Andate, Andarta

1.

The cheerful sunlight bathed Vigil's Keep in an aura of gold. According to Anders, the keep had been in a rather rotten state when he left, but a decade was, perhaps, long enough to restore and refurbish so that everything looked grand and majestic once more.

"You'd like her, I think," Anders said, "Unless she's changed a lot. I haven't been keeping in touch," He winced a little, "What can I say? I'm an ass."

"That you are," Isabela agreed, "But she wasn't, not if I remember correctly."

"She's a mage?" Fenris asked.

"Yes," Andarta nodded, "But it's not like we have much of a choice at this stage."

There were Grey Wardens stationed as guards behind the gates and on top of the walls, their armored figures strolling leisurely back and forth. Andarta combed her hair with her fingers, considering them. She had always found Grey Wardens to be a mysterious lot, Anders excluded, though the mage probably made for a rather poor example of a warden.

"Well?" Merrill chirped, blinking her large, expressive eyes, "Are we going or not?"

"Don't think I'd get as warm a welcome here as I did with Nathaniel," Anders cringed, "At least not as long as we don't see the commander first. I didn't exactly leave the wardens on good terms, if you recall. In fact, if the Warden-Commander has me executed on the spot, I'd deserve it. She'd treat the rest of you well though, don't get me wrong. I did happen to kill a few brothers and sisters on my way out though, last I was with them."

"Don't worry," Said Andarta, "We won't let that happen. I'm good at talking and convincing others."

"Don't we know it."

Still, there was something ominous about approaching the keep. Andarta could not fathom why. She had faced worse things in her life, she had even spoken to the King of Ferelden without so much as batting an eyelash, but the Hero of Ferelden seemed to be far more intimidating somehow. A young mage, some said still in her teens, singlehandedly rounding up all of Ferelden to unite against the Blight and stopping it within one year. Ten years was enough for the Thaw to die down considerably, but it was said that she was still mighty on the battlefield. Andate Amell was the stuff of legend.

Who was also her cousin.

She might not even be here. She might be away, visiting the King, or scouting, or recruiting…she might not even be here, and even if she is, you're the Champion of Kirkwall. You've fought a high dragon. You defended mages. That will surely earn you points, right?

"Let's go," She finally said.

The gates loomed tall as they neared, and a little pocket window slid open when she knocked.

"Who's the Grey Warden among you?" The guard asked after she requested entrance to the keep. He obviously sensed a fellow taint.

Anders cringed. "Hi, you don't know me, I don't think. It's me. Yes, I'm a Grey Warden." Was, he once insisted, but since the guard did not recognize him, clarifying that point would only complicate things.

"I am Andarta Hawke. I come from Kirkwall in the Free Marches, and would like to request audience with your Warden-Commander."

"Ah, very well," The window slid closed, and just like that the gates started to open.

"That was easier than we hoped," Isabela said dryly. "Looks like you didn't make such a memorable impression."

"Laugh it up, pirate," Anders returned in the same tone.

Inside the keep were many, many wardens, far more so than Andarta thought was required after ten, elven years of the Thaw. There were children in the compound too, obviously not wardens themselves. They glanced up at the newcomers curiously, but did not seem afraid. Some of the other wardens also looked, but did not pay them much attention otherwise.

"The Arlessa is in her office," Said the guard that spoke through the window, "If you can come this way, ser."

Varric cocked an eyebrow at this as the guard turned away.

"Ferelden accent," Anders explained as they followed, "Free Marches is 'serrah', Ferelden is 'ser'."

"I missed Ferelden," Andarta said thoughtfully, unsure how to articulate the warm feeling that bloomed inside her heart at the once familiar term of address.

The term was not what Varric was incredulous about, however.

"There's an Arlessa of Vigil's Keep? I thought wardens were supposed to stay out of politics."

"Amaranthine. She's the King's best friend. The King himself is a Grey Warden. Kind of too late to stay out of politics, and besides, she was given the Arling to help rebuild the wardens of Ferelden from like, one person to this many. She needed all the help she could get."

"She's doing quite well for herself," Andarta glanced around at the multiple people.

