Alistair
They met King Alistair outside the Vigil. Neria was properly subservient although Anders got the impression it was an act, especially as she forgot protocol and called him Alistair on a number of occasions. The King didn't seem to mind. In fact, he acted rather playfully around the elf. There was definitely some history here and that just piqued his curiosity even further. He knew little of what had been going on in over the last two years as most of it he had spent in a cell, or else fleeing from templars.
He was halfway thinking he should probably not be out here with these soldiers when a pair of especially sour looking templars stepped forward and demanded his arrest.
"He is a dangerous maleficar, your majesty. We were taking him back to the Tower to be hanged when he murdered his escort of templars," the templar named Rylock said.
The King looked at Neria, "Is that true?"
"Maleficar?" Anders sputtered. "I never...did that!" He looked at Neria.
She frowned, "No, absolutely not. He was locked in his cell when the darkspawn attacked. The darkspawn killed the templars." She didn't actually know that, but she wasn't about to let the templars take her old friend.
Rylock looked like she had just gargled with a gallon of pure lemon juice; her face looked so sour and puckered. "Nevertheless, he is an escaped apostate and maleficar and we are taking him."
Neria's brows drew down. "No, I don't think so." She crossed her arms and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't much. "I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription on Anders. From this moment on, he is a Grey Warden." She said it formally, trying to give her voice some authority and gravitas.
The King muttered, "Good on you, Neria," which Anders overheard.
Impossibly, Rylock's expression grew more curdled. "This is a Chantry matter, it does not involve the Crown, your majesty."
"I'm sorry, Rylock, I'm afraid I have to let it stand," the King spread his hands apologetically and sent a sly wink to Neria.
"This isn't the last you've heard from me on this matter, Commander!" Rylock warned. "I'd like to remind you we still have his phylactery and yours as well."
Neria glared at her, "I'd like to see you try." She let tiny little lightning bolts snap between her fingers, a small display of the high voltages she commanded.
Rylock, in her own display of bravado, began to gleam with an aura that promised to drain mana if she struck out. The diminutive mage and the templar locked eyes and sneered until finally Rylock spun abruptly on her heel. The templars stormed off and Neria summoned a foul smelling, gaseous cloud that shaped itself into a rude gesture, normally formed with fingers. The cloud followed the templars down the road away until the breeze finally dispersed it.
Alistair sighed and rubbed his hand across his short hair. "Maker, Neria, I'm going to hear about this. Can't you just pretend to not hate them, a little... for me?"
Neria looked at him and frowned. He was doing that puppy-dog thing with his eyes. "I'll try, Alistair, but I can't promise anything if they start harassing me and Anders again."
She drew a deep breath, trying to regain control of her temper, and asked, "Can you stay?"
He made an unkingly face, "No, I wish I could, but there's a lot I need to get done back in Denerim. I am sending you troops and supplies to help you rebuild." He bent over and hugged the Commander and kissed her on the forehead. "Take care, Neria."
King Alistair and his escort marched off down the road and they went inside the Keep.
~O~O~O~
Varel passed the chalice to Anders. Neria felt her heart slow a little. She tried to harden herself to the possibility that she might lose a friend, but it didn't work. She felt anxious. If these were to be his last moments she wanted to be brave for his sake. He took the chalice and made a funny face at her. She worked up a half-smile as he took a gulp. He choked on the foul smelling brew, went pale, and his eyes rolled back. Varel caught him as he fainted and slowly lowered him to the ground.
"He will live, Commander," Varel told her.
Her heart began to beat again.
~O~O~O~
"So..." Anders started asking, without knowing really how to ask. She was his friend, but now his Commander and leader of the Grey Wardens. He was a newly joined recruit. There must be boundaries, right? Where are they?
Neria could sense he was struggling. "So, I bet you're curious about how all this happened?" She gestured the way to a little table in the kitchen that was laden with lots of food. Anders was grateful. He had woken up from his Joining with not only a horrible taste in his mouth, but a hunger that felt like a cat was trying to claw it's way out through his belly button.
