A/N - Had a Christmas plot bunny bite me, and refuse to let go.. so here's my attempt at a simple explanation why a Warden might have vanished.

Vigil's Keep, 9:40

Strapping on his boots, Darrian sat upright with a groan. After a quick glance at the table, to check it was still orderly, he slowly stood. Circling the thick desk, he slowly examined the various items that hung on the wall. A large sword-rack drew his attention first, as the Elf lightly touched each weapon in order. Pausing upon a dull, long-unused longsword, his memory trailed back.

The sword Duncan lent me, back before everything… I wonder, old man; did you intend for me to get into such a mess, when you sent us off to the Estate instead of going to the City Guard? Would you really have helped me reach the Dalish, if the Arl's garrison hadn't swung into action? You finally got your hands on a Tabris recruit, though… I expect that made everything worth it.

Taking down the next two blades, he carefully slung a shimmering blue sword over his shoulder.

Starfang… I still have no damned idea where you came from, but I like to think there's a reason I found you.

Attaching the other to his belt, he smiled.

Don't worry, Fang – I couldn't take your namesake without the original. What would my mother think?

Glancing at the empty final hook, he shook his head.

Vigilance… I'm not sure why Zev 'borrowed' you, but I expect you probably reek of some Antivan tannery by now.

Lifting a gilded box from the desk, he gave it a quick shake before opening the lid. Pushing aside his Joining amulet, he stared at two rings.

Another keepsake from my old life… last I heard from Soris, he had run into Nesiara, after settling his family in Highever. They're both expecting children again, apparently.

Then there's her ring…

Carefully running a finger over the ring, Darrian felt nothing but cold metal before closing the lid.

She must have disabled the connection, after going through the portal… I wouldn't be the means to her end, so there's nothing to be gained from keeping it open. Gotta stick to that bullshit Flemeth taught her, I suppose.

Sighing, he moved over to look at a large portrait. Several figures stood in front of the Palace, weary but smiling.

Leliana… who would have Morrigan would turn out to be more truthful than you? All your rambling about love, you actually made me think you'd be the one. Whatever we had, it wasn't enough to make you stay. The Guardian was right… when the glory was all over, you always found some new important cause to champion. Studying the mountain temple, reporting to the Revered Mother, helping that bitch Dorothea bribe and coerce her way to becoming the Divine. Even that wasn't enough for her… you left again to become her pet spy. Yet I was somehow in the wrong to say she was dragging you back into your old life. I guess I was wrong – wrong to think you cared.

Sten – at least you were honest about the fact you wouldn't stay. I hope you're doing well.

Zev… despite everything, you were mostly honest. Especially when it counted... thank you for the warning, and good hunting, my friend.

Shale… I think you're in Orlais now. It sounds like Wynne dragged you everywhere but Tevinter.

Wynne. I suppose I'm not surprised you told Shale a bunch of crap, so she'd follow you about. With your personality, you needed a gigantic conversation piece…

Oghren… I'm still convinced you fell asleep while the artist was working. Or did you always lean on your axe, like that?

Smiling, he turned back to the desk. Triple-checking the small stack of letters were visible, Darrian nodded to himself.

There's one for you, too. It says everything I know you'd never let me say in front of people… too bad, comrade. You'll probably need Felsi to read it for you.

His smile faded as he turned to a portrait of another couple.

Alistair… all your talk ended up worthless, in the end. Was I really supposed to ignore the advice of the one experienced Warden who emerged to help us? Hell, you didn't even believe me about what it took to kill the Archdemon until the Orlesians finally arrived and spelled it out for you. Your hero Duncan never cared about you enough to let you know anything important, did he?

At least Anora somehow keeps your stupidity evened out. I don't know how she convinced you to make Teagan the Chancellor over his brother, but thankfully she did. Maybe she drilled it into your thick skull that Eamon never gave a damn about you…

It's weird – I sent her father to his death, and she's the only person who forgave me over the whole thing. You're still crying that he tarnished the glory of the Wardens, even though you would have left anyway to take the throne… or is it that he died a hero again? The Humans, the ones who forgot everything he did during the Blight, think I should have died in his place. Most of the Alienage blame me for him becoming a hero again, and washing away what he did to them.

