I'm very sorry about the long wait-I got sick right before I was supposed to go on vacation (so no vacation) and didn't feel well for about three weeks after that. Many thanks for your patience and for the reviews from: NonNonNon, Reader, McKaye, Ericboy, Koukentenshi, Addicove, SuperGravyMan, hades200, Guest, boyo77, borismortys, lazyguy90, 17986, none, Kalom, Mike3207, xseikax, War-Torn Hero, Lokken.B, Bob Rijke, M2J MandalorianJedi, karthik9, Liso66, csorciere, mille libri, and Sayle.

Warning: Loghain lovers will probably not like this chapter. Promise: the wedding comes in the next one (and maybe the next two or three, depending...)


It was the custom in Ferelden that a young man on the night before his wedding spent that night in joyful carousing with his closest male companions, indulging in drink and the women who would be denied him once he was bound to his bride.

Given that Corin Cousland was not the usual sort of man at all, and given his oath to Anora, it was probably not totally unexpected that he was spending his last night as a single man walking through a refugee camp in the company of a Mother of the Chantry. A newly made and oddly unhappy Mother of the Chantry, who fingered a gold chain of office as they walked and whose usually pleasant expression was as close to contentious as it ever got.

"Your Royal Highness, this is…unacceptable!" Agnetha sputtered. "I am not worthy of such a promotion so swiftly! And I cannot help but think that you were the cause of it! Two blessings does not a Mother make!"

"But they were such excellent blessings! And besides, I'm sure you've gotten a lot more practice in lately, haven't you?"

"Yes," Agnetha admitted, scowling.

Seeing the former sister's genuinely annoyed expression, Corin gave her what was for him a tentative smile. "Shouldn't you be talking to the Grand Cleric about this? It would seem to me that matters of promotion within the Chantry are hardly the business of temporal authority."

"You cannot tell me that I was not promoted because you requested me as your Confessor!"

"I cannot tell you that," the Crown Prince agreed. "But what I can tell you is that I told the Grand Cleric that I had no problem whatsoever confessing to a mere sister, and that if she had a problem with it, then she had the means of rectifying the situation."

Agnetha pondered that for a moment, then gave the Prince a hard look, which he met forthrightly. He was obviously telling the truth.

"You should know that Revered Mother Devera saw that this might happen," she admitted to him, relenting. "You asking for me to be your Confessor, I mean. And she told me that she felt that I was not of the right background to hold this office, that it would be better given to one of the Mothers or Revered Mothers with a noble background, who would be better suited to advise you."

"When the Grand Cleric when brought that particular objection up, I told her that I didn't need a noble or a politician, that I needed someone I could talk to. And that someone was you." The Crown Prince gestured about him. "As for you being deserving of promotion…in times of strife and war, promotions come much more quickly than in times of peace. And has not Mother Boann been listening to your counsel? Have any of the people here suggested that your elevation is undeserved?"

Agnetha looked over the camp. "No…" she said after a silent moment of reflection. "Everyone has been very happy for me. They say that it is deserved. Even Brother Genitivi seemed to think so."

"Well there you have it! Brother Genitivi is a man of rare insight and wisdom!"

Agnetha couldn't help but smile a little at that. The Prince, seeing that, smiled broadly in his turn.

"I know that it is no sinecure, having to deal with me on a regular basis. But I'd be most grateful if you'd at least give it a try. If you truly find it unsupportable after the attempt, then I will find another Confessor."

The young Mother looked at him. He was the savior of Ferelden, as well as the man who would be crowned King tomorrow. Could she refuse him?

"That is generous of you, Your Royal Highness, But I…I do have reservations. Revered Mother Devera explained what was expected of a Confessor, that I would need to either live in the Grand Cathedral or in the apartments by the Palace chapel, which was her suggestion. This is so that I can be available to you upon a moment's notice." She gestured about the camp again. "But I have work I am doing here! Very important work, if you do not mind my saying so! How can I do that if I must be available to you night and day?"

"I quite agree that this is the place you need to be right now," the Prince said equably. "And my soul is not so much in crisis now as it was formerly. So how about we do things this way? If I need to talk to you, then I'll find you, or send a runner down here."

She stared at him, consternated. "That is not how things are supposed to be done!"

"It is how I am doing them." His lips quirked into a grin. "Besides, as a Mother, you need not bow to temporal authority, remember? I should be waiting on your pleasure!"

