Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine

He'd thought she was dead, fallen with so many others when the Circle was overrun, but here she was standing in front of him. Time felt hollowed out, as if he could reach through it and come out the other side. He remembered her laughing, the way she worried the corner of her mouth back and forth when she concentrated, the feel of her soft lips against his in stolen moments of the night. He felt the slight weight of the trinket he always wore hanging around his neck. She'd given it to him the last night they spent together. But not the last time they'd seen each other. No, that was a time he would rather not remember. She'd turned away from him then, and he was never sure what she'd actually said. He knew what she meant though, as she'd walked away. She'd meant she'd been wrong about him.

Staring at her, standing full of life right across from him – he didn't know quite what to say, which didn't happen often. He wanted to go to her, to laugh, to pick her up and kiss her like no time had gone by, like that last meeting had never taken place. But there were fallen Templars all around him, and he knew why she was here, now. He felt stupid, like he should've known this before. How had he never considered that Auria, the Grey Warden, the Hero of Ferelden, the Elven Mage who had asked that mages be freed – how had he never thought that she was his Auria? His powerful, tantalizing, oh so infuriating, headstrong Auria? Only she wasn't really his, not now.

The Warden Commander was also rumored to be mistress of the king.

And so he said, with a bright tone in his voice, as if those days had never happened, "Hey, I recognize you from the Circle."


Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad

They tumbled into the grass, laughing and hushing each other. The sun was bright and warm overhead, and they could hear the water softly lapping in the distance, from over the stone wall.

"They'll hear us!" Auria giggled, breathlessly, and then commanded, "Stop laughing!"

Anders straightened his face, and bowed from his sprawled position on the grass, "At your command, my lady. You do know that will do no good unless you stop laughing too?"

"What do you think they would do to us, if they found us out here?" she stretched out beside him, staring up at the sky.

"Personally, I'm hoping to be turned into a dog. Then I could run around the whole of Ferelden with abandon, and people would feed me scraps from their table. I think Irving could do it, if he put his mind to it."

"Hmmm… Somehow that doesn't really seem like such a stretch, for you. Didn't I just see cook slipping you an extra meat pie at supper?" she cocked her eyebrow at him, suspiciously.

"So what if she did? I'm a growing boy. Are you trying to deny me my one true pleasure of the day?" he shook his head, sadly.

"Your one true pleasure?" Auria rolled over, pinning him down with sudden force.

"Oooh, I give, I give. My second true pleasure. I forgot how much I love a good beating."

"Well, I'll just have to remind you then, won't I?" she slid her hands into his, holding them above his head, pressing him into the grass.

"I think you should. Every day. I have a very bad memory. Maybe you should start immediately, so I don't forget again."

He lifted his head to capture her mouth in a sudden kiss. She made a soft sound and opened her mouth to his, hot and yielding and demanding all at the same time. Her hair fell around them, a slightly spiced, sweet scent. She intoxicated him, and not for the first time he wondered if she'd practiced some sort of disorienting spell that kept him off balance and wanting her more. He could never bring himself to ask, he didn't want to know if she was.

A garden gate squeaked from not far off, and they stiffened. Heavy footsteps crunched over the gravel, and they could hear an off-key humming and the sound of scissors clipping intermittently.

"It's the scullery maid. She must be trimming herbs," Auria whispered.

"She won't come out this way, but if she's already out in the garden, then they'll be letting the children out into the courtyard soon, for their daily dose of sunshine." Anders lifted her to her feet, "Just enough so no one can accuse them of running a prison, but not enough to even know what a horizon looks like."

"I've seen a horizon."

"From a window. It's not the same. They've never even let you dip a toe in the water."

Auria turned away, starting towards the courtyard. "They have, once. I don't care if I ever step in water again."

Anders caught her hand. "Auria, I'm sorry. I forgot."

She let him pull her against him for a moment, and they paused in the shade of the towering building. He stroked her hair, planting small kisses across her cheek.

