A note: Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to all who read and rib-crushing hugs to Jaden and FenZev for reviewing! :D

The Game

The mess was almost empty which suited Riordan fine as he stared glumly into the cloudy depths of his cider. It was made here in the compound, from the evil tasting apples that grew in the neglected orchard and its main feature was that it was weak. Right now he needed strong but was trying very hard to resist the pull and so far he had kind of succeeded.

"Pony!" A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, nearly making him drop the mug. The flash of anger at being caught off guard like a rookie, vanished as he looked up into the round smiling face of Roland.

"Runt! Long time no see. When did you get back?" There was much backslapping, which Riordan suspected dislodged some of his vital organs.

"Just now, I'm starving! Those stingy merchants never feed their bodyguards properly." The Orlesian made a beeline for the sideboard which, as always, was carrying something to satisfy even the hungriest Warden, and returned with two overflowing plates. He carefully set them on the table and sank down on the bench with a happy sigh. "Tuck in!" He offered magnanimously.

"No thanks, I might lose a hand."

"You need two?" Roland raised an eyebrow. When he spoke next, the words were muffled with food. "So what have you been up to?"

Suddenly feeling almost relaxed, Riordan shrugged. "Out with the grunts, digging latrines, mostly."

"Seriously? That's rookie duty." his friend said incredulously before stuffing a chunk of cheese into his mouth.

"Hey, I do what I'm told these days. Actually, it was kind of funny, seeing Mathilde's pets almost wetting themselves when they were sent to tell me to get a move on."

Roland shook his head. "I'm still stuck at imagining you with a shovel."

Riordan snorted. "Better believe it. I'm a lamb, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, pull the other one, it's got bells on. Didier couldn't get rid of you fast enough."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, that's what he said, I swear." Riordan pushed his plate to the side and took a sip of the watery cider, which tasted a lot better now.

"Maybe he overdid the Antivan Black a little." Roland wiped his fingers on his trousers before grabbing a piece of cold chicken.

"Not the type. Perhaps he was just feeling generous. He got that position in the Val after all."

"Hm maybe, never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?" Roland belched. "No sign of Rat boy?" Gloom and guilt slapped Riordan in the face like wet towel.

"No."

"Damn, that's what, a month?"

"More." He tried not to clench his teeth but it was difficult and he ignored the sharp look from his friend, who blithely continued,

"Pity Mathilde isn't as open minded as Didier. After Duncan broke her face... He paused to nod at a passing Warden who was heading for the side-board. Riordan refilled their mugs, struggling to regain the pleasant calm of moments ago. He really didn't want to think about this, let alone discuss it.

Roland grinned. "Maybe we should slip her some Antivan. Hah, Darkspawn in the Nahashin Marshes, my ass! Aint nothing there but mosquitoes. That woman can carry a grudge to the Black City and back. I wonder how long she's planning to leave him there."

"Cards?" Riordan looked at his friend with the blank face he was an expert at.

"Sure." The Orlesian shrugged. Riordan dealt and after some grumbling, money was placed on the table. A few rounds later, he decided it was safe to change the subject without it seeming too obvious.

"I heard you're not entertaining the wenches like you used too. Pass."

"Indeed not, I've found my match." Roland said calmly, studying his cards.

"Really?" Riordan shuffled his hand. "Who's the lucky one?"

"Her name is Isobel and I think I'm the lucky one, she's a peach! House, Templar on top." Roland chuckled happily.

"Well here's for the Peach then." The two Wardens toasted each other to the dull clunking of pewter. "There will be a few false tears shed among the vixens at The Eel though." Riordan remarked with a frown. "Pass damn you!"

"Bah, let them. Unlike your sorry self, I know a good thing when I see it."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Riordan studiously rearranged his cards.

"I know two fellows that are the kind that somehow always have women swarming around them. Someone should tell the poor wenches not to waste their time. Right?"

Riordan slowly filled up his mug again. "I will forget you said that and from now on, that subject is closed."

Roland blew through his nose. "I talk to you as much as I want, about whatever I want. Told Duncan he should knock that thick skull of yours against a brick wall. Not that it would help – much. That guy is way too careful around you."

"Your turn." Riordan slapped the card down a little bit too hard and found his wrist caught in a vice like grip. He met the other man's glare straight on as Roland said evenly, "Now, my extremely stupid friend, I'm going to point a few things out to you. One - if you mean business, get down to it. Two - if you don't, make it clear as Antivan brandy."

"You finished?"

Roland let go of the wrist, tossed down a card and sat back. "Pretty much yes."

Riordan put his hand on the table without taking his eyes of the man. "Line, Cleric on top."

"You scrawny little bitch!" The chagrin on Roland's face almost made Riordan smile.

"Stop whining and just send them over."

There was a pause while coins were shoved across the table. Roland's scowl faded and he looked thoughtful. "You know why he's out there, don't you?"

Riordan tensed but continued what he was doing. '"It'll be a month, maybe two at most." Duncan shrugs and pretends everything is fine. Riordan clenches his fists wishing he could finish what Duncan apparently once started and turn Mathilde's face into paste. This is low from a woman of so many principles it would choke the prophet Andraste herself. All Riordan can do is play along, just like Duncan. "Nahashin Marshes right, better get some mosquito ointment, don't want to go and give them poor bugs the Taint." The wry words taste of bile.'

"Hunting Darkspawn ghosts, we all have to do it when some noble gets twitchy." He replied casually.

Roland huffed. "Don't play stupid with me.

Something snapped and Riordan spat, "What do you want from me? Do I feel guilty Duncan is taking the rap for me? Yes I do! I think about it every fucking moment of every fucking day!"

"And he would do it again." Roland continued unperturbed. "The point is, Duncan obviously loves you and I think your sorry self love him as well, so…

"Are we playing or are you just flapping your mouth?" Silence stretched out between them and Roland kept glaring at him. Riordan quickly glanced around the room. "Look, I know you mean well, but this, this is between me and Duncan."

"As I see it, it's between Riordan and Riordan."

"Ah Maker's blood!" Riordan tossed the cards on the table and drank the rest of the cider from the bottle before rising. "I've changed my mind, I'm off!"

Roland regarded him gravely. "You want company?"

"Hardly."

The Orlesian sighed. "I'm sorry. You're always such a callous bastard it's easy to forget that that's not all there is."

"No, there's shitloads of stupidity too.