(Author's note: Contains spoilers for my other stories. This work was never meant as a stand alone tale, but more of a 'what's also happening in the world' sort of thing)

He was playing with the sword again. She laughed, and he gave her an embarrassed look before returning it to its stand. "You are adorable when you blush," she said.

Alistair gave her a mock glare. "I'm king now. King's aren't adorable. Handsome, maybe. Regal. Certainly not adorable." He came over and draped an arm over her. "It was good, having everyone together again. Almost everyone."

"Brehan and Leliana are heading to Orlais."

"Ah, so we'll be at war soon. At least I have the proper sword for it."

"Just so you know, Brosca is threatening to steal it. The sword that killed an archdemon. He says there is a man in Tevinter who will pay a thousand royals for it."

"The coffers don't need money that bad." He considered a moment. "Do they?"

"Jerath gave the sword to you as a wedding present, Alistair. A gift from your friend. Keep it." She leaned her head onto his shoulder. "Besides, with what Brosca having found in Howe's little horde, the kingdom is in surprisingly good shape." She kissed him. "Come to bed, my king."

"As you command, my queen."

#

Ser Gilmore was waiting for her downstairs. Except for a scar on the left side of his jaw, he almost looked like his old self again. "Your majesty," he said, bowing. "I wish to report that your household guard is ready for inspection."

She blinked. "Already?"

He smiled. "There was no shortage of individuals eager for the opportunity to swear their blades to the king and queen who saved Ferelden from a Blight." He gestured for her to follow him. "In fact, nearly half those I selected were at the battle in the market district, and the Warden Commander personally recommended Sergeant Kylon. Wardens Brosca and Lenore seconded the recommendation."

They rose as she entered. She did actually recognize a few of them. A second look revealed that there were four elves among the soldiers, and she smiled. Ser Gilmore introduced her to each of them, and she spoke a few words of encouragement.

Their first task, she told them, was to maintain order in Denerim. And she had faith that they would do so. They were, after all, Ferelden. And as Ferelden had so recently proved, not even a tainted god could threaten them.

Their heads were high as they left to find their posts. "You did well, Rory. I'm glad you agreed to stay."

He sighed. "Highever... holds too many memories."

"I know. It's... I'm not sure how Fergus can stand it. Walking down the halls, I kept seeing..." She shook her head.

"I..." Ser Gilmore swallowed, then shook his head and straightened. "The woman you mentioned showed up this morning. She is waiting in your study." His eyes narrowed. "Under watchful eyes, she was rather eyeing the silver."

#

Goldanna was indeed, eyeing the silver. And the bronze, for that matter. Even with the guard watching, she was pretty sure there were a few suspicious bulges in the woman's pockets. She pasted a smile on her face, and held out her hands in welcome. "Goldanna, we were so worried. Are the children all right?"

"They are, your highness." She straightened, and opened her mouth to speak.

Cathiel didn't give her the chance. "Your oldest boy, he's twelve? I was just speaking to my brother, and he is in need of a squire. Would do you think?"

She blinked. Then she blinked again. And slowly, what looked to be a real smile appeared on his face. "He'd... he'd about wet himself from excitement, he would."

"Then we will get it arranged immediately. Tell me more about your other children. I want to ensure we get them the proper tutors."

#

Alistair gave Gorim a small bow. Despite Saitada's absence, the assembly had named her Paragon. She'd named Gorim her seneschal, and Bhelen had promptly named Gorim the ambassador to Ferelden to keep him out of Orzammar. He had the sneaking suspicion there might still be some bad blood there. It could be worse though. They could have sent someone he didn't like. "How's the family?"

Gorim laughed. "Getting more mobile. Yesterday, she grabbed one of her grandfather's hammers and tried to fix my boots." He shook his head. "She's got a surprisingly good swing." He straightened, and his tone became businesslike. "Word is they've retaken two thaigs, with the help of the Ferelden soldiers. King Bhelen would like to discuss building an actual city on the trust lands."

"Anyone visiting has to travel Ferelden soil, and we do control the port... I certainly think the idea has merit. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

#

"So... your new guard captain."

"Ser Gilmore."

Alistair sighed. "You and he were once..."

Cathiel shook her head. "We were young together, Alistair. But we were never serious about each other. Ser Gilmore and I are friends, and nothing more." She smiled. "And now, I think I'm going to smack you for even thinking I would look at another man, my king."

"I wasn't thinking it, I swear," he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I trust you. I was more concerned about rumors."

She sighed. "With the exception of Fergus, anyone who knew about Rory and I..."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot and I'm sorry."

#

"I'm bored."

She just sighed, and shook her head. Then sighed again. "Me too. Is it wrong that I actually do miss the days when we were running for our lives?"

"And I swear, the next time I hear the words, 'but your majesty', come out of Eamon's mouth I'm going to..." He shook his head, considered a moment, and came up with, "send him as the ambassador to the Anderfels."

"As long as he takes Isolde with him." She leaned against his back, resting her jaw on the top of his head. "I heard from Jerath. He has finished overseeing the removal of the last darkspawn pockets in Redcliffe, and will be departing for Vigil's Keep. Why don't you visit the tower like you planned, and take the long way round? Stop in for dinner and say hello."

"I think you are trying to get me out of the meeting with the ambassador from Cumberland."

"I think if you and the Cumberland ambassador spend any more time around each other, we are going to be at war with the Free Marches."

#

They were within sight of Vigil's Keep when a panicked soldier came running in their direction. He fell, then scrambled back to his feet and headed towards them. "Darkspawn. Darkspawn everywhere."

"Maker," Alistair said. He turned to his soldiers. "Double time, we must help."

#

Jerath met them at the gates, a few others with him. The courtyard was littered with dead, spawn and soldier, but he sensed no living darkspawn. As he approached, Jerath gave him a wry look, then, to his surprise, dropped to one knee. The soldiers with him blinked, and then mirrored his actions.

Alistair nodded, and then gestured for his own men to stand down. He walked forward. "It looks like I arrived a bit late. Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing."

A knight behind Jerath blinked in shock, and then belatedly dropped to her own knee. "King Alistair!"

He sighed. "I'd wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome. I certainly wasn't expecting this. What's the situation?"

