A note: Co-written with Gaspode5. Huge thanks to all who read and something extra to Jaden, Fenzev and KS45 for taking time to review as well. :D

The Return

Across the table a Warden leant forward to address the Bastard, with a disgustingly eager look on his face. "Is it really true that you drank Mormont, theMormont under the table?"

"Fuck no! No one born of a woman can do that!"

"But we heard..."The Bastard raised his hand, cutting the Warden off.

"Yeah, I heard that too, once I sobered up. The truth is that the son of a bitch tried to head-butt me, don't remember why. Anyway, I got out of the way and he hit high-quality Orzammar granite instead. Didn't see any reason to enlighten him afterwards." The Bastard leaned back with a smug smirk on his face and took another mouthful of ale. There was a round of laughter before someone brought up the subject of Weisshaupt. Watching the man from beneath heavy eyelids, Vittorio sipped his wine, allowing the sounds of the tavern flow over him. It was unfathomable, the hero worship the puta was subjected to by some of the brothers, and sisters. As if getting in a drunken fight required some special skill. Fornicating, simpleminded Orlesians!

Suddenly seeing that son of a whore amble across the courtyard in the company of Duncan earlier today, had been one of the more unpleasant moments in Vittorio's life. The toothy grin he'd received from the Bastard in passing, had sent a stab of fear through him that still rankled. Vittorio realized he was gripping his mug of wine so hard there was a risk of it shattering. Slowly he eased the grip and turned his attention to Duncan who was recounting some sort of duel. He grinned broadly, well sozzled, like all of them, as he gestured, demonstrating a particularly spectacular move. It may have been over exaggerated but Vittorio knew well Duncan's skills, as well as those of the puta who was now laughing and butting in on the story telling.

Why Duncan put up with him was incomprehensible. But of course he didn't just put up with the man, it was obvious that it was HE who had dragged that spawn of two bitches back to Montsimmard and that stung most of all. How could a man such as Duncan not see? Draining his mug, Vittorio wondered bitterly if the Bastard had said anything to Duncan about why Vittorio was sent back to Montsimmard. Perhaps not, nothing had been mentioned here so far, to his immense relief. The pain of his injuries had been nothing compared to the agony of his humiliation. One day the Bastard would pay for it, but Vittorio came from a long line of Antivan nobles that knew that revenge is a dish best served cold. Besides, it had to be done in such a way as not to antagonize Duncan. Then again, what was the expression? Yes, 'give him enough rope to hang himself'. Given time, Vittorio was confident the swine would oblige.

There was a rumble from Roland in the corner. "Oi, you!" The Bastard had fallen asleep, leaning heavily against the man's enormous frame. Vittorio didn't bother to stop the smirk that pulled at his lips as Roland nudged the man hard.

Jerking upright the Bastard looked blearily around. "What?"

"I was saying, if you want to use me as a pillow any longer, I expect you to pay rent!" Roland chuckled.

"Can't I owe you?" The other man groaned, rubbing his face before his head was caught and crushed against the Warden's massive chest.

"Today you get anything for free, piglet!" At that, the Bastard smacked the back of Roland's head before snatching up his tankard, draining it to the protests of its owner.

"I'll be heading upstairs," he declared, "recommendations anyone?" Vittorio bit back a snigger but unfortunately the roar of laughter from the others, ruined it all. A pity. The lucky puta raised an eyebrow at Duncan who shrugged. Roland took some time to wipe tears from his eyes before explaining.

"The recommendation is 'you don't'!" After another fit of laughter the Orlesian continued, "They all got crabs a few weeks back you see."

"Ah!" the Bastard winced.

"Wait that's not the best part! Amaury offered to cure it..." The air was full of snorts and giggles and Vittorio sank deeper down onto the bench. Buffoons and children, that's what they were, all of them. Why was he even here? His eyes strayed to Duncan who was grinning, his dark eyes glittering with mirth.

Agitated Amaury waved his hands. "Andraste, this again! The smell will wear off anytime soon," the Mage continued indignantly, "and the poor bugs are gone aren't they?"

"Together with the customers." Josian laughed. "Why do you think they have the door closed? Try the place across the street." Even the knife ear seemed to have swallowed his usual dislike of the Bastard who now scowled suspiciously.

"What's to say the critters just didn't move there?"

Out of the corner of his eye Vittorio saw Duncan rise with a smile, his mood sank further. "I'm coming with you. If we catch anything, the smell can't possibly be worse than your socks after a couple of weeks of camping in the cold."

"No no!" Amaury protested. "I've improved the spell vastly. It's flowery now." Sniggers from the other Wardens drowned out Vittorio's huff.

The arrogant puta looked at Duncan, mouth twitching "Blushing Violet?" He suggested.

"Jealous Jasmine!" Duncan shot back triumphantly.

Roland slammed his mug down on the table. "I give up, count me in. We'll make a damn ugly flower arrangement."

"Honeysuckle Rose!" The other two burst out in unison.

