AN: Apologies for the lousy French. I used google. XD

Andate, Andarta

11.

Keeper Lanaya stayed in Denerim for a while to enjoy the luxuries of the capital, something that delighted Amell and Merrill. Meanwhile, the other wardens Amell had brought with her started betting.

"Bet it's the teyrn. It's a smart match. Arlessa of Amaranthine, Teyrn of Highever. Plus, if rumors are true, the Teyrn's sister stole her lover, so it's only fair that she gets the Queen's brother."

"What about Nate?"

"The man has yet to make a move on her!"

"I'm betting it's that assassin elf."

"She doesn't like the assassin elf."

"What do you know? Women ignore the ones they like!"

"What did you just say?"

For someone who was as perceptive as Andarta knew her to be, Amell was being rather blind to the two suitors present at the palace to win her affections. The Champion was not certain if the Warden was being willfully ignorant or if she really did not understand what was going on. Perhaps they had some kind of unspoken dynamic that would appear to look romantic in nature to outsiders? Amell did know these two fellows for around ten years before Andarta came along, but Fergus had not been so attentive on their way from Vigil's Keep to Denerim, and Zevran Arainai simply seemed to regard her differently from the other women, including the Hawke sisters.

Either way, it was clear that she was not interested, which was kind of sad. Amell did not seem like spinster material, whatever her lifestyle. She might be deadly in battle, but she seemed too gentle to deserve a life alone. Then again, perhaps hardening her heart had been necessary when surrounded by so many male wardens.

"It's such a shame," Isabela opined, "She's so proper. All that beauty, gone to waste."

"Her beauty is hers to do with as she will," Andarta replied with some annoyance. "She's not beautiful for our sakes, you know."

"It's times like this when one can tell you come from the same seed," The pirate drawled.

Andarta had no idea what she was talking about.

"I heard there was this whole love story concerning the Warden and the King," Varric was always quick to find new story material, "Everyone is all hush-hush about it though."

"It's obvious they were lovers," Isabela said carelessly, "You can tell from their body language, as with anything. The King is all guilty, and the Commander tries her best. It has all the awkwardness of a failed romance. What's puzzling is that the Warden never moved on."

"I say, good for her," Varric went on, "She doesn't need a man."

"Just like you don't need a woman?" Isabela pointed out.

"I have Bianca," The dwarf chuckled heartily, "And she's all the woman I need."

"Shame that the Warden isn't in love with her staff," Andarta sighed, realizing how poorly her words had been chosen only after she uttered them out loud.

"Maybe she's simply not so aligned," Isabela was quick to seize the opportunity.

"Doubt it," Andarta managed to return without skipping a beat, "If she were, she'd be all over you, and we've yet to see that happen."

"She did do the King," Varric reminded the pirate.

"Ah, yes. Shame."

"She's still young, older than most marriageable ladies on the surface, but definitely eligible," The dwarf remarked, "Things can happen. She probably just hasn't met the right man. How is that amulet of yours doing, by the way, Hawke?"

The amulet did nothing, as far as she knew. Anders had stayed with her for the first night to monitor her in her sleep, in case it did something in the Fade, and Amell eventually took over staying with her, but Andarta kept waking up without remembering anything and neither warden mages felt any demon activity.

"Well, at least it's not doing anything harmful," Isabela said wryly.

The Circle replied to the King a few days later with a missive reporting that there were matters to take care of at the tower, but that they should be able to send mages after a fortnight's delay at most. He and the Warden sat together for hours to decipher the letter and see if there were any pleas for help or other hints as to what these matters might have been, but did not have any luck. It did not seem to be demon possession like with Uldred, or mage uprising, but there was a rather blatant request for Amell to watch herself and stay safe—with lots of love from both the mages and the templars and "Maker bless you and protect you"s.

Amell was very annoyed by the delay, and also very concerned.

"It could be that Irving was actually calling us for help," She said to Andarta, "Something must be going on in the Circle and to pretty much refuse the King…I don't sense that it is anything particularly life-threatening for now, at least not to those in the Circle, but I do think it is worth taking a look. It's not a trap I'm too keen on springing, however. I'm no longer the independent figure I was during the Blight, able to run baby errands all the time."

