Neria stood in the back of the crowd, picking invisible bits of lint off her robe. The ceremonial Circle robe felt suffocating after nearly two years in short, comfortable clothing. This new robe also hummed with unfamiliar wards, which felt equally choking. Neria did not trust clothing she had not enchanted herself, and this robe had come straight from the Circle. Neria suspected it of carrying tracking charms, and whispered her suspicions to the red-headed woman standing next to her.
"You're just being paranoid, Neria. You are the Hero of Fereldan. They wouldn't dare!" said Leiliana lightly. "They look lovely on you, by the way. The red goes well with your complexion."
What complexion? thought Neria sourly. Two years outdoors had done nothing for her stubbornly pale skin, except blight her nose with freckles.
"And now, I'd like to introduce the woman who made everything possible. Neria Amell, would you please come forward?" asked Alistair.
Neria avoided eye contact with him, instead fixing a smile on her face and bowing politely to those who cheered.
"Thank you, your Majesty." said Neria, smoothly avoiding the hand he held out to her.
"The Hero of Fereldan, who defeated the Archdemon, and saved us all. As new King of Fereldan, I offer you a boon." said Alistair, his eyes on her face.
Neria swallowed heavily. Leiliana had warned her about this custom, and they had spoken at length about the possibilities. Neria had argued long and hard for the liberation of the Circle, but Leiliana had pointed out the Chantry's long history of ignoring royal decrees. In the end, Neria chose to help people to whom she felt very little connection, though she shared their ancestry.
"I'd like the Alienages disbanded, and elves given equal rights under the law, your Majesty." said Neria, kneeling before Alistair.
"Then consider it done!" said Alistair. He roughly grabbed her hand and pulled her up.
"And quit all of this majesty crap." he whispered. "I don't want you bowing like that to me."
"Too bad. You're King now." said Neria petulantly.
"I also appoint you Chancellor and Commander of the armies of Fereldan." said Alistair. Neria heard a gasp, and saw the Exhalted Mother frowning furiously.
"Magic is meant to serve man, and never rule over him." she said angrily, interuppting the proceedings.
Neria inclined her head to the woman. "She is right. I am content retaining my position as Warden Commander, your Majesty."
The Exhalted Mother clapped her mouth shut, surprised. Neria could feel Alistair's glare, and she avoided his eyes.
Neria excused herself, meeting with her friends and companions. She sharply felt Morrigan's absence, and wondered if she would ever see her dearest friend again. A sick part of her hoped she never would, that she would never have to see Morrigan with what she would never have, Alistair's child. Thinking of Alistair only brought pain, and she locked those thoughts away with the calm of a woman who had practiced mental discipline since she was a small child.
"It is not too late, Neria. We can leave tonight, be in Antiva before the bastard prince knows you've left." said Zevran in her ear.
Neria laughed lightly. "Oh, please. I'm already nearly an apostate. Alistair's influence is about the only thing keeping them from seizing me and dragging me back to the Circle."
"You think too little of yourself. You are a hero! The people love you!" said Zevran.
Neria looked around at the faces surrounding her, and saw that Zevran was correct. Most of the faces held something like awe and gratitude. Only a few were pinched, though whether it was because she was an elf or a mage, she could not tell.
Neria heard the clink of familiar armored footsteps, and she tried to shrink behind Zevran.
"Neria! I have been waiting to speak with you. You've been avoiding me." said Alistair, looking down at her.
"I've been busy. You know, pesky archdemons and all that." said Neria.
"Mm. So that's why, a month after the death of said darkspawn, you have ignored all invitations sent to you?" asked Alistair, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Not all invitations. Just the ones you sent." said Neria.
"Oh." said the King, for all his shiny new armor and expensive haircut, looking like the downtrodden, goofy Templar she had fallen in love with.
Neria steeled herself. This was the same man who had, after she had exhausted every spell she knew to keep him and hand him the throne, had told her that the very skills that had ensured that he was alive, barred him from marrying her. She had been so naive, so very fucking stupid, thinking that love would overcome such glaring problems like the fact that he was a templar and she was a mage, that he was the king's son, and she a filthy elf from the Highever alienage. Despite this, she could not keep herself from hoping that he had come around, that he intended to tell all the stuffy nobles just where they could shove their outdated and racist opinions, and marry her anyway.