"That may be the theory, but I doubt it is put much into practice with Kings!"

"Perhaps not…but I have something I wish to confess to you, Sister. Are you willing to take up the office?"

"I…Agnetha paused for a moment to listen within, to see if there were any indication as to what she should do. The lovely voice she'd heard that one time was silent. "Very well then. Where should we go? Back up to the Palace?"

"No, I'm at Arl Eamon's tonight. Wedding tradition, remember? The groom is not supposed to be under the bride's roof the night before-it's bad luck. But we needn't go there either. How about just out a little way from camp?" He threw a look over his shoulder at his escort. "Keep us in view, but not close enough to be overheard, gentlemen. My Confessor and I need to talk."


Despite the fact that winter was upon them, there was still a beauty to Ferelden, Blight-ravaged though it was. The moon, which was waxing towards full, shone down with silver light upon the bare branches of the deciduous trees, lending them sinuous grace, a pale counterpoint to the darker shadows of the evergreens. The air was clear and cold, and further away from the moon's light, the stars could be seen, shining keen and bright.

"I had a dream, when I was unconscious after I killed the Archdemon," the Crown Prince said. "I'd like to know what you think of it." And he proceeded to recount his vision of Bridey for the second time. Agnetha's eyes widened when her name came up in the account, but she was silent the entire time. When he was done, Corin asked, with a bit of concern because of her lack of response, "Well, what do you think? Was it a delusion, or the real thing?"

"How can you even ask that?"

"What do you mean? Because it's obviously delusion, or obviously real?"

"Think about it," Agnetha said. "When you have a dream, even one you wake right up from, how many times are you able to remember everything about it, even if you want to very badly? The details tend to blur, even after the most vivid dreams. Or nightmares-I think that must be the Maker's mercy there. You remember everything about the encounter, down to the last detail. I think the Lady really was speaking to you and that she wanted you to remember."

"Well there you go. It was the real thing. And the Lady herself told me that we should look after each other! Does that make you feel any better about being my Confessor?"

She bent her head for a moment, abashed. "Yes." There was a moment's silence, then the young Mother spoke again, hesitantly. "Andraste spoke to me once as well, since last we met."

"Really?" Corin asked. He was intrigued. So far Andraste's use of Agnetha had been without the young woman's knowledge. He wondered if this signified that things were moving to a higher level. "When did this happen?"

"The moment you killed the Archdemon. The refugees were well away from Denerim, as you know, but even in our camp we could see the explosion of light. Everyone had been watching and waiting for news all day long, and when that happened, people were afraid. I was trying to soothe them when I heard Her."

"What did She say?"

Agnetha's expression became reminiscently rapt. "She said, 'Sing, My meadowlark! Give praise to the Maker, for Ferelden has been delivered this day! The Blight is ended!'"

"So what did you do?"

"I sang, of course! A song of praise to the Maker. After I told everyone that the Archdemon was slain. There was quite the celebration."

"I wish I could have been there. I love your singing."

Agnetha blushed and looked away. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"You are singing at the wedding tomorrow, aren't you?"

"You requested it, so of course I am."

"Then we'd best finish up, so that you can get some rest. One more blessing before the day, if you will, Mother." Corin unceremoniously stripped off his circlet and shoved it up his arm, then knelt, this time without drawing his sword, his hands folded upon his knee. At her curious look and gesture, he smiled.

"I was always going off to fight before. It doesn't seem appropriate for this."

Agnetha smiled in return. "No, I suppose it doesn't." Her hands came down to rest lightly upon his sable head, even as the crushing responsibility of the task she had taken up pressed upon her. But she repressed the moment of panic and thought upon what the future held for this young prince and found that words did come to her, halting but sincere.

"We country folk have a saying. The king is the land," she declared softly. "As the king goes, so goes the land and it's the other way around as well. Ferelden is damaged at present, and I know that you are too." Corin looked up a bit sharply at that. "But it can be healed, and in time, you will be as well. You know better than anyone that nothing worthwhile is gained without striving. You're not afraid of the work. But you need to remember to make time for the joy. When you are finding ways to hearten your people for the struggles ahead, make sure to take a little time to hearten yourself, by loving your wife and your family to come, by enjoying fellowship with your friends, by appreciating the beauty of this land that is still so beautiful in many ways, despite the Blight." The prince smiled beneath her hands, and Agnetha smiled in response for a moment before becoming serious once more.

