Chapter 11

Several days later found them at the gates of Vigil's Keep. It was raining and both the Warden and Loghain were sharing smug, satisfied glances that they'd made it to the relative warmth and safety that the fortress had to offer them. Which, unfortunately, wasn't much more than a dry roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and a warm bed to sleep in. Naturally, these were both of great comfort to the two Grey Wardens, but neither of them was particularly pleased with the state of affairs at the Keep.

"This isn't a military establishment," remarked Loghain dryly to the Warden over their dinner. His long hair hung loose around his shoulders, its darkness contrasting sharply against the silver doublet he wore.

They were nestled in the common hall of the Keep, sitting at one of the ancient oak tables that they had shoved as close to the hearth as they could without risking a fiery disaster. Dane was nestled between the table and the fire, snoring in the warmth while a thick bone rested between his paws.

The walls of the hall were still decorated in the Howe's colors, but the Seneschal had assured them that he was working on suitable replacements to commemorate the Keep's new patronage. (The Warden had insisted that the draperies need not be grey, but the Seneschal had merely smiled at her secretively when listening to her suggestion.) Until that time, the drapes would stay up since they helped insulate the room in the cold, rainy weather. While the rain was predicted to go away, the chill was not. Amaranthine was always cold.

The Warden shrugged at Loghain's comment, picking up the loaf of bread that rested between them and ripping it in two. The crust gave way with a mouth-watering crunch and steam rose out of the soft, fleshy interior. "I didn't expect it to be much of one," she offered him a half of the loaf and then proceeded to shred her own half into bite size bits. Crumbs scattered across her plate and the table. "Coming here for Yuletides, I would never have known that this was once a fortress."

"It was quite formidable during the War with Orlais, though you can see how much time changes things." Loghain looked at his food as he spoke to make his point: sweet tea, fresh bread, rabbit and venison stew with thick, floury dumplings, and freshly seasoned potatoes. Not the food that armies marched on, nobles yes, but never armies. (Well, unless it was an Orlesian army.) Amaranthine had gone soft in the absence of war. Complacent.

"You probably never even ate half as well the first time you were here, hmm?" asked the Warden with a grin, reading his thoughts. She plunked a piece of bread into her soup for emphasis, scooping up a pink sliver of meat in the process. She brought it to her lips, blowing on the morsel to cool it, before placing it delicately on her tongue. The rich, gamey taste of the rabbit was complimented by the soft flavor of the veal and the creamy flour from the dumpling. Superb. Were she not a dignified Grey Warden Commander, she would have let loose a shiver of delight.

"We were all starving, if you must know," Loghain sighed, "and the meal that the cook served us was really nothing more than a watery chicken broth filled with some foul-smelling greens." After a moment, he chuckled. "Still the best damn meal I've ever ate though."

"Hunger is the best seasoning, they say. Though whatever the cook has put on these potatoes?" The Warden plucked one of the roasted, golden potatoes from her plate and held it up before her face, admiring the tiny green and brown flecks. "Delicious. Better than what…Nan…made," she sighed, dropping the potato back onto her plate. "Probably poisonous."

"Probably," agreed Loghain, eating his own potatoes. "Its good to see you're channeling paranoia appropriately, but don't let it spoil your dinner." He watched her straighten her back and shoulders at his unintended reprimand as she tried to fill in the gaps in her emotional armor. He made a conscious decision not comment on it, and more importantly, not to coddle her about it. He didn't pity her, and she didn't need to think he did either. "What do you have planned for us tomorrow then?" he asked, pushing her thoughts down a different avenue.

"Well," said the Warden carefully, "I thought we might investigate the grounds during daylight and assess the needed structural changes. It might also be wise for us to speak with any local blacksmiths to gauge their skill and see if they require any raw materials or if they have the means to acquire them. I would assume so, but I would rather be certain. No point in having soldiers that have no equipment."

Loghain nodded. "Go on."

The Warden blinked. "You think we can fit more into our day than that?"

"I am waiting for you to tell me about how you plan to make the inhabitants of Amaranthine warm up to the idea of living with Grey Wardens," chided the former Teyrn, acting and speaking like one now. "The people of this Arling are its life blood. If you can't get them on your side, you may as well go elsewhere to establish your new base of operations." Loghain may have lacked certain social graces and interpersonal skills, but he understood what was best for the common people having been one of them once.

"Our base of operations," reminded the Warden sharply. "You can't keep siphoning yourself out of the Wardens."