It was the older man who responded. "What darkspawn remained have fled, your Majesty. The Grey Wardens who had arrived from Orlais appear to be either dead or... missing."

Alistair blinked. "Missing? As in taken by the darkspawn?" He looked at Jerath. "Do they even do that?"

"I do not know, your Majesty," the older man continued. "I know only that we cannot account for all the Wardens."

"I see. At least the Warden Commander is still here, and alive. That's something, right?"

"I'm fine, Alistair," Jerath said. "But this makes things difficult."

"That's a bit of an understatement, isn't it?" He looked up at the castle. The rain was keeping the fire from spreading, but there was considerable damage. He remembered Saitada telling him not to worry, with the Blight over Warden Commander would be a fairly easy job. "What did happen?"

"Still figuring that out," Jerath said. "I arrived to find the darkspawn holding my fort. We've taken it back, saved who we could."

He glanced back at his soldiers, wondering how many he could leave. He had few enough already, and the road to the Circle was still dangerous. Jerath nodded before he could say anything, and he knew his friend understood. "You have quite the task ahead of you. Really, I'd like to help you fight darkspawn, but you're on your own for the moment."

The dwarf spoke up, and Alistair had to keep from wincing. He knew that voice. "Hey! What am I? Chopped nug livers?"

A man holding a mage staff laughed. "From the smell, that's not a bad guess."

"I came here to join the Grey Wardens, and from the looks of it, you could use the extra hands! Where's the giant cup? I'll gargle and spit!"

For a moment, he marveled at how much Jerath looked like Saitada, with that irritated expression on his face. The elf glanced at the dwarf. "You're not allowed to spit."

"Heh. That's what I always say..."

"I... suppose all are welcome, in this dire time." The young knight looked less than thrilled. Alistair wondered if she were also a recruit.

"Joining the Wardens, hey? Well good luck with that," the mage said.

Next to him, Rylock spoke up. "King Alistair! Your Majesty, beware! This man is a dangerous criminal!"

Well, that was true, but he was also the Warden Commander and had been given a full royal pardon for all actions prior to Alistair's ascent to the throne. He was still a little concerned about Brosca's insistence about that for all of them. Alistair shrugged and kept his voice light. "Oh, the dwarf is a bit of an arse, but I wouldn't go that-"

The mage interrupted. "She means me."

Rylock glared. "This is an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!"

"Oh please. The things you people know about justice would fit int a thimble. I'll just escape again, anyhow."

"Never! I will see you hanged for what you've done here, murderer!"

"Murderer? But those templars were - oh, what's the use? You won't believe me anyhow."

"It seems there isn't much to say." Alistair started to turn to Rylock, then noted Jerath take a step forward. "You have something to add, Commander?"

"I do. I hereby conscript this mage into the Grey Wardens."

"Never!" Rylock said.

Alistair held up a hand, and watched her backdown. Sometimes, it was good to be the king. "I believe the Grey Wardens still retain the Right of Conscription, no? I will allow it." He didn't add because otherwise, the Warden Commander will just kill you and conscript the mage anyway. He thought it went without saying.

"If... if your Majesty feels it is best." She glared, then turned and stalked away.

"Ha! Way to go kid! Welcome aboard!"

The mage smiled. "Me? A Grey Warden? I guess that will work..."

The knight's face practically lit up. Someone had a crush. "Congratulations, ser mage. I look forward to fighting at your side."

"Then if you have everything under control, I will need to take my leave."

The old man nodded. "I believe the estate has been secured, yes. We have suffered great losses, but the darkspawn are gone and there are survivors." He suddenly blinked, and then turned apologetically to Jerath. "Oh... excuse my manners. I am Varel, seneschal of Vigil's Keep. And I am most grateful for your timely rescue, Commander." He bowed. "I will aid you in ruling the lands of Amaranthine." Alistair blinked. Maybe he should get a seneschal.

"Are there other survivors than the ones at the fall back point?" Jerath asked. His voice was quiet and calm. It occurred to Alistair that this was Jerath's fort. And the dead were Jerath's men. His friend was furious. He almost felt sorry for the darkspawn.

"Some of the soldiers and Vigil staff survived behind a barricade. But none of the Orlesian Wardens made it." Varel bowed. "Come and speak to me soon. There are many matters to attend to, not the least of which is the Joining. You will need to replenish your numbers."

Alistair gestured to his men to stay put, then nodded to Jerath. Jerath followed him to the side. "The security of Ferelden relies on the Grey Wardens now, even weakened as the order is." Alistair sighed. "It will be up to you to deal with the vestiges of the Blight before the situation grows out of control. No easy task, but I'm confident you are up to it."

"Careful, Alistair. You are starting to sound like a king." Jerath's lips twitched ever so slightly.

It was wrong to punch his arls. Alistair smiled. "Good luck, Commander. May the Maker watch over you."

#

Alistair grinned, and saw his guard captain blush slightly. "So, who is she...?"

"I don't know who you mean, your majesty," Ser Gilmore replied.

"Your shirt is buttoned wrong." Alistair pointed. Ser Gilmore looked down, then shook his head and began fixing it. "So... who is she?" He smiled mischievously at the man he'd starting thinking of as a brother. "Lady Bryland?"

Ser Gilmore's expression at the suggestion was hilarious. "No, your majesty."

"Bann Alfstanna." Actually, that would be a pretty good match, come to think of it.

"No, your majesty." Ser Gilmore started walking.

Alistair fell into step beside him and began suggesting more names. "Ser Cauthrien? Lady Malia? That blond accompanying the ambassador from Wycome? Wynne?"

The last suggestion nearly resulted in Ser Gilmore walking into a door. He sighed. "If I tell you, will you drop the subject?"

"If you don't tell me, I'll tell Cathiel, and let her pester it you of you."

"She's..." He shook his head. "Ser, she's an elf. She came up from Redcliff to help with the reconstruction."

"Does she have a name?"

Ser Gilmore shuffled his feet reluctantly, and then sighed. "Nesiara."

Alistair blinked. "I know that name. Why do I know that..." His eyes widened. "Oh." He shook his head. "Oh. That's... Maker's breath, do you have a death wish?"