"You've had more proof than many holy folk ever have that Andraste was looking out for you during your great quest. Do not think that She is not still watching if She falls silent now. It just means that She knows you are capable enough to achieve what is set before you without Her help. The time comes when every mother has to let her child's hands go, so that he can walk on his own. It doesn't mean that She loves you any less."

The new Mother bent a little closer to issue her final blessing, her expression earnest and sincere. "The Maker's blessing upon you, Your Royal Highness, and the Bride's as well, as you go to your wedding and crowning tomorrow. May They keep you safe as you labor to mend this land."

This time, Corin did not feel anything particularly special, other than the sense of peace that anyone might feel upon receiving a blessing. No Andraste, just Agnetha. But as he got to his feet and situated his circlet, he looked down upon the young woman he'd insisted should be his Confessor, and was content. Guileless, honest and true, Agnetha would serve him well as his touchstone in the trials ahead.

"Come, Mother, let's get you back to a fire," he said aloud, and politely ushered her back to the camp.


Wardens were slaves to their stomachs according to Alistair, and Cauthrien finally understood what that meant. She'd eaten a good dinner, but a couple of hours afterwards was hungry again. Slipping down to the kitchens, her Warden status had gotten her a tray with bread and butter and jam, and even some cheese and cookies on the side. Everyone else was getting short shrift because of the frantic preparations for the wedding feast.

"I'd like to be able to eat like that," one of the more comfortably padded kitchen girls had sighed, regarding Cauthrien's trim frame and the heavily laden tray enviously.

After a bit of thought, Cauthrien snagged an extra mug of ale as well. The Cousland suite was almost deserted this evening and she thought that perhaps Surana might welcome company as much as she would.

The Teyrna was in the Royal Suite with the Queen, playing chaperone as was the tradition; Leliana and Zevran were prowling the city, having said something about security; Oghren, Pooka, Fergus and Alistair were all off at Arl Eamon's estate with Corin doing bachelor things and Wynne was partying with her fellow mages. Shale was still standing in the dining hall, where there was sufficient space to ward off chisel-bearers. Her foreboding countenance served to frighten many squishy folk who passed, to her great satisfaction.

For some reason Surana had not joined the mages-perhaps she feared her freedom would be revoked if she went back into Knight-Commander Gregoir's grasp. Or perhaps she was just avoiding Wynne. At Alistair's behest, the older mage had begun tutoring Surana in the Arcane Warrior disciplines and had taken the opportunity to lecture her captive audience upon Nerissa's shortcomings as perceived by Wynne as well. Though Cauthrien's own acquaintance with Wynne was mercifully limited, she'd already heard more than enough preaching and disingenuous fishing for compliments from the older mage that she had no desire to know her any better. Small blame to Surana, if she'd had enough of that!

Cauthrien found Surana, not surprisingly, in the library. The little elf mage's hair was screwed up into odd little bundles all over her head, tied up with what looked like scraps of cloth.

"What in the Maker's name happened to your hair?" the knight exclaimed.

Surana smiled ruefully at Cauthrien, and patted the lumps with some caution.

"This is Leliana's doing. She says that tomorrow when she takes it down, it will.." her voice took on an attempt at an Orlesian accent, "'tumble down over your shoulders in a cascade of charming little ringlets!'"

Cauthrine gave Surana a dubious look. She knew more about strategy and tactics than many men, but the feminine mysteries were in many ways as mysterious to her as her male counterparts. "Really? I never heard of the like. Does that really work?"

"There were girls in the Circle who used to do stuff like this and it worked," Surana confirmed. "But I never did. Leliana washed my hair and then when it was almost dry she smeared this…stuff…on it and then she spent what felt like hours dividing it up in strands and rolling it up in these rags. I figure she knows what she's about."

"Why did you let her do it?"

Slender shoulders shrugged. "Well, she'd gone to so much trouble helping me with the dress and the shoes and the under things and all that… She said it would…'complete the picture'. It seemed rude to refuse."

Cauthrien nodded down at the tray. "I wanted a bit of a snack, and thought you might join me."

The mage brightened. "That's very kind of you! I would, actually. I ate dinner early and was actually just thinking a snack would be nice. But we probably shouldn't eat in here with the books."

"There's the tea table in the parlor. That should serve."