"That is where I come in, isn't it?" Andarta pointed out, "I have no connections whatsoever, and yet plenty of muscle and legs. If you wish to investigate the Circle, I can go in your stead and report back. I'm no mage, so whatever holds the Circle in check shouldn't affect me, and I can be discrete—if they don't expect my arrival, they have no time to hide what foulplay there may be."

"I think we shall have to resort to that," Amell's smile was a bit strained, "Maker, but I need to get use to the improper way of doing things; being an Arlessa and Warden-Commander has gotten me into the habit of protocols, which is all well and good when times are orderly, but if chaos is spreading to Ferelden, we'll all have to adapt. You can take a team including my wardens, if you feel you have need of them. They're folks of action, and being at the palace hasn't really done well for their spirits."

Andarta wanted to say that events at the palace had actually done very well for their spirits, but that was overstepping certain boundaries.

It was decided that Andarta would be bringing a team mostly of rogues, including herself, Varric, Isabela, and Zevran, as she predicted she would need Zevran's stealthing abilities. Zevran was not as enthusiastic as Andarta suspected he could have been, but he was not the kind of man who would let his desires rule over what he must do. In addition to the four, Andarta chose to recruit Anders and Merrill, because Anders had Vengeance and Merrill had blood magic to even either of the odds they might come across, and Oghren because her cousin's method of pointing him in one direction and letting him swing his axe away was truly formidable, and also because she only wanted to bring one warrior just in case, and did not want to separate Aveline and Donnic. Amell also suggested Teyrn Cousland join them and head to Redcliffe to check on the current Arl Teagan. Her reasoning was that if the Circle were audacious enough to refuse the King, they might have someone important backing them up. If it was the Chantry, there was not much the teyrn could do, but if it was someone within Ferelden monarchy's influence, Cousland would have a lot of influence. The teyrn was given four wardens along with his own squad of men. Merrill unwisely tried to convince Keeper Lanaya to journey with them to Lake Calenhad to recruit any elf mages that may wish to leave the Circle. Unlike Amell, the Dalish Keeper did not seem to realize Merrill was a blood mage, even now. Amell quickly stepped in and persuaded the elves that the Circle might not be a business they would want to get involved in, especially since even Amell herself felt obliged to steer clear of it. Merrill was disappointed, but such was life sometimes.

"I'll take care of Bethany," Amell promised, arm around Andarta's little sister's.

"I'm older than you," Bethany protested.

"Shhh!" Amell grinned mischievously, "Let's pretend we don't know that."

"Even so," Andarta looked at Bethany, "Our cousin seems to be a rather favored target of the King's smite. I expect you to defend her against him in addition to all the studying I think you will be doing." Bethany blushed at this. "You two take care of each other. We are family, after all."

"That we are," And for the first time something open and vulnerable shone in the Warden-Commander's eyes. "Be careful, Cousin. We'll be pining till you return, so don't leave us hanging."

Andarta kissed Amell on the cheek, mentally musing that their acquaintance might have meant more to Amell than she let on. "You still owe me a very dangerous expedition in the Fade, Cousin mine. I'll be back to claim it."

They started off on their journey with good cheer, despite the grave nature of the mission. The wardens with Teyrn Cousland's party mingled with his squad. Zevran and Isabela bantered as if ready to hop in a tent right there, Varric tried to make sense of Oghren, Anders and Merrill discussed their interactions with the Dalish for the last few days, and the teyrn rode alongside Andarta to inquire after her health and her amulet.

Somehow their particular conversation veered toward Highever, and the nobleman recounted his life there, both old and new.

"Father was a special man," Said Cousland, "He was a very responsible lord, very caring for his people and yet completely indifferent to notions of power. I remember back when the late King Cailan had been inaugurated; Father was the next favorite, if not the favorite, but he did not want the throne. His heart lied in Highever and he had no intention of leaving. Everything he did was for the well-being of Ferelden, but most especially Highever and its vassals. Of course, behind every great man is a woman," He shook his head, "Whenever Father was uncertain about something, he would go to Mother. Mother was easily better than Anora in her political acumen, and she made the best counselor for him we could ever hope the Maker to send. More than that, she was a woman of many talents—she could advise Father and run the household and raise me and my sister without any of us feeling neglected. For others, responsibility was a chore. For my parents, responsibility was a joy. It gave our lives meaning and allowed us to do good in the world."

