Thank you to everyone following along and reviewing. Many thanks to mille libri for the excellent suggestions and beta goodness.

The Fugitive

"Carver?"

He tried to follow the familiar female voice, but it swirled away into the heavier mists of the Fade. Carver shifted on his pallet in Gamlen's flat, trying to ease muscles stiff with cold. Despite their attempts at filling the chinks in the thin wattle-and-daub walls, the biting wind found its way in.

There was a welcome island of heat at his back. Fidget normally curled herself next to Perren, but Carver wasn't about to shoo away the blessed warmth, even when she breathed her moist breath onto the nape of his neck. The dog's breath didn't typically smell like spiced cider, though, and—what was she …

Nip. "Carver, I'm freezing."

He was in his room at the Vigil, still shivering. The nibbling was courtesy of a shapely dwarf pressed to his back; a vast improvement on his brother's mabari.

Nip. "Your fire's gone out, Carver."

"Heh. No, it hasn't." He turned, taking back some of the stolen blankets and reaching for his bedmate, who giggled and slapped at him as she tried to evade his icy hands.

"You're a child." Sigrun laughed. "A bloody cold one!"

"Is that so?" Carver whispered against Sigrun's soft lips, while chilled fingers traced the inside of her thigh, making her twitch and jump. He pressed himself against her leg. "A child, am I?"

One small hand skimmed over Carver's muscled chest and flat stomach, vainly reaching towards some far goal. "Freakishly outsized surfacers," Sigrun complained. "There is something to be said for economy of design, you know."

Carver pressed again. "Sure about that, are you?"

"I am open to persuasion, if you believe yourself up to the task, Warden."

"That, Senior Warden, can hardly be in doubt."

~oOo~

Aene Mahariel arrived at the Vigil a few days later, at the leading edge of a powerful late-spring storm. Sodden and bedraggled, long dark hair plastered to his face and cloak, he barely nodded at Nathaniel and Eren before making for the huge fireplace at the rear of the Great Hall, shedding packs, cloak, and gloves as he went.

"You didn't come over the mountains by yourself, did you, Aene?" Eren asked.

"No. Our newest recruit is dealing with the horses." He held his hands out over the fire and sighed in relief. "Idiot weather; it snowed on us in the mountains. Where are Carroll and, um, Antler?"

"Entler," Nathaniel corrected. "He's on patrol with Finn, Perth, and a squad of city soldiers up in the Wending Woods. Once the barrier doors there and in the Knotwood Hills get finished, we'll be able to step down the patrols a bit. Until that happens, the farmers are nervous."

"I should think they'd be, especially in the Hills," Aene said. "Some of those tunnels that the Children burrowed out were so close to the surface that you could sink a well and strike dead darkspawn before you do water."

"The Legionnaires that are working with Denel have mapped the tunnels extensively," Eren assured him. "We wouldn't want our people to eat anything grown in the areas where the tunnels are just underground anyway, so those fields are marked off as Crown land, and the farmers reimbursed. That doesn't exactly reassure them that they won't be carried off in the middle of the night, however."

"The doors should be finished by Solace," Nathaniel said. "Bhelen had plenty of motivation to send us all of the engineers, metalsmiths, and warriors he could possibly spare. There is history and riches in equal weight down there."

"I hope the Wardens will see some of the latter." Aene grinned.

"A … finders fee, if you will," Nathaniel allowed, with a ghost of a smile. "But why the curiosity about our Templar-trained recruits? And what brought you out in the stormiest Justinian in recent memory?"

Another soggy visitor was being divested of his muddy cloak and multitude of parcels. The black-haired man looked towards the fireplace and the other Wardens as if he wasn't sure of his welcome.

"Aene," Eren whispered after a brief, stunned silence, "have you lost your mind?"

~oOo~

Freshly bathed, warm, and dry, Aene showed his new recruit to the Wardens' private dining room. Eren had a heaping tray of sandwiches and tea sent up in the interim; Aene dropped the two small packs he carried and fell on the sandwiches like a starving wolf. His companion ate his one sandwich slowly, his gaze fixed on the plate in front of him.

"Jowan," Eren finally addressed him; the young man jumped and dropped his sandwich. "I seem to recall a promise that you made to former Commander Myr two years ago; a promise that none of us would ever see you again."

"W-w-w …"

Aene wiped his mouth and leaned back in the chair. "Jowan didn't seek us out. Keenan and I found him on the way back from Highever last month; he was helping a family of elves who had been attacked by bandits on their way to Denerim. He could've ran when he saw us, but he chose to finish healing the wounded, even though he knew it was quite likely that I'd remember him. The mysterious 'Levyn' that we'd heard tales of during and after the Blight? The mage that would show up to save refugees from darkspawn attacks or heal wounded travelers?" Aene indicated the nervous mage with a nod.

"Also a blood mage, who was directly responsible for Delia Amell's conscription by Duncan, and indirectly responsible for her death at our Joining," Eren snapped.