"She's from Highever. Most of her family worked in the castle. They died when..." Ser Gilmore sighed. "We got to talking, and one thing led to another and..." He folded his arms. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Alistair clapped him on the shoulder. "Wonderful."

"It's not a problem then?"

"Why would it be a problem?"

"She's an elf."

"Maker's breath, man. Do you know what happened to the last people who tried interfering with her wedding?"

#

Cathiel ignored Habren's outstretched hand and stepped lightly onto the docks. The other warden gave the prissy frown she was beginning to think was his natural expression. Dock workers glanced at her, then turned back to stare.

"Yer majesty," a familiar voice drawled. Oghren leaned against a stack of crates. "Almost didn't recognize you in a dress."

"Oghren!" she smiled fondly at the dwarf. Habren sniffed, and then gave another frown. "I'd heard you'd Joined."

"Somebody has to keep you dusters in line." Oghren gestured for a couple servants to gather their parcels. "Got something passing for a carriage. Or we've got some horses. Or, ya know, we've got feet."

Cathiel glanced over her shoulder at Habren and sighed. "Horses would be best, I think."

"You heard her queenship. Get the horses ready." He gestured for Cathiel to follow him.

She followed, looking around. As they walked into the city proper, she commented, "I'd heard Amaranthine was all but destroyed."

"Bah. Should have been here a month ago. We've got most of the rubble cleared up now, and all the spawn have been dug out for weeks." Oghren glanced around. "Give it a year, it will be better than new."

"I believe it."

"One would think your priority would be the Keep." Habren sniffed.

Oghren made a growling sound and Cathiel put a hand on his arm. "That's a matter to discuss with the commander, Habren."

"Then let us dispense with the tour and make our way to the keep immediately."

Oghren stalked off towards the waiting horses, muttering something about prissy nug-humpers.

#

Cathiel whistled under her breath when they came around the hill and she caught her first glimpse of the Vigil. From the report, she expected to find little more than smoking ruins. The walls, though damaged, had clearly been reinforced. It appears the new gate had barely taken dents. The men patrolling around the keep were dressed in... silverite? She shot a covert glance at Habren and noted the man was trying very hard not to look impressed. Oghren, for his part, wasn't bothering to hide his smug expression.

"It appears the messenger may have overestimated the damage."

Oghren grinned. "If Voldrik had finished his work before the darkspawn came, there wouldn't be any damage at all. As it is, some of the human-work fell down."

"At least the commander put our funds to some use," Habren sniffed.

#

Oghren led them up to a balcony. Two dwarves were having what appeared to be a serious argument regarding the mountings of a ballista.

"Welcome to the Vigil, your majesty," came a quiet voice from the other side of the balcony. Cathiel turned. She felt a small amount of surprise. Jerath had grown in the time since she'd seen him last. He'd also filled out in the chest and shoulders, and she doubted anyone could mistake him for a child any longer.

"Commander," she responded, smiling. "It is good to see you again."

Jerath nodded at the dwarves. "Voldrik is of the opinion that a ballista that can cover a spread below the walls is sufficient. Dworkin thinks the mount should be adjusted so that the ballista can hit targets in the air, should we find ourselves facing another archdemon." He raised an eyebrow at her, "what do you think?"

"Well, there has been an increase in dragon sightings of late..."

"HA!" the lighter-haired dwarf gestured grandly. "Her majesty agrees with me!"

"... though I would not sacrifice accuracy or power versus ground targets on such a supposition."

"HA!" the other dwarf thumped the first dwarf in the chest. "Her majesty agrees with me!"

Jerath shook his head. "Put your prototype on the southeast approach, Dworkin. We will see how it performs. In the meantime, Voldrik will oversee the ballista repairs." He turned his attention back to his guests. "I asked the servants to bring something chilled to my office when I noticed you on approach. Please, follow me."

Habren sniffed as he followed. He began voicing his displeasure as soon as the door closed. "The funds from Weisshaupt are for managing the keep, not for indulging dwarven prototypes and..." he inhaled, and made a show of regaining control of himself.

Jerath's expression never changed. In fact, he didn't even appear to acknowledge Habren's existence. "How is Denerim?"

"Things are coming along well. Repairs to the exterior walls have all been completed, and both food and trade are once again flowing into the city. Your father has settled in nicely as bann."

"I am glad to hear it. I'm told the Dalish are building an actual city in their new territory."

"City may be overstating the matter slightly, but yes, they have been building. Your father has been speaking with Keeper Lanaya, and some of the elves from the alienage have gone to lend their help with the actual construction."

Habren frowned. "I fear we must dispense with the pleasantries. I believe you know why we are here. We received your letter."

"As you were meant to," Jerath responded. "That is, after all, why I sent it."

"You overstep your position, young man!" Habren shook his finger at Jerath.

"Wait a moment," Cathiel interjected. "What letter?"

"This..."

Jerath interrupted smoothly. "They requested some of my people be transferred. I declined to oblige them."

"You issued a threat to Weisshaupt!" Habren sputtered. "Not to mention issued a challenge to the Chantry itself!"

"I was not aware that the Wardens were beholden to the Chantry."

"They aren't!"

"Then I fail to see the problem." Jerath's voice was pleasant, something Cathiel failed to find comforting.

"Jerath, perhaps you could explain?" she asked.

"Wueisshaupt demanded I transfer one of my people to Orlais, and turn another over to the templars. Since they have declined to send me more than a dozen wardens, and those wardens were sent in so unprepared that most were killed before I even arrived here, I told Weisshaupt that I would not be complying and if they persisted in pestering me with such ridiculous requests I would be forced to object strenuously. They interpreted that as a threat, no doubt because it was meant to be one."

"You... you said what?" Cathiel said, staring at Jerath. She thought she caught a faint trace of amusement on his face.

"You will send Loghain on to Orlais immediately," Habren stated. "Perhaps an arrangement can be made regarding the mage, Anders, provided all else is..."

"Does your eagerness to remove Loghain from my service have anything to do with your concerns regarding what Maric may have told him regarding the Architect?" Jerath quietly interrupted.

Habren made a choking sound. Cathiel looked from one man to the other, and then simply made herself comfortable at the table, helping herself to the chilled pitcher.

