Many are those who wander in sin,

Despairing that they are lost forever.

Transfigurations 10

Anders shook his fingers as the last of the darkspawn was engulfed in flames. Fire spells were not his specialty, and he had a tendency to burn his own fingers when he cast them. The sound of running feet behind him had him whipping around, prepared to defend himself against more enemies. A bulky man clad in silverite armor and carrying a shield with a griffon emblazoned on the front screeched to a halt in front of him, with a rather well-endowed woman wearing lighter armor not far behind.

"Uh," Anders gave a shaky laugh, looking at the devastation behind him, "I didn't do it." When neither of the new arrivals spoke, he hastened to explain. "Well, I mean, yes I took out the darkspawn. But I definitely didn't do anything to the Templars."

He shifted uncomfortably, caught in the man's penetrating stare, barely visible through the visor of his helm. "Not, that I'm broken up about them dying or anything . . ." He clamped his mouth shut, aware that he was babbling.

"You're a mage?" The man finally spoke, gesturing to the staff strapped across his back.

Anders grinned at him. "I am. An apostate, to be more specific." He gave a low bow, ignoring the woman's gasp of surprise. "Anders, at your service." He expected the man to question him, ask him what exactly had happened here, but all he got was that look that seemed to bore into him.

The man finally seemed to relax. "I'm Gideon." He gestured to the woman behind him, "This is Mhairi. Can you fight?"

Anders looked at Gideon incredulously, wondering if the man was being stupid or sarcastic, seeing as how the three of them were surrounded by darkspawn corpses. "Uh, yes?"

"Good," Gideon turned suddenly and headed for the door. He looked back at Anders, who had not moved. "You coming?" he asked gruffly.

Anders nodded, thinking it wisest to just follow the man and wait for an opportunity to get away. He couldn't make an escape with all the darkspawn about anyway, so he may as well lend them a hand for the time being.

The fight through the Keep was more grueling than anything Anders had ever faced. Everywhere they turned there were darkspawn, intent on ripping them apart. Gideon tore through the creatures as if each and every one of them had offended him personally; the man was an army all by himself.

They found a few survivors, but not many. Anders hoped that most of the people staying at Vigil's Keep had been able to escape before the onslaught, but the further into the Keep they ventured, the more bodies they found strewn across the floors and hanging from the rafters, nooses tied around their necks.

Breaking through into yet another room, they found a lone figure surrounded by six or seven darkspawn. Anders was a little surprised to see that he was a dwarf, as few of them ventured above ground. At least this one didn't look as insane as the one who had blown up all those darkspawn earlier. He was equally surprised to hear Gideon let out a long hoot of laughter before jumping into the fray.

After they had dispatched the last of the creatures, the dwarf casually leaned against the banister and grinned down at them. His laid back posture made it look as if killing hordes of darkspawn was an everyday occurrence for him. Who knows, maybe it was.

For the first time, Gideon took off the heavy helm he was wearing and Anders finally got a look at his face. The man was younger than he would have expected for someone as experienced as he was in battle. His thick chestnut hair stuck out all over and obscured his features—but there was something about him that looked . . . familiar.

"'Bout time you showed up!" the dwarf cackled merrily, his smile almost buried in his fire-red beard.

"Oghren!" Gideon strode up to the dwarf and clapped him on the back. "What in Andraste's name are you doing here?"

Anders finally became aware of a scent that had been there for some time. "Maker's breath, what is that smell?"

Gideon laughed. "About ten pints of 'special brew', I'd wager."

"Lovely," Anders deadpanned.

Oghren grinned at Gideon, ignoring the comments about his smell. "Thought I'd try my hand at being a Grey Warden. You know, seeing as how I've got all that experience."