Surana stoked the fire in the parlor by tossing a couple of logs on and flicking magical flame at it, while Cauthrien set their places. Then the two women set to eating. The elf settled for a couple of pieces of bread heavily spread with jam and some cookies with her ale, then watched admiringly while Cauthrien devoured the rest. When they were done, Cauthrien asked, "So, what's this special dress you're wearing tomorrow like?"

Surana obligingly fetched it out from her room. Ferelden's newest Warden looked at the plum-colored silk brocade gown, as the little mage carefully held it up. Cauthrien knew next to nothing about fashion, but she liked the tasteful silver embroidery and graceful sweep of the skirt.

"It's a pretty dress," she admitted. "Have you ever had a party dress before?"

"Me? No! Why would I? I've been in mage robes all my life. What about you?"

"Do I look like the sort of woman who wears party dresses?"

"You never have? Even before you were in the army?"

"Before I was in the army, I was a farm girl. And we didn't really have party dresses, we had our go-to-Chantry blouses and skirts and we'd make fancy bodices cut lower than was Chantry-proper to wear them to parties." Cauthrien sighed in reminiscence. "The girls would pull their blouses down low, but I never did. Didn't have much of a chest at the time. I only went to one dance, and I spent the whole time on the sidelines. My mother had let out one of her old dancing bodices for me-I was a lot taller and broader than she was. She'd done a good job, but the evening was a disaster nonetheless." An echo of that old embarrassment shadowed her face for a moment.

"Why didn't anybody want to dance with you?" Surana asked sympathetically.

Cauthrien snorted. "Because I had big shoulders and big hands and feet and no tits and I was taller than a lot of the boys and they knew I could arm wrestle most of them and win. It was not a combination of traits to inspire romantic ardor. What about you?"

"We didn't have dances in the Circle."

"You never did any other kind of romantic foolery? No courtship at all?"

"No." Surana's voice went flat. "There are girls who did. But it's always a risk. It's a weakness the Templars can use against you. And if you're not careful and you get pregnant…when the baby is born, they take it away from you that same instant. You never even get to hold it. Romance just never seemed worth all that to me."

Cauthrien was appalled. "They take your children away?"

The senior enchanter smiled and it was not a pleasant smile. "They certainly don't want to encourage us to make more mages! What? Did you imagine happy little mage families in the Circle? I've heard there are circles where mages are allowed to marry, though it is rare. But even then, the children are always taken away."

"But why? Wouldn't they be mages?"

"Not always. Not even when two mages are the parents. They're raised in Chantry orphanages, and if they turn out to be mages, they're sent to a Circle far away from their parents. If they're not…a lot of them stay in the Chantry, it's said, and become Mothers or Templars."

"So in a sense, you breed your own jailors?"

"There aren't that many babies born. But yes, we do contribute. It's rather ironic when you think about it." Surana sipped her ale; then, obviously desiring to change the subject, asked, "What are you going to wear to court tomorrow?"

"Nothing at all."

The Wardens' mage liaison blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Cauthrien chuckled, but when she spoke it was as flatly as Nerissa had earlier. "I'm forbidden court, didn't you know? I killed the Queen's father. She was convinced out of necessity to let me become a Warden, but she quite understandably doesn't want to see me about the palace."

"Oh. I guess I can understand that." An uncomfortable silence fell for a moment as Surana's finger traced what looked to be sigils on the tabletop. Then she looked up and met Cauthrien's eyes squarely. "I've been wondering…not that it's any of my business at all, but…why did you do it? You needn't tell me, of course, if you'd rather not. But I don't understand. Wasn't the Teyrn your lord?"

Cauthrien smiled grimly. "Do you know, you're the first who has had the balls to ask? And since we're to be working so closely together, you should probably know." She got up and went over to the sideboard where the drinks were kept, and selecting a decanter, poured herself a shot of whiskey. Returning, she said, "Ale won't suffice for this," and took a sip as she seated herself.

"For a while, I thought there was just the one reason, that I didn't want him to know defeat and imprisonment," Cauthrien said reflectively. "Now, I'm not so sure. I think there's probably more to it than that." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You're absolutely right, of course. Loghain was my lord. He took me off the farm, and educated me. He gave me the world I wanted and thought would never have, and he knighted me, gave me status in that world. I owed him everything, and I killed him." She took another sip of the whiskey. "I assume you're aware of what happened at Ostagar?"

Surana nodded. "Yes. Wynne and some of the others who had survived told us."