Habren found his voice, "Let us not forget that Loghain Mac Tir was responsible for the deaths of..."

"Because if any of you had informed me that there was a darkspawn running around that not only was single-handedly responsible for the previous blight, but also that it knew the locations of the remaining old gods, I would have made destroying it a far higher priority."

Cathiel dropped the drink she'd just finished pouring. "What?"

"Learning that it was only due to the wardens that the darkspawn had the knowledge of the old gods location in the first place was certainly enlightening," Jerath continued, his voice even. "The Architect was behind the first attack on the Vigil, a 'misunderstanding' that occurred due to its desire to access Grey Warden blood in an effort to free more of its fellows and provide them with intelligence."

"This Architect was behind the attack on Amaranthine?" Cathiel stood.

"That was another intelligent darkspawn, a broodmother that called herself, fittingly enough, the 'Mother'. She appears to have also been behind the creation of a new type of darkspawn, the Childer. She, at least, has been dealt with." Jerath never took his eyes from Habren.

Habren drew himself up in what appeared to be an attempt to tower over the elf. "I am not here to discuss the Architect, but rather your actions and how they relate to continuing relationships with Weisshaupt and the..."

While Habren spoke, Jerath went to the desk and removed a lockbox. He set it on the table in front of Habren, and then offered the man the key. The man stumbled a bit, before going silent a moment and taking the key. He opened the lockbox, revealing it was full of sovereigns. "What is this?"

"Per Mistress Woolsey's accounting, the funds sent by Weisshaupt. I am, however, keeping Mistress Woolsey herself."

Habren sputtered incoherently. Jerath continued, "Between my funds, our own resources, and the donations that have come in, both the Vigil and Amaranthine are well on their way to recovery. Weisshaupt resources, though appreciated, are not necessary."

"You..."

"Any additional recruits or wardens you send may join, of course, if they measure up to our standards. I choose my people."

"This is entirely unacceptable! You... YOU..."

"Knife ear?" Jerath supplied.

"When I tell Weisshaupt..."

"Tell them what? That Amaranthine and many of its people were saved, against impossible odds? That the Vigil held, despite the forces arranged against it? That an insanely intelligent broodmother was prevented from unleashing a new blight? That the Architect agreed to pull the darkspawn deeper into the trenches, giving us a chance to rebuild and possibly eliminate the threat of future blights? That the Grey Wardens can give Kal'Hirol back to the dwarven nations? Or merely that the man who killed an archdemon and lived to tell the tale finds them annoying and wishes they would leave him alone so that he can do his job?"

"I..."

"That will be all, Warden Habren. I will have someone escort you back to your ship in Amaranthine."

"I... your majesty!" Habren turned to Cathiel beseechingly.

Cathiel frowned. "Habren, did the wardens have prior knowledge that this 'Architect' was present in Ferelden?" When Habren refused to meet her eyes, she nodded. "I'm sure Oghren will be willing to take you back to Amaranthine."

#

After Habren was on his way, Cathiel turned back to Jerath. "You threatened Weisshaupt?"

"It's this thing I do."

Cathiel shook her head from side to side and laughed. "You've done good here, Jerath. By the time we even learned of the danger over in Denerim we were already receiving messages that you'd saved the city."

"I did not do it alone. Would you like to meet my Wardens?"

"Of course."

Jerath signaled to someone just outside the door, and a few moments later, a tattooed dwarf entered. An elven woman with Dalish markings followed her in, then the mage Alistair had mentioned. A man with a cane and a lower leg made out of metal entered as a woman built like a brick wall held the door open. The next man wore a closed-faced helmet, and he was followed a moment later by Oghren and Loghain, and a man that looked vaguely familiar to her. Oghren glanced over at Jerath. "Piss-pants declined the escort, boss. Rode out of here like you'd set a dragon on him."

Jerath nodded. "Wardens, I'd like to introduce you all to Cathiel Therin, Queen of Ferelden. Your majesty, may I present Sigrun, also of the Legion of the Dead. This is Velanna, Anders, Keenan, Skyhunter, and Justice. I believe you are already acquainted with Oghren and Loghain, and you may also know Nathaniel."

Cathiel was giving Loghain a distasteful look when the last name spoken registered. "Nathaniel... Nathaniel HOWE?" She whirled on Jerath. "Recruiting that traitor wasn't enough, you had to recruit a HOWE?"

"Your majesty, as I thought I just made perfectly clear, I choose my people. Nathaniel has served the wardens well, as did his great grandfather before him. Who we are before the Joining does not matter, only who we are after."

Cathiel inhaled, and regained control of herself. "You recruited a Howe? Are you so hard up for recruits you must go to a family of spiteful traitors? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. Wherever did you find a Howe?"

"At Vigil's Keep, your majesty. There is another matter of which you should be aware." Jerath said.

"Oh?" Cathiel said.

"Justice, if you would."

The man removed his helmet, revealing...

"What the..."

"This is Justice, a fade spirit, inhabiting the body of a Grey Warden named Kristoff. Kristoff was unfortunately murdered by darkspawn, but Justice has served admirably in his stead."

"Loghain... a Howe, and now... an abomination?"

"As well as two apostates, one of whom was, until recently, terrorizing the Wending Wood." Jerath responded.

"Remember that time I apologized for shooting you? I take it back." She shook her head. "I may, in fact, shoot you again."

Jerath nodded. "Sigrun, Oghren, would you be so kind as to follow our friend back to Amaranthine. Make sure he gets on the boat without... incident. And ask Constable Aiden to return with you, if he would."

"Right away, Commander!" the tattooed dwarf responded.

"The rest of you, dismissed. Loghain, stay."

"Yes Commander."

Cathiel stared after the wardens. It took her a moment to realize Jerath was quietly watching her. She sighed ruefully. "Habren came to Denerim, all incised about your 'oversteps'. He wanted you relieved of duty and sent to Weisshaupt, and me step in or recall Brehan or Brosca to serve. I thought he was being ridiculous. Jerath... what the hell are you doing here?"

"Fulfilling my duty, your majesty. As I must."

"You are doing that thing again where you answer without actually answering."