"You eat, I'll talk," she told him. "I bet you're more than a little hungry. There are some things about being a Grey Warden I'll have to explain a bit later." She looked a little regretful. "But one should be obvious now, you're going to have a very, very healthy appetite. Especially at first."
Anders tried not to be greedy but the clawing in his belly just wouldn't allow it. Neria tried not to smile, but it brought back such memories she couldn't help herself.
"So did you hear about the mess with Jowan?" she asked.
He nodded. "You helfed him 'scape?" he tried to say around a big mouthful of food.
"No, not really," she said. "I was helping the First Enchanter try to catch the Chantry initiate who was involved with all that. At least, that was what Irving told me." She sighed. "He wanted to take Greagoir down a notch or two by showing him his templars were corruptible. Of course, Greagoir wanted to take it out on me and lock me away in Aeonar for my role in it all." Neria frowned, "I was just following Irving's orders. I think that bastard would have let him do it too!"
Anders nodded, "He alwath wath a bathard," he tried to say around his full mouth.
"So there was a Grey Warden named Duncan visiting at the time and when Duncan had heard about things he tried to recruit me," she continued. "I would have gone willingly with him, but Greagoir got shirty about it and tried to prevent it, so Duncan conscripted me." She laughed, "Much like I conscripted you!" She smiled at him, "Hope you don't mind..."
Anders shook his head.
"Yeah, well, better than hanging, I suppose," she said. She eyed the food and picked up a turkey leg. She took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out how to summarize two years of madness into a few sentences.
"Then, there was the Blight. I traveled around with Alistair for nearly two years - he was just another Grey Warden then - and we raised the army to tackle the archdemon," she said.
Anders held up a hand and chewed vigorously and swallowed, trying to get down a large mouthful. "You traveled with the King Alistair?"
"No, he wasn't King Alistair. He was just a guy," she laughed. "He had a huge crush on me."
Anders looked at her intently. "So did you ever... you know?"
Neria cocked her eyebrow. "No, I didn't and I'm glad I didn't when it became obvious he was going to be King. Can you imagine what a mess that would have been? 'Hello Ferelden, here's your new Queen; a freak of a mage and an elf to boot.' Yeah, that would have gone over well. Or even worse he would have tried to hide things or just outright dumped me." She shook her head. "So no. I didn't get involved with him."
"So we won over some nobles in Denerim, knocked a few heads, and barged into the Landsmeet. I somehow managed to convince Alistair to take the throne and I got the Landsmeet to accept him as the new king." She shrugged.
"Still not quite sure why they trusted me, a mage and an elf, to do that. I always wondered if perhaps I could have crowned myself that day. They seemed willing to do almost anything I said." She laughed. "No, I wouldn't have done that. I didn't want to get stuck with that job. Alistair didn't either but I told him it was his duty to his country and all that. Sucker. Amazing what you can get him to do if he thinks it is his duty."
Anders stopped stuffing his mouth for a minute and looked serious. "I just can't believe little Neria is... you. My little student who fainted at the sight of blood. Now you're telling the country who the king should be and telling the Chantry to go piss themselves." He really looked at her and for the first time saw her as the woman she had become, not the young girl he had known. She still had that cute, little girl look, probably always would due to her elven heritage, but there was a new aura around her; an aura of... or-else. 'You do as I say, or else I'm going to lance your head with lightning,' he thought.
"Neria... er, Commander," he corrected himself, "Sorry, I'll try to remember to call you that."
Neria's eyes looked at him seriously, it just didn't feel right. "Call me Neria when it's just us."
Anders smiled and nodded, "Alright, Neria. So I have to ask, and forgive me I know it's a rude question but... you're just so cute, so small, a mage, and a woman, how did you manage to get so incredibly powerful? I can't even get little kids to listen to me, much less adults."