"The Teyrn gave the order to retreat to me. I protested. He had taught me how to read a field at a glance, how to assess a situation. I looked down into that valley and knew that we could have saved the King. We might not have had enough men to actually win the day, but we could have managed a retreat in good order, and saved Cailan and the Wardens. But the Teyrn overruled me. I thought at the time that there must have been something he, with his greater experience, had seen that I had not. I told myself it couldn't have been because of all the arguments he'd been having with Cailan about the King wanting to set Anora aside because they'd not had a child after five years. I told myself that over and over again, all those nights when I lay abed or was sleeping in the field and revisited every detail of that night at Ostagar." Cauthrien took another sip of the whiskey, then shook her head.

"Loghain wasn't himself ever again after that decision. Oh, he was still the best on the battlefield-there were several banns who found that out when they rebelled and paid with their lives. But even that was gall and ashes. It was Fereldans we were killing, not Orlesian occupiers or darkspawn, during a time when we needed every able-bodied Fereldan we could get to kill darkspawn! And some of his other decisions… I blame Arl Howe in part, but I have to think in the end that the Teyrn was a great general, but a lousy ruler." She fell silent, unable to continue for a moment.

"The only experience I ever had of any of the Teyrn's decisions was that Uldred, the mage who tried to take over the Circle, tried to get the mages to support Loghain, saying that he had promised to get the Circle out from under Chantry control," Surana observed a bit hesitantly. "When they found out some of the things Loghain was doing, they refused to support him. Uldred tried to leave, was stopped, and the next thing we knew a demon had taken him and we were fighting blood mages and abominations at every turn." She shuddered, and her face went pale of a sudden. Cauthrien looked at her with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"I…I have bad memories of that time," the little elf admitted, shivering again. "Uldred caught a bunch of us and used blood magic to try to turn us into abominations. Succeeded with several of us, before the Prince and his party came and saved us."

Cauthrien got up and went over to the sofa, where a soft throw was tossed over the back. She took it and came back over to the mage, draping it over her shoulders. Surana huddled into it gratefully.

"Thanks."

"Uldred tortured you?"

"Yeah. Not what you'd normally think of as torture-no racks or thumbscrews. Blood magic torture doesn't have to leave marks. But it hurts nonetheless."

Loghain's former second had not personally had anything to do with what had gone on in Drakon and in Howe's dungeons. But she'd seen the aftermath of torture more than once. To have performed as she had done in the Battle of Denerim after what must have been a horrific experience-the little mage was startlingly resilient. "I'm sorry."

"Why? It wasn't your fault."

Cauthrien took the opportunity to go back to the sideboard and refresh her glass, her brow furrowed. "Maybe not directly, but still…I have to wonder… The oath of knighthood requires that you give wise counsel to your lord when he needs it. I did try, so many times, to make him see that what he was doing was wrong. Rewarding Howe with Highever for slaughtering the Couslands without due process, for instance. But did I try hard enough? Loghain would always come up with some plausible reason for his actions and give me this reproachful look and ask me to trust him as I always had. And I always backed down."

"Well it's like you said," Surana said, making an obvious effort to master herself, even as she huddled beneath the blanket. "He'd given you everything. That's awfully hard to argue with."

"I was still obliged to try, for Ferelden's sake. After Ostagar and the death of the anointed king, it was as if Andraste and the Maker turned their faces away. Everything Loghain did seemed to go wrong. The Bannorn did not come to heel as he'd expected. Word came to us that a couple of Wardens had somehow survived-some of his men had encountered them in Lothering and gotten off the worse for it. They brought the Wardens' message back-'The Wardens know what really happened.' When there were a couple of more failures to apprehend the Wardens, from bounty hunters and such, Howe encouraged my lord to send Crows after them. Not only did that fail, Corin suborned the Crow leader over to his side, using him against us. And then he suborned the rest of the Crows as well. When Howe went to them later, they refused another contract on him! Howe was furious, said he'd never seen the like!" Cauthrien's mouth quirked into a rather evil smile. "That was actually a good day. One of the few."

She sat back down and took up her whiskey again. "For me, I guess the point beyond which I could no longer delude myself about what was happening was the deal with the elves in the Alienage."

"Oh, the part where Loghain was selling them like cattle to the Tevinters?" Surana said with sudden heat, sitting up straight. "I've heard about that from some of the servants." Cauthrien nodded.