You and Loghain were both self-absorbed idiots, you know that? The few times I tried talking to him in camp, apart from once when we talked about Anora, he kept claiming everything he did was for the best… but at least he took responsibility. That's a point he had over you. Still, I finally exploded at him one night on the road to Redcliffe.

"Look, you stupid bastard! The Tower was full of Darkspawn, so yes, the beacon was late! If the signal for the beacon was big enough for us to spot it, up that high, you would easily have seen it on the ground as well. You didn't need two fucking signals to charge!"

He furrowed his fat Ogre brow at that, before scratching his head. Kept saying it was still all Duncan's fault, which made me keep going.

"Maybe you should have asserted your authority, as the High General! Did you back Duncan up, when he tried using the Archdemon to scare Cailan into staying off the field? Nope, you took the chance to remind everyone you didn't think it was a Blight. Because you somehow knew better than the Wardens. Did you tell that Chantry hag to shut up, and leave the War Council to the warriors? Even if the battle was lost, maybe an early signal by that Mage who tried volunteering would have allowed you to save more of the army!

"Even Cailan unwittingly gave you an opportunity to delay things, and properly assess the threat! But no, that would have involved Orlesians, and you're obsessed with a war you won thirty years ago!"

He tried telling me I clearly knew nothing about it, since I kept allowing 'that red-haired tart' into my tent… okay, turns out he had a point about her, but when he followed up with some more of his thunder about how he single-handedly beat back the Emperor, I had to fire back.

"If the Orlesians really want another war, guess what? They'll have been studying your tactics for decades, and you've become so inflexible that you stood about confused when a beacon was late! I wouldn't pick you to defend a manure pile! Uldred, Howe, everyone who sided with you was obviously insane… is that perhaps a hint that maybe your actions the last year haven't been very smart? I don't even know why I've bothered, trying to save a country that didn't blink twice when I mentioned your slave-trading to the Landsmeet!"

I don't even know if it was him at that point… or every self-serving, useless moron we met across the country that I was ranting at. After a moment, he just stared at me oddly and said I was learning what it meant to be a Hero.

It took me a while, but I know exactly what he meant.

"Tell me, Warden… do you mourn those men you killed, on your way to find Vaughan? Or did you do what you had to?" he asked.

"They left me no choice… I knocked out the first one we came across, before realising we'd have to come back the same way and deal with him again."

"If we include the cook who was found dead as well, you're responsible for fourteen children who no longer have their fathers. I checked their records. Was that worth it?"

"I don't know… I dealt with what was in front of me."

"Everything has repercussions, boy. There's rarely a pleasant answer, if you follow all the results to the end. Men like us, we get stuck with the hard decisions – if we're lucky, people will forget what we had to do."

"If we're unlucky?"

"… They give us a pretty title or two, and write songs. The troops are already whispering behind your back about the Hero of Ferelden, I'm afraid. They'll be singing about you, long after they forget about our new King. I think you're up to the burden, but watch your back."

He gave an empty smile, scratched Blargha behind the ears, and walked away to check on the scouting reports. We didn't speak again until the battle was under way. The old bear faced his end with pride, I'll give him that.

Meanwhile you ran away to your Castle to sulk… even when the Mother rose up, and they killed most of the Wardens, you wouldn't lift a finger to help.

No, I had to handle everything… on top of Howe's former lackeys wanting me dead, and a Teyrn who resented my very presence. Whatever possessed you into thinking that giving away a chunk of the country to the Wardens was a good idea? If it was just about burdening me with politics, I'd have been given some place small, like Lothering… Nate thinks you wanted to undermine Cousland's strength, in case the sympathetic members of the Landsmeet started wondering if he'd be a better monarch. Or perhaps you wanted to force his hand into an ill-prepared push for the throne, so he'd retreat in disgrace and never worry you again. It sounds like something Eamon would have whispered in your ear, before Anora ordered him back to Redcliffe "to concentrate upon rebuilding the damage inflicted by the Darkspawn and undead." Clever girl…

Where was I… the Mother, right. Because some things never change, I was facing down a Darkspawn threat with only a small group of lunatics by my side, while the man on the Throne apparently wished I would just die.