-ooo-

Loud banging on the door woke Vittorio from heavy sleep. Cursing he untangled himself from Augustin, his current lover, a beautiful Tevinter Orlais mongrel with nut brown skin, and sat up. "Che cazzo! Yes yes, what is it?"

"Rise and shine Joy! Line up by the commander's office." Boomed Roland's voice through the door. Still cursing, Vittorio got out of bed. Thankfully, hands more suitable to such menial tasks than his, had carefully cleaned and arranged his armour so he was soon able to step out into the low morning sun, followed by a still yawning Augustin. After a short while, Duncan emerged with the Bastard in tow and the two placed themselves next to Roland. Vittorio glared sourly at them. Last night he'd been rudely interrupted in the middle of a very pleasant moment with Augustin by terrible disharmonious singing, something about flowers. It had been easy to pick out Duncan's deep voice since, whilst he in every other way was a magnificent example of the Maker's might, singing was not amongst his skills. The Bastard's hated voice Vittorio would have recognised anywhere; for all that the man was a surprisingly good singer. All that could be said about the red headed Orlesian's singing was that, as in everything else, he was powerful. The fact that the musical trio looked the worse for wear this morning, squirming uncomfortably in the daylight, was a minor blessing. The door to the commander's office opened and commander Mathilde and a tall wiry man stepped out. Vittorio stared in surprise at Didier.

"Piss and Blood!" The Bastard groaned and Vittorio bit back a snigger when the voice carried across the courtyard. The first senior of Jader turned his head.

To Vittorio's distress Didier only smiled and said in a wry voice. "Ah, a familiar face."

"An unexpected pleasure Ser." The Bastard bowed as Vittorio struggled with his chagrin, this was not how he would have imagined a meeting between the two men, had he imagined it at all. He had no idea of what it meant that Didier was here, but watching the polite exchange set his teeth on edge. Surely that thrice cursed son of a bitch wouldn't once again land on his feet? Luckily commander Mathilde didn't seem too happy about it all either.

"Enjoying being back in Montsimmard?"

"Why yes I am. Thank you for asking Ser." Mathilde was scowling now but if either man was aware of it, they didn't show.

"That's fine then! Did you get your transfer papers?" Didier continued in a conversational tone. Vittorio clenched his fists. Transfer papers! Merda! This could not be true.

Riordan looked nonplussed for a while before answering. "I'm afraid I didn't."

"Darn those clerks! Come to my office, or rather," Didier bowed graciously towards commander Mathilde who gave him a stiff smile, "the commander's office later and we'll sort it out. I have a hunch you know the way."

"Of course, Ser!" Didier nodded once before moving along with Mathilde, whose mouth was set in a grim line. 'Enough rope'Vittorio reminded himself.

-ooo-

"Look at the Bastard showing off!" The voice at his side pulled Vittorio from his bitter reverie concerning the unfairness of life. His faith would be tested once again, since the Maker had seemed it fit to allow the Bastard to stay in Montsimmard. In whatever way it happened, commander Mathilde had given her permission.

"Si, si, a coward's weapon." To make up for his lack of heat, he spat on the ground and then added, "Why not make yourself useful and get me some wine." The speed with which Augustin dashed off to oblige him, eased some of his bitterness. Having won yet another sparring session, Vittorio had found himself a good spot here on the long bench by the wall. Today finally, the heat of the sun showed true promise of summer. In Antiva the cherry trees would already have finished blossoming, but he had belatedly come to realise that voicing these comparisons did not sit well with the Orlesians, puffed up as they were with the ascent of their unrefined country and its vulgar excesses. At least they could on occasion make a half decent wine, unlike the Maker-cursed Fereldans. The thought made him turn his eyes to the archer's range again.

The puta Riordan, was still making an ass of himself with a crossbow. Firing from a standing position was not enough for him; he had to fire as he moved, rolling, diving and turning. Vittorio recognised all these moves as useful in a real fight and after a while he reluctantly had to admit the man hit the target more often than not. He had a healthy respect for Riordan's skills as a killer, but it didn't mean he had to like it. The Bastard was more a beast than man, a danger to them all. Vittorio liked danger. There had been a time when he would have been happy to sample this particular one. His mouth suddenly felt dry and his gut tightened.

A voice made him look around. Duncan hailed him and with relief Vittorio turned his attention to this far more worthy subject. The relief was short lived as he was blessed, or cursed, with the sight of his brother stripped to the waist from his wrestling match and the sheen of sweat on his chest and arms. The lean, muscled man was a far cry from the wiry, half-starved boy that had joined the Order years ago. The tension in Vittorio's gut increased. Were the Blight was that wine? He watched hungrily as Duncan wandered over to the Bastard, he couldn't hear what the two men said but Duncan took the crossbow offered by the other man, who spent some time supposedly adjusting his stance. Vittiorio's eyes narrowed; surely there was no need for that amount of touching? Uninvited the image of pale hands running across dark skin and dark hands grabbing pale flesh in lust, slipped into his mind.

