Apologies for the delay! I think this chapter has given me more trouble than any I've ever posted ... including battle scenes. It's had me paralyzed with indecision all week. My thanks to my excellent betas for the cattle prodding, and to Nithu for the whip-cracking - I needed that! Next week may be a bit delayed as well - I'll be in Florida hoping for some heat to bake out the midwinter blahs. If you happen to be at Disney, feel free to wave. I'll be the one with the kids!

Breakfast the next day was a subdued meal, hastily put together out of whatever they could find in the kitchen. Even young Finbar's ready smile was missing. The assembled company stood, however, to greet their Commander when Judith came down to join them. Blushing, she waved at them all to sit.

"I'm fine, really," she said when Anders began to fuss over her. "All I need is a good meal, and we can see about putting this place back together." Anders looked skeptical, but went to fill her a plate. Judith took the seat next to Loghain, whose plate was piled with the standard Grey Warden portion. He was staring at it, looking doubtful.

"Welcome to the family," she said quietly.

"That's not the reaction of many of your men," he said.

"It's just Alistair."

"Isn't he enough?"

"Alistair's not an active Grey Warden," Judith said, accepting the plate Anders handed her. "You'll probably hear less from him here than you would constantly dropping in on them at the palace the way you have been."

Loghain cast her a sharp look, but Judith was serenely buttering a piece of bread. "What are you going to do with me?"

Judith looked at him speculatively. "I'm not sure. I was thinking of reassigning you somewhere … or sending you on a recruiting trip. I suspect you're a fair judge of a blade. And of the person wielding it."

"Are you sure you'd trust me?"

"No," Judith said bluntly. "Which is why I'm only thinking of it and haven't decided yet."

At that point Daniel set his plate down. "No shop talk this morning, please," he said cheerfully. "A bit of a rest is called for."

"That's a lovely thought, darling," Judith said, "but we have to rebuild the walls, and make sure all the darkspawn are taken care of, and—"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Daniel said when it appeared the list was never going to end. "I need to speak with you privately. Later."

Judith looked at him with concern. "Everything all right?"

"I hope so." Daniel attacked his breakfast without adding anything further.

Loghain took his still-full plate and stood up. "Commander." He bowed stiffly to Judith and stalked from the hall. Judith watched him with worried eyes, hoping they could find a way to get him settled.

Across the room, Velanna pushed her untouched plate away, getting up off her bench. Her shoulders were slumped unhappily, and she didn't even notice Nathaniel until she ran into him, her nose smashing against his leather breastplate.

"Get out of my way," she said softly.

"My lady," Nathaniel said. He waited for the burst of spite that usually answered any attempt on his part to use courtly manners on the elf, but she ducked her head and went around him. Nathaniel followed her into the hall. "Velanna," he said, catching her arm.

"What?" Some of her accustomed venom was in the word, but not nearly enough. Seeing her so despondent tugged sharply at Nathaniel's heartstrings. Without thinking about it, he drew her close, putting his arms around her. "What are you doing?" she asked, but she didn't try to pull away.

"Trying to help," he said. Velanna stood awkwardly in his embrace, looking up at him as though she thought he'd lost his mind—and then he did. His head dipped and his mouth sought hers.

Velanna gasped softly, her lips opening beneath his, and before she knew it, she was kissing him back, feeling the life force return to her body and her spirit along with the warmth his body was imparting to hers.

A loud clearing of the throat interrupted the moment, and they turned to see Anders in the doorway. The mage grinned at them. "I don't know whether to say 'it's about bloody time', or 'get a room'," he said.

"Mind your tongue," Velanna snapped. She glared at Anders, and was gone, leaving nothing but her fresh, woodsy scent behind her. Nathaniel was relieved to hear the anger back in her voice, and he looked forward to the next time he caught her in the halls. Or to finding a way to get her into his room later.

"Careful, there," Anders said. "You could burn yourself on that one."

"I don't think so," Nathaniel said thoughtfully. "There's something different about her since they came back from defeating the Architect. I think … I think she could use a friend."

"Did that feel like friendship to you?" Anders asked. "Because it didn't look like it." He punched Nathaniel playfully in the arm before heading back to his patients.

As Judith and Kylon were finishing breakfast, Fergus Cousland came over to the table, leading a thin man with close-cropped gray hair. "Judith, this is Carl. He's been with my family for a long time, but after yesterday's battle and a close call with some tainted blood, he's now a Grey Warden."

Judith stood, extending a hand. "Welcome to the family, Carl. I'm Judith Am—Judith Kylon, Warden Commander." She shot an apologetic smile at her husband. Daniel's jaw twitched, and he looked back at his plate. The response surprised Judith, who'd been expecting an answering smile. What was wrong with him today? Dragging her thoughts back to the moment, she smiled at Carl.

"Commander," Carl said in a hoarse voice. "I'll do my best to be a good Grey Warden. Not quite sure what that means, but …"

"We'll see if we can't help you ease into the job a bit," she said. "You must be famished."

"How did you know?"

"Grey Wardens eat a lot," Fergus said, clapping Carl on the back. "I'm not privy to most of their secrets, but that one's hard to miss." He looked back at Judith. "Alistair and I will be taking those of our men who are ready to travel back to Denerim today. He's anxious that the queen should hear about her father from him, before she gets wind of any rumors."

"Very sensible," Judith said.

"Fergus," Daniel broke in. "That trip we discussed?"

"To … Highever?" Fergus's eyes were both worried and hopeful.

"Yes. It might be sooner, rather than later. You still …?"

Fergus took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes. Yes, I think so. Let me know when you're ready."

Daniel nodded. "I'll find you when I get back to Denerim."

Judith was looking around the room, oblivious to the men's conversation. "Has anyone seen Oghren and Shianni?"