Well, I solved yet another impossible problem, didn't I? Unless you ask Velanna… add her to the list of people who vowed to never forgive me.

It's funny; Nate and Anora can move past the fact I killed their fathers, one way or another, but I never hear the end of anything else. Not letting Oghren go back to Kirkwall with Nate after the first time, when he drunk a tavern so dry that they apparently put his portrait up on the wall. Even telling Anders to stop bringing that stupid cat on patrol earned me a fortnight of whining… you'd think I forced him to give it away, by his over-reaction.

Speaking of Anders… remember that damned Templar you helped the Chantry force upon us? Couldn't even mask the fact you did that mostly out of spite – "I seem to remember you aren't picky about recruits… traitors, slavers, regicidal murderers and things like that?" Congratulations, you fucking idiot! I get back from Amgarrak, to find that Templar bastard and his 'former' colleagues created an even bigger shit-storm back at the Keep. Several people dead, and no sign of Anders…

Not until Nate returned from Kirkwall two years ago, in a panic, and told me what happened. "Everything has repercussions" … and look at what your moronic jab led to! Maker only knows how many people were inside that Chantry, then the rest of Kirkwall took serious damage in the battle after... and now the Circles have begun open rebellions!

I'm not fixing things for you this time… I'm so tired of being expected to. I seriously doubt there even is a solution, to be honest. I'm done. I only regret that I can't stay, to see if my disappearance makes your head explode.

With a final look around the office, Darrian grabbed his backpack and headed for the staircase. Creeping through the dimly-lit main hall, he jumped as a loud cough sounded from the doorway.

"A bit late for you to be awake, ain't it?" a gruff voice asked.

Shit… "Good evening, Oghren. I thought I gave you and Nate leave to visit your families."

"Aye, ya did. I decided to wait a few days first."

"So… you just hung back for no reason? Have they sighted a nest of schleets on the road again?"

"Oh, you're funny… so tell me something. The Antivan visits out of the blue, with dire news about Mages and the Chantry, and says your old lady is probably coming to drag you into their mess. You're too busy holed up in your study to even chase him down for stealing that fancy blade of yours... a week later, you suddenly give away furloughs like stale beer—"

Appearing out of a corner, Sigrun walked over. "Then there's the night-watch roster, which you allotted so that only the younger billeted soldiers are on duty this week. Seemed to us like you were planning something… and here you are, skulking around in the middle of the night."

"I'm leaving, Sig… I can't do this anymore."

"We thought as much… I'm guessing you left notes for everyone."

"Everyone who needs one… and one for a certain red-headed Seeker, if she comes sniffing around."

"I'll see they're handed out" Oghren nodded.

"Oghren…"

"No need to say it – your eyes were empty and staring long before Elf Number 2 came poncing around and told us about the mess in Orlais. Everything you've done for everyone, I don't blame ya for needing to get away… I know you'll come back, one soldier to another, but don't rush it."

"I expect it'll be a few years, at least. I'll find someplace where I can't get dragged into this mess."

"The royal nug-licker will have a fit… gives me a good excuse to kick him in the stones and remind him about Warden neutralness. He also needs a reminder about the word 'gratitude'."

"Thanks… I'm glad you stuck around all these years, you know."

Shifting uncomfortably, Oghren shrugged. "Someone had to… aw, spit, Co… Darrian, go already, would ya! Give some other joker a chance to save the world for once!"

Smiling, Darrian nodded. "Alright… give my apologies to Nate. I would have told him, but-"

"The less we know, the less people will come around for information… the three of us talked about it last night, we understand. Now, get going before you get spotted."

"Right… give my love to Felsi and Nugget."

Sniggering, Oghren lightly pushed open the door. "Felsi gets enough loving from ol' Oghren, she doesn't need yours!"

Suppressing a laugh, Darrian patted the Dwarf's shoulder as he stepped into the night. Hearing the door click shut, he turned to peer around… before being nudged in the rib. Looking back, he noticed Sigrun next to him. She made a gesture across her lips, and pointed to the second stable-house. Stealthily crossing the grounds, he spared a glance at a pile of rocks underneath one of the trees.

