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"Do you know I'm a Templar, Grand Enchanter?"

They had never met in person. Oh, the rumors had arrived Weisshupt. The Warden who had survived when she shouldn't have. The second elf to kill an Archdemon. The twice-Arlessa who wasn't supposed to be one to begin with. Her likeness had been divulged for the records and it was a fairly acceptable one, Fiona realized critically. Her features were simple, an angular face with eyes maybe a little too large, thin lips and a thick scar on her jaw, crossing all the way down her neck to fade into her armor.

The first word that came to mind to describe her was Loghain, odd as it sounded. The woman had the same calmness to her, the same cold anger bubbling under the surface that the once-General carried in his veins. No wonder they were friends.

"Not a proper one, mind you," the Warden continued as if her reply truly didn't matter. "I made no vows. I don't really like messing with the Chantry and taking lyrium is not that appealing to me." The woman was leaning against the banister, uncaring of the possibility of falling. By her fear rested a mabari, his large body conveniently close to his owner's and eyes which seemed a hair width away from savagery. They didn't leave her for a moment and that too was a warning, a reminder that she faced two opponents instead of one.

Because, make no mistake, this woman was one. As sure as her name was Fiona.

And the mage supposed she could understand. While her family had been left – mostly – unscathed, they had been thrown outside of their home after an act of kindness which should have granted them peace and quiet.

She couldn't understand the woman's smile though. It made her wary.

"Still, it's useful. Alistair taught me during the Blight. King Alistair, that is, you know who he is, don't you?" Your son, you see? He taught me to find someone like you. During the Blight you and every other warden in this blasted continent chose to ignore. The words resounded in her mind even as the Commander kept them unsaid and Fiona felt a rush of anger flow through her. The girl knew. Her son had told her or Loghain had spoken too much but, from whichever source she had learned, everything was a weapon.

"You know why I did it. You'd do the same to save your Wardens."

"Ally with a Tevinter mage who wanted to indenture me?" The elf's lips moved into another smile, almost genuine. It was a good fabrication. "Not likely. Unless there was a Blight involved."

"Because you'd do whatever was necessary."

"You know how it goes. You were one. You still swore."

She'd do whatever it took but her loyalties had shifted. Mages were her people, not the Wardens. The Taint wouldn't take her, the Taint wouldn't rule her life anymore and that was strangely saddening. It would connect her to her son. It'd even connect her to this woman, so self-righteous and proud of her clean choices. Kill darkspawn. Sacrifice. Straight-forward.

Fiona was aware she was reading everything like it was simple and forgetting that all Wardens did the hard choices and this woman, who had begun her rule during a Blight, would have those doubly so.

"What now?" The Enchanter asked. "Do you want me to apologize? Ask forgiveness? I did what I needed to do to save my people. I made sure no one was harmed."

"I understand. I do. You were stuck between a wall and a hard place. I suppose asking for the Crown's help didn't pass through your mind or you were so desperate any port in a storm. I understand."

Another one of those smiles before the woman moved. And she, rusty, old, distracted by a show of words, didn't manage to avoid the attack.

The punch was dry, short and held nothing back. Pain exploded on her jaw, running up and down her head until Fiona was sure she was going to pass out at any moment. It didn't diminuish as she fell down. No, it seemed to widen because now it was her bones complaining, her back against the floor and her head meeting the banister with enough strength to rattle all her thoughts into nothing. Instinctively, the Enchanter reached for her mana, for the magic hidden underneath her, but nothing replied to her calling.

Do you know I'm a Templar, Grand Enchanter?

"Just because I understand doesn't mean I have to forgive," said the carefree tone of the other woman as she knelt. "Cross the border to Ferelden and I'll know. Walk near Redcliffe again and I'll kill you. Come near my family and you'll wish you were dead." Blue eyes crossed her line of vision, blurred and bright in the middle of her confusion. "This is my only warning, Madam Enchanter. I don't usually bother."

Silence fell on what seemed the whole floor. They all seemed to be waiting for the situation to degenerate further. Fade if the Tevinter wouldn't. Fiona could almost imagine him reaching over his book, comfortable in his first row seat to the Enchanter's humiliation.

But she was alive.

"Wardens don't waste," she whispered, fighting that damned urge to laugh.

Somewhere between the pain and the dizziness, Fiona saw only the calm eyes and that unchanging smile as the Commander replied. "There is nothing wrong with a couple of bruises on our tools."