Gideon grinned as he swept his hair back from his face, and Anders finally made the connection, realized exactly where he'd seen the man before. "Andraste's arse!" he stared at Gideon. "You're that Grey Warden, the one who killed the Archdemon and cured Arl Eamon and . . . all that other stuff," he finished lamely. The man obviously didn't need Anders to detail all of his impressive exploits.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "That I am," he replied, "although Oghren helped out a bit." He grinned over at his friend.

"A bit? Hah! I was up there on that sodding roof with you wasn't I? I think I've damn well earned my place with the Wardens. You're the new commander aren't you? Sign me up!"

Gideon's expression turned serious. "You know there's risks with becoming a Grey Warden. What about Felsi? And the baby?"

Oghren looked a bit embarrassed. "Ah, well, they'll get along fine without me. Probably be better off." He cheered up when he saw Mhairi. "Hey, it's the recruit with the great rack," he leered at her.

Mhairi scowled as Anders laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly with Oghren's blunt statement. After a few more barbs were tossed around, mostly between Anders and Oghren, Gideon ordered them onward.

Halfway down the next hallway there was a figure propped against the wall, groaning quietly.

"Rowland!" Mhairi cried out. She rushed over to kneel down in front of him.

As they got closer to the man Anders could see he was in bad shape. He was shivering violently, and he was gripping at his stomach in a manner that indicated he was most likely trying to keep a large wound closed with just his hand.

Anders knelt down next to him and concentrated. He turned to look at Gideon and shook his head. "There's nothing I can do, he's beyond healing magic." As was usually the case when things were serious, tension caused him to crack a joke."Maybe a shot of whiskey for the pain?"

Oghren nodded at him approvingly, "I like the way you think."

Mhairi frowned. "I can't believe the two of you are joking about this! He's hurt."

Anders stood up and moved closer to Gideon. "I think he's poisoned, but I don't know what with," he said in a low voice, not wanting to upset Mhairi further. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Gideon nodded. "Darkspawn corruption. It's fatal." He didn't bother to keep his voice down.

"Co-Commander?" The wounded man rolled his head to the side, his glazed eyes trying to focus on Gideon.

Gideon took a few steps closer. "What happened here?"

"Darkspawn . . . everywhere . . ." the man grimaced in pain, it was obvious that even the effort of speaking was difficult for him. "Don't know . . . don't know where they came from . . . surprised us . . ." He gasped for air. "There's one . . . their leader I think . . . it . . . it talks!"

Oghren grunted. "No such thing as talking darkspawn, the lad must be delirious."

Gideon gave the dwarf a stern look before kneeling down next to Mhairi. "Where did it go? Their leader."

"It was headed . . . for the roof, I think."

"Why is everything always on the sodding roof?" Oghren complained.

Rowland cried out suddenly, his body curling in on itself. "Commander, please. It—it burns." He turned his eyes to Gideon, his face contorted in agony. Gideon nodded to the dying man. He pulled a dagger out and swiftly slit Rowland's throat.

Mhairi cried out. "How could you—"

Gideon's eyes were hard. "He was already dead. Better to end it quickly then make him suffer further."

Mhairi glared, but said nothing. Placing a hand over Rowland's face she closed his eyes. "I will avenge you," she said softly, "I swear it."

Anders had to resist rolling his eyes. What did she think they'd been doing for the last hour? Having a stroll in the park?

Oghren grunted. "Darkspawn killed him, lass. Best way you can avenge him is to keep fighting." His voice was oddly soothing.

Mhairi nodded and she and Gideon stood up. "Let's go," Gideon said, gruffly.

Two flights of stairs and a few dozen darkspawn later, they were on the roof. The tableau before them was strange, to say the least. Anders had never seen a darkspawn before today, but he instinctively knew that the tall one standing in front of them was almost certainly unique.

As they approached, they saw it hurling one of the soldiers off the roof, a dull thud sounding below them a few seconds later. There was another, older, man on his knees with one of the darkspawn standing behind him with a sword pressed to his neck.

The strange-looking darkspawn looked down at the man. "It has ended, just as he foretold."