"Yes, conscripted by Duncan—a thief and a murderer," Aene rejoined. "Or are we only accepting plaster saints now?"

Eren brought her hand down hard on the table. "Dammit, Aene! We're not debating your right to conscript whoever you feel will make an effective Warden. Conscript the Black Divine himself for all I care." She paused and straightened in her chair. "But you weren't at the Tower with Duncan and Myr, as I was."

"There isn't anything I can say or do to make up for what I've done. There's no mitigating circumstances, no excuse, no defense." Jowan spoke into the sudden silence. "The former Warden-Commander left me my life, and the only way I can think to try to make up for what I've done is to give it back."

"I see," Eren said finally. "It is done, and your history is your own. Many of our brothers and sisters have made peace with their pasts in the Wardens; I hope for all our sakes that the same can be said for you, Jowan."

"I would've preferred if you had consulted me before recruiting a person of interest to the Chantry, Aene," Nathaniel said quietly, "but it is your right to recruit as you see fit. Welcome to the Wardens, Jowan; may you serve long and with distinction."

"Thank you, Commander, Arlessa," Jowan replied soberly. "I don't intend to give any of the Wardens reason to regret Senior Warden Mahariel's choice."

Nathaniel nodded slightly in acceptance. "I'm left with my original question, Aene. What brought you down out of the mountains in storm season?"

Aene reached for the two satchels he brought from his room. The larger he pushed down the table towards Nathaniel and Eren. "We ran into the post courier from Amaranthine outside the Vigil. Quite literally; his horse was spooked by some lightning and almost rode us down." He opened the smaller pack and slid another letter to Eren. "And one more from your brother."

"What have you there?" Nathaniel asked, indicating the small leather case that Aene had unwrapped from its cocoon of wool batting.

Aene opened the case and removed one of the dozen small, cloth-wrapped phials, placing it gently on the table. The red liquid inside seemed to glow subtly. "Avernus has perhaps a year to live—a bit less, if he keeps abusing his health. He barely sleeps, doesn't leave his workroom, can only occasionally be convinced to eat. Fortunately he gets on with Jowan better than that Chantry mouse Meret, and is sharing his research with him."

Eren nodded at the phial. "Is that another improved Joining mixture?"

"Yes, but significantly different from his prior efforts. In the past, he had concerned himself primarily with recruit survival, but he has left off that effort." Aene's lip curled slightly. "He seems to believe a certain percentage of … loss … strengthens the Wardens as a whole, preventing weak candidates from diluting our ranks."

"Now there is the ethical sinkhole I remember," Eren muttered under her breath.

"There is nothing to suggest that those that don't survive the Joining are any less capable than those that do," Nathaniel said. "Can you not simply order Avernus to do as he's told?"

Aene smiled humorlessly. "You've only met him the once, Nathaniel. I push him too hard, and I'd find myself rendered for soap between one breath and the next. Avernus tolerates me as a Warden brother; I am in no way his 'superior'."

"We can discuss his disposition later, Aene," Eren said. "What is this latest improvement?"

"First, he has discovered a way to preserve the, ah, fluid component of the mixture indefinitely, so we will no longer require fresh darkspawn blood." He paused and placed his hands flat on the table. "If he is to be believed, Avernus claims that this formula will greatly extend the protection from the degenerative effects of the Taint that Wardens enjoy early in their careers—even for Wardens that are well past their Joinings. It has the potential to allow Wardens to live near-normal lifespans. Well, as normal as a life chock-a-block with darkspawn, giant spiders, and flying lizards allows."

Eren was the first to find her voice. "A normal lifespan. A somewhat more normal … life."

Nathaniel shook his head slightly. "What proof do we have that it will work?"

"Next to none, except for his word. He claims that it is based on the formula which has allowed him to live well into his third century." Aene raised his hand to delay the inevitable comments on the mage's trustworthiness. "But we have some evidence that it is at least not harmful. In the short term, at any rate."

"You took it yourself."

"Yes I did, Nathaniel. I would never risk the life of the Warden-Commander without some proof that the potion was at the very least not immediately toxic," Aene admitted calmly.

"Once again, I would have appreciated being consulted beforehand." Nathaniel frowned. "But what's done is done. We'll discuss how to proceed with this new formula at another time. Anything else to share that can't or shouldn't wait for the other Wardens?"

"Just keep the templar-Wardens under control and away from my recruit. I didn't drag him halfway across Ferelden and eat his rabbit flambé every night for a week to have him wind up a marionette."

~oOo~

"What did Fergus have to say?" Nathaniel asked as he and Eren relaxed with some brandy before retiring for the night.

Eren smirked as she recalled the careful wording. "He doesn't seem to be aware that Anora had already asked after his ambitions and prospects with his sister. He went on at great length about the surprising invitation to discuss matters of state at the palace, and how modest and pleasant he found the Queen."

"So no announcements of any kind at this early date? Is that the extent of his news?"