"Can we just...talk?" asked Alistair.
"Yes. But not here." said Neria, seeing the interested looks on the faces of the strangers around her.
She followed Alistair to an empty room in the palace. He shut the door behind her, and then his hands were on her hips, pulling her to him. Alistair's familiar mouth found hers, and Neria's head swam, her heart singing.
"I've missed you so much. I don't know what to do with all these people. None of them say what they mean." murmured Alistair, his mouth moving to her neck. "Damn them. I'll do what I please. I'm the King, right?"
Neria gasped. Was this the Fade? She ran through a series of checks she had compiled, and this passed all of them.
"I want you to live here." said Alistair. "I have rooms set up already."
"What? Why wouldn't I be in your rooms?" asked Neria, pulling away.
"Well, I don't think I can get away with that level of impropriety." laughed Alistair.
"Why would it be improper, if.." started Neria, and then she realized what, exactly, he was proposing. Not marriage. No, he was asking her to be his mistress. She felt sick, then enraged.
"You're no better than your father, you Maker-forsaken dog!" screamed Neria, her precious control slipping. Electricity crackled around her, and Alistair took a step back.
"After everything I've given up for you, you'd ask me to give up my dignity, too? I thought you'd finally grown some balls, that you were going to ask me to marry you!" choked Neria.
"Oh, Neria." said Alistair sadly. "The Landsmeet would never allow me to marry a-"
"A what, Alistair? A devil-worshipping mage? A knife-ears?" asked Neria, advancing, grief and rage nearly bursting out of her. "Good enough to fuck, but not to marry? I could have accepted that we could never marry, could have eventually even been friends with you, if you hadn't done this. "
"I wish I hadn't. I'm so sorry." said Alistair, his eyes wide and begging. "I didn't mean to insult you. I just missed you. I love you so much.
"Don't." snapped Neria. "You don't get to say that to me. Now, I'm leaving, and from now on, I expect you to act professionally, your Highness." She brushed past him, and felt his hand grasp her upper arm. The emotions rolling through her fractured the last hold she had on herself, and she ripped her arm away. Flames burst out along her arms and hands, throwing Alistair across the room.
Guards pushed open the door, grabbing her by the arms.
"No. Let her go." came Alistair's weak voice from the corner. Neria felt a flash of guilt, worrying that she had severely injured him. It took a lot of damage to make Alistair get up so slowly.
He deserved it. Said Morrigan's voice in her mind, and she pushed the guilt away, holding on to her anger, instead.
"But your Majesty, she attacked you!" argued one of the guards.
"We were only sparring." said Alistair, leaning against the wall, a nasty burn running down the side of his face and neck.
The guards looked from Neria's flushed face to Alistair's pale one, and nodded, though theirs eyes rested on Neria suspiciously.
"Leave us." said Alistair, and the guards left. Neria turned to follow them.
"No, wait. Please." said Alistair. "I didn't want it to go this way. If you never want to speak to me again, I understand. Just let me say this: I am grateful for everything you've done for me, Neria. Everything. And I won't forget it."
Neria snarled, pointing a finger at him. "You forgot it pretty easily when that damned crown touched your head. Nevermind, Alistair. We're done. Goodbye."
She heard him make a sad, forlorn sound deep in his throat, and it nearly broke her, nearly had her running back into his arms. But pride, the only thing left to her, would not allow it.
"Thank you for fighting at my side all this time. You've been a good friend." said Neria quietly, the love she felt for the man in front of her forcing her to show compassion. She left, shutting the door, and walked directly to the stables.
There, she found Zevran, holding out her pack. "I thought you might be needing this." he said.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"I have not travelled with you and the King for two years without learning to read you both." said Zevran. "It was fairly obvious what he intended on proposing. That, and the gossip from the servants who said that a mistress was soon going to take residence. I could not be sure if you would take the offer or not, though I suspected you wouldn't."
"Thank you, Zev." said Neria. "Where are you going, after this?"
"Wherever you want me to go, my lady." said Zevran, bowing and then grinning cheekily.
"I could use a man with your skills accompanying me, at least until I reach Soldier's Peak." said Neria.
