A/N. So this is the final draft of the taster I already have up! I have only 10 chapters done at the moment, but honestly, they form a short story of their own. Soooo instead of making you guys wait for gods knows how long (seriously, could be another year) for me to complete the whole thing, I will post what I have and call it complete.

It'll make sense. Hope you guys enjoy! *loves*

I may have fiddled a little with locations, events and people: I either haven't played for a while and forgot where things where, or it was deliberate for reasons that will become clear. I will try to keep everything as close to the cannon world as possible.

1.

Footsteps on the stairs cause us to pause our somewhat controversial conversation in confusion. Rarely do any of the multitude of Dryden relatives bother coming all the way up here – here being the Magi tower on the other side of the Soldiers Peak building – from the courtyard.

Levi, the sandy-haired patriarch of said Dryden clan, appears in the doorway. His hand is poised to knock before he realises we are already paused and awaiting his intrusion. In his other hand I spy some parchment.

"It's a letter for you, Esme." Levi states as he carefully navigates the room. The mass of work benches and large set ups of glass and liquids makes the room hazardous to any unfamiliar with the layout.

My eyebrows betray my surprise by rising up my forehead. "A reply from the Grey Wardens already then? I was not expecting one for a week or two yet." I comment with interest.

We are after all halfway across the country from Denerim, the Capital, where the Warden's enjoy their Headquarters in the Royal Compound, according to Levi, so I would expect a long waiting time. Not to mention I would think them out across the country more often than not. I must have been lucky.

Levi shrugs but hands me the letter. The Familiar seal of the Wardens (a Griffon; what a surprise) is pressed into normal coloured wax. Avernus has shuffled closer – no doubt to read over my shoulder, nosy old sod – while Levi shifts uneasily in front of me.

I scan the spiky cursive script quickly. "The Commander is coming." I announce to the room. Levi grins a little excitedly. "He is interested by our research and is hoping to begin giving the new Joining juice to recruits straight away." I tell Avernus, "and yes Levi, he is still interested in renovating the place to use as a future Warden base."

Avernus harrumphs smugly and returns to his work content that his brilliance will soon be recognised – never mind that I had contributed nearly as much effort (though not time) into the new formula too.

Levi expresses his delight in stuttered sentences; since finding out that it was his ancestor's actions – the last Warden Commander of this place – that directly led to the banning of Wardens in Ferelden he has wanted to gift Soldiers Peak back to the Ferelden Wardens as both an apology and since it is theirs by right.

"They sent this message ahead of themselves. They should be here within a fortnight." I further inform Levi.

"I'll send a couple of my cousin's out to greet them. We should get the top floor dormitory cleaned up for them." He ponders. "Lana was going to start at the bottom, but the top floor dormitory is in better condition."

I nod and swipe my inky hands on a nearby rag. "I will come down and help. I need a break from the bull-head." I whisper sotto voice.

Levi nearly smiles until Avernus growls at us in displeasure. With relief we leave his sanctuary. The twice centennial ought to leave more often too; I am convinced that his brain is rotting staying only in this one room.

"Do not forget to bring more food in, Levi." I state to distract myself from the view of 'The Bridge' which connects Avernus' tower to the rest of the Keep. The drop is measured in tens of feet. Fifty? I care not to find out honestly.

He actually chuckles. "I know. They eat like starving wolves." He sighs. "I'm glad this place is going back to the Wardens. I just hope things go better for Duncan than they did Sofia." Levi admits quietly.

We pass into the Keep, made of the same stonework as the Tower, meaning that without the large fires in each of the rooms it is absolutely freezing even in the summer months.

This floor, the very top, contains nothing but a shrine the original builder – Warden Commander Asturian – commissioned. The next floor down is the Commanders Quarters, where we encountered the Ghoul of Commander Sophia Dryden, which includes a small but lavish bedroom and a larger study area filled with bookcases of paperwork.

Below the Commanders quarters is the "smallest dormitory" with its own little leisure area. On the third floor is the ritual room, a connected tower holds an armoury. The first and second floors are large dormitories. The ground floor consisted of a break room and mess hall with associated kitchen, and the archives which also connect to a tower which holds a (out of date) library.

For the moment we have been cleaning the place; firstly by taking any ruined furniture and other broken paraphernalia out, then by attempting to clean the stones. We have yet to figure out an effective way to get rid of the dust.

"Duncan does not have a claim to the throne." I reply dryly.

Levi doesn't particularly appreciate my observation if his droll expression is anything to go by. One day I will find someone who can giggle with me.

In companionable silence we descend another two floors into the smallest dormitory; while the Commanders area is in good condition it is full of dust and fragile paper work, so we will be putting the Commander in with the rest of his group in the "smallest dormitory" which will be easy to clean as it is bare. Six queen sized beds are to be fitted – though we found the remains of high quality double bunks so we believe that this dormitory was meant for the most senior Wardens under the Commander.

"This place is not cursed, Levi, no matter how haunted it still feels." I try to reassure my new old friend. "Besides did you not say that the current King was his friend's son? Do you really think the Commander would usurp his nephew of heart?"

Already done inspecting and tallying the work needed in the "smallest dormitory" Levi turns to me with a long suffering sigh. "No".

I smile. "Then stop fretting," I scold with humour, "I have never encountered such a worrier outside of concerned mothers!"