"They sound like tremendous people," Andarta said sympathetically, "I should have liked to meet them."

"I expect they would have liked you, as well," The teyrn returned. "They were an open-minded lot. When I met Oriana, I just knew, if I couldn't marry her I shall be unhappy for the rest of my days. Father was not the ambitious sort, and I was heir to Highever, so what need did I of marrying for convenience and connections? Granted, some of that expectation also fell on Elissa, but we knew marriage was only one means of securing alliances, and Oriana was from Antiva—bringing her to Ferelden only meant other nobles missed opportunities, but it was in many ways better than choosing one of them over the others. So I married her, and all of Ferelden was scandalized. I didn't care, and neither did my parents, ha." He was silent for a while. "I can't quite remember her face anymore, or Oren's. Often I would take out her portrait, but portraits are no replacement for the actual face, and they hold but one expression. She is a blur now, a feeling."

"She must have been a marvelous lady, for you to hold on to her memory all these years."

"Ah, it was stubborn of me, too," He shook his head again, "The night I departed, she begged me not to go. She did this every time though—women and their fears, but they say women have the strongest sense and perhaps she sensed that night ever since we met. The Maker loves irony, for never did I imagine calamity to befall her and my son, in the safety of Highever's castle walls, as opposed to myself and my men in the outskirts of civilization. Then the coming of the Blight, Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir's betrayal, Arl Howe's subsequent machinations, and all throughout I was the one who survived. The only good thing left was Elissa." He smiled at this. "She was, thankfully, visiting Antiva at the time—my in-laws, actually. At the time we thought she drew the shortest straw. Funny how life works."

"I know what you mean," Andarta smiled back sadly, "Everything I did in Kirkwall, I did for my family. Went to the Deep Roads so that we would have enough money to claim our old household, the Amell household. Came back to find my sister being carted off by the templars to the Circle. At the time, at least I had my mother. Then, years later, I was out confronting blood mages and maleficar and my mother ends up dying because of one of them and yet I'm here. For a while, there was just me in that house. So many empty rooms and no family to fill them."

"You did not marry? No one captured your interest?"

Fine thing for him to say, having been in mourning for the past ten years, but Andarta knew this was in good-humor. "By the time I became a noble, people wanted my wealth, my dowry. There were some that were not so obvious, perhaps they had honest intentions after all, but I still had my mother to care for and I didn't want a master of the house to bully her around. After my mother died, I became Champion, and then it became even harder for me to determine who was whom. No mother to help guide me when I was lost and confused, and my friends constantly in need of my support. I just…didn't have the interest in splitting my influence with someone simply to get married."

"It is difficult," The teyrn agreed.

Since he asked, Andarta felt bold enough to inquire herself. "And what about you? I am sure Lady Oriana and your son would not begrudge your finding happiness after they have joined the Maker?"

"It never felt right. I have asked your friend, Ser Vallen. I suppose after talking with her, it feels less like a betrayal to move on. I wasn't entirely convinced I could still love Oriana and Oren if I dared to love another woman, but the heart is far grander than we know, I guess."

"So," Andarta smirked impishly, "You have your sights set on the beautiful Arlessa of Amaranthine?"

The teyrn flushed slightly, but was not offended. "She's my sister's age. To be honest," He shook his head, "I'm not so sure. For the last ten years I've considered her a little sister to take care of in many ways, but she…baffles me, to be honest. I understood everything about Oriana, and about Oren. Ser Vallen told me that relationships should be different but…after such a long time of thinking of her as a sibling, I don't think I can regard her as a wife."

"You seemed willing to entertain the notion, however."

"I am, for her sake more than mine. I heard about what happened between her and the King earlier." A pause. "For the last ten years, she's hidden it well. We all knew she wasn't quite alright, simply because she seemed to just…give up on it. But she hid it well enough that Alistair was fooled. Truly, I don't think Elissa would have fitted into her role as Queen quite so easily if Andy hadn't taken the initiative to pull away so thoroughly. She puts on a good act."

"…Hm."

"The Couslands owe her for that, and more. She was the one who slew Arl Howe. She and her mage-friend, Wynne, helped Elissa conceive and were present during Duncan's birth. She helped me restore Highever, all of this in return for Elissa taking Alistair's heart away."

