"About sodding time His Majesty decided to remember us!" The maid gasped at my less than fawning reaction to the king. "Sorry, he and I are old friends," I explained, which didn't seem to help. I finally told her to let Varel know I was on my way, just so she wouldn't keep staring at me.

"So should I dress up?" Anders asked.

"Do you even own anything other than robes?"

"Well, I have nicer robes."

Anders was smoothing his hair back, trying to tuck the few loose strands behind his ears and failing. "Are you nervous?" I asked him. He looked at me and blushed. "Maker's breath, you are! You've met Alistair before, stop worrying; he's really not formal at all."

"I met him once," Anders replied. "And if you recall, I was nearly arrested for murder in front of him."

"If it makes you feel any better I was once arrested with him. Had to kill our way out of Fort Drakon. Very messy." I'd nearly shocked Alistair half to death that day. We woke up, dressed only in our smallclothes, in a cell. Someone had even taken the time to put magic-suppressing bracers on me, leaving me completely helpless. Alistair was in a panic, and thought I had lost my mind when I started cooing to the guard outside that I could use some company. Fortunately he'd figured out my plan soon enough. Once he knocked the guard unconscious we were on our way out. I relayed the story to Anders, giggling, and he wordlessly left the room, returning a moment later buttoning up his Warden robes.

"Not making me feel any better here, Maggie," he protested, wrapping the belt around his waist.

"I promise you, Anders, he is not going to start demanding we fetch him things and shouting out royal decrees. Alistair still thinks of himself as a Warden. He didn't even want to be king, I made him."

Anders sighed, smoothing his hair again before giving up. "That isn't it." I held out my arms, demanding an explanation. "You have all these stories of your great adventures, you knew him long before you knew me. I just don't want him to think I'm some kind of crazed murderer."

I giggled. "So… you're worried he won't, um, approve of you?"

"Stop it," Anders insisted. "I don't need his approval. Why would I need his approval? Just because he's your best friend doesn't mean-"

"Anders, if you don't stop talking now you'll dig yourself right into the main hall."

"Right."

"Let's go, if we leave him waiting he'll put us in the stocks." Anders froze midstep and I sighed. "That was a joke." Grabbing his hand I dragged Anders from the room.

Alistair stood laughing with Oghren as they pointed around the room, marveling at the destruction. Dressed in leather pants and a matching jerkin Alistair looked disturbingly like paintings of Maric during the war. That had been Eamon's idea; figuring someone of Alistair's build would look absurd prancing around in delicate silks, he decided on cultivating the image of a Warrior-King. People adored him for it since it brought back memories of his father, and I suspected it made us look all the more uncivilized and dangerous to any countries with a mind for invasion. Empress Celine may look wealthy, but she certainly doesn't look capable of cleaving off someone's head without breaking a sweat.

"Mags!" he called as I entered, walking over to us. "I love what you've done to the place." His guards shifted uncomfortably, not sure if they should follow him as he wandered around.

"Yeah, I decided I enjoy spending time with the darkspawn so much I'd ask them to redecorate for me."

He laughed and turned his attention to Anders, glancing at our linked fingers and then raising an eyebrow to me with a smirk. "I remember you, the apostate," Alistair offered by way of greeting. Anders winced, his grip on my hand tightening. "The minute I saw you I knew she'd end up conscripting you. So is life as a Warden all you dreamed and more?"

"Absolutely, Your Majesty" he said.

"Maker, please don't call me that. It's just Alistair to any fellow Warden."

Anders relaxed, letting go of my hand. "Well, Alistair, if it wasn't for the darkspawn-killing requirement I think all of Ferelden would be begging to join up, if only for the house parties. I just wish I could find a way to keep the smell of those bastards from getting into my hair."

"I had the same problem," Alistair replied casually. "Eventually I found a rinse of elfroot did the trick, but she always yelled at me."

"Elfroot is the main ingredient in a health poultice. If you had to stumble around Ferelden on a broken leg I doubt your hair would be as much of a concern," I pointed out.

"My hair is always a concern," Alistair insisted. I rolled my eyes.

Not wanting to get into another conversation about Alistair's hair in this lifetime, I changed the subject. "I wish we could have given you a proper royal welcome," I told him. "But unfortunately, as you can see, the Grey of Ferelden are reduced to living in charred squalor. Thank the Maker for our brothers and sisters in Orlais, otherwise we wouldn't even have armor to wear." I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow towards him.

