Miranda stepped down from the carriage elegantly - helped by her lady's maid, Liana. She held the baby in the crook of one arm - a tiny thing, no more than three months old, and Alim's heart lurched. Of course, she couldn't have left Eleanor, he'd been stupid to assume the Queen would visit on her own, but part of him wondered if she intended to take her mother's namesake into the dungeon.

She caught sight of him and rushed forward, grasping his hand in hers and smiling widely.

"Alim it's good to see you, we've missed you at the Palace," she said. Alim smiled back. She looked well, but then she always did, these days.

"I'm sorry to pull you away," he said softly. "But I thought…"

She looked up at him, her grey eyes pained. "You said you had Nate in the dungeon?"

Nate. "You sound as though you know him," he said.

She handed Eleanor to Liana and heaved a deep sigh. "Let's go inside," she said.

Liana took the baby to the Queen's quarters and Miranda accompanied Alim to his office. "What did he do?" she said.

Alim leaned against his desk and frowned at her. "Broke into the Vigil. Tried to steal from us. He says he merely wanted to reclaim some of his family's things."

She took a deep breath. "He's not like his father, Alim."

"Really? He's given me no reason to think that."

"What do you want to do with him?"

"You want my honest opinion?" he said. She fixed him with a hard stare and he shrugged. "Hang him. He threatened to kill me. I think it's justified."

"Can I see him?"

"Only if I accompany you."

"I… yes. Yes I'd like you to come with me. We knew each other, Alim. You have to remember that… Howe and my family were very close. I knew all of them. Thomas, Delilah…"

"And Rendon. You thought you knew him too," he couldn't stop the harshness of his tone, even though she paled and winced at the name. Not healed, no, he thought. Not completely. Perhaps never.

"Alim, I'm sure there was a reason Rendon sent Nate away," she said. "I'm not willing to paint him with the same brush. Not until I've seen him again."

He pushed himself off the desk and jerked his head towards the door. "You're a better person than I am, then," he said gruffly.

Miranda smiled gently. "Never that, my friend," she said.

He looked the same as he had a week ago - more stubble on his jaw, possibly a little thinner although Alim knew for a fact they'd been feeding him the same as everyone else in the Vigil, much to Garavel's annoyance. As they entered, he got to his feet slowly, no doubt expecting a guard, instead, he gripped the bars of the cell with white-knuckled fingers.

"Mira…" he breathed.

Beside him, the Queen tensed and Alim could see her hands shake before she clasped them firmly in front of her, tilting her chin the same way she had done in the Landsmeet chamber more than a year ago.

"Nathaniel," she said, and her voice was calm and measured. Alim bit his lip, but moved to the side so the two nobles could speak, but he kept his eye on Nathaniel, whose tortured expression would have given Jowan a run for his money.

"Is… is it true? What my father…?"

"It's true," she said. "All of it."

"Maker's breath," Nathaniel leaned his head on the bars of his cage, eyes squeezed shut. "Why didn't I know.."

"Did you bother to ask anyone?" Alim said.

Miranda held up her hand and Alim clamped his mouth shut. "You never knew him, Nate," she said. "None of us did, as it turns out."

"Oh but we did," Nate pushed himself away from the bars and turned his back on them. "If I'd been here… if I'd known what he planned…"

"But you weren't," Miranda said firmly. "And my father didn't see this coming, Nathaniel. There's a reason why he sent you away."

Nathaniel bashed his fists against the back wall. "He sent me away because I was…"

"Because you were a good man who wouldn't have stood for what he wanted," Miranda said. Alim snorted. "Shush, Alim," Miranda said.

"No, he's right," Nathaniel said. "I've been royally stupid. I should have checked - should have written - to you. Or to Delilah…"

"There was a blight, Nathaniel."

"What did that bastard do to you? Why….?"

"Nate… please. It's over. He's dead."

"You killed him."

"I did." There was a finality and satisfaction to her tone that cheered Alim - no she wasn't healed, but she was whole, and moving forward.

As for the son…

"They're going to hang me," Nathaniel said then. "I can't… "

"No, they're not going to hang you, Nate," Miranda said then.

Alim stood up at that. "We're not?" he said.

Miranda shook her head. "No. Alistair wants him conscripted."