"Marrying her is not the way to repay the debt," Andarta stated, "I think your friendship is enough. You and Elissa are both wonderful people, to treat her so kindly despite her past with the King. Having seen Kirkwall's nobility, I can assure you that is a rare thing."

Cousland smiled wryly at her. "Perhaps not," He admitted, "But I do love her, in a way. I want her to be happy. She isn't, you know. She's all smiles and sunshine, but it works only because she is such a good woman. Frankly, as a brother, I would not trust her with any eligible bachelor I have seen so far. I would rather take her under my wing." He smiled again, "Then again, she isn't the type to need protection."

Andarta chuckled at this.

"On the other hand, I don't want to deprive her of the potential to find someone who does love her the way she deserves. It's a conundrum, you know. She is still considered young, but when I was her age I had already married and lost my family. She is incredibly beautiful, but that isn't something she should depend on, and if she takes too long…but she isn't even trying. Perhaps I am being too presumptuous."

"You have good intentions. She will appreciate that. I doubt she will accept your proposal, however. She may not be as happy as she could have been, but she is content with her lifestyle now, and would not lightly give it up for the sake of pity or gratitude. You have known her for ten years, and only showed interest now—she would see clear through it. Perhaps you can support her to a certain extent, but you don't have the power to make her happy."

Cousland nodded. "I suppose not." He chuckled a little. "You remind me of her, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's rather uncanny. You two have never met before now, have you?"

"No, we haven't."

"You're different, and yet you remind me of her. Perhaps it is the age difference? Kirkwall's influence?"

"And the fact that I'm not a mage?"

"That too, I would wager. Still, I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Well," Andarta teased, "We women ought to have our secrets. It wouldn't do for men to figure us out too easily."

Cousland barked out a laugh. "True enough! True enough!"

As their journey progressed, Andarta found she liked Cousland more and more. He was an honest fellow, rare among nobility, relatively free of guile and machinations even though he could spot them easily in others. Like his father, he was content with Highever and advising the King, and possessed an optimistic point of view of the world despite the tragedy that befell his family. She learned more about the Queen, of her as a very graceful child who possessed both wit and spirit without being tomboyish, and of Amell during her initial years as Warden-Commander, a natural leader if a bit inexperienced, leading her wardens against the remaining darkspawn of the Thaw and helping Cousland restore Highever and Amaranthine together. He talked more about his late wife and child, and Andarta pointed out to him that despite the regrettable brevity of their time together, he and his wife and child had a much better life than many others who lived together for far longer.

Zevran, interestingly enough, was an entirely likeable assassin.

"What is it with you cousins?" He asked Andarta, "It truly baffles me how you can reject such a natural part of life. And such an enjoyable one too."

"You mean Andate hasn't clarified this for you?"

"Ah, but she has that stubborn Amell gene," Said the elf with a coy smirk, "Plus it amuses her, I think, to baffle those like me."

"I would believe that. Well, you know how it is. Some people have stronger urges, others have weaker urges, and yet more have none at all."

"Well I know it is not that!" Zevran was not willing to go into the events of the Blight, however; as an assassin, despite his demeanor, he definitely knew what it meant to be discrete. "But to willingly deprive yourself for so many years! She might as well be a sister in your Chantry!"

"Our Chantry? You mean you don't believe in the Maker?"

"Assassin," Zevran pointed out, "Even if I did, that would be moot, for I doubt Makers look kindly upon those like me."

"Well, we all have our roles in life; we wouldn't be here if we weren't needed somehow."

The elf gave her an intense look. "That is…something the Warden would say, yes."

Andarta laughed. There was some entertainment to be found in this. "You shouldn't be too disheartened, my dear Antivan. My cousin is, I think, in pursuit of a more profound relationship than simply delighting the flesh, and you don't seem the type to settle down for that sort of thing."

"Oh? Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. There is more to Zevran than meets the eye, after all."

"Yes," Said Andarta, "But that says nothing about commitment. It's such a hassle, isn't it? To be leashed to another like that. Far better to have a casual relationship with benefits, so you are still free to do as you please. The whole appeal of assassination, at least from what I see, is that feeling of power, of overwhelming your victim, whether through brute force or the cunning maneuverings of Crows. Some assassins do not enjoy their work, but it is clear that you do. Someone like you, I expect, would not be long happy to be at the mercy of another, not when you enjoy the reverse as much as you do, yes?"