Neria laughed hard, Anders was right it was a question that mystified everyone that met her but hardly anyone ever dared ask. "I have a lot of big, intimidating friends. Plus I use the fact I'm a mage to good effect. Most people are afraid I'm going to melt their face off." She thought for a moment and added, "Except templars. I have to rely on my big, intimidating friends when they're around."
Anders laughed with her. "Big, intimidating friends; I need to acquire some."
"We're both going to need some. My old friends seem to have better things to do than be enforcers for me," she sighed. "Except Oghren, he isn't exactly big but he is intimidating."
Anders nodded, "He even smells intimidating."
Neria laughed and nodded.
~O~O~O~
The warehouse was unguarded and that made Neria suspicious. They would never put phylacteries in an unguarded warehouse. His friend, Namaya, said it was here. Then he had looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, surprising reminding her of Alistair's, and so here they were. This place could not have screamed TRAP louder if there were a chorus of mezzo-sopranos singing it at the top of their lungs.
"Anders, this isn't right," she said. "There should be guards." She fidgeted nervously with the braid in her hair.
Anders gnawed on his lip. "I know, Commander. I know. But it's the only lead I have. We have to at least look," he insisted.
She frowned. She knew he was still nervous about the templars. They couldn't pass one without him suddenly looking around for a hiding place, and the encounter with Rylock... it even sent chills down her spine. What if templars went rogue? Maybe they had decided to take matters into their own hands and wouldn't obey Alistair.
"Okay then, standard door opening procedure," she said. Oghren, you do the honors. Nathanial, be ready. I'm going to hustle in after Oghren and stun anyone in there." She looked at her team, they nodded. "Go."
Oghren drew his weapon and kicked in the door. It swung open. Rylock and another templar were there. "Looks like our little trap worked," she laughed.
Neria groaned. She had just known this would happen. There were no phylacteries in this room.
"Trap? What trap?" Anders said, "We're just fetching a... keg of cider for the..."
"Guards," Neria said.
"Tavern," Anders said simultaneously.
Neria looked at Anders and shrugged.
Rylock laughed harshly. "Is that so? Well, whichever it is, I have found a pair of dangerous apostates. Such a shame they died while I was trying to take them into custody."
Neria felt far too small next to the human templars in plate mail armor. It was damned hard to make people take you seriously when you're tiny compared to everyone else. The only way around it was usually to be excessively brutal and then at least your reputation would be big.
She threw back her own head and laughed mockingly at the templars. "Really, Rylock? You really want to fight a bunch of Grey Wardens? Are you daft, woman?"
"I'm doing my duty, apostate." Rylock suddenly was surrounded by a brilliant white light. It was one that Neria had never actually had used on her before. It made a whining, sucking sound then she was flung back as if she had exploded. It was her mana exploding, actually. She saw Anders being flung back as well. Nathaniel and Oghren were unaffected.
Oghren made a sound like a bronto being sick, his war cry, and rushed at Rylock. His massive hammer crushing her plate mail right into her hip. It threw her off balance and she screamed in what Neria hoped was agony.
Neria swore and picked herself up. She was just casting a sleep spell when the other templar unleashed his own smite. That whining, sucking sound followed by a painful explosion of mana detonating. She was again thrown backwards, this time hitting wall hard with her shoulder. She heard something crunch and pain exploded. She couldn't help gasping.
"Neria?" Anders looked over at her his face creasing with concern.
She couldn't hold her staff with that arm, she switched to the other arm. Anders threw a small heal at her, it helped with the pain a little, but her arm still felt worthless.
Finally, she could cast her sleep spell. Rylock didn't succumb but her partner did. Another massive blow from Oghren and Rylock crumpled to the floor. Neria wasn't sure if she was dead, but at least she wasn't moving.
"Don't kill the other templar, Og. We need to question him," Neria told him.
Oghren shook his head, "Can't, Commander," he growled.
He was in a berserking frenzy and nothing but completely crushing the enemy would break it. She called down a force shield on Oghren and he froze in place. Hopefully his frenzy would be gone by the time it wore off. "Nathaniel, bind the other templar, please."