"Maker's breath," Anders exclaimed, "it is talking!"

Oghren hefted his large war axe. "Well, let's shut it up!"

Gideon let out a blood-curdling war cry as they leapt into action. The talking darkspawn was tougher than the ones they had dealt with inside the Keep, but they eventually succeeded in taking it and its cronies down.

The older man got to his feet, breathing heavily. "Many thanks to you, ser, you have good timing indeed."

Gideon said nothing as he crouched down to get a closer look at the monster they had just felled. The older man faltered just a bit at Gideon's seeming ignorance of him. "I am Varel, Seneschal of Vigil's Keep. You are the new Warden-Commander, yes?"

Gideon finally acknowledged the other man and went over to speak with him. A flurry of movement in the courtyard below caught Anders' eye and he went over to the edge of the parapet to get a closer look. Judging by the impressive-looking armor, the man leading the procession was someone important. And flanking him were—ah, fuck!

Gideon finally noticed the crowd below and seemed to agree with Anders' sentiments. "What the hell is it now?" They made it back through the Keep and into the courtyard in record time, as the way had already been cleared earlier.

Anders' stomach was churning as they neared the group of people now stopped near the gate. Now that they were closer, Anders recognized the heraldry on the man's armor as being that of the Crown. But he was more distracted by the Templars flanking the King, especially the woman to his left. Anders shifted back just a little, hoping fervently that he wouldn't be recognized.

Peering over at Gideon, Anders thought he saw a look of distaste pass across his face just before he knelt down in front of the King. He watched as Mhairi and Varel followed suit, both in considerably more awe than Gideon seemed to be.

After the expected show of respect, Gideon stood up stiffly.

"It looks like I've arrived a bit late," the King was grinning.

Gideon's face was stony. "How convenient for you," he replied gruffly.

King Alistair's smile faltered. "Yes, well . . . it's good to see you, too." There was a hint of anger in his voice, and the air seemed to get a bit colder as the two men stared at each other warily.

"Why are you here?" Gideon asked abruptly.

The King seemed to put on a more 'regal' expression. "I wanted to formally welcome the new Warden-Commander."

Gideon rolled his eyes. "Well, you have. You can go now." The tension in the air was palpable.

Alistair looked truly angry now. "Now, see here, I'm still—"

He was cut off by the stern-looking woman standing next to him. The stern-looking Templar—the one who Anders had hoped he'd never see again.

"Your Majesty, beware. This man is a dangerous criminal!" She pointed at Anders. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. The woman always did have a penchant for being dramatic.

Anders forced himself to grin."Rylock, you minx," he said coyly, "you're looking as stunning as ever."

She glared at him fiercely. "Where are the Templars who were bringing you in?" She demanded.

He hesitated. "They're dead," he finally admitted.

Rylock's face turned purple with rage. "Murderer! I always knew you'd turn abomination!" She reached for her sword.

Anders backed up quickly. "I haven't turned anything! It was the darkspawn—"

"Enough." King Alistair's voice was more commanding than Anders had yet heard. "I've seen abominations before, Rylock. They weren't nearly as good-looking, believe me."

Anders wondered briefly if the King was making a pass at him, before deciding that he just didn't have that good of a sense of humor. "Yes!" he agreed quickly. "They've got more boils on their face, and . . ." he trailed off lamely.

"Anyway," Alistair continued, "You can't just execute him because you think he's turned into an abomination." He seemed to think a moment. "Just take him back to the tower, Greagoir and Irving can decide what to do with him."

"I have a better idea," Gideon grinned widely, looking even scarier than when he glared, if that was possible. "I'm invoking the Right of Conscription."

"What?" Anders and Rylock both said, at the exact same time. "I'm not sure that I'd make the best Warden," Anders grinned, "I'm not very good with the whole 'discipline' thing."

Gideon raised an eye. "You'd rather go back to the Circle?"

"On second thought," Anders said hastily, "being a Grey Warden sounds like an excellent idea!"