"Hm." Zevran gave her a considering look. "Perhaps you are right. It is clear that the Amell line breeds a formidable lot, to be sure."

They reached Lake Calenhad in the evening, where Teyrn Cousland took leave of Andarta to head down to Redcliffe.

"I will have Teagan prepare accommodations," He said, "If you run into trouble, flee south to us. Stay safe, Ser Hawke."

Andarta waited until the teyrn disappeared with his party before turning to her group.

"Alright, let's get down to business. What do we need to know?"

"Well, the tower is surrounded by water, the only way to get across is to either ride the boat the templars man or to swim across," Anders looked at Oghren and his bulky armor, "So take your pick."

"If we ride the boat they'll notice, won't they?"

Anders nodded.

Andarta looked at Zevran. "What do you think?"

"I think that we should split," Said the Antivan, "One group should go up front and be the focus of attention. This will allow the other to be more covert, and discover things the first would not. We can meet up back on this shore when our parts are done."

They set up a time. Isabela and Zevran discussed various signals and they divided into two teams, with Oghren, Isabela, Anders, and Varric heading for the docks, using Oghren's and Anders' status as a Grey Warden to gain passage. Andarta, Zevran, and Merrill, with her natural elven grace and agility, headed for the waters to take a dip.

Predictably, the group on the boat arrived at the tower first. By the time Andarta's group arrived on the opposite shore, the others had already gone inside. Zevran waved them over to the side of the tower just as a few templars clunked along the banks. They started talking in Orlesian.

"Huh," Andarta listened, "I think they are talking about what's going on in the Circle. Something about Fereldens…tighter leash, King a heretic."

"Obviously not from around here," Zevran noted. "If they are here, that means there are more of them inside."

The three of them looked up at the tower.

"How should we climb this thing?" Andarta asked, "Merrill could cast a spell but the templars would sense her magic."

Zevran chuckled and took out a roll of rope. "You obviously haven't snuck into places that often if you don't carry rope with you."

"I have," Andarta said a bit defensively, "Mine's just not long enough."

"Ah, perfect," Zevran looked at hers approvingly, "Fair enough. I'm not sure if mine is either, but with the two of us, this will be much easier."

Andarta wanted to ask what he had intended to do if she had not brought her rope with her, but was soon distracted by the matter at hand. The elf knotted the ropes together securely before tying it to an arrow.

"I'll go distract the templars, Merrill, you stay here."

The templars were still chatting among themselves in Orlesian. Andarta picked up a rock and threw it at the water. Instantly, the men stopped talking.

"C'est quoi cela?" She heard one of them mutter. She waited a bit before throwing another one, and withdrew into the shadows as the templars clanked toward her.

"'Qui est lá?"

"Montrez vous!"

They were making enough noise that even Andarta could not hear if Zevran's bow had fired. Sticking to the shadows, she caught up to the other two.

"Templars," Zevran chuckled quietly. The rope was secure.

"Orlesians," Andarta rolled her eyes.

"I'll go first," He offered, "Merrill can come next and you can bring up the back."

"Sounds good to me."

The three of them moved up the rope easily. Zevran paused briefly near one of the windows to check that the coast was clear. It was shut and locked, so the elf balanced at the ledge to crack the glass open with a tiny but sharp diamond blade. They crawled into what looked like a storage chamber, filled with various utility items like brooms, brushes, dusters, and other knick-knacks, and uniform robes.

"We should stick together," Andarta said to Zevran, "That way we won't get lost and we can help each other if we're caught."

"We increase our chances of getting caught if there's more of us." The elf was paying more attention to the door and the traffic, his pointed ear pressed against the hard wood.

"Disguises, elf." Andarta pointed out to the shelf.

"Very well."

"But I like my robes!" Merrill exclaimed in dismay.

"Can't stand out now," Andarta pointed out, "Come along, strip."

Zevran gave her a smile that was piercing in how leery it was. Andarta rolled her eyes and stripped in front of him. She was hardly going to allow him the upper hand in that. This seemed to win the elf's approval, and when she did not react with embarrassment or interest, he subsequently lost interest in leering at her. He grabbed a broom and gestured for Andarta to grab a duster. Merrill had her staff to complete the charade.