"Then I am your man. Without reservation." said Zevran, and mounted the horse. He pulled Neria up behind him. "Plus, you are useless with horses. I don't even know what you hoped to do here, at the stables."
"Perhaps seduce myself a stable boy." said Neria lightly, then laughed dryly. "You're right, I really wasn't thinking. I've never even ridden a horse before. I'm just sick of all this damned walking!"
Zevran laughed. "Just hold on, and I'll get us there."
They reached Soldier's Peak a week later. Neria and Zevran stopped at every tavern along the way. Neria, both to drown her sorrows, and look for new recruits. Zevran, because he was never one to turn down a chance at a good time.
At one tavern, Neria and Zevran were accosted outside by a group of ill-weaponed bandits.
"Give us all your money!" shouted one, his young face white in terror, though he was the one holding the weapon.
Zevran just laughed. Neria cocked her head, then looked at the group of teenagers.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You picked some very bad targets, by the way. I should tell you, I'm a Grey Warden."
The one who had shouted fainted dead away.
"She killed him without moving a muscle! Run! Run!" shouted a boy with entirely too many freckles, and they scattered quickly.
Neria kneeled next to the unconscious boy, and shook him awake. "What are you doing, trying to rob people?" she asked. "You obviously don't know how to hold that dagger, rusty piece of shit it is."
"I. Well, the rest of them said if i joined them, I could feed my family. Mam died a month ago, and now it's just me and Lissie." said the boy.
Zevran sighed, watching Neria's face soften in sympathy. Every stinking orphan in Fereldan seemed to find her, and they were the reason that Neria never had more than a sovereign ot her name.
"Now they'll kill me! I failed!" wailed the boy, tears gathering in his eyes.
"Not if you don't stay here." said Neria. "Do you have any skills?"
"I can read and write." said the boy proudly.
Neria grinned. "Avernus has been complaining about his lack of an assistant for some time." said Neria. "How would you like to come with me to Soldier's Peak and work for the Grey Wardens? We're always looking for scribes."
"Really?" brightened the boy. "Oh, if you're a Grey Warden, does that mean you're...The Hero?" he asked, his eyes wide in awe.
"Ugh, don't call me that." said Neria, and pulled him to his feet. "Now, let's collect your sister, shall we?"
They found his sister playing outside, swinging a butcher knife through the air. Zevran whistled. "For such a little thing, she isn't bad! Definitely more skilled than her brother."
The brother, whom they found out was named Marcus, blushed.
That is how a journey that should have taken days ended up taking a week. They were greeted at the gate by Jowan. Jowan's conscription had been one of the happiest times of Neria's life. It had given her deep pleasure to take the mage right out of the hands of the Templar, and when he had survived the Joining, the guilt that had weighed on her for two years disappeared. It turned out, that when given responsibility, Jowan became quite capable.
Two months later, Neria found herself summoned to Vigil's Keep, the newest Grey Warden outpost. She left the Peak to Jowan, who teared up when she did.
"Aww, don't do that, Jowan. I'm leaving an assassin here to keep you in line, you know." said Neria. Jowan smiled shakily.
"I just don't know why you still trust me, after all this." he said.
"Have you seen my robes? Mages aren't exactly known for their logic." said Neria, and grinned.
Jowan laughed.
"Don't get too lazy up here. I'll be sending recruits for training soon enough." said Neria to Zevran.
"Me, lazy? Whatever gave you that idea?" asked Zevran.
"Perhaps it is your habit of having Marcus bring you your lunch instead of fetching it yourself." said Neria.
"The boy needs to earn his pay, I say." said Zevran, and then hugged her to him. "Stay safe, my friend."
Neria hugged him back. "I've been out of trouble for exactly two months, now. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"I should come with you." said Jowan and Zevran simultaneously.
"Nonsense." said Neria. "I'm a big, scary mage. I can take care of myself. And if I can't, I have Snuggles, here." The Mabari woofed lightly, happy to hear his name.
"Well, not big,maybe, but scary, definitely." said Jowan, and smiled.
Neria hear a horse clopping up the trail, and she squinted in the harsh sunlight, holding a hand to shield her eyes.
The horse slowed, then whickered nervously. Horses never liked Neria. She suspected it was the magic that made them uneasy. The magic often had the same effect on people.