"Aye," The guard was listening, "A fine leader, is Warden-Commander Amell. Neither the keep nor Amaranthine would be standing without her. You know the Warden-Commander? You talk like you know her."

"Same Circle," Said Anders, lifting his staff, "Though I wasn't really friends with her so much as just acquaintances back then, but she oversaw my Joining and was the one who conscripted me."

"Ha! Must be before my time. Good to know."

As they came upon what looked like the main hall, a woman in her late twenties jogged through the front doors, wearing only a tunic and breeches and boots. Her hair was tied back into a simple ponytail and she wore a headband to keep sweat and hair out of her face. She was rather tall, and her face still held the freshness of youth, despite what must have been a harsh lifestyle. There was a little of Leandra Amell in this woman. As a tactician herself, Andarta could see that one reason Andate Amell had been so successful at gathering armies for the Fifth Blight was because she had an unearthly beauty. It must have helped her charisma, and she could see that ten years ago, the innocence associated with young women in their teens must have made her all the more radiant.

"Hi there Kesseck," She started jogging in place, before her eyes landed on Anders and she abruptly stopped. "You."

"Hehe," Anders sounded about as nervous as Andarta had ever heard him, "Hi, Commander."

Amell folded her arms and glared, though she did not look like she wanted to attack or call her wardens on them, "You have a lot of nerve, showing up here."

"Hehe…sorry, look, I wouldn't have done it if they hadn't—"

"Nine years!" Amell interrupted, her voice going high and shrill, "You disappear for nine years and I don't get any posts from you! If Nathaniel hadn't gone to the Deep Roads and encountered you there, I'd have thought you died! You ass!" Her eyes flickered over to Andarta. "Sorry, that wasn't proper language. But you ass!"

Andarta decided she liked the Warden-Commander.

Anders seemed even more nervous by this turn of events than he would have been if Amell had thought he was a dangerous maleficar. "I was trying to keep a low profile! I was sort of a wanted man, you know? Besides there's also the fact that if the First Warden ever caught wind of you associating with me, you'd be in over your head too!"

"Right, because you're so thoughtful like that. That was totally why you chose to cut off all contact. Do I look like I was born yesterday? We both know you're a selfish prick."

Anders' shoulders slumped at this. "Alright, you're right, I wasn't really thinking of you. I'm a selfish prick."

The Warden-Commander sniffed at this, before turning her attention to Andarta. Despite the relative flippancy of the situation, her eyes were deep and penetrating as she scrutinized the Champion of Kirkwall. Andarta felt like her very soul was being scanned, and wondered what force of personality this woman possessed to give her such power in a mere glance.

"You must be Hawke," Said the mage, inclining her head, "Nathaniel has told me about you, and of what happened in Kirkwall. As a mage, I thank you for your support and understanding. Compassion for those in the Circles is hard to come by in those who are not mages; Ferelden required a sympathetic King and a mage slayer of the Archdemon to change any opinions at all."

"My father was a mage," Said Andarta, "As is my sister," She inched her head slightly at Bethany, who was regarding the Warden-Commander with awe, "It would be hypocritical of me to think mages are monsters when I can see for myself that they aren't."

"Nonetheless," Amell smiled, "You are still better than many. All of you, welcome to Ferelden, and Vigil's Keep. Now, what can I do for you? Considering the events in Kirkwall, I assume you look for a place to stay?"

"That is…one request," Andarta admitted. She took a look at the commander, who seemed to have dressed to go for a run, and wondered if it was entirely appropriate to make more demands so informally. "I confess the discussion I have in mind is not urgent."

"It's not like I have urgent business myself," Andate grinned, and there was a spark of challenge in her eyes as she led the way into the hall. She reached into her breeches to smooth the hem of her tucked tunic, as if to emphasize that her current attire did not bother her, and if Andarta knew her priorities, she should not be bothered either. "Kesseck, thank you for escorting our guests."

"No problem, commander."

There were other people in the hall, so it was obvious that Amell did not intend to speak with them there. Varric walked up to Anders as they followed her at a slight distance.

"Didn't know she was a looker."

"Yeah, we get that a lot."

"I'm surprised you didn't have a go at her."