"The Architect's original plan was to unleash the darkspawn sickness everywhere, and to that end he had the help of several Orlesian mages, as well as two wardens who formerly held the title of Commander of the Grey. He still has the help of one former warden, a silent sister by the name of Utha. They knew this, Cathiel. They knew this, and told no one. The Blight came when the Architect tried to use his ritual to awaken Urthemial free from the taint, in a misguided effort to free all darkspawn from the call of the old ones. The Architect knows the location of the remaining Old Gods. He will try again. All we've done is buy time." Jerath moved to a map spread on his table. "They knew that the Blight would come to Ferelden. They knew... and we had twenty three wardens at Ostagar."

"How could they..."

"Duncan knew."

"What?"

"Duncan was part of the group of Grey Wardens who first encountered the Architect."

"How do you know this?"

Loghain spoke up, 'because they took Maric with them, in an attempt to find Ortan Thaig, which Maric and I had once found by accident during the rebellion."

Cathiel turned to face Loghain, "forgive me if I wish greater confirmation on the matter than just your word."

"The Dwarven Shaperate will confirm that both Loghain and Maric found their way from Ortan Thaig, and later encountered a group of Legionnaires who lent their strength to the Rebellion." Jerath responded. "I can confirm that a dwarven Grey Warden named Utha was a companion of the Architect, and that the Architect awoke the archdemon."

"I see." Cathiel frowned. "And it got away?"

"An alliance, for what little it is worth, was formed, and it has withdrawn for now. I did not know then that it knew the locations of the remaining Old Gods, or I would not have taken the chance."

Cathiel was about to respond when there was a loud thud from outside. Jerath covered his eyes with a hand. "Loghain, do you think there is any chance my instructions were unclear?"

Loghain smiled. "I imagine Dworkin will have found some loophole."

"Your majesty, please excuse me for a moment." Jerath left the room, leaving Cathiel alone with Loghain.

Cathiel tried not to look uncomfortable. Loghain, for his part, seemed equally uncertain. After the silence dragged on uncomfortably for several moments, she asked, 'how well did you know King Maric?"

"He was my friend." Loghain answered, his tone matter-of-fact. "If he'd wanted to conquer the Fade, I would have led the charge."

Cathiel frowned. "Why didn't he acknowledge Alistair?"

"He nearly did. Maric was never one to avoid his duty, and given his preference he would have acknowledged his son no matter the circumstance. But he had more than his honor to think of. It would have ruined Rowan, after all. She'd be reduced to a concubine in the eyes of our neighbors, and put Cailan's status as heir in question. So Maric made the hard choice. Eamon offered to raise the boy, and that was that."

"That's it? Honor and politics, and no concern for Alistair?"

"What do you think would have become of Alistair, if Maric had claimed him? He would have been the bastard prince, and a continual reminder to Rowan of Maric's infidelity. At least with Eamon, Alistair had a childhood."

"What made Maric such a great king?" The man had been a great king. Just about everyone who had known him agreed on that much.

"There are men who inspire such devotion that everyone around would lay down their lives for him. And there are men who come and go from this world, and no one notes it. What makes them so? Your guess is as good as mine. Maric was remarkable; that's all I can say of him. Such men are rare, and I count myself fortunate to have known two."

"Two?"

"The Commander is not as... diplomatic, as Maric, but he certainly does inspire. Maric once managed to escape a demon's hold in the fade, in spite of its best efforts. If the tale Oghren tells bears resemblance to the truth, it seems the Commander once did the same. I do not think this alliance with the Architect will end as poorly as you might think. The Commander does have a knack for turning enemies into allies."

One of those enemies turned allies was talking to her right now. "How?" Maybe she should see if Jerath had any interest in acting as Ferelden's ambassador to Orlais.

"In my case, he more or less presented the challenge facing us and dared me to meet it. I expected to die facing the archdemon, as penance for my actions. He did much the same for Nathaniel, and that young man would follow him into the fade without hesitation. As would I. Odd, I suppose."

"What?" She vaguely remembered the day when she could communicate with more than one word at a time."

"When I first met Maric, I hated him. Even tried to kill him a couple times, and tried to leave him for dead a couple more. Nathaniel came to the Vigil to kill the Commander. I'm told the look on his face when the Commander recruited him was quite amusing. He really isn't at all like his father, of that you can be assured."

"And you'd know?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

He met her eyes steadily. "Yes. I would."

The door opened, and Jerath reentered. "Dworkin will, fortunately, not need a new apprentice." He turned his attention back to Cathiel. "Quarters have been arranged, if you intend to stay a while. Seneschal Varel will want to hold court for you."

#

Cathiel knocked lightly on Jerath's door. It was opened a moment later, and a mabari popped its head out. Cathiel smiled. The dog looked up at her, then shoved the door open and gave her an expectant look. Jerath was sitting at his desk. He rose as she entered.

"You got a mabari," she said.

"More like she got some Wardens. She sort of came with the keep," he responded. "This is her office, and she deigns to let me use it." He gestured for her to join him at the table set up near the window.

"I wanted a chance to talk in private. I should not question your authority in front of your subordinates."

"You are queen, Cathiel."

Cathiel chuckled. "And you are both Commander of the Grey and Lord of Amaranthine. Would that some of our other lords managed their lands half as well. I'd heard there was an incident with some of Howe's lackeys."

"I was able to solve that problem through judicious use of violence."

"So I heard." She smiled. "We didn't really get a chance to catch up earlier. Your father sends his love and hopes that you will visit Denerim soon. He is an amazing man. Were he not Bann, I would snap him up as my steward. Your cousin Shianni has been assisting him."

"I'm glad to hear things are going well. I hear Alistair seems to have decided being king is not so bad."

"He has even managed to reconcile somewhat with Goldanna. Fergus took her eldest as his squire." She smiled, fondly, and then sighed. "Jerath, are you sure you know what you are doing? Challenging Weisshaupt over Loghain, of all people? And recruiting a Howe? Not to mention the..."

"Walking dead?" Jerath provided quietly. She nodded. He turned his gaze to the window for a few moments. "Nathaniel is a good man. He wishes to redeem his family name, and in my estimate already has. His sister, Delilah, lives in Amaranthine, and just gave birth to a son."