"My apologies, a mere slip of the tongue," replied Loghain with wry amusement. "But I return to my previous question: how are you going to persuade the citizens of Amaranthine that this is in their best interest? As I understand it, most people don't like it when soldiers are garrisoned nearby. Fathers fear for their daughters, innkeepers fear for their property…nasty business, living with soldiers."

The Warden frowned. "How isn't it in their best interest? First and foremost, there are still Darkspawn wandering around this world and the Grey Wardens would protect Amaranthine from harm with their lives. Furthermore, this protection would extend beyond Darkspawn in the region, since the Wardens would harbor no threat to their homeland and thus the roads would be safe from highwaymen and robbers. Plus, the Grey Wardens are not a common army and I am not afraid to mete out punishment for disobedience. We are also more like templars rather than your average military force, and no one seems to mind living with the templars nearby. I would also like to go on to say that not only are we like templars, but we are closely tied to the Chantry. We are, if you would, the Chantry's last line of defense and their last resort when the world is about to crumble. Not to mention that everywhere outside of Ferelden we are actually quite well thought of for our contributions to Thedas. Our presence would not only make Amaranthine a place of note, but it would also attract a variety of businesses and traders to the area, which should help stimulate the local economy." She inhaled deeply, as if to continue.

Loghain quickly held up his hand as if to say, 'no more,' and gave her a half-crooked grin. "Unfailingly optimistic of you."

"You are not convinced?" The Warden casually picked up a small crust of bread and flicked it at Loghain's forehead. "Are you convinced now?"

Loghain looked at the offending chunk that rested squarely on the center of his plate. "Maybe if you gave this old man some of that stew to go with it…"

The Warden glanced down to her own half-finished bowl. "You're welcome to it, if you're still hungry." She looked towards his empty plate and now understood why her mother had insisted on leading every conversation at dinner.

"Growing girl like you needs to eat," Loghain placed the bread in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Besides, wasn't it you who told me that side effects of the Joining included fatigue, irritability, and increase in appetite?"

The Warden chuckled, "you know, for some of us those aren't really side effects at all, but rather a way of life."

"And you hide all of them remarkably well," returned Loghain, "which you will need to continue to do, if you are to be successful in running this Arling. It is strange," he mused, "in some way, you still became Teyrna."

"I…suppose you're right." The Warden hummed, her expression one of bemusement. "Well, I suppose I am more like one of the Banns. I do not report to the King directly, but rather through Fergus."

Loghain shrugged. "Those are just semantics. You are becoming an important, influential person. I pray that the attention doesn't get to you the way that it does to some men."

"Hopefully you will pray too." The Warden winked. "After all, you are the iron-spined one."

Loghain emitted something that sounded like a snort. "Don't emulate my example. I do not pick my enemies well enough, apparently."

She grinned, full lips pulling back over even teeth. "Yet you certainly pick fine enough friends."

"Do you truly consider me a friend?" Loghain raised an eyebrow, regarding her warily. "I know after our…conversation there seemed to be some understanding between you and I. I just didn't realize how far that understanding went."

The Warden reached her hand across the table and laid it on Loghain's forearm, squeezing it gently. "You are my Brother now, Loghain." Her dark eyes darted across his face, "I can not dwell in the past. If I cannot call you my friend, what else can I call you tomorrow?"

"I could still be your ally," suggested the older Warden in a weary tone.

"But as a friend, you are still my ally."

Loghain shook his head, unmoved. "Friendships are messy things."

"Well, whatever you may regard me as, I still consider you my friend and ally." The Warden withdrew her hand with a final farewell squeeze. "So there."

"So long as you don't make me call you 'Sister' I suppose I could be amenable to this arrangement." With a resigned sigh, Loghain slumped in his seat. "And don't think this gives you any liberty to start dictating things to me, young lady."

"As your friend, I am allowed to be brutally honest in your taste of clothing," the Warden smirked. "Silver," she gestured to his shirt, "fades you. I think you would be better in darker tones."

"And yellow," he mimicked her gesture regarding her shirt, "has the curious effect of making the bags under your eyes stand out."

The Warden's hands shot up to her face, fingertips probing at the flesh just below her eyes. "It does not."

"Truly, it does."

The Warden's eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

"Because Anora has the same complexion as you and made the same mistake. Though she caught her error before the dinner party…" Loghain lapsed briefly into a memory, his eyes distant as he recalled a younger version of his daughter staring at herself in her vanity mirror, poking and prodding her features with dissatisfaction.

The Warden harrumphed.

"There's no need for you to change out of it though," Loghain chuckled, "you only have me for company, and I won't judge you by what you wear. I am not a lady in waiting, after all. I do understand that soldiers sometimes have no choice but to wear hideous, unflattering shades of yellow."