"Hehe, er…she's kind of too young, especially back then."

"Pfft. Since when did you care about that?"

"…Valid point, but still, she was kind of too young, back then. Ow!" Anders swallowed the cry after Andarta elbowed him.

They cut to the back, where they passed the training grounds. Aveline and her husband Donnic murmured to each other with approval. Andarta had to admit she was rather impressed as well. The spars between mages and everyone else were especially fantastic to watch, because spells, as Bethany could say, were hard to do halfway, and sparring could be lethal without proper supervision.

"It is so strange!" Bethany whispered to her, "It's like being in the Circle, except there are others around! I daresay I would have liked to be a Grey Warden."

The offices were in a rather small but sturdy building, which was appropriate given the sensitive documents and items Grey Wardens probably had to store. The air was cool yet dry inside, and the rooms of offices had large windows to allow sunlight to beam through. There were more wardens here, elves, dwarves, humans, most of whom paid little attention as their commander passed through.

"Here we are," Amell invited them to go into her office first, "I get to have a bigger office, though all of you will be a tight fit; I use to joke with Alistair—His Majesty, that my office could fit in his bathroom tub. Nothing like royalty and the riches that go along with it to put one in one's place." Once everyone was inside, she shut the door and circled around the group to sit at her desk. "My apologies, I do not have enough chairs to seat all of you."

"That's fine," Said Andarta, taking a seat, as Anders took another. "I'm sure you know, Warden-Commander, the details of what has happened in Kirkwall?"

"My second-in-command, Warden Howe, has briefed me with his account," Amell nodded. "I am told the Circle there has disbanded and the Knight-Commander there is dead."

"You know, then, that the uprising has spread throughout the Free Marches, and that there is now the threat of war with the Chantry?"

"Not just the Free Marches, I'm afraid. Ferelden remains the only kingdom that is rather unaffected by the situation, due to King Alistair's fortuitously liberal laws that allowed more freedom to mages. Even in Orlais, the Empress is dealing with riots."

"It was never my wish to provoke the Chantry," Andarta folded her hands, "The injustices committed against the mages, however, were intolerable, and I was obligated, as a person who tries to abide by good morals, to step in their defense, given my position as Champion of Kirkwall. This has led to far greater consequences, however—consequences that affect us all."

"And you want my help to prevent a war," Said Amell. Her tones were neutral, so Andarta could not interpret them. "The way I heard it, this has been a long time in coming, but Anders was the immediate cause." She turned her penetrating gaze to the other mage, who squirmed in his seat. "You seem determined to create trouble for everyone."

Despite his unease, Anders replied confidently enough, "Some troubles have to be created to solve the bigger problem."

"Yes," Amell inclined her head, and looked back at Andarta."You realize that I am a Grey Warden and an Arlessa of Ferelden? I have little power to initiate or stop anything continental, short of going to my superiors—either Weisshaupt or Denerim. I'm curious why you sought me out as opposed to the King."

"You are a mage," Andarta replied readily, "You are both mage and the Hero of Ferelden. Thedas owes you for sparing it the worst of the Blight. You are living proof that the Chantry is wrong about mages, and that they should not be given as much power as they have."

The Warden-Commander looked at her steadily, her eyes piercing and profound. "Ten years is a long time, Ser Hawke. Long enough for people to forget what it was like during the Blight, and certainly long enough for people to question one's continued use. I myself faced a legend, the Hero of River Dane. With your logic, I should not have questioned anything he did, but times change and he was in the wrong. People will think the same with me."

"Loghain Mac Tir died doing what he believed was right. That he was in the wrong does not change that; his sin was not doing too much, but doing too little, and for the wrong goals. You do not seem the kind of person willing to let others suffer while you remain comfortable. This is for a good cause; how can preventing a war possibly be wrong?"