Cathiel sighed. "I remember Delilah. We played together as children. There was a time my mother thought Fergus would marry her, but then he met Oriana and, well... You say he is not like his father?"

"He is no coward, for starters." Jerath's mouth twitched. "If he reminds me of anyone, it's you. Picks locks, breaks into places he shouldn't, occasionally punches people in the face, can put an arrow in a darkspawn's eye from a hundred yards. He hasn't shot me though."

She laughed. "Fine. I'll give over on the Howe. I shouldn't blame the son for the crimes of the father anyway. But... the other one. Justice. Jerath, you can't just let an abomination wander around the keep."

"Is Wynne still your court mage?"

"Low blow, Jerath. That's different and you know it. The spirit keeps her alive. It doesn't animate her corpse. Wynne is still Wynne." She glared.

"Would you rather I let him wander around outside the keep, loose on Ferelden?"

"I suppose not. You cannot simply send him back to the Fade?"

"We have not yet found a way to do so. Perhaps when Lenore returns from Antiva. Neither Anders nor Velanna have studied much in the way of spirit magic."

"And Loghain..." she sighed. "He said he and Nathaniel would follow you into the fade."

"In a manner of speaking, Nathaniel already has. That's where we originally met Justice."

"Sounds like quite the tale."

"Ask Anders for it. He tells it best, I think."

"I suppose you aren't going to relent on the whole 'templars wanting him back' thing either," she smiled. "On that one, I suppose I can back you. The Templar order isn't all that happy with Alistair and I anyway. Not since we gave the Ferelden circle some independence. I doubt Lenore will be back for some time. I think she, Zevran, and Brosca may actually be running the Antivan Crows at this point."

"So we may one day soon face competent assassins. I trust you've dealt with the lax security at Fort Drakon by now?"

"You should have seen the looks on those guards' faces when I came into inspect the place as queen. I thought they were going to wet themselves." She grinned. "A few of them practically fainted when they learned I wasn't planning on executing anyone over that incident." She frowned thoughtfully. "You ended up in the Fade again? Same as before?"

"Not really. We ended up in... what seemed to be the memory of the town of Blackmarsh. The Baroness turned into a pride demon and drew us all back into the real world, so we killed her and then went around closing veil tears."

"How did you do that?"

"Justice, mostly. He enchanted our weapons and then pointed the tears out." Jerath shrugged. "Give it another year or so, and the Blackmarsh may once again be habitable."

"It falls under the borders of Amaranthine. I... I never asked. That first time in the fade... what was it like for you?"

"An enraged human woman shot me."

"In my defense, you had just killed what I thought was Rory."

"How is Ser Gilmore?"

"He is the captain of the Queen's guard now. Oh, you'll never guess who he is marrying."

"Nesiara."

"How..."

"She wrote me. Her parents were killed, and she asked if I'd speak for her." He smiled. "I will be stopping there on my way to Orzammar."

"You are going to Orzammar?"

"I received a letter a couple days ago regarding a matter in the Deep Roads. Since Saitada and Brosca are unavailable, the dwarves wrote me for aid. Something about golems."

"Then I suppose I'll see you at the festivities. It doesn't... her marrying Ser Gilmore doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Ser Gilmore marrying her doesn't bother you, does it?"

"I suppose I see your point. Neither of us is the person we were before. Have you... have you heard from Morrigan?"

"No."

"So you remain an eligible bachelor? I'll mention that to your father."

Jerath smiled. "Don't you start too. Loghain just finally gave over trying to talk me into marrying Anora."

"That... seriously?" Cathiel asked.

Jerath rolled his eyes and nodded.

She shook her head. "Some of what Habren said... Jerath, it is possible you are overstepping your authority as Warden-Commander."

"I would think you'd be more concerned about me overstepping my authority as Arl," Jerath replied. He sighed. "Look around the Vigil, Cathiel. It isn't just the wardens. We are an army, with wardens to lead. Loghain is the finest general Ferelden ever produced. He's been training the soldiers, and some of the wardens. Sigrun in particular is proving to be an able student. Perhaps... it may one day be possible to truly put an end to the danger of the darkspawn."

Cathiel looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "It's funny. The one of us who never dreamed of being a warden is the one who turned out to be the best at it. I'll send a letter to Weisshaupt, stating that Vigil's Keep is operating with the full support of Ferelden."

"Thank you."

"I'll also refrain from mentioning the eligible bachelor thing to your father."

"Good, then I won't have to hang out a banner mentioning I've seen the queen of Ferelden naked."

Cathiel laughed.

#

Cathiel stood as Cyrion entered the room, greeting the elderly elf with a hug and a smile. "Your son sends greetings and says he will be paying a visit to Denerim as soon as he's done dealing with a minor dragon problem in the Burning Canyon."

"My son, the dragon hunter," Cyrion shook his head and smiled. "Almost as unbelievable as me paying a social call on the queen. Tell me, was it he or the soldiers there that referred to the dragon problem as 'minor'?"

"The soldiers, which is why I'm not sending reinforcements." She laughed. "How are things in the alienage?"

Cyrion hesitated before answering, and Cathiel sighed. "There have been some incidents. Several merchants are resenting the influx of elvish crafts in the marketplace, especially now that trade relations with the Dalish are settling nicely. Thus far though, violence has been minimal."

"That is good to hear, at least. What of this 'mugging' that occurred?"

"A few of our hotheads encountered a few of your hotheads attempting to carve their names in the vhenadahl. As young hotheads are wont to do, they inflicted violence upon each other. It was broken up before anyone was severely injured, but it seems the report given to the guards told a much different tale than what actually occurred."

"I was afraid it was something like that. I will speak to the guard about ensuring they have all the facts before they take action in the future."

"I believe Ser Gilmore has already done so. That is one reason for my visit, your majesty. I would like to put forth a motion to allow us to have our own guard. A small militia, one trained to prevent such outbreaks before they get the chance to occur."

"A reasonable request. I will speak to my husband and we will see it done."

"Thank you, your majesty. I have a group of six I believe can form the core of such a group. I will ensure they are prepared for when the motion is put forth." He bowed, but hesitated before leaving. "He is well?"