"Ouch." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose I deserve that."

"We got armor?" Oghren piped up.

"Upstairs, last door on the west hall, take one set. Make sure Sigrun and Nathaniel each get one, too."

"Howe's son?" Alistair asked as they ran up the stairs. I nodded. "You sure about that?"

"Andraste's knickers, not this again. Yes, I'm sure. I'm so sure I made him second in command. Nathaniel's a good man, and a good Warden. I'm not going to punish someone because his father was an ass- Nathaniel wasn't even in the country at the time. He's the only reason any of this building is left habitable."

"He saved the life of every civilian here during the attack," Anders added. "He can't take a joke, but I'd still trust him with my life, we all do. You can't blame him for what his father did."

Alistair held up his hands. "Fine, fine. Maker's breath, arguing with her is bad enough, but now with two of you? Do they teach you that at the tower or something?"

"I learned it from her," Anders replied.

"Actually, so did I. The whole shouting out every reason you're right without giving people a second to reply thing works great when I'm arguing with nobles." He laughed at this. "Anyways, I know I'm a day late, but will you still be ready to leave in the morning?"

Anders and I looked at each other. "Leave?" I asked.

It was Alistair's turn to look confused. "Yes, for Denerim. Didn't you get my letter?" I shook my head. "Well, that explains why no one seemed to be expecting me here. I sent you a letter weeks ago saying I'd provide a royal escort for the Wardens to Denerim. There's a parade planned for as soon as we arrive in the city, and then some boring speech-ceremony thing. Your favorite, I know. That's why I'm late, I did the royal appearance in the city today instead of dragging you along."

"This is the first I've heard of anything," I told him. "I mean, we can be ready fairly soon, and thankfully the armor from Orlais should look fine for a parade."

"Andraste's ass," Alistair muttered. "I should have known when you didn't reply. I just figured you were too busy with everything that happened here. There's a Landsmeet you'll need to attend and the autumn ball scheduled, too."

"How did you send the letter?"

"One of our private couriers. He returned and didn't mention a problem."

"You may want to double check on that," I suggested.

Alistair's face darkened. "I would, but that's not an option. He was killed in a barfight at the Pearl not even a week later."

"Funny coincidence, that," Anders said, sounding like he didn't believe it was a coincidence at all.

"We can get paranoid later. Let's go pack so we don't fall too much further behind schedule." I invited Alistair to sit in my office while we got ready. He left his guards downstairs, claiming we would be discussing "Warden secrets." I suspect Alistair was just happy not to have someone following him around.

Alistair admired my collection of antique Warden weapons while Anders and I tossed clothes and armor into a trunk. At the last moment I added my only ballgown, even though I wasn't entirely sure it would still fit. I'd had it made just after the blight; two years of nonstop running around Ferelden combined with infrequent meals had left me skinnier than I'd been in years. I'd gone back up to the weight I was when I left the tower since then. "Now this I like," he called from my office. "It's almost classy, much nicer than the whole 'burnt mess' look downstairs."

"And here I thought only Maggie considered implements of death and griffins 'classy.' Can I blame you for having to sleep under a painting of someone slaughtering an archdemon?" Anders laughed at his own joke, but I ignored the insult. If he had his way the walls would all be draped in giant antique tapestries with gilded wall sconces and ornate candleholders everywhere like some high end brothel.

"That someone is Garahel, he ended the fourth blight!" I protested.

"Yes, yes, slaughtered the old god Andoral at the battle of Ayesleigh. The glorious history of the Grey Wardens, I know, I know. It's all very serious and very impressive. Doesn't mean I want to see it first thing after opening my eyes every morning. I normally like mornings. All that archdemon blood kills the mood." The last part was pitched lower, so Alistair couldn't hear from the other room. Anders punctuated that statement with his best lascivious grin, quickly dissolving into laughter as I climbed onto the bed and removed the painting from the wall without another word.

Still laughing, we joined Alistair in the office, Anders pausing to build up a fire before sitting down. "I must admit, I'm jealous of how easy that is for mages," Alistair commented. "Anyways, the whole country has heard of what happened here. Almost everyone is proclaiming you heroes."

"Almost everyone?" Anders replied. "That's disappointing."

"The Grand Cleric has been telling everyone who will listen that this was a sign of the Maker's judgment since we allowed a mage to rule over people."

I winced. "I hardly think the Maker would return to his world and kill the innocents of Amaranthine while letting me live just to prove a point. Wouldn't, say, striking me down in a public place make more sense?"