"How can it, indeed?" She was every inch a leader, Andarta thought. Queen-like, elegant, despite wearing only a tunic and breeches. Her words were clear and concise, every sentence deliberate as if written. She had a kind face, however, and her voice was gentle and melodious. Hints of a patient character, one who was self-assured, but not proud, slow to anger and quick to smile. She spoke in a manner that made everyone feel respected and important, but did not take away from her own status as a commander. As an enemy, Amell would have been formidable. Andarta found herself wishing Meredith had met her. The Knight-Commander would never stand a chance. "By itself, peace is always best, yes? But what do you suppose is required when both factions refuse to compromise? What lengths would you go to in order to prevent a war? Did not the problems that led to war come during peace in the first place?" She turned to Anders, "Did this war not loom before us as a result of the atrocities committed by the Chantry against the mages and all whom they believe to stand in their way? The impending chaos has been long time coming. The series of events that will cause it has long since happened. Much like with the Tevinter, this is a war between those who are oppressed and those who wish to keep oppressing. For obvious reasons, neither wish to lose. We Grey Wardens have a priority: defeat darkspawn. For this purpose we had to agree to complete neutrality in order to properly recruit from all of Thedas, so that in the event of a Blight, there is a sufficient number of us who can stand at the front lines. As Warden-Commander, I represent my order and its neutrality. If I help you, I would have to choose a side in this conflict, and that would place our authority, the authority we need to unite Thedas against the darkspawn, at risk. In addition, those under my command hail from a multitude of origins. If they see me picking a side, they will feel incumbent to select sides as well. You speak of preventing a war, Ser Hawke, but a full-blown war is no worse than a war with an illusion of peace."

Anders shot to his feet. "This is your war too," He declared vehemently, "This is our war. Don't think the Chantry will just stop with apostates. They'll attack the Grey Wardens, and the Grey Warden mages. They'll attack you, because as you said, ten years is enough time for people to forget why they keep you around!"

"Sit down!" Amell thundered, and the force of her authority was such that the mage obeyed instantly. Silence descended, and it seemed to Andarta that everyone behind her froze at the order.

"Keep yourself together," She ordered Anders in a calmer voice, "We are all civilized here. Yelling will get you nowhere." She tilted her head. "The Anders I know wouldn't give a nug's ass about other mages. You've changed."

Varric choked in a laugh. "Can clearly see you hang out with dwarves, Warden-Commander."

She smiled warmly at him. "Dwarves, elves, humans, they are all my brothers and sisters now." The smile disappeared. "I am aware of the danger to the Grey Wardens, and this certainly can be exploited, but as with all weapons, I can only draw it with good reason, lest I lose my credibility and any power I have to help you."

"What about your arling?" Andarta asked, "You are Arlessa, correct? Surely you can act as an Arlessa?"

"That presents its own difficulties. I have two duties as Arlessa: swear fealty to my King, and protect and serve my subjects. I cannot place King Alistair in a dangerous position for my sake—it would be bad form, both as a vassal and as a friend. I cannot put my people in danger due to my own biases either. Because this is Ferelden, the Chantry's hold over mages is weaker than in other parts of Thedas, save perhaps Tevinter. Therefore, while I can act if the Chantry chooses to attack either my king or the people of my arling, I cannot do so unless the threat is more substantial than it is."

Andarta exchanged a look with Bethany.

"I hesitate to refuse," Said Amell, "So instead I will say, not now. Not until the proper opening is shown. That, I think, is something you can work towards." She turned to Anders, "Especially you, given your love of creating trouble."

"Sometimes you have to create trouble to solve the bigger problem."

"Yes," She agreed again, "That is very much so." She stood. "You may stay as my guests; no one will question my hosting cousins and their friends," She smiled a rather toothy smile at Andarta's surprised look—she did not realize the commander was aware of their relationship, "The name 'Amell' is quite familiar to me, and a Hawke claiming her mother's Amell estate is not a tough secret to unearth. I will call for the others to prepare the guest rooms. We wardens live rather sparsely, so I apologize in advance for the scant furnishings. You will have a lot of food though, haha."

"No problem," Andarta inclined her head in thanks as she stood as well, "We've all camped before. A room and bed itself is a luxury."

They filtered out of the office, and Amell, ponytail swinging as she walked, led them from the office building to the dormitories. She called out orders cheerfully, and was answered with enthusiastic obedience. Bethany took her place beside her sister as they walked, while Fenris took the other side, striding far too casually to really feel at ease.