"When next I travel to Amaranthine, you should accompany me. You would be proud of what your son has accomplished there."

"Thank you, your majesty."

#

Alistair stood just to the side of his guard captain. Cyrion stood next to him, and a step further down stood Fergus Cousland. Across, Cathiel stood on the bride's side, with Shianni next to her and Keeper Lanaya on the next step. Their positions had been chosen carefully. As happy as he was for Ser Gilmore, he couldn't deny that this event was just as much about politics as it was about marriage.

The Orlesian ambassador looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, but the man was in attendance. Knight Commander Greagoir was also present, and seated next to Wynne.

Nesiara looked beautiful. She and Cathiel had spent ages discussing the dress. The headband that kept the veil in place had been a gift from Keeper Lanaya, and was clearly of Dalish craftsmanship. What better way to show the unity of a people than by blessing the union of two?

Jerath had put aside his usual dragonskin in favor of warden armor, even wearing the cloak Leliana had given just before the Landsmeet. He walked Nesiara to the altar, and put her hand in Ser Gilmore's, then took his seat.

Alistair looked across at Cathiel. His wife had tears in her eyes, and was smiling. Maker, she was beautiful.

#

"Did I have that silly of a smile on my face when Cathiel and I were married?"

"If I answer that question honestly, you'll try to order my execution," Jerath replied.

Alistair laughed. "Try would be the right word. You've more knights than I do." He shook his head. "Where did you find them all?"

"Did you know being an Arl gives me the power to grant pardons?"

"Yes it..." Alistair started to laugh. "You recruited bandits?"

"Just the ones that turned to banditry due to Rendon. No few of them were soldiers before he started making trouble."

"Maker, Jerath, you can't just go around turning bandits into knights."

"You know, if killing Rendon's soldiers is a crime..."

"Fair point." He leaned back against the wall and gave Jerath a contemplative look. "You know, if it wasn't for the Blight, I'd be a templar by now, and you'd be married to that woman."

"If it wasn't for the Blight, you'd be a templar. I'd have been executed, she'd have gone back to Highever, and married Ser Gilmore there."

Alistair looked over to where Ser Gilmore and Nesiara were dancing, completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. "Some things were meant to be, I suppose." He glanced back at Jerath. "What's this I hear about you fighting Qunari?"

"Tal-Vashoth. The Qunari were on our side." His lips twitched slightly. "There were also dragons and Orlesians. And an alleged bear."

"I think I'm going to need a drink for this one."

#

"I'm not going back on my promise, Brehan." Alistair folded his arms and glared.

"I'm not asking you to." Brehan shook his head. "I'm just asking you to slow it down a little. With the Resolutionists trying to stir things up, now is a really bad time. Starkhaven's tower actually burned down, and Kirkwall... Kirkwall's a disaster waiting to happen."

Alistair sighed. "How about this... I'll tell Irving to hold off pushing through his latest, and in return, I don't want to hear any more claims of the returning mages being apostates." He was pretty sure Irving's latest list of suggestions was merely meant to distract from the number of refugee mages that had been taken in by the circle. And judging by the expression on Brehan's face, he knew it too.

"Some of those mages are being actively hunted, Alistair. The templars have their phylacteries."

"And they will find them sitting quietly, studying in a circle, under the watchful eyes of other templars. Isn't that all they want, anyway?"

"Not all of them are innocent."

Alistair just shook his head. "You know, if I had to pick who would one day be standing here, arguing with me on behalf of no less than the Divine herself, you definitely would have been the last. Well, no Morrigan would have been the last, but after that, you."

"Fate has taken us to strange places." Brehan smiled. "Your Majesty."

#

Alistair stood next to the table. He drew the cloth back so that he could see the man's face. The left half was a ruin from where a twelve pound rock had struck. He sighed.

"Your majesty?" Ser Gilmore stood at the door.

"Find who did this," Alistair said. "Find them, and have them hanged."

"We are already searching the city for them. Your majesty, the elves are..." Ser Gilmore swallowed. "They've set fire to part of the western market. They are rioting."

He closed his eyes, and then looked down again at the ruined face of Bann Tabris. The man had been unarmed, trying to make peace with his last breath. A good man. He turned to Ser Gilmore, hating himself with every fiber of his being. And gave the order. "Seal the Alienage."

"Yes, your majesty." Ser Gilmore bowed, and left.

Cyrion had been murdered. There was no doubt in his mind that the rock had been thrown with the intent of killing. And the man's son would be arriving by ship within the day. Jerath had taken him into the alienage, shown him what it was like. He still had nightmares about that orphanage, what had been done. Never again, he'd promised.

He pulled the sheet up to cover the ruined face. "I'm sorry," he said. The words felt empty.

#

Cathiel strode down the hall and stopped. Loghain stood in front of the door, his stance frankly hostile. Two of her guardsmen laid on the ground not far from him, though from their position it seemed they were merely unconscious. Loghain glanced at them, then back at her, before stating, "the Commander does not wish to be disturbed, your majesty."

"Dammit, Loghain. I'm not here as the queen. I'm here as his friend."

To her surprise, Loghain stepped to one side instead of arguing. "Your majesty..." he started to say, and then stopped.

"What?"

"Many mistake his calm for a lack of emotion. I advise you against making the same error."

She bit back a response, instead giving Loghain a nod before she entered the room. Jerath stood, for once not standing before the window. He appeared to be engrossed in a map hanging on the wall. "Jerath..."

"The alienage is burning."

"They rioted as soon as the news hit. I am so sorry, Jerath. I..."

"The alienage is burning," he repeated.

"I know." She waited a few moments, but he did not respond. "We are trying to find the men responsible..."

"For what purpose?"

"Justice."

"A human word. Meaningless."

"Jerath..."

"A ship leaves for Amaranthine tomorrow. I will ask Shianni if she will take my father's place as the Bann."

"I was hoping you would..."

"I will not."

"Why?"

Jerath turned back to the map. "I am a Warden, Cathiel. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Name Shianni to the position of Bann."

"The people here look up to you..."

"The people here murdered my father," his voice remained calm, but chilled.

"You cannot blame all for the actions of a few."