"Warden-Commander!" said the rider, jumping off the horse smartly. "I am here to collect you."
"And who might you be?" asked Neria pleasantly, though she was already planning her attack. Cone of frost, lightning bolt, maybe even flame blast, if this woman proved to be a templar.
"I am Mhairi. I was sent to be your guide to Vigil's Keep. I'm one of the new recruits, though I've not yet taken my Joining." said Mhairi. Neria smiled at the woman's enthusiasm.
"I was not expecting anyone." said Neria.
"Oh, we weren't going to make the Commander walk!" said Mhairi, her voice faintly scandalized.
"Alright then, but I'll have you know, I'm no good with horses." said Neria.
"I heard." said Mhairi, and grinned, pushing back the dark hair falling into her eyes.
Neria found, over the next few days, some interesting facts about the young knight. Mhairi was actually six years older than her, which had shocked both of them. Mhairi loved dogs, espcially Mabari, and soon wheedled a promise out of Neria to have the pick of the first litter Snuggles sired. Mhairi also cherised the idea of becoming a Grey Warden, and talked endlessly about how much she idolized the order. Neria dearly hoped the knight would live through the Joining.
As they neared Vigil's Keep, Neria smelled smoke. She looked up, above the trees, and saw ominous, dark clouds.
"Vigil's Keep is under attack!" said Mhairi. "Hold on, Commander!" She kicked the horse, and the horse gallopped forward, Neria holding on for dear life. Snuggles ran alongside them, streaking through the underbrush easily.
Neria heard the familiar screams of darkspawn, and her stomach dropped. A coordinated darkspawn attack? But the Archdemon was dead! She had no time to wonder, as an arrow whistled over her head. She dropped off the back of the horse, pulling her staff off her back. Neria aimed it at the group of darkspawn, and felt the rush of magic flow through her hands. The group of them froze into place. Mhairi and Snuggles charged forward, cutting through the darkspawn. When one shattered into thousands of ice shards, Mhairi bellowed in delight. Neria grinned. She had worried that the seemingly-gentle Mhairi would not be suited for combat, but she was soon proven wrong. Mhairi was a very capable sword and shield warrior. Though she was not as good as Alistair in anticipating when Neria would need cover, with time, she would easily fill that role.
"Where are all the Wardens?" asked Neria, lightning crackling from her hands, and then jumping from hurlock to hurlock, felling them.
Mhairi gaped for a moment, then regained herself. "They were here when I left! This must be a surprise attack!"
They fought their way to the gates, and it was a relief, to finally release some of her pent-up rage on the darkspawn. Neria saw a long, smeared trail of blood leading up stairs with a door at the top of them, and she took the stairs two at a time. She heard howling, and the smell of ozone and burning flesh filled the air. If an emissary was contained in this room, there was no better than Neria to deal with it. She kicked the door open, levelling her staff, her feet planted in battle stance. A burning genlock fell to the ground in front of her. A human mage stood across from it, flame bursting from his fingertips. He shook his hands, wincing at the heat, then saw her standing there.
"I...uh. I didn't do it." he said.
Neria crooked an eyebrow, wondering why a mage would not take credit for killing a darkspawn, and then she saw the three dead templars at his feet. She heard the sounds of battle resume outside the door.
"I'm an apostate, but I didn't kill these Templars." said the mage.
"Look, I don't care what you did or didn't do." said Neria.
"Pretty and pragmatic. Quite a combination." said the mage admiringly. Neria rolled her eyes.
"You coming with me, or not?" she asked.
"I suppose I can... said the mage. Nowhere better to go."
"Good." said Neria.
Neria and the apostate made their way toward the battlements, hearing Mhairi's loud battle cries. Mhairi turned slightly when they appeared.
"About time you got here!" she shouted. Neria smiled, and then jumped into action. She pumped out spell after spell, relishing the feel of truly using her magic. Electricity, then flame, then ice. Neria had never been good at healing magic, and a complete failure at the shapeshifting magic Morrigan had tried to teach her, but elemental magic? Definitely her forte. The ground quaked under her, sending the darkspawn tumbling to their knees. Lightning arced down from the sky, dancing from hurlock to hurlock. Neria raised her hands to the sky, screaming out the incantations, oblivious to all but the power streaming through her. Arrows hit the ward that shimmered around her, falling, useless to the ground.
