Nancora had found a scarf. It was strange, to be doing this again. Acquiring companions, gaining their trust, giving them things. Thank Andraste that none of the others had died during their Joinings. Varel said she was lucky, keeping so many recruits, that she had defied the odds. She shuddered. Mhairi's eyes glazing over, life draining away as Nancora watched, helpless, was an image she would never shake. She did not feel lucky.

But, this scarf. She was not sure who would like it. She thought Alistair would like it. She did not want to think about him. Was he okay? Was Zevran keeping him out of trouble? Was Zevran getting him into trouble? She sighed.

"Anders," she said, "Do you want this scarf?"

"Scarf?" Anders said. "Why do you think I need a scarf? Do I have a hickey?"

She scowled. "No," she said. "Why would you have a hickey?"

"No reason." He smiled, and took the scarf from her. "Thanks for the scarf."

They were in the chapel in Amaranthine. She had just met Wynne outside, and breath caught in her throat. Wynne knew. Wynne was her friend, maybe, but perhaps she resented her for not returning to the Circle, for not ending things with Alistair as she'd requested, for using up all her lyrium potions, for anything. Wynne could ruin everything. Nancora hadn't taken a breath during their whole conversation. But Wynne had wanted to talk about Circle business, and she hadn't even mentioned Alistair, and Nancora felt profoundly stupid. She was not good with secrets.

"Anders," she said. "Are you… I'm sorry, but I have to do this. Are you trying to tell me something? Are you… involved with someone?" She thought about their party. "Velanna, maybe? I can't really picture it, but-"

Anders laughed. "What? No, of course not."

"Oh," Nancora said, and she sighed. "It's just that I should know. It affects us as a group, and I'm your commander."

Anders shook his head. "No, Commander. I was just fooling with you."

"Okay, then. Ha ha."

Anders gave her an impish grin. "Are you involved with someone?"

"Anders, that's… yes. I mean, no, not anymore," Nancora said quickly. I am not good at this. "He's dead." Gone, anyway.

"Andraste, I'm so sorry, I forgot," Anders said, looking abashed. "Wow. I'm an idiot."

They were very quiet for a moment, and it was deeply awkward.

Anders cleared his throat. "His name was Alistair, right?"

"Yes. Hey, listen, it's… okay. It's part of the job." He looked at her like he didn't know what she was talking about. She said, "Part of being a Warden. We have to make a lot of sacrifices, a lot of hard choices. You're one of us now, and you should know that." Her voice grew quiet. "We didn't."

His eyes softened. And he put a hand on her arm. It felt very warm. "Do you want to talk about it? You must feel very isolated, being in charge all the time." She glared at him, and he removed his hand. "Forgive me, that was presumptuous."

"Yes, it was. And yes, I do." She shrugged. "You don't really treat me like a Commander though. Which is fine, I sincerely don't want you to."

He laughed. "I don't even know what that means," he said. "So let's talk. What was he like, this Alistair? Was he the love of your life?"

Nancora glanced around. Nathaniel, Renden Howe's strange son, and Oghren were standing by the altar, talking. From the look of it, Nathaniel was very sincerely trying to explain the finer points of the Chant to the dwarf. Oghren, meanwhile, was pretending to listen while trying to steal a glance up one of the Sister's robes. Nancora rolled her eyes and smiled.

"That bad, huh?" Anders said.

"What? Oh, hmm. The love of my life?" Nancora said. "I'm not sure what that means. I loved him. Very, very much. But I grew up in the Circle, I have not lived much yet."

Anders frowned. "The Circle," he said, thinking. "It's funny, but I don't remember you. You'd think I would, pretty girl like you. Somehow, I don't think we ever met."

"No, I don't think we did," Nancora said. "Probably because you specialized in healing magic."

"Why, what did you specialize in?"

She spread her hands and smiled. "Exploding things."

"Ah." Anders said. "Well, I like that too."

"But what was he like?" she said, looking away. Anders' smile was becoming very familiar. "Well, he was…" He was Alistair. She had never tried to describe him, and she found the memory of him was already growing a little fuzzy. "He was very handsome. But also kind of a dork. He liked cheese."

"He was kind of a dork, and he liked cheese." Anders said. "This is what you remember?"

Nancora scoffed. "He had a smart mouth," she said, punching him in the arm. "Kinda like someone else I know."

"Ouch! Did you punch him a lot, too?" Anders said, faking pain, rubbing his arm. "Sounds like we had a lot in common. Maybe I would have liked this guy."

"Probably not," Nancora said, smiling again. "He was a templar. Well, sort of."

Anders stopped, raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh. A mage and a templar. I won't ask."

"You will, but I won't tell you."

Anders smiled. He was also very handsome, Nancora had to admit, and almost uncomfortably her type. Anders asked, "So… have you ever been with a mage?"

Nancora gasped. "Anders, you are very presumptuous. I am your commander." She furrowed her brow. "Also, stop flirting with me when we are were just talking about my dead boyfriend. It's gauche."

He shrugged. "So don't answer."

She sighed, looked at Oghren and Nathaniel again, looked back. "No," she said finally. "I've only been with one other man, before Alistair. An Antivan Crow. He was a scoundrel, and very exotic. Another one of my crew."

"So you have made a habit of this? Sleeping with your underlings?" Anders asked, raising an eyebrow. "Consider this information filed for future reference." He paused. "Because, you know… it's different with a mage."

"Oh?" she said, trying very hard not to smile. Failing a little. "How so?"

He spread his hands and said, "Exploding things."

She laughed. He smiled, too suggestively, and she said, "I'll have to take your word for it."

Probably, she thought wickedly, and then quickly squashed that thought.