Duncan fired and hit the target dead centre. There was some cheering from the few bystanders and Vittorio didn't miss the quick look between the two Fereldans. Smiling, the man loaded and fired again, the quarrel went wide. The Bastard laughed and said something. The next moment, Duncan had tackled him to the ground. As the two men wrestled, Vittorio carefully sought Duncan out with his Taint. He was more adroit at it than he let on and it provided a useful advantage at times. Brushing over Duncan's mind now, gave him an odd thrill, he would never have dared, had the man not been otherwise occupied. Strangely he found only happiness. How was that possible? Duncan had just made an ass of himself and right now he was rolling in the dirt with the Bastard like a common street urchin.

Vittorio switched to the other man but as always it was like hitting a wall. When he opened his eyes, he saw the men had stopped their mock battle and the Bastard was loading another crossbow before slowly rolling over onto his stomach, while Duncan was sitting up, talking and gesturing. Only Vittorio and the Bastard knew the crossbow was being aimed right at Vittorio's face. Pain suddenly exploded in his skull and he slipped to his knees, clutching at his head. It took a few terrifying moments for him to realise he was unharmed. Heart still racing he climbed back onto the bench, hoping the sun would dry the cold sweat from his body.

"Your wine Ser, sorry it took so long." Augustine hurried up to him. He waved the excuse away, grabbed the mug and downed half the wine. Sweet and strong it washed away some of the terror. When he glanced towards the archery range he saw two dark heads close together as Duncan and the Bastard talked, excluding the rest of the world, and Vittorio forgotten. The sight stung more than he would have expected. Abruptly he stood up and tossing the mug aside, he snarled at Augustin,"Inside, now!" He took some satisfaction from the brief flash of fear across the other man's face. He wasn't cruel, didn't much enjoy it, but the fear was a balm for his bruised pride and the unexpected pain.

-ooo-

"Why are you looking at me like that? I've been right here all along! Can I help it if the Antivan faints like a maiden in the heat of the sun?" Riordan turned wide innocent eyes at Duncan who had his own opinion about what happened, but it seemed unimportant, especially with Riordan running a hand down his back. "Get your clothes on before you muscles stiffen, then try this baby." He handed Duncan the crossbow he'd just loaded. "It's a bit lighter; I think it will be perfect for you."

"So if any idiot can fire these with adequate accuracy, why waste time with a bow?"

Riordan snorted disdainfully. "Are you playing stupid with me? An archer like Josian or that guy with the broken nose would have six arrows in your sorry corpse before you were ready to fire again. Not that the last five would be needed."

"And you?"

"Perhaps three." Riordan said with a shrug. Duncan turned the weapon over in his hands. Unlike his friend, he had never fought in a regular army, or even a war-band, before joining the Wardens. He was a quick learner though.

"One of the guys I knew in the Val had one of these; he mainly used it to kill cats."

"Cats? Why?"

"Buggers stole our food. The dogs at least, they were company, would get friendly if you gave them a titbit, the cats though...there was a black tom with one evil green eye, we called it Rabbit." Duncan shook himself. "I still hate the sight of them, makes my skin crawl."

"Imagine that, the mighty Duncan, afraid of kittens!" Riordan sniggered.

"I didn't say that!"

"That's what I heard!" Still laughing Riordan ducked away from a punch.

"Back to the bows." Duncan said firmly.

"I imagine you would prefer that." Riordan was still grinning. "Anyway, in a tight fight, do nothing fancy. Just fire where the body is biggest. Actually a gut-wound is the best, keeps them screaming for a long time, bloody distracting. If they are riding at you, hit the horse. A wounded horse can do miracles for breaking a charge."

"Hm, yes. Did you fight a lot together with your family or did you learn this later?"

"I fought like the rest, just skirmishes, cattle rustlers like Roland and such. I think I knew every Maker forsaken shepherd's hut on our land. You had your roof-hideouts I had my huts." Duncan was almost afraid to ask more, this was the first time Riordan had revealed something of his life in Ferelden. "Of course the sheepherders ran like the Arch demon was on their tail the moment they saw any of us, my brothers worked hard to earn that reputation."

"But you..."

Something dark crept into the other man's eyes, staining them like ink. "Sometimes Duncan, you get me muddled up with someone else, someone who is just and gives a shit and everything else a good person should do. I am none of those things, not then, not now. What's decent in me, I borrow from you." Riordan jumped up, grabbing a bunch of quarrels. "Get your lazy ass of the ground now and show me what you're good for!" Duncan just wanted to kick the man, hard. As he got up he searched desperately for words but was saved the trouble as a senior Warden approached, calling out to him.

"You, Duncan! Commander wants you."

Suddenly wary he asked, "Why?"

"Do I look like I give a flying fuck?" The man's tired face told Duncan, probably not. He was looking around for his tunic when Riordan grabbed his arm hard.

"Look, if this is anything to do with me..."

Duncan shrugged and said with a lightness he didn't feel, "I doubt it, catch you later."

Che cazzo – What the fuck
Merda - Shit