Alim's jaw dropped. "He what?" Miranda turned to him, mouth set in a hard line. "No," Alim said.

"Outside, I think, Alim," she said, and her voice had the ring of command.

In the courtyard, Miranda folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "You can tell your husband to sod off," Alim said. "I'm the Commander here."

Miranda sighed, but there was a hint of a grin around her lips. "Alim, I pleaded with him not to come here and chop Nate's head off himself. This is the only compromise we could come to. He knows you need wardens - Nate is very skilled, he'll be a valuable addition."

He might die in the joining. Alim didn't think Alistair had let that little detail slip to Miranda. He bet Alistair was counting on it.

"I don't want to be looking over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure he hasn't got a knife ready to stick in my back!"

"Honestly, Alim, I thought you were more forgiving than this."

"I was and look where it got me!" he heaved a breath and shut his mouth, resisting the urge to clamp his hand over it as well. Miranda was simply watching him, her grey eyes cool and knowing.

She watched him for a moment, considering. "He has a sister, you know? Delilah. Would you hang her as well?"

Alim scowled. "His sister didn't break into my keep and try to kill me."

"Do I have to beg you, Alim? If I can look past who his father is, surely you can as well?"

Alim closed his eyes. "I thought you would want him killed," he said softly. "Why don't you?"

"Because he's not Rendon. He never was. Because he meant a lot to me, once. And because I think you need him, Alim. None of your other wardens know the Arling - do they?"

"I have a seneschal," Alim said, and he had to acknowledge that his tone sounded sulky, even to himself.

"Nathaniel is a valuable man. A good man. If you recruit him, you have my personal guarantee he will serve you well."

"Maker's breath, this is…"

"Alim."

"Fine. Fine I'll sodding recruit the Howe. But I'll hold you to that guarantee, your majesty."

Miranda smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Alim."

"Do you want to talk to him again?"

"No. I should go back to Eleanor. We'll be gone in the morning."

"As you wish."

She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry, Alim. I'm sure…" her mouth worked a little, but she closed it and shook her head. "Never mind. Be safe."

"Tell your husband he has the backbone of a slug," Alim said. She grinned.

"Oh, I will."

Back in the dungeon, Nate was sitting cross legged on the floor of the cell with his head in his hands. Alim looked down at him, feeling rage and frustration curling in his belly at the thought of recruiting him into the order he'd come to respect. But Miranda had more reasons to want this man dead than anyone, and she had pleaded for mercy.

"Stand up," he said harshly. Nathaniel did so, slowly. Alim unlocked the door to the cell, throwing it wide and standing aside so Nathaniel could exit.

"Where are we going?"

Possibly to your death, Alim thought. "The joining," he said instead. "From this moment forth, much as it pains me to say it, you're a Grey Warden."

"She convinced you, then."

"She is a very persuasive person," Alim said, giving the man a little shove towards the door. "I'll have you know she's given me her personal guarantee that you won't stab me in the back the next chance you have. If I didn't respect her so much I'd hope you did, because I will take a great deal of pleasure in making your death as slow and painful as your father's was."

Nathaniel winced.

Anders' look of shock was comical, when Alim called him to attend the unconscious Howe. He didn't trust himself to treat the man - destruction magic would no doubt surge through and do more harm than good if he tried. "You conscripted him? I thought you wanted to kill him?"

"I did. Unfortunately the joining ritual decided otherwise. Why it spared him and killed Mhairi I'll never know."

Anders grimaced. "Yes, well. We're all slightly dodgy, here, aren't we? Perhaps wardens aren't meant to be straight and true."

Alim thought of Duncan with a twinge of grief. The old Warden Commander had been a good friend to him on the trip from the Tower, an entertaining companion. And he had been grey in every sense of the word. He'd related stories about what wardens were expected to do to overcome the threat of the darkspawn and Alim had felt, even then, the awesome weight of responsibility that the wardens carried.

Even Alistair - for all his inherent goodness and that irritating propensity for sanctimony - even Alistair had his own private darkness - the fire in his eyes as he beheaded Loghain Mac Tir - the desire for vengeance had polluted him so far that he'd thought nothing of killing a woman's father in front of her.

A blood mage, an apostate, a drunk, a dead woman and a Howe, Alim thought.

"You may be right, Anders."