history to human culture and the weather, the latter of which was an endless source of alarm and fascination to her.

He taught her to ride, after a fashion, and to not pick every pocket she saw. She told him of the lot of the Casteless, although she didn't understand why he'd be interested. He was endlessly patient of her ignorance, and only slightly less so of her smart remarks.

He treated her fairly, like a person and not a brand. Like a friend even. And while she was sure he was impressed, after a fashion, with the amount of human ale she could put away, she realised it wasn't the sort of impressed that would lead to even a friendly tumble. Especially given he didn't even try to keep pace with her.

Rica had kept the finer points of landing a man to herself to protect her little sister from the pseudo-profession she hated so much, but Donni wished she'd given one or two hints anyway. Duncan always turned her down with a slightly bemused air when she offered to arm wrestle.

Maybe it was a cultural thing.

The week on the road to Ostagar was one of the best of Donni's life, regardless of her unnoticed crush. Although she was looking forward to meeting more Grey Wardens, and slitting a few darkspawn throats, she was also aware that Duncan's attention would move on. He had, in her vague imaginings, an army to lead and a Blight to end. Even the most optimistic outcome would see him busy with a thousand things more important than her.

They were less than a day out from Ostagar, and Donni had seen the wilds stretching off endlessly before them as the sun set. Their next camp, she realised, would be with an army. It seemed hard to believe, as she gazed into the flames of their little campfire. She'd been worried at first about darkspawn ambushing them, but Duncan had reassured her that he'd know if any approached.

She sighed.

"Are you missing your home?" he asked.

"What? Orzammar? No, I mean, I miss Rica, but I'm sure she'll be fine. I'm just a bit sad that this is going to end." She waved her arm vaguely, "You know, travelling. You."

"I should hope I'm not about to end. Not before the battle at least."

"No I mean, I'll miss you. Like this." She bunched her fists in sudden determination. "Ah, sod it." What is a Grey Warden if she is not brave, after all?

She got to her feet and took a deep breath. She stepped around the fire and knelt in front of him, pressing her hands on top of his (outsized, armoured, oddly-proportioned, human) shoulders and kissing him with inexpert enthusiasm. She counted maybe two seconds.

He wrapped his fingers around hers and firmly took her hands off his shoulders. She got the hint and she pulled back, feeling guilty and extremely foolish. It had been worth a try, right?

"I'm very flattered," he said gently, "but that's not really appropriate." He let her go and she scrambled back to her original place by the fire, drawing her knees up and hugging them.

"I know," she mumbled. "I promise I won't embarrass you again." It would be nice if she never embarrassed herself again, but she decided to stick to promises she could keep. "I'm sorry," she added, just in case her expression hadn't made it obvious.

"No harm done," Duncan said tolerantly. He wasn't looking at her, and Donni was grateful. "We were all young once."

Donni wasn't in the mood to hear a story and Duncan didn't appear to be in the mood to tell her one, so as soon as she could Donni wrapped herself up in her bedroll and waited for her face to stop burning.

By the next morning it had, but she was looking forward to the distraction of Ostagar and whatever awaited them there. Duncan didn't treat her any differently, but she found herself hanging back and not asking her usual questions. She didn't appear to have done any irreparable damage, although her pride was rather bruised. He said he was flattered, but she had to admit he didn't really look it. He looked a bit surprised, but nothing more dramatic than his usual bemusement at her idiosyncrasies.

She couldn't help but wonder if similar things had happened to him before. The thought made her feel slightly worse.

The Tower of Ishal rose up to their right and before them was Ostagar, bustling with activity it had not seen in centuries. Donni gazed around her with wide eyes, trying to look at everything at once.

And then they met the king. The human king. The actual king, in armour that shone like the sun, was talking to Duncan, and then, to Donni's endless surprise, to her. He called her friend, and asked her name. She smiled in an awestruck way and managed to answer him, and he promised to share Dwarven ale with her. She didn't have the heart to tell him she was now a firm convert to the human varieties.

She knew it was reflected glory, and that Cailan was there to talk to Duncan, but she was still deeply impressed with the young king.

Duncan gave her free reign of the camp, and Donni grinned at him, her embarrassment forgotten. She was determined to talk to everyone she met, land on her feet, and prove to herself that the brand on her face meant nothing.

She talked to soldiers and mages, her guileless enthusiasm wheedling scraps of information and gossip out of the guards. She heard for the first time the legend of Teyrn Loghain, and dreadfully curious, she asked if she could see the famed general.

She was hoping just to get a look inside the tent, but to her surprise the guard went and fetched the man himself. Donni kept her backbone, and greeted him politely. Cailan had been friendly from the instant he'd seen her with Duncan, but Loghain was far more reserved. He was forming impressions of some kind, and Donni stood up a bit straighter. She could believe he was the brains of this particular outfit.

He seemed, if anything, slightly nonplussed. But he was polite, and he seemed impressed to learn she was from Orzammar itself, rather than the surface.

"I don't suppose you'll be riding into battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?"

Donni recognised a leading question when she heard one, but she couldn't imagine what kind of answer he was expecting, so she answered honestly, "I hope not!" Riding a quiet little pony alongside Duncan was one thing, galloping a warhorse into battle was something else.

"Huh! You're wiser than you look."

It was a backhanded compliment, but Donni thanked him anyway. He left her with some cryptic advice and returned to his duties. Donni was left with the impression that she'd talked to a very important person, again, who'd been reasonably happy to talk to her.

Donni supposed she'd better find this Alistair. But first she gave herself a silent but firm talking to. "Everyone I've met so far has been noble and polite or kind and treats me with respect and they're all …tall." She marched past the mages, composing her lecture with a knitted brow. "But I am absolutely not going to fraternise with my superiors. That's not how humans do things."

Right. Sorted.

Alistair.

In a sense he reminded her of Leske, but without the casual lechery. He sent the mage off in a huff and Donni decided they'd get on fine. "I'm looking forward to travelling with you," she said with a grin.

"That's a switch." Alistair seemed surprised. She exuded general delight with everything for a while as they made their way back through the camp. "So uh, you like Ostagar then?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah! I've met some amazing people."

By the same time tomorrow, two of those men would be dead, left to die by the third, and Donni would have no cause to feel delight for a long time.

Donni woke up in the witches' hut with a hole in her heart. But whatever she felt for Duncan, it was clear that Alistair had lost a lot more. So she buried her grief, and set her jaw. It was there, with Flemeth looking on and Alistair trying to hold himself together that Donni vowed to follow in the footsteps of the man she'd so admired and lost so quickly.

In Dust Town there had been no rules, no moral code. All she'd done was try to survive. If she'd hurt innocents, stolen, or lied, it had made little difference to her. Now she was a Grey Warden, she had a purpose, and a guide.

She would ask herself, when faced with a choice between life and death, what Duncan would have done.