Alistair sent a servant to get a hot bath ready for Neria. He sent another servant to look after the needs of the other Wardens.

Maker! She was angry, Alistair thought. Was it justified? Perhaps... but Neria had been rash and careless. He couldn't rescue her every time she did something crazy. Well, he would need to talk to her before they met formally. If he could mend this rift, he would.

Alistair settled back into the chair before his desk. It was a little early to start drinking but truthfully, it wouldn't hurt to take the edge off before he talked with her. He poured himself a couple of fingers of brandy and cut off a hunk of South Reach Stilton. The sharp, pungent cheese was excellent paired with brandy. Speaking of pears... someone had brought him a basket of pears from Antiva where, apparently, they could grow them in mid-winter. He closed his eyes, trying to push his anxiety aside and concentrate on the fine food and drink.

"Ah, Royal Highness, I hope I'm not disrupting your repast," Zevran said.

Alistair did choke this time, accidentally inhaling a piece of cheese. "Maker!" he gasped, coughing, trying to dislodge the cheese from his windpipe.

"Allow me, Highness," Zevran offered. He walked around behind the King and slapped him sharply between the shoulder blades. A piece of cheese, shimmering with royal saliva, flew across the room. "Better?"

Alistair's face was bright red and his eyes were tearing from the choking incident. "Zevran, I warned you about sneaking up on me. Next time, I'll call the guards."

Zevran shrugged. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought perhaps you might like to find out what your Warden friend has been up to since we last talked. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes."

Alistair's eyes narrowed, why was Zevran telling him this? Since when had Zevran been looking out for Alistair's interests, except when paid to?

"Do not flatter yourself, Alistair, I'm not here for you." Zevran guessed what was running through his head. "I'm here because I know Neria won't tell you, and that would be a shame."

"Tell me what?" Alistair asked.

"Remember when I came to you asking for your help to get Neria away from the Chantry? I mentioned she was being beaten. What I did not know then was that she was raped as well. By a templar."

Alistair closed his eyes. "By a templar?" he said, the words nearly strangling in his throat.

"I suppose if you didn't care that she was being beaten then the rape would not have made much difference," Zevran said coldly. "They were going to kill her."

Alistair groaned and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I didn't know."

"You knew enough and you chose to do nothing. So if you find Neria a little cold, I think you'll understand why."

The man before Zevran looked up, looking defeated. "What else do I need to know?"

"They captured her a second time, along with her husband. They were both brutally beaten. Anders was nearly slain and Neria was almost raped a second time, all in the name of extracting a confession from her."

Alistair sat up straighter. "Husband?" he said. "She married... oh, the other mage?"

Zevran smiled sardonically. "Yes, they were married in Orzammar. King Harrowmont saw they had a splendid wedding. Apparently there's no rules against mages marrying there." He laughed. "You should hear her swearing now, she sounds just like Oghren. I think she's decided to become a dwarf. King Harrowmont calls her his adopted daughter. She, of course, is deeply indebted to Harrowmont for rescuing us from the templars that ambushed us just outside of Orzammar and assisting her with her Chantry difficulties."

Alistair didn't know what to say. Certainly from their perspective he had been less than useless. He didn't know if he could get Neria to see it from his point of view. Certainly Zevran never would. That King Harrowmont had become so close to Neria, had done so much for her, hurt. He, her friend, had done so little in comparison. But still, his hands had been tied. The Chantry had so much influence in the land, his only went so far.

"Thanks for telling me, Zevran." Alistair's face looked much older all of sudden. He barely noticed Zevran leaving. He slugged down the brandy quickly.

...

A quiet knocking awoke Anders and he went to the door. A maid awaited with a line of servants behind her carrying buckets of hot water. She explained that the King wanted to see Neria at her earliest convenience, meaning, Anders thought, now-ish rather than truly at her convenience. The last servant in the parade of servants carried a tray laden with food and hot tea. He set it up on a table in their room.

It was a testament to Neria's exhaustion that she didn't awaken while a stream of people emptied their steaming buckets into the tub. The maid stayed when the others left.

"Ser, I'm to assist the Commander in getting ready," she told him.