She'd been five when they brought her to the Circle. Soon after the templars had given her their "baptism" by dropping her in the lake in new voluminous robes and heavy boots. They'd pulled her out before any irreparable damage was done, but Anders knew she still had nightmares of drowning. They'd done the same to him, when he arrived. He'd been warned of the tradition beforehand, and had let himself flail about and sink under the water like any other boy who couldn't swim. His fourteen year old self had been shocked at the length of time they let him struggle. Now he was just surprised they actually kept a healing mage on hand, for "accidents".

He kissed her temple, "Forgive me?"

"People should know things they do here," she whispered in answer, against his neck. "You could tell them. People like you, they listen. You'll be free of here someday. Maybe…"

"Auria. Who am I going to tell? Who would listen to a wanted apostate, traveling the world and spreading rumors about the Maker-blessed templars? Maybe I'll run into the Queen in a tavern, and I can buy her a pint, and she'll go, 'Oooh, wicked templars, I'll save you all'."

"Don't." She pulled away from him. "Besides, you're much more likely to meet the King in a tavern. He would probably even take you up on a pint."

They made their way back slowly, fingers entwined, walking silently. Clouds rolled in, dimming the sun and turning the sky white. The tower hulked over them, threatening for all its beauty. A doubled great stone wall ran the perimeter of the island, but between the tower and inner wall lay a bit of grass and gardens. Only one garden and the main courtyard were allowed to mages, and even then only at certain hours. The central garden, a tiny thing by all normal standards, was fair game until the last bell. Anders had been out this way many times, testing boundaries and running timetables on the guards. He knew a pair of them was due soon, but they were also...

"Are those templars?" Auria's voice was shocked.

"What, you think templars don't get urges?"

She ducked behind a tree, pulling him with her.

"Who are they? I can't see their faces. Oh, now that doesn't look comfortable."

"No," Anders agreed, "The armor is a hindrance."

"But why don't they take all of it off, instead of just… Those bushes are going to leave welts, if they continue like that."

"Have you ever tried getting in and out of one of those tin cans? Just another reason they're so jealous of our robes, my darling."

"Oh, but… no, look! They're too top heavy! They're going to go down!"

They held their breath, dumbfounded, as the two templars toppled on to one another, armor banging together, crashing deeper into the brush with a great, "Oooof!"

Auria turned to him, her eyes bright with tears, trying to hold back laughter, "Did you hear that? They made the funniest clanging sound when they went down!" Her eyes widened, as they could now hear moans coming from deeper in the bushes. "What position do you think they're in? I think we should have a peek…" she started back the way they'd come.

"Auria, no," Anders laughed, and tugged her back toward him. "We'll play spy on the jailers later. We can draw straws to see who gets to be the jailer."

"You always cheat."

"I just always win, there's a difference."

They were silent a bit, as Anders picked the lock on the dividing gate. One couldn't magic it, but a pair of nimble fingers could open it easily. Sometimes templars were blinded by their own prejudiced opinions. Once back in view of the courtyard, he breathed easier. It was thrilling, these little outings with Auria. Yet at the same time a part of him dreaded them. He'd passed his Harrowing, years ago now. She had yet to even been reviewed for one. If something went wrong, they could still change her, unmake her. Turn her Tranquil.

Many things led to him turn away from the way he was raised, from that firm belief in Andraste and that all things happened for a reason. But the one critical point that made him truly doubt the good in the world happened when he was fifteen. It'd been right after his third escape attempt, and in warning they told him what could be done to him, if he didn't behave. He hadn't really believed them. A Tranquil couldn't have been a normal person. They must've always been like that, born like that. So he'd snuck in, spied on them when he heard a rumor that one of the apprentices was "being turned". Watching a young mage change from a man into one of the Tranquil had been the scariest moment of his life. Worse even than his first capture. He hadn't tried to escape again until after he'd passed his Harrowing, that fear of being unmade even greater than his hatred of being caged.

"You go in first," he nodded to her, "before anyone else comes out."

"I'll see you tonight?"

He smiled, "I'll have the straws."

.~.~.~.~.

Later, in the darkened room, he lay with Auria snuggled against one side and the small kitten against the other. It was quiet, except for the low purr of the cat, and a wheezing snore from a mage in the next bed. Anders' sleeping spells had gotten quite a workout since Auria had come calling in the middle of the night.