"Exactly. He was selling free Fereldans into slavery, horrible slavery at the hands of blood mages."

"You do know that a good many of them were probably bled out and killed to power spells?" the elf mage asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know much about magic, but yes, something like that had occurred to me. But even without that, even if they'd all gone to so-called 'good' homes, he was still destroying families, it was still slavery and still against the law and still unforgivable. He had betrayed his people to get the gold to make up for his own mistakes."

"But you were still doing his dirty work."

Surana's tone was not accusing, she was simply stating a fact. Cauthrien nodded.

"I was, and that is my biggest sin. Had I left him, would it finally have caused him to question his course? I don't know, but perhaps he feared just that. He kept me from the more…unsavory aspects…for the most part. He had Howe and Howe's thugs for that, because he knew I would not countenance it. Anora and I were both increasingly kept in the dark. Together we worked out a plan to discredit Howe and possibly kill him. We both felt that his influence on the Teyrn was much too strong and very unwholesome. She walked into Howe's hands intentionally, and Eamon sent the Warden to get her out, as we hoped he would. Corin killed Howe and I captured both him and Alistair."

Cauthrien sighed. "Loghain was so happy! He seemed much his old self, and not particularly upset at Howe's death at all. He clapped me on the shoulder, said I'd done magnificently. 'You've defanged Eamon nicely, my girl!,' he said. 'He won't be so eager to have his Landsmeet now that you've taken his Theirin! We'll settle the Landsmeet and put Cousland to the question, find out the whole extent of his plots with the Wardens!' He was adamant that Alistair not be hurt. I think that he intended to marry him to Anora. Loghain's triumphal mood lasted for maybe five hours, until Corin woke up and escaped from Drakon with Alistair. When he heard that Cousland had escaped…it was as if he saw his doom coming for him." She curled her big hands about her glass and stared down into the amber depths.

"So he set the person he trusted most at the doors of the Landsmeet, to keep Corin out. But Corin didn't resort to swords, and I still had enough honor left in me to listen to what he had to say. I used the arguments Loghain had used with me. Cousland tore them to shreds, and confronted me with all the questions I'd been asking myself over the last year. I won't go over the whole argument, but there was one thing he said in particular that really stuck with me, and that was ultimately the reason I let him pass." She looked across the table at Surana.

"Corin said, 'I'm trying to get into the Landsmeet to make a properly legal argument against him and you're stopping me. So who exactly is upholding the rule of law in Ferelden?'"

"When he said that, I realized that it certainly wasn't us! We'd broken so much of Fereldan law, and for no good purpose. I looked at him, who was trying so hard to mend what was marred, who was keeping his eye upon the real danger facing us. And I knew that he was the only one who could get Ferelden out of the coil she was in. So I let him and Alistair pass."

"And then the Teyrn challenged Alistair and you killed him?"

"No. That's not what happened at all. First there was a lot of argument. And I watched as Corin destroyed Loghain's arguments one by one, even as he had done with me. The Teyrn was flailing and desperate, and in the end, he committed high treason."

"Treason?"

"Yes. He refused to relinquish his office when the Landsmeet voted him out. Corin asked him directly-'Do I understand you correctly, my lord teyrn? Are you denying that this Landsmeet has the right to remove you from office? Are you defying the authority of the Landsmeet of Ferelden?' And he said, 'I am.' That right there is treason of the highest order. My lord had just publicly declared himself a despot. Then Corin allowed Loghain the courtesy of single combat, which he certainly didn't have to do-they could have just arrested my lord at that point. And Corin chose Alistair as his champion."

"And you killed Loghain during the fight, because he was losing."

"Yes. Though he didn't know that yet."

"So why do you say there was more to it than that now?" Surana's brow was creased in puzzlement. "It seems pretty straightforward to me."

Cauthrien drank some more whiskey and smiled sadly. "Ah, but there were layers, Senior Enchanter, layers even I didn't realize were present until afterward, when I had time to think. The first one was this. I knew that Anora would not have allied herself with Corin had he not promised not to kill her father. So if Alistair won the combat, Loghain would be put in prison, until such time as he could stand trial. My lord did still have a few adherents. What if they broke him out? The civil war would start up again, and the darkspawn would take us as we squabbled. And if he stood trial? If the full extent of what Ferelden's greatest hero had been doing was revealed? People need their heroes, particularly in dark and dangerous times. Ferelden did not need for that trial to happen."