Slowly, Jerath turned. Cathiel found herself taking an involuntary step backwards. "I swear by gods old and new I am sick of hypocrisy. I am a Warden, Cathiel, and Grey Wardens stand apart. Be grateful for that. It's all that is keeping Denerim standing at the moment. Name Shianni as bann if you wish to continue your little charade of believing that precious little ass sits on the throne any better than those who sat there before. I will have no part of it."

She wished she knew what to say. And she wished she wasn't grateful that he was standing aside. "I am sorry, Jerath."

"More words. Go away, Cathiel."

She walked to the door. "I... I will announce Shianni as the new bann in the morning. I hope you will be there." When he didn't respond, she sighed, and left the room.

#

"How badly is this going to come down on the wardens?" Alistair asked.

Saitada sighed. "Officially, it won't. We can thank Brehan for that. Six years of running errands for the Divine has given him some sway. And Anders has had no official involvement with the wardens since he left Vigil's Keep."

"Why didn't Jerath go after the man?"

"What's concerning me is what if that is exactly what he did?"

Alistair blinked. "You think perhaps this Anders could be why Jerath disappeared?"

"He disappeared only a scant few days after receiving the report from the Vinmark Mountains, a situation that also involved Anders." Saitada ran a hand through her hair. "He recalled me the very day Carver Hawke arrived back at the Keep. And he sent Carver Hawke back to the Free Marches, along with Nathaniel Howe."

"And Loghain to Orlais."

"Nathaniel and Carver were in Kirkwall when it happened."

"What?" Alistair shook his head. "What were they doing there?"

"Carver is the Champion's brother. And the Champion apparently helped them both out of jam in the Deep Roads shortly before the events occurred."

"Recall them."

"I don't have the authority to do that. Nathaniel is a Warden-Constable, in the Free Marches. And Carver is under his command. Neither of them is obligated to answer to me unless they are actually in Ferelden."

Alistair leaned back in his chair. "I was there. I recognized him. I should have done something."

"Don't blame yourself, Alistair. There was nothing you could have done." She shook her head. "There may be some glances at the Wardens, but ultimately, I fear this is going to come down on the mages, just as it almost did in Kirkwall."

#

She felt something at the edge of her senses, but Alistair was supposed to still be in Amaranthine. Maybe he was back early. She headed in that direction, and then smiled. "Lenore. Nobody told me you were coming."

The mage hugged her. "That's because this isn't an official visit. And... it really can't be. Nobody knows I'm here, not even Brosca and Zevran."

Cathiel blinked, and frowned in concern. "Is there trouble?"

"No..." Lenore sighed. "Can we speak someplace more secure?"

She nodded, and led her friend into the royal quarters. "So what's the problem?"

Lenore shook her head. "It's not a problem, Cathiel. It's... something more akin to a solution." She removed a parcel from her satchel, and set it on Cathiel's nightstand. "I... I think I've worked it out."

"Worked what out?"

"You and Alistair are Wardens, but you are the King and Queen. When..." Lenore shook her head. "When you die, the line of succession will most likely fall to Goldanna's eldest boy. And... and I don't think Ferelden is going to accept that."

Cathiel sat down on the bed. The same thought had run through her head a dozen times. "We've thought about fostering a child, adopting..."

"I... I have another solution." Lenore indicated the parcel. "I think... I think I can help you have a child."

"What?"

"It's experimental. I can't promise it will work. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure I won't be shaving a couple years off your life by trying this. But... but I think I can give you a really good chance at..."

Cathiel cut the mage off with a tight hug. "Oh Lenore..."

The two women stood there for a long moment as Cathiel cried on Lenore's shoulder. Finally, she stepped back. "How did you come by this?"

Lenore smiled. "Actually... it was Jerath, a long time ago. He found some notes at Soldier's Peak and sent them to me. I've been going over them and some other things, trying to figure out the calling. I haven't had much luck there, but... but this. I've been working on it for a year now. It should work. I really do think it will work."

"What do I have to do?" Cathiel asked.

#

Alistair sat down heavily. "You are certain?"

Shale nodded. "Yes."

Cathiel wiped tears from her eyes. "Wynne. I can't believe she's..."

"What happened exactly?" Alistair asked.

Shale made a sound as if she were taking a deep breath, and told them of what had happened at the meeting of the mages. Alistair stood, and paced back and forth during the tale. Cathiel had her hands folded over her pregnant belly protectively.

Alistair sighed when Shale finished speaking. "There will be more refugees heading to the tower."

"Alistair..."

"Wynne died for them, Cathiel."

"I know, my love. I was going to say that the tower isn't going to be able to hold so many, and the templars are still beholden to the Chantry."

He nodded. "Redcliff. It's not far from the Circle. I'll talk to Teagan. Send a raven to Lenore. She'll know how to get word out."

#

Tears welled in her eyes when she saw the cradle. Tears came entirely too easy these days. It was a work of art, carved with images of griffins in flight. "Oh, Nesiara, it's beautiful." She hugged the woman.

"I'm pleased you like it."

"I love it." She ran her fingers over the fine-grained wood. "Oh, and look, there's Alistair and I." Two rampant griffins framed the thrones carved into the headboard.

"The little one is going to have quite the example to live up to. Have you thought of names yet?"

"Wynne if a girl, Duncan if a boy." She'd considered her parent's names, but even after nine years, that scar hurt too badly. Wynne hurt too, but she'd known that was coming. Fitting, in a way, that the woman had died fighting the good fight. Wynne hadn't been meant to die in her sleep.

"Which are you hoping for?"

Cathiel sighed. "I'm just hoping for healthy. How are your scamps?" The girl had been born only seven months after the wedding, setting a few tongues wagging. The boy had come along two years later. She wished Cyrion had lived long enough to see them. He'd been eagerly looking forward to the thought of being an honorary grandfather.

"Sallah has changed her life ambition from Queen of Ferelden to Empress of Antiva, and Jerath has been slaying dragons with that toy sword your husband gave him." Nesiara shook her head. "Do remind him that as soon as he has his own little one, Rory is going to retaliate."

"Maker. Is it too late to exile you all to Rivain?" Cathiel laughed.