"When will you leave? Soon?" her voice was soft, head pillowed on his chest.

"I don't know. Maybe I won't, maybe I'll stay here forever and we'll become two old mages hobbling around the Circle looking for cats to feed," he replied, absentmindedly stroking her hair.

"What? Bite your tongue, we won't need any other kitty but this one!" She reached out to stroke the kitten.

"You won't even give him a name, and you're mad I'm thinking of other cats? Delirious, that's what you are. Are you sure being out in the sun today didn't cook your brain? Just let me know if you need a bit of healing."

"You're the one who'll need healing," she grumbled, "I'm serious. Do you think you'll leave soon?"

"If they keep tasking us with learning history, I will. What proper mage needs to learn history? Or spells even? They should just teach us how to walk in circles, and moo politely."

"You seemed to know the guards schedule pretty well," she said, ignoring him.

He sighed, and rested his lips against the top of her forehead. After a moment he answered her, "I don't know, Auria. I don't have any plans as yet."

"You'll let me know, when you do?"

"You'll be the first person to know, after myself, of course," he said lightly. "Now, sleep."

"I can't sleep here, you know that." She extracted herself from his arms.

"Do you want to take the cat?"

He heard her sigh softly, and fingers brushed through his hair.

"No, you keep him tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

Anders rolled to his side, snugging the cat, and fell asleep.


Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine

He hadn't quite broken his promise. It had been a little more than a month later that he'd left. And technically, she would've been the first person (other than himself) to know he'd escaped. She always came looking for him after breakfast, and no one else would notice he was gone until at least third bell. Still, he'd never liked picturing her face when she found him missing. She probably looked much the same as she did right now, standing across from him with that inscrutable expression on her face.

His smiled faltered a little. It was also very similar to the way she'd looked the last time he'd seen her, when Rylock brought him back from that escape. He'd looked away from her gaze then. That one action told her he was guilty more than anything the templars could've said. He knew better now, though. He was older, wiser. Always look them in the eye, especially if you're lying or you want them to trust you. If you want them to think you're lying… well, then look away. Had worked like a charm over the years.

So he faced her directly, as if she were just another woman to catch him in a bad spot. He knew how to play that out.

"I know what they've been saying about me, but this? Not my doing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not broken up about them dying to be perfectly honest. Bif there made the funniest gurgle when he went down," he gave a rakish smile to Auria, wondering if she'd remember the joke, from that other life they'd had. He wanted to laugh about it now, share the joke with a knowing look and a wink. But Auria just regarded him, expressionless.

How much war and death had she gone through in the years since he'd seen her? There was no laughter in her eyes now, and her body was lean and lithe, lightly corded with muscle. Looking at her, staff in hand and sword strapped to her back, he could hardly imagine the young round-faced girl that had first come to him that lazy afternoon in the tower. He remembered the soft weight of her body on his, the silky smoothness of her hair trailing across his skin, how they had laughed almost as much as they had made love. She had been like a kitten then, playful, exuberant, as likely to bite and scratch as she was to purr, but so soft and cuddly.

She'd had surprised him, that afternoon. She'd surprised him just about every day afterwards, with her words, her wit and with the pleasure she could pull from his body. He'd had other mage lovers before, but not one so playful and ready to push the limits of their spell knowledge, both in and out of the bed. One afternoon as they lay twined together in an upper room, the kitten curled in a nook between them, they'd practiced breathing. Only it had been more than breathing. She'd released her breath into him, and then he into her, back and forth. With each breath, a little bit of power. Until the ebb and flow of power between them was like the ocean tides receding and flooding back again. He'd never felt anything so peaceful and yet so intimate.

He'd found himself unexpectedly in love with her, something he could admit now, but never would then. It was one of the reasons he'd left, if he was honest with himself, which he tried never to be.

That cute kitten was gone. She was still all feline, but her body held a deadly grace now, and her eyes tracked like a hunter. He felt himself pinned by that gaze, and heat raced through his body. He was glad his healing finesse had improved enough to control blood flow, or this could've been embarrassing.

"So you killed these darkspawn yourself?" Auria spoke for the first time, interrupting his thoughts.