Alistair stared intently at Gideon. "Are you sure about this?"

"Oh, yes," Gideon's grin widened even further. "Positive." Anders suspected there was something more going on than just trying to decide what to do with an errant apostate, but he wasn't about to ask. Not when his fate was hanging in the balance.

"Then I'll allow it," Alistair finally said, seemingly reluctantly.

Rylock was positively apoplectic. "But, your Majesty—"

"The Wardens have the right to conscript whomever they choose," Gideon said. "Not even the Crown can override that." He cast a significant glance at the King. "Now, if there's nothing else you need . . ."

The King seemed taken aback by Gideon's obvious dismissal. "Well, I wanted to see if you needed anything . . ."

"We can handle it," Gideon said, firmly. "You should get back to your pretty little wife."

Alistair scowled at that. It was no secret that he and Queen Anora had little love for each other. It had been a marriage of convenience, nothing more. And, if the rumors were true, it had been Gideon who had forced them into it.

"Then I shall leave you to it," King Alistair said, stiffly. As Alistair and his party were leaving—along with a spluttering Rylock—Gideon turned and looked at the rest of his party. All of them, Anders included, were staring at him open-mouthed, taken aback by his curt dismissal of the King of Ferelden. People did not usually treat royalty like that and live, but Gideon seemed not to care what the King thought of him.

He looked at them sternly. "Come on. We have work to do, and a Joining to perform."

The three prospective Wardens spent the next few hours hauling the dead outside and onto pyres; one for the darkspawn, and one for their unfortunate victims who hadn't managed to escape the Keep in time. Gideon was in the throne room with Varel, making some kind of "preparations." He emerged some time later to help them finish their task.

It was late evening by the time they'd finished their dark and gruesome job. After they'd cleaned up they all trooped into the throne room. Sitting on a table was a large goblet filled with a dark liquid. As they watched, Gideon emptied the three vials of darkspawn blood they'd collected from the corpses into the goblet. Anders' stomach rolled when he realized that they were going to be drinking that.

Gideon looked at each of them in turn: Mhairi. Oghren. Anders. His expression was grim. "There's not really much of a ritual, but I'll say the words that were spoken at my Joining, and every Joining before." He bowed his head.

"Join us, brothers and sisters.

Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant.

Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn.

And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten,

And that one day, we shall join you."

Oghren took the goblet first, mumbling something about the size of the cup. Anders barely heard him, he was too on edge. It might not be much of a ritual, but there was something about this moment that was very . . . final. This was no game. But still, he reflected, no matter what happened this had to be better than the alternative. He had no illusions about what his fate would have been if Rylock had gotten her way.

He watched as Oghren drank from the goblet. At first, nothing much seemed to happen. Then his eyes filmed over and he let out a loud belch that smelled of rancid vomit. Anders couldn't help but laugh, but was quickly silenced by Gideon's glare.

Gideon took the cup from Oghren's unresisting hands and brought it to Anders. "From this moment forth, Anders," he intoned, "you are a Grey Warden."

Anders took the cup reluctantly. "All right, but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes, and a tattoo on my forehead—I'm blaming you."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Has that ever happened, before?"

Anders hesitated. "Well, not the tattoo, obviously."

He lifted the goblet to his lips and drank, the taste making him gag a little. He barely had time to pass the goblet back to Gideon before he began to sway. A horrific roaring filled his ears, blocking out all other senses. Suddenly, a huge beast loomed in his vision—some type of dragon maybe.

Then blackness overtook him, and he knew no more.

Well, here we are: my first attempt at a full-length Dragon Age story. I'll be following the Awakening storyline from beginning to (hopefully) end, focusing on the growing relationship of Nathaniel/Anders.

I need to do a long, long overdue tip of the hat to AJ Morrelli and Oliversgurl, who first introduced me to this pairing, and then made me fall in love with them. Go read their stories right now! Seriously, they're awesome.