Levi blushes violently but smiles still. "Sorry Esme."

"You'll give me a complex, and then where will we be? It will be chaos, Levi, and all your fault." I further jest.

"Alright I surrender!" He exclaims with a short laugh. "No more worrying… for today at least." He amends with forced gravity.

I bask in our shared humour – Levi rarely smiles much less laughs – as we descend further down the Keep to begin spreading the news of our impending guests. I predict that the next week will be a tizzy of frantic cleaning.

#*#*

"Dirk's boy just came back! They got the Warden's!" Levi excitedly blurts. "They're less than a week away!"

Thankfully for the occupants of the room I had heard his pattering footsteps and paused my runic work, otherwise this particular rune set would have literally blown up in our faces.

"Oh! Maker! Sorry Esme!" Levi gasps suddenly realising just how badly things could have gone.

I wave him off with a small smile. "I heard you coming. And don't worry I will finish up here and then head up to Avernus; he is using lightening again so I wouldn't go up there today if I were you."

He blanches. "Right. I'll leave you to it."

I watch with faint amusement as Levi dashes away with the speed and sprightliness of a man twenty years younger. He is such a contradiction sometimes. Usually serious and unwilling to laugh, timid but quite fierce if you touch upon the right subjects, and while he looks fairly haggard he still has so much energy.

Turning back to my informal class of five youngsters from the Dryden clan I shrug but smile. I get five exasperated eye-rolls back.

"I know I have said this a few times already, but it bears repeating; the smallest mistake can monumentally ruin your work." I bend to continue the right side array. Today we are working on some small scrap stones from this building.

"I have had decades of experience and am quite skilled with ruins, but my teachers would make me start again unless I was beyond our Adept level in runic script and engraving." I firmly state. "Always double check your work."

"Yes Healer." The five chorus.

I hold back a laugh, just. I am far too used to being screamed at – by loved ones as much as patients – or have everything I do questioned – also usually by loved ones more than my fellow healers. This respect is amusing. I enjoy it, do not get me wrong, but it is sadly foreign and refreshing.

"As I was saying, in rune sets the runes need to be linked together so that they react together instead of all at once but separately. Not linking the runes together tends to cause bad explosions."

That certainly caught their attention.

"The most basic link is merely a line connected around the runes, like so." I demonstrate on the left hand set. They lean in as it begins to glow red. "However once we demonstrated our understanding and skill at engraving we were taught much a more complex way of linking. Instead of a plain line we would link using yet more runes." On the right hand set I begin to carefully carve tiny runes around the two larger ones. "It is tiring as you might imagine. There is much concentration involved."

Finishing the fairly simply conditional runes I sit back and watch the children's faces as this rune set lights up blue. Then the colour fades in and out of strength. Then the speed picks up until it looks like a flashing light. Finally the shade changes into a lighter sky blue from the original royal blue.

Pride and contentment washes over me as they whisper and gape in fascination. I might just have a few converts. What a shame none of them have magic and are therefore unable to learn the Gypsy way of rune-smithing.

"The Gypsy do not use Lyrium in our runes as it is not a resource easily available to us, nor in the quantities needed. We did find a way around this by using our own magic to charge the runes." I explain. "In conjunction with another rune we can have the set become self-charging by having it draw on ambient magic, though it does need to be charged once to activate."

Their attention has waned a little now that they have realised they will not be able to copy what I am showing them. I do not mind too much in truth.

"Obviously the more complex the rune the more magic needs to be used so the longer the set will take to charge." The oldest child snorts, unappreciative of my 'humorous' observation. "Using blood in runic work will cut out a lot of the charge time and will generally make the runes more powerful, but it falls under the Chantry's Blood Magic Acts and so is forbidden." I conclude swiftly.

While the Gypsy have no problems in general with practicing blood magic we do not have so many people that they can be sacrificed willy-nilly. Our leaders punish us heavily if we murder others in rituals (or outside of rituals). Even kidnapping and using non-gypsy is frowned upon.

"Mages are sensitive to any magic, be it a fellow mage, a glyph or even 'wild' magic and so they can also sense the runes and even feel them recharging on ambient magic." I continue to lecture. "I am not sure if Templars can. I must remember to ask around. It could be an interesting little project."

I pretend to not see the five eye-rolls. Maybe next week I shall move onto something they could actually participate in.

"How about tomorrow we switch topics?" I suddenly blurt in a moment of brilliance. "I know you are quite intrigued by our impending guests-"

A cheer rouses from my audience. I think they approve.

"- and I happen to have a few true-life stories to tell." I finish with a rare grin. "I have had the pleasure of working with Wardens before – even they need healing once in a while."

"What are they like?" The youngest boy asks.

"In one word? Fierce." I reply easily. "But they are normal people too you know, just with active and mysterious jobs, and they tend to be protective of each other. It's why they are called a brotherhood."

The old boy sighs again.

"I went to the Deep roads with several different Warden's. That is not a pleasant place to go but there are a couple of interesting stories to tell… if you promise not to cry like a bunch of babies when I get to the scary bits." I challenge.

Thus a chorus of "I'm not a baby" and "He/she's a baby" ring out.

"Alright, alright, I am convinced." I surrender easily and before a headache forms. "Starting tomorrow this will be story hour."

With that promise the five children happily rush out the room without a by-your-leave. Ungrateful whelps.