"Of course!" How many of those rumors had she believed, that she could ask him that? He shrugged it off, trying to keep his tone light and the bitterness out of his voice, "Well, they helped, a little, before they tragically died."

"Not too fond of them, huh?" Auria took a step toward him, an emotion flickering in her eyes too quickly for him to catch.

"Oh, I know, I know, most people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up. Me, I'm just so picky." Now he was sure of it, there was a tiny flash of smile. He bowed slightly, gesturing at himself, trying to hide the rush of emotions that one small smile brought out in him.

"You may call me Anders, my dear lady," he quirked a smile at her, recovering himself, "I am a mage, and sadly, a wanted apostate."

Their shared glance was broken by the armor-clad woman's exclamation, "An apostate? At Vigil's Keep?"

"You weren't here when we arrived," he stepped towards her, with a sly glance in Auria's direction, "I'm sure I would've remembered such a lovely woman such as yourself."

The woman's eyes reflected no answering smile, only showing horror at the thought of an apostate in her hallowed hall. Anders turned away from both of them, but caught a small headshake and almost indiscernible laugh from Auria. So she did still have a sense of humor, under all that controlled finesse. He continued, "We were just stopping here on the way back to the tower, just a short rest, they said, and now they're dead, such a shame."

Anger flared in him for a moment, both at himself and the dead men strewn across the floor in front of him. It had been such a stupid bit of bad luck. How as he to know the tavern he was walking into for a drink and a bit of gambling was a favorite spot of the local templars? He hadn't even known there were local templars in such a small town, let alone that they'd recognize him. He'd opened the door, smiled at the barmaid (and gotten a saucy wink back), and then walked right into the armored chest of a large man. He'd looked up, and then there he was, clapped in leg irons with a messenger scurrying away to bring the good news to Rylock. Anders frowned down at the corpses. It was enough to make a man give up drinking. Almost.

"Those men were templars?"

"So they kept saying. Although, come to think of it, there's no real way to know for sure, is there?" He glanced over his shoulder at her. They both knew what she was really asking, and they both knew the answer. More templars would be coming, Rylock among them.

His brows drew together as he continued, "The templars captured me and were taking me back. And then you know, Darkspawn attacked. Could be a sign, yes?"

A sign of what, he wasn't sure. A sign from his forsaken Andraste that he'd found Auria again? A sign that he should flee while he still could? A sign that both their lives had been infested by darkspawn? What did it mean? He for one sure couldn't figure it out. He couldn't even figure out how that laughing girl who had literally electrified his small clothes and single handedly thought up a spell that would burn just one thread out of a garment was not only alive and a length away from him, but also the Commander of the Grey Wardens. How did things like that happen?

She'd always been powerful, with a knack for spell combining. He never could manage that refined burning spell she'd devised. She would slowly burn one thread until the whole piece collapsed in a pile of smoking ash and untouched thread. When he tried it, the spell had come to the end of a thread and starting sparking, lighting the whole robe on fire. It might've ended poorly, if the poor sod whose clothes were burning hadn't been so caught up in saying his prayers. It had tested the casting distance of Auria's cold spell and both the distance and delicacy of his healing spells, but there was no lasting damage. The acolyte probably chalked it up to the mysteries of Andraste. Maker knew, he did often enough. He was standing in one of her blightsworn mysteries right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see when Auria turned from the dead Templars to face him. He didn't turn around. His heart was hammering harder than it should. It was just the threat of darkspawn, he told himself. Not the fact that she was standing right behind him, alive and more tantalizing than ever. Maybe she had forgiven him, after all these years. Maybe if he just turned around – he knew how to fight; these years hadn't been kind to him, either. They could battle darkspawn side by side, and then at night… but no. She was the king's mistress, and he was a wanted apostate.

"Perhaps," Auria's voice quavered, and died. The moment stretched, and Anders wondered if her mind had followed the same path as his, and what conclusion she had reached. "You better get out of here, then," she said, answering that question for him.

"I'll just slip out the way you came, good luck to you then," he said, trying to keep his voice light, knowing that he failed. He couldn't turn to face her, not now. "Have fun slaughtering the darkspawn, Maker knows they could use it."