Dragon Age Awakenings, Anders, the doomed spear carrier and darkspawn are the property of Bioware. The warden is mine.

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"I didn't do it..." I knew that sounded lame and unbelievable when I said it to the two armored women. One was a bit plain and the other more of a looker for a dwarf, but I still hoped for a harem of women someday, as unlikely as that was for a hunted, apostate mage.

They'd arrived when I was still gleeful the darkspawn were dead and I wasn't, a real victory for someone who'd rarely fought with his magic. I wasn't going to shed any tears over those Templars' deaths, nor would they over mine. Still these people might be upset about them, so the denial fairly leapt from my lips.

Still wary, they scanned for more enemies before standing down. The taller woman deferred without words to the dwarf, something odd in itself for Ferelden.

"So you're a mage?" the dwarf asked, sheathing her great sword.

Relaxing a little at the lack of venom, I quipped, "What was your first clue?"

"Aside from the dissipating magic spell, the magic staff, and the robes that look like they're from maybe the Anderfels and not the Circle, I have no idea," she grinned.

"You know a lot for a dwarf," I marveled.

Her face stilling, she said, "One of my better friends is an apostate." Smile returning, she added, "I made her wear Circle robes and a silly hat that we found so we'd get less objections to her in towns. No one seemed to even consider she wasn't a Circle mage then."

I frowned at that.

"No, no," she chuckled, "She was still herself, and even if she didn't get the joke for a while. Then the blindness of all the other humans amused her to no end. She could say the most outrageous things and they'd assume she was Circle."

"Commander, we must move on..." the other woman protested.

Commander? I'd heard the Warden Commander was due to take command soon. This dwarf killed the Archdemon?

"Yes, but we can spare a moment. Leaving him here alone isn't safe, and another mage is always helpful. You surfacers are stupid to turn away people who can help against the darkspawn. I seem to recall your chant is pretty firm that 'doing unprovoked harm' is what's bad in the Maker's sight. He's not doing that, so he's not an abomination. Ancestors know, you humans are too quick to condemn mages without that harm thing," the Warden Commander scolded gently.

The other woman backed down by saluting, and the, I guess Hero of Ferelden, rolled her eyes at that.

I wanted to kiss her. I knew dwarves, especially from Orzimmar, were resistant to magic, but I never realized that would mean they didn't fear it as much either. I needed more dwarven friends.

I bowed, trying to be suave, "I would love to help such gallant ladies. I'm Anders."

"Glad for your help," she said with a grin. "You can call me Phylla, I left rank behind some time ago, even if some people keep trying to give me more. This is Mhairy."

She'd done this before, as shortly she'd directed us into a pattern while searching where I'd hang back casting spells from more safely and they'd take the punishment until all the darkspawn were dead. But one larger room had more darkspawn, one too far for them to reach before he cast a spell.

In a matter of seconds there was a howl of winds and a shell of ice had formed around me and I couldn't move. Neither did Mhairy. I could only look on as the darkspawn filled the area around us.

Maker, I don't want to die.

Phylla was still fighting, having resisted the spell. When she threw a mob around her back with a swing of that great sword, she saw what had happened to us.

Throwing her sword wide she stomped her foot and the magic drained away from around us, ending the storm.

Even as I could move again, in another way I was still shocked. She was a Templar? A mage hunter? A dwarf? Was that possible? I didn't feel any of the lyrium that Templars were usually steeped in.

She made for the darkspawn mage and killed him quickly. It was only a very short time until they all were dead.

I had to ask with some fear, "Am I your prisoner?"

"By the Stone, no," Phylla said, looking surprised, holding her great sword and panting. "Why would I want a prisoner? Too much work. If you become a deadly threat, like a blood mage or abomination or werewolf, a clean death is all I can offer. Tranquil are..." She paused as she sheathed her sword, "Tranquil are nearly as horrible as abominations. Maybe worse as they appear almost normal, still living, still with their memories. Others can fool themselves into thinking those mages weren't executed. That's as much a death sentence as a clean blade, but far more cruel to friends and clan, even if they don't mind anymore. How can they face the Maker or join the Ancestors if they have been reforged so? My folk did as much once to the unwilling and that was evil too."

Squatting, so we'd be eye to eye, I put my arms around her, declaring dramatically, "Marry me, my moon haired exotic lady." I wasn't completely joking, she was handsome, very much so for a dwarf.

She flushed, stuttering, "I'm kind of engaged to another warden."

Oh. I rallied to say, "How about healer? Court jester? Reacher of items off tall shelves? Bed warmer?"

Smiling softly she shook her head saying, "No. I only wish he was here, really, really wish."

Her eyes lost focus as she blushed. I wanted to laugh, and with a Templar yet.

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Thanks to my beta reader, for catching awkwardness and typos. Gold stars for anyone who helps like that!