When the last darkspawn fell, Neria leaned against her staff, barely still standing, panting.
"Holy Andraste's pantaloons." said the other mage, looking at her with wide eyes. "You're her, aren't you?"
"Who? Andraste? Have you seen these ears?" asked Neria, gasping for breath.
"No. The Hero. I had heard the one who killed the archdemon was a mage, but I had no idea..." trailed the mage.
"That I was a woman or an elf?" asked Neria, somewhat bitterly.
"Not that. Little touchy, aren't you? I didn't know you were a primal mage. I've never seen anyone do what you just did."
Neria smiled a little at that. "Oh? What's your school?"
"Creation. Er. Healing." said the mage.
Neria's smile widened. "Well, aren't I the lucky one? I'm shit at healing, and my healer left for greener grasses. What's your name, Mr. Apostate?"
"It's Anders Amell, Miss Hero." said Anders, grinning crookedly.
"Oh, please, don't call me that. Of all stupid names...I'm Neria Amell." said Neria, holding out her hand.
"Wait, I recognize you! You were friends with Jowan!" said Anders.
"You know him?" asked Neria, cocking her head.
"Know him? I idolize him! He managed to destroy his phylactery, and escape from the Circle for good! Seven times, I've gotten away from that place, and six times, they've dragged me back." said Anders wryly.
"Not a fan of the Circle, then?" asked Neria, her voice neutral.
"I don't especially relish getting kicked in the head to wake up, no." said Anders.
"Then we'll get along just fine." said Neria. "Best day of my life was the day I left the Tower."
"As fun as your reminiscing is, can we get a move-on? I don't got time to waste, listening to this skirt try to get into your skirt." said a loud, crude voice.
"Oghren!" cried Neria, and rushed to the redheaded man, pulling him into a hug. "Ugh, you smell just the way you always did."
"A dwarf who smells like a brewery. Now there's a surprise." said Anders sarcastically.
"How did you get here, Oghren? I thought you were a commander in Fereldan's army?" she asked.
"I was, 'til I decided bein' a Grey Warden would suit me better." said Oghren.
"He's still here? Ugh, I thought the Grey Wardens would have kicked him out by now." said Mhairi, wiping her sword with a rag.
"If it isn't the recruit with a great rack. Good to see you, too, darlin'" drawled Oghren.
Neria rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Oghren."
"Still feisty as ever. Ha-ha, I'm glad you haven't changed. Though what's this with this new guy havin' the same last name as you? You guys aren't siblings, are ya?" asked Oghren.
Anders snorted. "Hardly. Amell is the default last name given to mages. Are you blind? Can't you see that she's an elf and I'm a human? How could we be siblings?"
"Could be half-siblings." said Oghren stubbornly. "I don't know what you nasty mages get up to in your tower. Could be kin-fuckers."
Neria laughed, and clapped a hand on Oghren's shoulder. "Well, my friend, we can continue this conversation later. Now, we have darkspawn to slay."
Neria slumped against a stack of firewood, which, ironically, was about the only wood not currenly on fire in the Keep. She was throughly spent, and felt the nausea that accompanied over-taxing her magic. She gingerly touched her lip, which was split and swelling. The spectacle of a talking darkspawn had made her forget her caution for just a moment, which had been long enough for a hurlock to make it through her shields and knock her in the face with his mace. Mhairi had seen it, and bashed the hurlock to the ground before it could do too much damage, thankfully.
Anders approached, his robes spotless. Neria rolled her eyes, holding a chunk of ice against her lip. Why was it that apostates were so picky about their appearances? Morrigan had been the same way. Worry niggled at Neria, though she knew she shouldn't be too afraid. Morrigan was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
"Well, I've helped you, so I'll just be buggering off, then." said Anders.
"Of course." said Neria, smiling, then wincing.
"Let me take care of that for you." said Anders, and put a finger against her lip. He murmured a few words, and the pain disappeared. "What kind of mage are you, can't even heal a little scratch."
"One who could light you on fire from thirty paces." said Neria, glaring.