"Eh, that's not necessary. She's a big girl, been getting ready on her own for awhile now," Anders replied. He shooed the servant out of the door and debated not waking his wife.

Her face looked so relaxed while she slept. The furrow that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her brow was smoothed out. Her silky chestnut hair fell in wisps across her forehead, almost falling into her closed eyes. He brushed her hair back and marveled at the thick black fringe of her eye lashes. There was something so childlike about her when she slept. Maybe it was just her diminutive size and slender build, or perhaps the fullness of the rose-colored bud of her lips. The notion that she had ended a civil war, defeated an archdemon, dealt with conspiracies, assassination attempts, treachery, peasant uprisings, and everything... none of that showed on her face. She was just a girl, with girlish dreams - whatever girls dream of, Anders had no idea.

"Neria," he whispered into her perfectly shaped ear, "wake up, buttercup." He shook her gently. She rolled her head and looked up into his face. Her eyes were soft and muzzy from the deep sleep. It took a moment for her to reorient herself. Then the furrow came back and the girl fled to wherever she hid during her waking hours. She yawned and stretched.

"Time to get up?" she asked.

"The great, shiny one wishes to see you. He's sent up a bath and food, apparently to speed you along. There was also a maid but I sent her away."

"Well, I suppose it has to happen sooner or later," she sighed. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

They bathed together. The tub was nice, but had nothing on Orzammar's facilities. Anders washed her hair, sculpting it into shapes before he let her rinse the soap out. They both smelled like lavender when they emerged. They dressed in the new outfits Harrowmont had made for them and then they demolished everything on the tray.

Neria was starting to feel awake finally and she was dreading her talk with Alistair.

"Well, let's get this over with," she said. She linked arms with Anders and they walked to Alistair's study. The guard at the door stopped them.

"My lady," he told her, "the King wants to talk to you alone."

Neria saw the signs of stubborn refusal building on Anders face. His eyebrows always drew down and his mouth compressed in exactly the manner it was doing now.

"It's okay," Neria reassured him. "We should probably talk alone. I don't want to gang up on him."

"Bad things happen when I'm not with you, buttercup," Anders said. "I promise I won't say a word."

Neria smiled broadly. "Ha! As if you could manage that." She poked him in the ribs. "Why don't you wait for me right outside? I will maintain the link with you. If anything bad happens, I'll break it. Okay?"

Anders nodded reluctantly. "All right, but if you break the link I can't promise there won't be a trail of burnt bodies until I find you."

She laughed and nodded. "Medium rare, if you can."

Anders grimaced. "Burnt beyond recognition, more likely." He bent down and kissed her forehead and whispered to her. "Give him hell."

Neria squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. She nodded to the guard and he opened the door for her, closing it after she entered.

Alistair was pacing in front of the large fireplace. He stopped and looked at Neria as she walked in. Neria realized how much older he looked. It had not been that long since the blight ended and they went their separate ways but even from a few months ago, he seemed older.

"Your Maj..."

"Stop," he interrupted her. Alistair crossed the room gently grasped her shoulder to prevent her from bowing. "Before you say anything, can I please?"

She nodded. She didn't know what she was going to say, it would be easier if he went first anyway.

"I am sorry," he said. His eyes reflected sadness, Neria thought. "I should never have put holding onto the throne ahead of protecting the people I care about. You were driven to do things to protect the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, to ensure the order remains independent and free of Chantry control. The Chantry controls more than just templars and mages, Neria, they control the crown too. But I never should have let them do it so easily."

He peered intently into her eyes. "Will you accept my apology and my promise I won't do it again?"

Neria swallowed hard. This was unexpected. She had expected to tell him how many ways he had failed her over the months since she'd last seen him. She wanted to pour her anger, frustration and fear into him. His apology made her feel like her backbone had been removed, the thing propping up her anger was suddenly gone. Her eyes flooded with tears.

"I accept your apology," she said quietly.

A small amount of relief came to Alistair's face. He pulled her into a hug. "I am so sorry," he repeated. He held her gently against his chest for a moment then let her go. "Come, let's talk. I have news you'll want to hear." He pulled her over to the sofa and they sat together. Alistair picked up her tiny hand in his massive hand.

"Mother Sweeney is dead," he said.