"You are a mean man, Loghain Mac Tir, and I will remember this."

"I hope you do," replied Loghain dryly, "because I'd sorely dislike to consistently remind you that yellow really isn't your color."

"You probably just don't like the color yellow," the Warden's fingers drummed against the table.

"I happen to like the color yellow just fine," Loghain shrugged, "My wife's hair was yellow. The same as Anora's and," he canted his head, observing her curiously, "yours too. Is there a reason you're so defensive about my preference?"

The Lady plucked at the silver embroidery on her sleeve. "My mother made this shirt for me. She said I looked lovely in it." Her tone was teasing, if not the slightest bit petulant.

"Oh. I can see that there is some sentimental value then…" Loghain sighed. "You probably looked different in it back then too. More rested. Probably more accessorized. Less armor more…" he gestured vaguely for the right words, "jewelry."

The Warden nodded.

"Well," said Loghain quietly, "if you get a good night's rest, maybe I'll reevaluate my opinion on how you look in that color."

"And what color would you suggest I wear? Besides, I don't need you to reevaluate your opinion. You are welcome to have your own." The Lady traced some embroidery with her finger. "Maker knows it's best if we aren't sycophantic towards one another. That would be," she smirked, "boring."

Loghain eyed the curve of her lips with a wary gaze. "I am beginning to wonder who is in the more dangerous predicament: Alistair or myself."

The Lady's eyes flicked up to his, sparkling with curiosity. "Why? Are you unsettled by something?"

"Alistair runs the risk of being manipulated by an older woman; and here I am running the risk of being manipulated by a younger woman." He scowled.

"How are you being manipulated?" A shapely eyebrow rose.

"Heh, I haven't the faintest idea," he said. "But I know its happening. I am probably going to wake up tomorrow morning with a compulsion to buy you new shirts all in that same shade."

"Oh please," the Warden lightly smacked his arm in reproach. "Manipulation is the last thing you should be worried about where I am concerned. Though if you wanted to buy me some shirts…" she grinned, "I would not be opposed to the idea. To think, I wouldn't even have to carry them, because we have the horses!"

Loghain was amused and baffled at the Warden's glibness, especially where he was concerned. She was a charming amalgamation of those qualities that he found endearing in a daughter, appealing in a woman, and respectable in a man. And to be honest, while he usually was not one for banter and mindless chatter, it was nice to hear her speak. After their discussion all those nights ago, they had not spoken much since. While she had been warmer, throwing him careless smiles and nods as they rode, they had not actually conversed. He had spent many nights in camp just tending the fire in silence while she read over her documents. It was only as they had approached and entered Vigil's Keep that she'd opened up, unfurling her petals to the sunlight as some of his wife's flowers had done.

Still, he was unsure if he could keep matching her stride for stride in dialog. For Loghain Mac Tir, it had been a long time since he'd had a "friend" and even when he'd had them, there had always been some distance, some bitterness that had hindered a fully committed, emotional connection. His closest friend was probably Anora, if it was even appropriate for parents to call their own offspring friends. It made parenting more difficult than necessary.

"Madam, I am going to truthfully admit that you tire me out."

The Warden's eyes widened.

Loghain amended his statement. "I am just…unaccustomed to long bouts of conversation. It would be boorish of me to just be silent."

"Oh," her shoulders sagged in relief. "I suppose I have been chattering on. Hopefully the banter hasn't bored you?"

Loghain shook his head. "Not at all. I'm actually rather pleased," he dropped his eyes to the table, eyeing the dishes between them. "I had wondered if Alistair had broken you."

"Alistair?" the Lady frowned, "no, he could never break me." She rapped her knuckles on her chest. "Solid as stone, I am. Please, give me more credit than that."

"I did." He flicked his eyes back to hers, "You are a strong girl and you make good decisions. You would have been a great queen, though I fear you ultimately would have wasted away waiting on the Banns. Probably better this way for us all."

"Heh," the Warden winced, her mouth puckering a fraction. "If you say so."

The look did not go unnoticed by Loghain. "Is it that you don't like me talking ill of the Banns, or are you hesitant at the praise?"

The Lady closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm unbothered by both. I am just not focused on the alternative, impossible outcomes of the past. It is," she said quietly, "hard to imagine myself as anything other than a Grey Warden. I know that I was someone's daughter and am someone's sister, but those qualities seem so…removed. Does that even make sense? I'm nattering again, aren't I?"

Loghain shook his head. "No, you aren't nattering. I know exactly how you feel."