"You're welcome, by the way." said Anders. "Anyway, I'll be going, now. If any Templars come looking, tell them I went the other way."
"How about I just tell them you're dead?" asked Neria. Ander's face split into a wide smile.
"That would be most appreciated." he said, and then he was gone. Neria felt a pang of regret. He would have been a useful addition to the Wardens. She hadn't yet seen one living Warden. It seemed that once again, she was the sole surviving warden of a massacre.
She heard the jingle of harnesses, and looked up. Oh, of all times for deja vu! The King swung himself off his horse, and came rushing toward her.
"Neria? Is that you? Oh, thank the Maker! You're alive!" said Alistair, picking her up. Neria managed a weak zap, and he dropped her abruptly.
"Sorry." he said. "Wow, you must really be tired, if that's the best you can do."
"Fighting off an entire Keep swarming with darkspawn tends to take a little out of me." said Neria. "Don't tell my fans. I don't think my reputation could survive."
Alistair laughed, and for a moment, it was as it had always been. Neria and Alistair, friends and warriors, laughing through the worst of situations. Neria caught a glimpse of his golden armor, and scowled. Except now Alistair was King, and she was still a mage, and an elf.
Alistair caught her change of expression, and answered her frown. "Hey, don't do that. Can't we just be friends? What happened here?"
"I know about as much as you do. I arrived earlier today, to the keep overrun with darkspawn. It was a coordinated attack, according to the few surviving soldiers. No Wardens survived, apparently." said Neria coolly.
"But how could that be? The Archdemon is dead. They shouldn't be capable of attacks like this." said Alistair.
"It gets worse. I met a talking darkspawn." said Neria.
"What?!" asked Alistair. "Oh, Maker."
"Something awful is going on, and I intend to stop it." said Neria firmly.
"You know, I kind of miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing." said Alistair hopefully.
"No." said Neria. "You're King, now. You can't be out here, risking your neck."
"And jsut who is going to protect yours? You aren't exactly, well, cautious in battle." said Alistair.
"What am I, chopped nug-liver?" boomed Oghren, walking out from behind some rubble.
"Oghren?" asked Alistair.
Mhairi followed Oghren, and Neria pulled her over. She then realized just who was standing in front of her, and dropped to a knee. Neria pulled at Mairi, and glared at Oghren, who stubbornly stood.
"I'm a dwarf. He ain't my soddin' King." said Oghren.
"My King!" said Mhairi.
"Get up, get up!" sighed Alistair.
"This is Mhairi. She is a very able shield and sword type, just like you. She'll be replacing you." said Neria.
Alistair's eyes flicked over the woman, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. I know I can depend on you to do this, Neria. I'm sorry you have to do it alone."
"I won't be alone." said Neria. "Speaking of alone, why do you only have one guard with you?"
Alistair looked behind him. "I came here with seven. Six of them were templars, and started muttering something about apostates when we arrived. I came as soon as I heard you left for Vigil's Keep. I wanted to give you a royal welcome, but I guess you got here first."
Neria paled at the mention of apostates, and hoped that Anders had gotten away. She heard shouting, and saw templars marching toward her.
"I told you already! I didn't do it!" shouted Anders, dragging his feet.
"Shut up! Murderer!" said one of the templars angrily.
"Your majesty, this man is a dangerous criminal. He must be returned to the Chantry for justice!" said the female tmeplar in commander armor.
"I'll just escape again." said Anders.
"Not this time! I'll see you hanged for what you did!" said the woman, giving Anders a shake.
"Well, I guess that's it, then. Unless you have something to add, Commander..." said Alistair, his eyes meeting Neria's. Then, he winked, and Neria covered her mouth to keep him from seeing her smile.
"I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription." said Neria. "Anders Amell, you are now a Grey Warden."
"What? You can't do this!" said the templar commander angrily.
"Unless I am mistaken, the Wardens still possess the Right of Conscription, no?" asked Alistair, his voice dropping dangerously. The templar gulped, then nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty." she said meekly, and roughly pushed Anders forward. He stumbled, and Neria caught him.
"Well, I should get back. The Bannorn needs to hear of this." said Alistair.
"Goodbye, Your Highness." said Neria, and pounded her chest in a salute. Alistair returned it, his eyes sad.