Neria gasped softly. "She's... dead?" She was possessed with a fiendish desire to jump up and cheer but she repressed it. "How?"

"A templar killed her. Right in front of me, even. He shouted something about her working with the blood mages, and he ran her through! Right in my audience hall. He was quite mad from lyrium withdrawals."

Neria couldn't help but notice the corner of his mouth twitched up, just briefly. Apparently she wasn't alone in thinking this wasn't exactly tragic news.

"Forgive me for saying this, Alistair, but I won't be shedding any tears."

"Your lack of grief is shared," he said dryly. "It does rather simplify things."

"Is this why the Chantry agreed to sign the treaty?" she asked.

"The Grand Cleric agreed to it reluctantly when the decree came from the Divine in Orlais."

Neria looked at Alistair again with her mouth gaping. "Really? Then my letter to the Orlais Wardens must have done some good." Neria was feeling so out of touch, having been either traveling too, or staying in, Orzammar for so many weeks.

"Yes, I think it helped, but I suspect the Ferelden Chantry might have seceded except for the lyrium crisis."

Neria was about to say something but Alistair put up a hand to stop her. "You know about the embargo, of course, but what you don't know is that the lyrium storehouse caught fire and exploded." He pounced on the words 'don't know' hoping to convey his message that he didn't want to know whether or not she had anything to do with it. She looked at him, her eyes wide trying to judge why he was hedging his words. Perhaps he feared spies, or maybe he feared his own over-developed sense of justice would kick in and be required to prosecute her for the crime.

"Exploded?" she said, trying to appear genuinely surprised. She knew her acting skills were marginal at best. "I hope no one was injured," she added.

"Surprisingly, no one was injured from the blast, but there were some casualties as people panicked and ran for the gates."

Neria nodded, remembering her own near disaster trying to get out of town.

"I appointed a new Grand Cleric, until the Divine in Orlais finds a permanent one. I think you'll approve. Do you remember Mother Hannah in Recliffe?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. She seems nice, although I don't really know her."

"Well, more importantly she's a fan of yours and the Grey Wardens as well. Eamon says her views are moderate, perhaps even progressive."

Finally a genuine smile broke on Neria's face. "That is good news!"

"I've spoken with her myself and she abhores what Mother Sweeney did. She's even agree to drop the lyrium conditioning for new templars." Alistair smiled broadly. "I think it's painfully obvious to them now how dependent they are on Orzammar for lyrium, they won't be wanting to repeat that mistake."

"Only interim, though," Neria frowned. "We need someone like that to be permanent."

"I've written to the Divine to ask that she be considered for the permanent positions," Alistair said.

"Good! I hope they listen." Neria's smile deepened. "Thank you, for everything you did."

He shook his head. "It wasn't enough. I was afraid the Chantry would pull their support from me if I pressed too hard. Eamon kept warning me and I listened to him, too much. He reminded me how Meghren fell when the Chantry removed their support of him." He sighed. "I realize now that being King is useless if I'm not going to stand for what I believe in just to remain in power."

Neria smiled fondly at him. He's learning, she thought. "I realize I don't have to walk quite the political tightrope you do, but sometimes I think about Duncan. What little I know of him is he didn't rock the boat when possible, but he never failed to flex his muscle when he felt it was necessary. Like when he recruited you. Or even when he recruited me."

"True. I thought the Grand Cleric was going to have him arrested for recruiting me."

"When he recruited me the Knight-Commander was furious," Neria said.

"Do you want to hear about the treaty?" Alistair asked, some of his usual jocularity was returning.

"Of course!" Neria said.

"The new Grand Cleric has agreed to sign it and we plan to have a signing ceremony tomorrow morning. I wanted you to look it over before then so that there are no surprised."

Neria nodded. "I will, but... there is one thing I know that isn't in the current treaty that I would like to have included." The notion had occurred to her last night. "I want the phylacteries of all mage Wardens to be handed to the Grey Wardens."

Alistair's eyebrows rose. "Well... wow. Um, that's quite a request. I guess it can't hurt to try for it. I'll have to run it past Mother Hannah."

