Drakonis 9:36

The end of the year had been quiet. After Solona and Zevran left, Carver and Meghan kept themselves busy with normal Warden business, sticking to the Keep's grounds as much as possible. On Zevran's suggestion, Alistair put them together on patrol, so they could practice fighting side-by-side. When she wasn't on patrol, training, or working in the infirmary, Meghan spent her time reading the handful of books Solona had brought her.

One, a tome on primal magic, had helped her understand the lightning storm she had accidentally cast once and hadn't been able to recreate since. But with the book and a little practice, she was able to recreate it as well as pick up a few new spells. Solona had been right when she gave her the book. The lightning that had manifested naturally for her as a child is in the primal school, so the other primal spells came easily. By the same logic, Solona had also given her two tomes on healing magic.

The last book Solona gave her was a different type altogether. A history of sorts. This was the one she was reading when Carver woke up.

"What's that?" He asked as poured himself a mug of hot water and rummaged around for his favorite tea.

"One of the books from Solona. It's about Arcane Warriors. Have you ever heard of them?"

"No. Who are they?" He settled into the chair across from her.

"Elves. Who fought with both magic and swords." She passed him the book, open to a page with a small sketch.

"Like what you've been doing?" He scanned the page in front of him.

"Not exactly. They channeled their magic through their weapons. So they were special weapons, I guess. Probably made with lyrium somehow. Solona said she had a sword once, but she doesn't know what happened to it. She said Bodhan might know."

"Huh. We could ask my brother to find out. He owes me a favor or two anyway." He pushed the book back towards her and gave her a lopsided grin.

She studied him for a moment. The way he was lounging in the chair, shirtless, hair sloppily scraped away from his face in a small ponytail, and that grin. Like he hadn't a care in all of Thedas. Sometimes it was hard to believe this was the same surly boy she met back in Kirkwall, always grousing about something, always worried about being in his brother's shadow. She wondered if he saw his own shadow these days. She shook her head.

"Get dressed. Alistair is expecting us."

The trip to Ansburg was a short one, just a quick visit to the Margraves' palace to check in on little Lord Gwaine and his parents before leaving for Ostwick. Meghan was surprised at the small wave of sadness she felt when she realized she would likely never see Gwaine again. She made her farewells to Lady Enid and Lord Vaughn then snuggled the little boy one more time, ignoring the strange look Alistair was giving her.

Like on all of their visits to the palace, a pair of Templars followed them to the city gates. Meghan ignored them. Carver ignored them. Alistair, however, was surprised and a little tense.

"It happens all the time," Meghan told Alistair once they'd left the city behind.

"I had no idea. I could have sent an official warning or something. Maybe found some threatening lines from the Chant of Light."

Meghan snorted. "I forget sometimes that you were a Templar."

"Templar-recruit," he corrected her. "Never took the vows."

"That's right," she said with a laugh. "Saved by the Grey Wardens from a life of standing stock still outside some country Chantry."

"You know I thought about joining the Templars once," Carver mused. "If my brother didn't take me on the expedition with him, I might've."

"So you could say the Wardens saved you from the Chantry, too," Meghan said, looking between Carver and Alistair. "It's like you're twins."

"Yes," Alistair drawled. "Both almost Templars, both with nearly perfect hair, and both stuck with impossible women. If it weren't for the size of Carver's arms, I'd suspect people couldn't tell us apart."

"Stuck?" Meghan stepped in front of Alistair and reached up with the intention of ruffling his "nearly perfect" hair, a snide comment about his wife on the tip of her tongue, when a searing pain blossomed in her raised arm. For a split second, Meghan and Alistair's eyes met, both of them registering that the arrow would have hit him square in the chest if she hadn't moved right then.

Just as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and, with a shout, Meghan shot a bolt of lightning in the direction the arrow had come from and drew her sword. Alistair and Carver both drew their swords as a handful of assassins materialized from the trees and surrounded them.

One of the assassins snickered, twirling his ax in his hand. "Three of the Amell clan, all together. Easiest money I've made all year."

One of his companions chimed in, "I thought one was a mage."

"One is." The archer limped up to the group. Meghan bit back her smile when she realized her blind shot had actually hit its target.

"Not a good idea to piss of a Warden, let alone three," Carver growled. Meghan felt the shift in Carver's posture as he said it and pulled at her magic. They both made their moves at the same time, Carver an overhead swing at the assassin closest to him, Meghan a shove of energy to knock down the two in her line of sight. Alistair lashed out with his shield just a moment behind them. The assassins didn't fall quickly, but they did fall, the last one run through by Carver's greatsword.

Carver frowned at Meghan's arm. "You want that out?"

Meghan looked down at the arrow protruding from her bicep with a grimace. "Andraste's lacy knickers," she sighed and held her arm out to Carver. "I think I made it three years."

"Almost," he muttered. Meghan watched his face as he pulled the arrow from her arm and knew that he probably had been keeping track, probably knew exactly how many weeks it had been since she had last been shot by an arrow. She sent her own healing magic into her arm, grateful that she had enough energy to heal it fully and avoid another scar.

"Well," Alistair said, wiping blood from his sword before returning it to its sheath. "I believe you can add my name to list of lives you've saved. You are keeping track, aren't you?"

"I lost count after the eighth time I saved Carver," she smirked.

Carver shook his head. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." She grinned up at him then nodded down the road. "We better get going. We've still got a lot to do if we want to be ready to leave for Ostwick in the morning."

As they made their way back to the Keep, Meghan tried not to focus on the fact that one of the things she needed to do to be ready to go was to say goodbye for Gordie and the other friends she'd made in Ansburg. No matter how many times she'd done it, saying goodbye never got any easier.