"He said there have been two attempts by Orlesian bards, elves, to infiltrate the palace staff." Eren read further and nodded approvingly. "Her Majesty seems to have taken Myr's example to heart, however, and has had every external window and door lock tightened or changed. And she must have put the fear of the Maker into the Palace Guard—anyone entering the servant's entrance is all but turned upside down and shaken."

Nathaniel smiled briefly before turning serious again. "A wise precaution for the main entrance as well, if perhaps not to the same degree. What about Myr's letter?"

Eren shook her head. "She's apparently fallen in with some shady characters already." She thought for a moment and shrugged. "More or less the same sort she fell in with during the Blight."

I think I told you of Varric when we were home a few weeks ago. If I might ask—if you find any copies of a book titled 'Rogue Warden' circulating the Vigil, be a friend and burn them unread, won't you? I would like to return to the country of my birth one day.

You will likely remember Isabela? She's much the same; a bit more of the same, perhaps. Seems to have lost her wardrobe when the Qunari attacked her ship, poor thing.

I'm watching our common friend closely. He hasn't done anything requiring me to step in yet, and he seems to help a number of very desperate people. For now, I will wait.

Warmest greetings from Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven; his letter should follow mine directly. He seems quite a devout man, and dedicated to the Chantry. He mentioned that you may not remember him as such, Nathaniel—I smell a story there.

An escaped Tevinter slave named Fenris frequently accompanies Hawke on missions as well.

"That's all?" Nathaniel asked. "We got more about Hawke's mabari. She must not like him."

Eren raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps." The amusement vanished. "What … what was she thinking? Oh, Aene."

"What? What is it?"

Do you remember Merrill, Marethari's First? I can't quite grasp how she managed it, as she has no money and no Dalish would've assisted her, but she had the corrupted eluvian shipped from the ancient elven temple where Tamlen and Aene found it to her flat in the alienage. She resorted to some … unsavory means in an attempt to cleanse it of the corruption and restore it.

"I thought you said that Commander Duncan destroyed it? How can she restore a shattered mirror?" Nathaniel asked.

"If the 'unsavory means' refers to what I think it does, she was trying to restore it through blood magic or demonic aid. I don't understand—Merrill seemed quite level-headed when we met her before Ostagar. The Blight changed all of us, but she sounds like a different person entirely."

In exchange for her agreeing to destroy the mirror permanently, I told her of the uncorrupted eluvian at Drake's Fall, and will lead her there when the situation with the Architect is resolved. Stroud hasn't heard anything more of the Architect's movements since I returned to Kirkwall, and his Second, in Tantervale, hasn't responded to my letters at all. The First may well be discouraging contact—I have little doubt that he knows I'm back in the Free Marches.

Eren sighed and put the letter aside. "I wish she had taken one of us with her. I'm not certain how far I trust those odd people she's taken up with."

"Maynee's with her," Nathaniel pointed out.

Eren laughed and relaxed slightly. "Not precisely the sober antidote to crazy I was envisioning, but I take your point. She hardly left her alone long enough in Denerim for Myr to visit the little Warden's room. Mouse is a small army by himself, and Cyrion is better with that bow of his than anyone could possibly expect. I'm sure I'm worrying needlessly."

Nathaniel stood and pulled Eren to her feet, wrapping her in his arms. "Anything more that can't wait until morning?"

"Can't wait? No." Eren kissed him and ran her fingers through Nathaniel's heavy black hair. "Shouldn't wait, perhaps, unless you care to sleep in the kennels tonight." She smiled and kissed him rather seriously.

~oOo~

The rain and thunder finally moved on the next evening, leaving the unseasonable chill behind. Aene had retired early, only to find himself pacing the balcony and watching the guardsmen move in and out of the circles of lamplight below in the courtyard. He had thought to be at least at week at the Vigil, but without Myr to spend time with, he found himself alone with his thoughts far more than he cared. At Soldier's Peak, he could keep himself distracted with the reconstruction and never-ending minutiae of command.

"Warden?"

He turned from his brooding to find the friendly cook's assistant just below. "Marco. It's a cold night to be braving the elements; I'd have thought you'd be holed up somewhere dry with some mulled wine and warm … comradeship."

The younger man laughed and nodded towards the stables. "I thought I'd check on the horses before I turn in. Daren tells me that the lightning and thunder often frighten the young ones, so I'm going to … see if I can help him out." He smiled hopefully. "We could always use an additional set of hands, if you're interested?"

Aene suddenly felt twice as old as the young man and unutterably lonely, despite the offer of companionship. "I'm afraid I'd be poor company tonight. It was an exhausting day, and I'm still tired from the journey," he lied. "Please greet Daren for me?"

"Sure." Marco smiled sympathetically. "You Wardens don't take care of yourselves very well. If you're not off on some other nasty duty right away, you know where to find me." He gave Aene a cheeky salute and loped off towards the outbuildings.

Aene's answering smile faded as he looked to the north, and the remnants of the storm rolling over Amaranthine on its march to the sea.

He wondered if it was raining in Antiva.