"Most everyone else says the same thing; they think the Grand Cleric is just blinded by her hate for mages. You're still the most popular woman in Denerim, it would take a lot to make people forget who ended the blight. But, there are those who will always back the Chantry regardless of what she says." Alistair was being far too optimistic. Most people would always back the Chantry, regardless of who I am or what I did for them. The majority of Thedas already hated mages, turning them on one specific mage wouldn't be tough.

"Fantastic," I muttered. "I bet she and the Revered Mother here are the best of friends."

"Actually, I think they are," Alistair said. Anders laughed. "I was surprised when she reassigned her this far from Denerim."

"Reassigned? What do you mean?"

"Well, she hasn't always been here, she was in Denerim before. The Grand Cleric had her sent here…" Alistair paused, wincing. "Had her sent here right after the Wardens were given the Arling. I should have guessed."

"Is driving me mad her new hobby?" I shook my head. "Actually, don't answer that, I'd rather not know." I got up and lit several lamps, it was rapidly getting darker out. "Sorry I can't offer you any tea, we don't have a kitchen yet." Alistair shrugged, unconcerned. On impulse I turned to Anders. "Go get a set of armor. Nathaniel or Oghren can help you figure out what fits. Oghren might be better, you'll want plate, not leather"

"What?" He held up his hands. "Never mind, I know what you're thinking. You're being paranoid but I'm not going to argue. You'll win anyways and agreeing is faster."

"He figured that out quick," Alistair snorted as Anders ran off. "Took me months to realize it."

"You know he was beside himself with worry earlier," I said, now that Alistair and I were alone.

"Unfortunately I'm used to that. Comes with the crown."

"Not even that," I laughed. "I think he was worried you'd disapprove of him."

"He seems decent enough. Better than the last one, that's for sure." Alistair had never entirely approved of Zevran. Although they did become friends, he always thought the Antivan was only using me for entertainment while he was in Ferelden. Of course, it turned out Alistair was right. "Certainly better than my uncle, that's just odd."

"I told you, nothing happened. I swear! We had dinner, like, twice, and went to a ball together, that's it." I changed the subject, not sure I wanted to know if three dates was considered major courtship among nobles. "Is Eamon still on your case about getting married?"

Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair. "not… exactly."

"Alistair, you devil! Who is she?" I demanded, on the edge of my chair.

"Teyrn Couseland's sister. You'd like her, she's not one of those fancy clothes preening sorts. We've actually sparred a few times."

"Sparred," I snickered. "Is that what you're calling it now? Better than that lamppost comparison." Once, after a few beers with Oghren, I'd actually asked Alistair if he'd ever been with someone. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word sex, which was answer enough.

"What do you take me for, some kind of lecherous mage? I actually mean sparred. She gave me a run for my money, too. It's going to be announced at the ball."

I gave him a hug. "Congratulations! My little templar is all grown up! If you want a Warden honor guard at the wedding just say the word. Given enough notice I might even be able to sober Oghren up."

"Now that's a thought," he mused. "How about you? I recall someone kicking Zevran out of their tent in the middle of the night for months. Actually trusting someone around you while you're unconscious…" Alistair gave me a knowing look. "So what are mage weddings like? Do you shoot each other with lightning at the end? That would be entertaining."

I sputtered, "Wedding? Maker's breath, let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

"You're joking. Even Oghren says you two have been inseparable since you got to Amaranthine. Told me it was 'sodding nauseating.'"

"Shouldn't the king be above gossip?"

"I'm a noble now, gossip is practically required." I rolled my eyes. "Come on, out with it. Is it love? Is it to be a white dress or will you wear mage robes for the wedding? Are you going to take his name? Oooh, can you name the first baby after me?"

"We already have the same name, Alistair. And have you forgotten we kill darkspawn for a living? That's not exactly the ideal career for someone looking to start a family, even if both people weren't practically barren."

"You're not brother and sister, are you?" Alistair looked slightly horrified. I hit him on the shoulder.

"Maker's breath, no. Ewww. They change it when we get to the tower." I paused. "Actually, I don't have a last name anymore, technically. Which is just fine by me."

"I notice you avoided the rest of my question."

"You're a very observant man, Alistair. I've always said that about you."

"So that's how it is, then?" He shook his head. "You can't fool me; I've seen you give someone that look before."

"And that turned out so well for me, didn't it?" I replied. "Can you blame me for being a bit hesitant to, you know, throw myself out there to get tossed away again."