The Warden chuckled ruefully, "you and I, we're missing some pints of ale to drown our sorrows in."

"I'm a miserable drunk," warned Loghain. "Doesn't soothe me at all. You, on the other hand, are probably some sort of effervescent drunk." She probably was, for that matter. She would giggle at every little thing he said.

"Oh, I wouldn't know. I have never really been a great…imbiber of alcohol." The Lady smiled sheepishly and reached for her cold tea, taking a long sip.

"Just sips on special occasions, I take it?" Loghain clucked his tongue in amusement. "Your parents had you on a short rope, didn't they? Lucky for Bryce you didn't turn into some tipsy slattern. Too many of them to count already."

"Yes, they did. Well, as much as they could." The Warden cupped her mug in both hands, her thumbs running over the rough rim of the lip. "I miss them."

Loghain could not bring himself to say that he missed them as well, even though he did miss Bryce Cousland and his wife. It was not appropriate for him to share in the other Warden's grief. Instead, he just watched her thumbs trace their idle pattern against the mug.

"So tomorrow we begin with the city?" asked the Warden after her few moments of silence.

Loghain nodded. "That would be my suggestion. As we leave Vigil's Keep, we can at least do a preliminary assessment of the barbican and arrow loops. I think I spotted a murder hole above us when we first entered, but it was too dark to tell. Oh, before I forget," Loghain tapped the table for emphasis, "as you retire tonight, give some thought as to who you would like to be your military commander in your absence. I am sure you will want to begin recruitment and training immediately and you can't do that while you're not in Ferelden."

"I've actually given some thought to it already," the Warden smiled, "I think you'll like my suggestion."

"Oh?" Loghain raised an eyebrow, "who did you have in mind?"

"Ser Cauthrien." The Warden looked infinitely pleased with herself at the startled expression on Loghain's face. "She's loyal to you, which means she's also loyal to me, capable with a blade, and disciplined. She is everything that I need in a lieutenant," explained the Warden.

"You are not going to force her to join the Grey Wardens, are you?" Loghain's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew that Cauthrien would probably ask to join the Grey Wardens anyway, since she had felt it her duty to protect and serve him after 'all the things he had done for Ferelden.' Still, it didn't make him feel anymore comfortable with the idea of another young woman's life being snatched away prematurely by the Grey Wardens.

"No. I would not stop if her she wished to join, however." The Warden tapped her nails against the earthenware cup. "But that would be entirely her decision. I see no need to conscript anyone. We are not that desperate." There was no need to add the word 'yet' to the end of her sentence. Yet. "Do you think it is a good idea? I can pen the missive before bed and have it sent out in the morning after you sign it."

"Why must I sign it?" Loghain frowned, "you are the Grey Warden Commander."

"Because if you sign it," said the Warden, as though this was an obvious fact, "she is guaranteed to come, and quickly too, if my suspicions are correct. If I sign it, she may not come and then we would have to spend time finding a suitable replacement for the position."

"Suspicions?" Loghain's eyes narrowed, "what suspicions?"

"Nothing that you need to concern yourself with," the Warden chuckled. "But yes, you need to sign it."

"Very well," the older Warden sighed deep in his chest. "I will sign it, as she is a good candidate for the position. Just keep me out of whatever…womanly scheming you plan to do."

"Scheming?" the Warden batted her eyes innocently. "Not I. Never I." She whistled sharply and then clucked her tongue, and Dane's head immediately perked up beyond the edge of the table, ears high and tight. "Ser Dane and I are going to retire to our room for the night," she stood, thighs jostling the table slightly as she stepped away from her high backed chair. She gave Loghain a tired smile, indicating that she had also grown weary from their banter. "Sleep well and sweet dreams when you choose to retire, Loghain. I will have Cauthrien's letter ready for your signature when I see you in the morning."

Loghain nodded his farewell, "You too," and watched the tall Warden and her Mabari walk out towards the entrance hall, the former's hips gently swaying and the latter's tail wiggling with each step.

Chapter is a little shorter than what I've posted previously, but the muse gives what the muse will give. I assume that the preference is for longer chapters, but updates are updates (and I have been bad with those lately...)! As you can see, the relationship continues to deepen albeit at a slow and steady pace. One day, I swear, it will happen and it shall be glorious! Goodness, but I can't wait until those two are out in the woods again and are busy hacking up bandits and Darkspawn. Also, feel free to listen to 'San'c Fuy Belha Ni Prezada' by the Mediaeval Baebes to get a feel for the mood of the chapter: it is slightly flirtatious and whimsical, but also a little sad.