"So you basically killed him to save him? What was left of his reputation, I mean?"

"Yes, I think that was part of it, though I didn't realize it at the time. And to spare not only him-but Ferelden- the shame of his imprisonment and trial. I knew that I would die when I did it. And I accepted that. It is the rightful punishment for a knight who has betrayed her lord and it was the utmost expiation I could do for those things I had been party to. But there was something beyond even that. Another layer, if you will, though it took me some time to admit it to myself."

"What was that?" came the elf's soft question.

"I was angry with Loghain. No, furious! That he'd led me down such a path, made me an accessory to such acts, when he'd trained me up to believe in a knight's honor! Corin had told me at the door that by making me party to all of the things he'd done, Loghain had betrayed his lord's oath to me, that he'd betrayed me in some ways more than anyone else. I'd dismissed that at the time. But later I came to realize that he was right, and that I had felt that betrayal and that I was hurt and angry about it. So upon some level, I have to admit that I was taking vengeance for myself." She fell silent, aware of the Surana's eyes fastened intently upon her.

"Wow. That's a lot of heavy thinking there."

"It is, isn't it? But then, I've had plenty of time to think lately-in prison and afterwards. Maker knows searching Denerim for pockets of Taint isn't very stimulating intellectually."

"But you like being a Warden, don't you?" The elf's question was almost worried in tone.

Cauthrien shrugged. "I was supposed to die for killing my lord. Then I was supposed to die killing the Archdemon. I never expected to be alive at this point. The Wardens, it is said, are a refuge for maleficars, thieves and murderers." She smiled and there was a decidedly ironic twist to it. "So I fit right in! There's useful work I can do, and I'll do it without complaint, and to the best of my ability."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Surana said the last thing Cauthrien would have expected. "'Give to every man that work which best suits his nature and form,'" the little elf quoted softly. "'Make the fleet of foot and keen of eye your scouts. If they are strong of arm as well, make them archers…'"

"'…Give to those of girth and strength the task of holding your shield wall, and let the greatest among those be your pikemen,'" Cauthrien finished. She stared at Surana in delighted disbelief. "You've read Gerontius?"

"Hello? Battle-mage here! Not that anyone encouraged me to train up as such and I didn't get any help. But it seemed to me that to be a battle-mage, one had to learn about battles and how they were waged. So I read every book in Kinloch on the subject, not that there were that many. But we did have Gerontius' Treatise Upon the Waging of War."

"Have you seen the ones the Couslands have here?"

Surana nodded. "I'm reading Cathaire's The Bride's March-A Military Account of the Campaign in Southern Tevinter right now."

"That's a good one!" Cauthrien exclaimed. "You have to sort through all the fervid religious stuff, since he was one of her disciples, and the language is a bit stilted, but it's still a good account! I've got a couple of books as well that I can lend you."

The elf mage smiled brightly. "I'd like that!"

"If we ever get a place of our own for the Wardens, we'll set up a map table and some tokens and chart some battles out. It really helps you see what happened, from the bird's eye perspective."

"I've always heard about those. I'd like to see one. They're supposed to be really useful."

"They are. They help you learn to do it in your head." Cauthrien got to her feet. "You've got a big day of ceremonies and feasting and dancing in front of you. I'll let you get some rest."

"Don't remind me!" Surana said, wrinkling her nose. "About the dancing, I mean. Leliana taught me a couple of things, but I know next to nothing about it. But I actually don't think I'll be dancing anyway. Who'd ask me, charming ringlets or not? I'll probably spend most of the time telling people who want me to fetch them drinks to sod off. I've got this Warden armband thing that the Teyrna made me to wear, but I don't know if they'll realize what it means." She gave the much taller knight a mournful look. "I feel bad for you, not getting to see any of the festivities."

"Don't. I'll go down to the Lower Marketplace. They're roasting some cows and pigs down there, courtesy of the crown. I'll probably have a much better time of it than you will, to be honest. Who knows, maybe I'll even get to dance, now that I have tits!"

"You might at that!" the elf agreed, chuckling. "It will be a lot less stuffy at the very least! Good night, Ser Cauthrien!"

"How about you don't call me Ser and I don't call you Senior Enchanter?"

"Works for me!" came Surana's cheerful response. "Good night, Cauthrien!"

"Good night, Nerissa."