"Rylock is alive, Commander, just unconscious." Anders told her.
The look he threw her showed his confused state. He probably wanted revenge like she did, but he was too nice. Neria however, was not.
Neria glared at her, biting her lip. "Stand aside," she ordered. She summoned a lightning bolt at Rylock. Her corpse was left smoking and smoldering inside the plate armor.
The other templar had awakened from his sleep and gasped, "Maker damn you to Oblivion, apostate!"
When Oghren came out of the force field he was himself again. "Take the templar to the smuggler's cove. I'll be along shortly," Neria ordered. Everyone filed out of the room but Neria caught Anders arm with her hand. She winced, it tweaked her sore shoulder.
"Oh, sorry," Anders apologized. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and sent a wave of healing magic through it. "Better?"
His healing magic was always surprisingly intimate. It always took the knots out of her muscles and relaxed her. It felt like what she imagined it would be like to have a loving parent kiss your knee when you fell and skinned it. She knew a little bit about healing, nothing like Anders though. She never had anyone tell her it felt special. Wynne's healing magic hadn't felt like that though. It was efficient, it definitely felt good, but the sort of good when something stopped hurting. It wasn't like Anders' magic.
"It's all better, Anders," she smiled at him.
She compressed her lips, thinking about what to do. The templars weren't just here for Anders, they seemed to think they had some jurisdiction over her too. She pointed at Rylock, "Too brutal?" she asked him.
"No. Well, maybe. I don't know. I just know I wanted her dead too," Anders met her eyes evenly.
She tugged her braid thoughtfully. "I don't know how to stop them," she admitted. "Even though I've recruited you, even though the King told them 'No', they keep trying." She nudged Rylock's corpse with her toe. "Maybe it's just Rylock. Maybe it will stop now. We can question the other one; find out why they persist. And why am I an apostate too all of a sudden?"
Anders nodded, "When you say question, what exactly do you mean?"
Neria met his gaze, "Don't ask me questions you don't want to know the answer to." She turned and started to walk away but this time his hand grabbed her wrist.
"You mean to torture him?" he asked.
"Is it anything less than what they did to you?" she answered him with her own question. Her hand went up to the little scar on his face that had once been a massive bruise and a long gash from their vicious kicks and beatings. She remembered that time in the tower, how that templar had cuffed him. She imagined it had only gotten worse.
"Neria, no," his grip tightened on her wrist. "We're supposed to be better than them."
She sighed. "How can you defend them after what you've been through? You know how fanatical they are." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She didn't have time to deal with crazy rogue templars. There were darkspawn to deal with, a conspiracy, someone attacking the trade routes...
"Alright, fine. We'll let him go with a warning," she said. Her gut told her she was making a huge mistake. She was doing it for him. Why? she wondered. Why am I afraid of showing him who I really am? She shut her eyes for a moment and the image of Amelia giggling and blushing at Anders flashed through her mind. Oh, Hurlock crap, no!
"Commander, are you okay?" Anders asked her.
She opened her eyes and her face settled into what she thought of as her commander face. "Let's go," she told him curtly.
They joined the others at the smuggler's cove. Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief when she told him to let the templar go.
"Look, friend," Neria said, in a way that clearly did not convey friendship, "I don't know what wild hare was up Rylock's ass about Grey Warden mages, but hear me now: Grey Wardens are out of the jurisdiction of the Chantry and the Crown will back me up on that."
The templar glared at her and smirked. "Is that so, apostate? Perhaps we'll just have to see when word gets out that you killed Captain Rylock."
"Go, just go. And if anyone else has an urge to come looking for Grey Warden mages you might want to remind them of what happened to Rylock."
Oghren growled, "Don't fuck with the Wardens."
Neria almost wanted to kiss Oghren right then. She couldn't have said it better. But why does it sound so much more real coming from him than me? It was the curse of being a small, female mage. No one ever took her seriously until she beat the crap out of them.