Fergus grinned widely. "I don't think they've come up for air yet."

"From the er, sounds, maybe we don't want them to," Daniel added. "Where did she come from?"

"I don't know," Judith said. "She was just … there. Right when she was needed. We—none of us would have made it without her." She shivered. Daniel stood up and put an arm around her, pulling her close. He resolved again to make her take some time off. He couldn't bear to have her go back into danger now, not when he'd nearly lost her.

Alistair came into the room. He saw Judith, but looked away, flushing, unable to meet her eyes. Judith felt for him. Alistair might have some growing up to do, but he was still being asked to accept something that would have gone against most people's grain. "Daniel," she said quietly, "will you introduce Carl to Riordan and Finbar, ask them to help him settle in a bit? I need to talk to Alistair." She squeezed his hand when he nodded, and crossed the room to her friend.

"So you've heard how I acted," Alistair said quietly. "I'm not proud of myself, but …" He shrugged helplessly.

"I understand," Judith whispered. "But think of Anora. How would you ever have faced her?"

"How will you face him every day?"

"I'll have to see," she said. "Look on the bright side—he won't be able to drop in at the palace."

Alistair chuckled. "I suppose that's true." He looked around him, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Especially since we're going to be having another visitor at the palace … we're hoping this one is coming to stay."

Judith's eyes widened and she met Alistair's wide grin with one of her own. "That's wonderful news, dear friend."

"Keep it quiet for now," Alistair cautioned. "You're the only one who knows, other than Anora and me." Suddenly his eyes brightened. "Say, I don't suppose you'd like to come stay in Denerim for a while, act as palace healer? We could really use one, under the circumstances, and I'm sure Daniel could find something for you to do with the rest of your time." He chuckled.

"An interesting idea," Judith said, "but I don't think I'll have time." She looked around. "There's so much to do here, so many responsibilities. I don't see how I could leave."

"Well, the offer stays open, in case you change your mind. In the meantime, we really do need a palace healer—and a few more in Denerim in general. Anyone you know who might fit the bill?"

"I do know one mage who would love the idea of an excuse to keep an eye on her favorite ex-Templar," Judith grinned. "Wynne's been at the College of Magi long enough to get sick of the whole gaggle … I'm sure a well-placed letter would bring her running. And you can't ask for a better healer."

"Of course! I thought she was still traveling the world—I'll write to her straight away," Alistair said. He looked at Fergus, who had just joined them. "You ready to go? I'd like to get back to Denerim before Anora worries too much."

"Absolutely," Fergus said. He kissed Judith on the cheek, and Alistair hugged her gently, and the two of them were off, collecting their men for the return trip.

Judith met Daniel's eyes across the room. He'd been watching her, looking troubled, and she determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. She crossed the room, taking his arm. "I'm ready for that private chat if you are," she said quietly.

"Good." He led her from the room.

Deep in the earth, the dungeon was damp and cold under Rylock's metal boots as she stared down at the mage's body in disgust. Blood spattered her armor and the dead mage's robes, and for what? For nothing! She'd learned nothing, and the mage had been silent and uninteresting under Rylock's most creative ministrations. She seemed to almost welcome Rylock's punishment, crooning snippets of the Chant of Light as long as she'd had breath to speak with. Rylock wasn't even completely sure what she was supposed to find out—mostly, the orders were about the blood. Testing the blood, seeing if the mage reacted to the tests on the blood, that kind of thing. The questioning was Rylock's personal touch—she liked to hear them try to please her, their arrogance humbled for once.

Rylock bent, collecting as much of the blood dripping from the mage's wrist as she could. What good the blood of dead mages might be, she couldn't imagine, but she was told increasingly less as time went on. Which was fine by her—it was enough for Rylock that they were punishing the mages, taking them out one by one. Far be it from her to care why. Especially not when she woke every night with visions of him in her head; visions of him dripping wet, water glistening on those muscled shoulders, that blond hair loosened from its ponytail, that crooked grin widening as he closed on her … Rylock cursed, her hand shaking so that she spilled some of the blood from the vial. Anders must be some kind of abomination that he'd bewitched her so.

As she knelt there next to the mage—what had her name been? Kaylee? Keely? Kylie? Something like that—Rylock could hear the echo of footsteps coming down the hallway. Was he bringing a new subject, maybe? She stood, putting a stopper in the vial of blood, waiting.

The door opened. Carroll came in, looking with exaggerated sadness at the still form on the floor. "Keili," he said. "I always liked her." Suddenly he giggled. "She hated mages almost as much as we do." Carroll's eyes were fever-bright, as always, and Rylock wondered if it was wise of their superiors to keep feeding the man more lyrium. He sobered, then, looking at Rylock. "You're out."

"I'm out?"

"They don't trust you." He giggled again. "He thinks you drink too much."

"Half the rest of you are looped on lyrium more often than not," Rylock scoffed. Carroll shrugged, moving closer to her, and suddenly it became clear—she wasn't being sent away, she was being eliminated. Not bloody likely, she thought, surprised that they had only sent Carroll. They must have thought she was completely out of her mind with the drink. When the blade appeared in his hand, she was prepared, and she knocked it away with a vicious kick. Carroll stared at her in surprise, and she followed up with a blow to the head that sent him reeling back. It was his bad luck that he slipped in the blood, falling. She heard a crack as he hit his head. As she ran from the dungeon, hoping there were no reinforcements waiting for her, she thought Carroll was going to have an Archdemon of a headache when he woke up. If he woke up.

There were no others—the leader was either sloppy, overconfident, or short-handed, Rylock thought—and soon she was in the forest, moving quickly. Her entire being focused on one thing: finding some way to get Anders out of Vigil's Keep. They had unfinished business, he and she.