"What, did you get that from Zevran? Not saying something out loud keeps it from being true?"

"You just had to bring him up?" I winced.

"Sorry," Alistair said. "I figured you were over that. He wrote me asking about you again, I guess it was on my mind."

"Well over that, believe me. I just don't like the reminder of how easy I am to forget."

"Forget you? Never!" Anders returned, dropping a set of armor to the floor before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

"How long have you been standing there listening?!"

"Long enough," he replied, sitting down. "Your paranoia is just part of your charm. Not that I can claim to be any better. I say we blame the Circle."

"Works for everything else, I don't see why not." I put aside my embarrassment. "Did you tell everyone to be ready to leave tomorrow?"

"And I told Varel we'd be gone for a bit after I asked someone to bring us dinner. You should have made me your second in command!"

"You really want to deal with tactics, leading people, recruiting, and paperwork?"

"Andraste's knickers, no."

"Well, there you go."

A maid appeared with a tray of our usual no-kitchen camp rations and a couple bottles of wine. I think at this point I'd actually stab someone for a bowl of stew, I thought, looking at the cold dried meat. She tried to walk from the room backwards, in awe of Alistair, and ended up hitting the doorframe. I tried so hard not to laugh.

"Are we going to be paranoid about this missing letter?" I asked as we ate.

"Well apparently you're making mages wear armor, so I think it's clear you've decided," Anders replied. "I feel absurd in that getup, by the way. And I was tired after just putting it on."

"I'll teach you some spells that will help. Just humor me, if the Grand Cleric is riling people up against us before we even get there…" Anders shrugged, but didn't argue. "Alistair," I said, "what if you give someone else the arling? I don't need it, I don't even want it. Just let us have the Keep."

"The First Warden will have your head," Anders reminded me. "You know, if he ever bothers to acknowledge we exist down here."

"Screw him," I muttered.

"Who are you?" Anders demanded, looking angry. "Since when would you let some religious fanatic send us running?"

"If it was just me I wouldn't," I insisted. "I ask so much of all of you as it is, I don't want to risk your lives to make some statement against the Chantry."

"So we're back to letting them dictate our lives?"

"Who do you think the second best target to me would be, Anders? You think they don't know how I conscripted you out from under the templars?"

"So this is about me?" Anders slammed his glass on the table. Andraste's tits, Maggie, I don't need you protecting me. Just because you're my commanding officer doesn't mean I'm incapable of taking care of myself."

"When did I say you were?" I shouted right back at him. Alistair shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.

"You know, as entertaining as watching two mages fight can be," he said slowly, "this argument may be for nothing." I looked at my hands; they were covered in a thin layer of ice. I showed Anders as he displayed his own, lightning arcing between his fingers. We both burst out laughing.

"Sorry," I said, shaking the magic from my hands. "I- I didn't mean it like that," I told Anders. "I'm sorry. I just… if anything happened…" I shrugged.

"I know. We both worry," he said simply. "Hey, our first argument!"

"How nice I could be a part of this for you. If an argument is enough to set off the magic I hate to think… wait, no, I don't want to know."

"You sure?" Anders asked. "There was this one time, in the Revered Mother's bed-"

"Wait, WHAT?!" Alistair's jaw dropped.

"Anders, he doesn't want to-"

"Sure he does! It's a great story!"

"No, I don't!"

"What's a great story?" Oghren had appeared in the doorway, holding two bottles of… something. Maker, save me, I thought. He dropped into a chair and put his feet up on the table, passing a bottle around. "Maggie," he greeted me. "Sparkle-fingers," Anders lifted his glass, "Pike-twirler," Alistair grimaced.

"You all packed?"

He nodded. "Everyone's ready. I had to escape. You don't want to know what Mr. Quiet and Stoic is doing with our spicy dust town lass."

Anders snorted. "What?! Nathaniel and Sigrun?"

"I knew it!" I cheered.

"What, what- no, not that. She heard we'd be going to a ball and decided he has to teach her how to dance." Oghren looked at me. "Wait, the two of them…?"

"I have a suspicion," I said.

"Damn," he muttered. "I just hope they're not as bad as you two. That night in the Chantry before we fought the Architect… Ancestor's tits, it made me want to vomit." I choked. I didn't think we'd been loud enough to wake them.

"We, um… thought you were asleep."