So long, Blargha… if only you could have come with me, boy. I hope you're chasing rabbits in the Fade.

Once inside the stables, Sigrun pulled a pack out from a straw-pile. "Like we said, we suspected something was going on… did you think we'd let you vanish, on your own?"

Bringing out two horses, already saddled, Darrian grinned. "I expected you would put it together… so I asked Samuel to prepare an extra horse before he turned in for the night. If you're sure, that is?"

"What, let you have a non-Darkspawn adventure all by yourself? Over my dead body!"

"Always with the death…" he muttered

"I stick to what I know, Commander. Besides, someone needs to have your back."

"Hmm… I appreciate your help, if not the vote of confidence. But let's leave the titles here, please?"

"You got it, Darry. What's the plan?"

"Darry? Fine, have it your way… Siggy. I've got a ship, in Amaranthine port. They'll get us across the Waking Sea, and then we can go anywhere… maybe Nevarra. We can find some you some spicy Nevarran renegade, see if the books match reality?"

"… Promises, promises" she wistfully sighed.

"Well then… let's go see where the wind takes us, my friend."

Denerim, months later

Subtly raising her hand, Anora waved Cauthrein back from approaching Oghren. Glowering, the Dwarf snarled as he looked down at Alistair, sprawled on the throne-room floor in pain. "For the last time, we don't soddin' know where he went! Until we hear otherwise from Weisshaupt, Pretty-Boy Howe still has acting command... and he can easily have you dragged back into service, should he decide your intrusion into Warden business means you've rethought leaving the Order." With a polite bow to the Queen, and a sneer at the two Seekers, he marched from the room.

Motioning the guards to help Alistair up, Anora sat forward in her chair. "Well... you certainly could have handled that better, husband."

Groaning, he staggered over to the throne and sat. "I forgot how fast he can actually kick..." Turning to Cassandra, he shrugged. "So much for that... didn't you learn anything, in the Marches?"

"Very little, it seems. A merchant in Ostwick may have seen them... he was visited by a female Dwarf, calling herself Lady Shiston Deshyr, of House Legion. She and a black-haired elf, who appeared to be her servant, purchased two steeds and left the city. Their trail went cold after that, so we proceeded to Kirkwall. After dealing with another troublesome Dwarf, we had no luck locating the Champion either."

Snorting, the King inelegantly scratched his head. "Apart from learning some new insults, Darrian's note didn't give me anything... Leliana, did he tell you anything?"

Shaking her head, she looked up regretfully. "Just old bitterness..."

Cassandra frowned, "It's hardly your fault... the Divine hardly expected him to become important again, else she would have had you resume monitoring Tabris."

Mentally rolling her eyes at the three of them, Anora listened to their griping until the Seekers finally took their leave. "Well, that was all very... draining" Alistair yawned, "so I think I shall retire."

Nodding, the Queen remained seated. "General Cauthrein, please assign someone to be sure the Seekers, and Warden Kondrat, depart the city tomorrow. I don't wish to hear of their presence causing tensions with the populace."

"As my Queen commands."

"... Alistair, do go and see the physician about your possible injury" Anora called out, watching him limp away. "Lest your uncle begin worrying again about more heirs."

"... Right, good point. Hopefully he hasn't been asleep too long" he winced, changing direction.

Once the room had cleared, she glanced up at an empty viewing box. "That'll stop him noticing my lateness to bed" she seemingly muttered to herself, before Zevran appeared from the shadows. Silently dropping down, he smirked. "You'll pass the relevant information along to our wandering friend?" Anora asked, handing over a letter.

"Si, dear Queen. Luckily for the good traveller, that dour-faced Seeker never imagined to seek her quarry a little closer to home. Perhaps it is because Dragon-Hunters never need to learn proper tracking since their prey is hardly subtle, but still, she never stood a chance finding someone I trained..."

Sighing, Anora silenced him with a fixed look. "Speaking as the daughter of an old tracker, I'd agree about her... do enjoy the northern weather, then. Since we're making supposedly subtle comments about where you're heading next."

"No taste for flair, you Fereldans... as you command, then. I shall take my leave, and keep an eye upon you-know-who."