"If she balks, let her know that any errant mages will be dealt with by the Grey Wardens. If necessary, we can always seek help from the Chantry, should it come to that."
Neria was telling a little white lie. Well... perhaps a little gray lie. She had no intention of preserving the phylacteries.

She paused a moment. She hated doing this but this was important. "This is a deal-breaker, Alistair. That provision needs to be in there or we're going to turn around the wagon of lyrium and return to Orzammar."

Alistair rubbed his head nervously. "I understand. I'll make sure it gets included."

"Alistair, can I take the treaty with me? I'd like to review it with Anders."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, by all means. Just get back to me and let me know if it's acceptable." He gave her hand another squeeze. "I understand married to Anders?"

Her eyes crinkled happily. "I did! We were handfasted in a very informal ceremony on our way to Orzammar by a fallen Chantry sister... I'll have to tell you that story someday! But when we got to Orzammar King Harrowmont threw us a huge wedding."

"Do you want to be married in the Chantry?" he asked, "With Mother Hannah in charge, it might be possible now."

Neria laughed. "No, I don't think I would feel any more married than I presently do."

"The people would probably like seeing the Hero of Ferelden have a grand wedding. It would be like a royal wedding to them."

"Hm, well if you're eager to give them a royal wedding perhaps it is time you got hitched. You're not getting any younger, Alistair," she poked him in the ribs. "Frankly, it'll take a personal visit from Andraste before I set foot in another Chantry."

Neria rose and Alistair followed.

"Let me get you the treaty," he said. "Do you want to write up the new addendum or should I have one of my people do it?"

"I'll do it," she said. She took the treaty when he handed it to her. It wasn't a long document, fortunately.

"Neria, I... well, I hope we can be friends again." Alistair grasped her in one more hug. When she looked up at him, he wore that pained expression again.

"We can be, Alistair. Let's just put all this behind us."

"Agreed," he said. He kissed her on the top of her head. "Get back to me as soon as you can about the treaty and with your addendum."

"I will, I promise. Just give me a couple hours."

She left, pulling the door shut behind her. Anders jumped to his feet. "Are you okay?" he asked, anxiously.

"Yes, of course." Neria smiled at him.

"I didn't hear shouting, I was worried."

"I didn't need to shout."

"You most certainly did! There definitely needed to be shouting. You should have thrown something too, preferably a large lightning bolt," he insisted stubbornly.

"Good thing you waited outside then." She grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hall. "Let's get back to our room."

Anders waggled his eyebrows. "I always like it when you drag me back to our room in a hurry."

Neria laughed. "Well, you're in for surprise this time, my darling." She winked lasciviously at him.

...

Anders fingers were smudged with ink as they worked on wording their addendum to the treaty. "Surprise, indeed," he grumbled. "It is a surprise, but not exactly what I had envisioned."

"They're feeling very conciliatory and cooperative right now. It would be a shame not to take full advantage of this mood," she said. "Once this treaty is signed, I will feel conciliatory and cooperative," she said suggestively, bending over to kiss his neck.

"Oh, right! Now I've smudged it again. Leave me be, woman, if you want this written neatly."

"Hurry, I have to get it back to Alistair so he can get it approved by the new Grand Cleric."

Anders started over on a new parchment. "I only wish the old Grand Cleric were around to sign this, I think she would have puckered so hard her face might have caved in."

He worked quietly for a few minutes then put the quill down. "Here, read it over."

Neria read it over his shoulder. "Perfect! I'll just get this to Alistair, along with the rest of the treaty. Everything looks just fine. Tomorrow should be the end of this all." She waited for the ink to dry then snatched it up with the treaty. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She headed for the door.

"Whoa!" Anders reached out and grabbed a handful of her robe. "Not without me."

"It'll just be a moment."

"Yes, right. Everything always starts out like that, then you end up in a dungeon cell somewhere. When we're in Denerim, you don't go anywhere alone." Anders hugged her close. "Maybe I'm being overprotective, but this place hasn't been good to either of us."

Neria smiled. "You're right. Just ignore me if I get snappish about it. You can be my own personal templar."

"Oh, templar? Hm, you've been a very naughty apostate, Neria..."

"Hold onto that thought, Anders!" she said laughing. "Let's get this thing to Alistair first."