"Who could sleep with the two of you carrying on?" He grunted in disgust. "Warriors get drunk before battle, or at least have a good time without pants on. They don't get all weepy and start telling each other how much they love them. Sodding disgraceful." Oh, so that was the part he heard, I thought, not sure if I should be relieved. Sure, we joked about actually having sex in the revered mother's bed. Well, Anders joked, and I worried about being struck down for my blasphemy, but either way, it wasn't a secret. Our conversation after hadn't been mentioned since. I'd put it off to his night-before-potential-agonizing-death jitters. He may have thought the same of me.

"Ohhh..." Anders said. "You must have slept through the 'good time without pants on' part of the evening.

Oghren sputtered. "Manskirt-wearing freak."

"Yes, I suppose for me it's always no pants on time. I'm lucky like that. Shame you missed it, though. Some of the noises she makes-"

"ANDERS!" He looked over at me and grinned. "You need to stop talking. Now. Please. Don't think I won't freeze you to shut your mouth."

"Sorry, Commander. Just wanted to make sure no one was questioning us as warriors."

"Very thoughtful of you." I rolled my eyes, taking a belt of Oghren's mystery booze. "What is this?" I asked him, holding up the glass.

"Moonshine from the Free Marches." It could never be anything normal. Not Antivan brandy or Orlesian wine. Moonshine. Brilliant.

"More," I shrugged, holding my hand out for the bottle. "Hey Alistair, remember that night we camped outside Haven and you got so drunk you fell in the fire?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. And Zevran pushed me, I didn't fall. But before this conversation devolves any further and we start singing jaunty pub songs, I did have something to add to our earlier discussion," Alistair said.

"About the Revered Mother's bed?" Anders asked him before throwing back another shot.

"Maker, no. I never want to hear about that again, in fact. And you might not want to tell anyone else, the Chantry isn't exactly fans of you two at the moment." He winced, setting his glass down. "It's about the Arling." I looked at Alistair, gesturing for him to go on. "See, in short… Ferelden's broke. Towards the end of the occupation the Orlesians emptied the treasury and sent almost anything of value to Val Royeaux. I guess they knew their days were numbered. We still hadn't recovered from that when the blight hit, which cost a ton to fix as well. I did manage to scrape something up to help with the rebuilding now, but we can't afford the normal tithes for you. The only thing keeping the Wardens afloat now is the tax money from Amaranthine. So, if I give the Arling to someone else, well, you have nothing."

"Ouch," I said flatly. "Why didn't anyone tell me, though?"

"Varel knew, and your bookkeeper. I guess everyone assumed they would tell you if you needed to know. You're not exactly good with money."

"Sure I am," I said.

"No, you're not," Oghren agreed. "How much did you donate to that phony charity?"

"Ohhh… the one for the blight orphans, but they spelled orphans wrong on the sign?" Anders laughed. "I still can't believe anyone fell for that."

"Fine," I muttered, taking another drink, "that answers that." I laughed, more from the alcohol than any actual mirth. "Anyways, show of hands, who thinks Alistair's missing letter with the mysteriously killed courier was part of a conspiracy?"

"What letter?" Oghren asked.

Alistair started to answer but I spoke first. "Sent it after the big mess here, saying there would be a parade for us, a Landsmeet I have to go play noble at, and a big party. Never arrived, and the courier who said it did was very coincidentally killed in a barfight."

Oghren raised his hand. Anders and I did the same after a couple seconds. "Oghren, you don't count," Alistair protested. "You're from Orzammar, you think everything's a conspiracy."

"Because it usually is."

"You think everyone's out to get you," he said to me. "and from what I can see, you're exactly the same," Alistair added, turning to Anders.

"Only because everyone is out to get us," I said. "well, everyone who's a religious chantry type. Except Leliana. She's not out to get us. Wynne might be, though. I wonder sometimes."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Anders slurred. "I believe in signs, portents, omens, messages from the Maker, prophesies, and coincidences." He paused. "Wait, no, not the last one. No coincidences."

"You're drunk," I told him.

"And you're pretty," he replied, tapping me on the nose. Giggling, I grabbed his hand.

"And that's my cue to leave," Alistair said, standing up. "I'll be in the room next door, I assume Anders won't need it." We wished him goodnight. Oghren followed after a second.

"For all the different things you brew up here you surfacers can't handle your booze," Oghren announced, before closing the door. "Maggie, Sparkle-fingers, I'd tell you not to burn the Keep down, but too late for that. So knock yourselves out."