"What do we do now?" Fenris asked lowly. "This seems like a waste of time. This mage isn't willing to dirty her hands unless she has to."

"It's not her fault," Said Andarta, "There's a difference between an outright coward and someone who plans risks carefully. She doesn't want to get other people hurt through her own opinions, and that is a decision I can respect." She glanced pointedly at Anders.

"Fair enough," The elf acquiesced.

"Besides, she practically invited us to create 'openings' for her. We have a place to stay and recuperate from running. That gives us a chance to plan ourselves, figure out what to do next."

"She's not what I expected," Bethany whispered, "I mean, she kind of is, and kind of isn't. She kind of unnerves me, like those people who know more than they should. I wonder if she knew all along that we were related? Why did she never contact us?"

"We never contacted her," Andarta pointed out. "Maybe she's as discomfited by this as we are."

Once inside the residence halls, Amell stood with the group as the other wardens retrieved sheets and pillows.

"So, sadly enough, we didn't get introduced while in my office. You must be Bethany Hawke."

"Yes, Commander."

"Call me Andate," The commander laughed, "I'm only a commander to new recruits and strangers. No one cares who you are, Anders. You are?"

"Varric Tethras, at your service, my lady." The dwarf completed his introduction with a bow as Anders sputtered beside him.

Amell giggled, which made her seem less of a commander and more of a young woman. "Charmed, Ser Tethras."

Andarta, taking her cue, gestured to Fenris. "This is Fenris, he comes from Tevinter."

To her credit, Amell did not gaze long on his lyrium markings. "A pleasure."

Isabela introduced herself. "You know me, of course. What happened to Arainai?"

"I'd like to know the same thing. Lousy elf likes to be mysterious. Helps him get the ladies, I assume. Last I heard, he is up to his usual mischief; you can interpret that how you like."

"Ah, Zevran," Isabela cocked a hip as she braced a hand on it, "It's a shame the three of us never were able to…get to know each other."

"I'm sure it is," Amell said airily, obviously disinclined to know for sure.

Aveline and Donnic were brusque about their introductions, though Andarta took the liberty of elaborating that they were both formerly Kirkwall's guardsmen, Aveline being the captain. A strange moment occurred when Merrill was introduced, however; as soon as the elf greeted the commander, Amell abruptly asked, "Are you a blood mage?"

"Hm!" Anders blinked at this, while Andarta tried to rationalize how the commander figured it out. As far as she knew, blood mages were not easy to tell apart, save for the scars due to their blood rituals, but Amell could not have seen any of Merrill's.

"You keep interesting company, cousin," She said to Andarta, "Much like I did. Intriguing. And you are Dalish, correct?"

"Yes, commander," Merrill said shyly.

"There is a lot one can learn from the Dalish," Amell nodded amiably. "Welcome, all of you. I am glad to have you with us. Except you, Anders."

"What?" Anders sighed, "And here I was thinking you missed me."

She responded with a high kick, one that missed his ear by centimeters. It was an expert kick, one befitting a skilled rogue and very surprising in a mage, showing off her flexibility and control. Anders was so startled, he did not even duck. Her foot stayed there, frozen in position, though it appeared to take no effort at all.

"I think you have a lot of nerve, showing up here after what you did to your brothers." All humor was gone from her face now. "Wynne had a spirit ally too, but it's different with you, isn't it? I could throw you in the dungeons and hand you over to the templars and it might even be the right thing to do." She finally lowered her foot. "You're lucky you're my friend, as was Justice, at least once upon a time. Keep your head down, Anders."

Anders actually lowered his head. "Yes, Commander."

"Hm," Amell sniffed, and whacked him on the back of the head with her right hand. Anders flinched, but did not complain. "Granted, they were annoying brothers." A smile lurked at her lips again.

The other wardens came to her to announce that the rooms were ready. The commander clasped Andarta's arm once, then Bethany's, half saluted to the rest, kicked Anders in the shin, and then jogged out for her run.

"What an interesting character," Varric mused out loud as her figure departed. His mind was noticeably turning with possible stories that could be derived from this.

"Sers," Said a warden, "If you can come this way, please."