"Keep your head down," Said Zevran, "Andy says the templars are pretty watchful. They may recognize that we aren't the normal faces around here if we draw too much of their attention. We should discuss coursework," He looked meaningfully at Merrill, who had no idea what he meant."

Andarta opened the door and peeked out. The halls were brightly lit, since it was still early evening and the sun had not yet set completely but the torches were already burning. There were no templars here, though she heard shuffling on both sides of the door. At least it was an extended hallway. "She said it's not going to be on the test," She said out loud, though not loud enough to be shouting, "But the stuff before that is."

"Ugh," Zevran enunciated as he followed her out, swinging the broom and completely losing his Antivan accent, "How much of the stuff before?"

"All of it."

Merrill was quiet, eyes sharp as she flanked Andarta's other side.

"I'm never going to be ready for that test," Andarta went on with a groan and they walked boldly past a pair of templars stationed in the corridor. So far so good.

"I'll help you study," Said Zevran.

The dialogue was too much for Merrill to keep up with, which was probably just as well because Zevran's abrupt switch of accents reminded her that Merrill had a Dalish accent.

"What about the stuff with the squares and the triangles?"

"That's…going to be on it."

There was a cacophony of conversation looming as they progressed, and eventually they entered a big hall filled with mages. Zevran had dumped his broom to the side and Andarta similarly abandoned her duster. If the templars were watchful and observant, the mages were not, and none of them seemed to acknowledge that here were three new members they had never seen before.

"What's going on?" Merrill asked in a small voice.

They did not look confined. Everyone seemed healthy, unlike the Circle at the Gallows; it was obvious that the mages were allowed outside, for their skin was not as pale and sallow. The locked windows must have been for more generic reasons than keeping the occupants inside. The mages were nervous though, and there was an undercurrent of unease, though on the surface people were doing their best to create an illusion of normalcy.

There was a great advantage in having Zevran in their group.

"That there is Senior Enchanter Petra," The elf pointed her out. Said woman was human, had coppery red hair and looked to be in her mid-forties. "She and Wynne were good friends with Andy. Over there is First Enchanter Irving," He pointed out an elderly-looking man with a significant beard and a tired countenance, "And that is Knight-Commander Greagoir. Interesting that he's still Knight-Commander. Looks like he's seen better days." Greagoir was a tough-looking man, stern but as weary as Irving.

"It's some sort of gathering," Merrill observed, just as Irving stepped forward and called for Order.

"Everyone, please, settle down," He called out, and the conversations died down abruptly, "We have a few announcements to make. I will remind all of you that curfew has been moved to an hour earlier, and punishment for being out is instant isolation. Our visitors from Orlais are hoping to meet the Warden-Commander, but she is currently in Denerim with the King and for various reasons, we cannot work with her there. Therefore, they will be remaining with us for an indefinite period of time. I will thank all of you in advance for your cooperation. Please inform the templars of your plans if you cannot abide by the protocols ahead of time so that we may make allowances. Meanwhile, the following classes have been canceled until further notice…" He went on to list a bunch of courses and their course-numbers.

"Hm, how curious," Zevran whispered, "I believe more templars have made their way past Ferelden borders without first informing the King."

"Where are the others?" Andarta asked in concern. "They were meeting the Circle officially. What happened to them?"

"We will find out soon enough," The elf promised.

"Why can't they meet the Warden-Commander in Denerim?" Merrill asked.

"That's the question of the day, isn't it?" Andarta ducked through the crowd, the two elves close behind.

People were unhappy and frustrated, she could tell, but their indignation was directed at the Orlesians, not the templars. In fact, the templars seemed a bit frustrated as well, which was confusing because if the Orlesians were overstepping their bounds, there should be enough templars at the tower to drive them off. Unless they brought an army here again? Was Ferelden so poorly defended that the borders would allow two armies to go by unnoticed? Or was there corruption within the defensive ranks? The King would want to know.

Zevran touched her elbow. "We can probably talk to Petra. Irving is too close to whatever this is, but Petra might provide more insight as to where our friends are and what is going on."

Andarta nodded. "Very well."

Hopefully they will get some answers without the backlash of violence.