Zevran Arainai left Vigil's Keep early the next morning. Anders wasn't going to miss the Antivan overly much – they always seemed to be competing for the attentions of the same women. And the same men, for that matter.

Oddly enough, Risa had seen him off – and from the battlements, Anders could see that something had changed between the two. Zevran had been laughingly pursuing the Warden on and off since he arrived at the Vigil, and as far as Anders understood during the Blight Years as well – and yet when they parted, there was very little teasing and innuendo. When Risa had risen on tiptoe to hug the Antivan, the hug was very… well, chaste but also very intense, to be blunt. She'd been saying something very seriously to the elf, who finally nodded quietly, mounted up on the Antivan Barb she'd gifted him with on his reappearance in her life, and ridden away.

Something was going on.


"And so you have made your choice, have you not?" Zevran sounded weary, and Risa's heart ached for him.

"Zevran…"

"No, no, querida. Don't explain." He gave her a smile that was so uncharacteristically wistful rather than suggestive that she wanted more than anything to fix it, and knew that she could not.

She walked along with him as he led his horse from the stable, and asked, "Where are you headed this time?"

"My business in Antiva is concluded… for now." His smile grew very fierce as he turned to look at her, and she smiled as well. "I have no place in particular to head. Why, have you a suggestion?"

Risa hesitated, frowning and looking away. "I hardly dare to ask it of you."

"Ask away, my dear Grey Warden. I cling to your every word – and it is but the work of a moment to say no if I do not accede to your request."

She looked at her feet a moment, then up into his eyes, locking gazes with him. "I… please. Go to Denerim… to the palace. I am unconvinced that Ferelden politics are any gentler than Orzammar's… or than in Antiva."

He looked at her carefully. "Corazon… you do not mean to tell me that even now, you still love the man?"

Risa flushed a little. "That's not the reason, Zev. This country is still recovering from the Blight and the civil war, and it would not do to have it collapse should its new ruler meet an unfortunate end."

He nodded. "Very reasonable. But you do still love him."

"Irrelevant. He does NOT love me."

He shook his head. "I will go to the palace. I assume you want me to watch over him? But he does not – never did – like or trust me."

"Go to Anora. She knows who you are, and what you can do for them. I think she'd rather like to have you in charge of guarding her and Alistair."

He quirked a smile at her. "Most people, knowing who I am, are not so trusting of their life with me."

"And yet I not only trust you with my life, but also with those I… care for."

He nodded. "Ok, ok. To Denerim, then."

Risa threw her arms around him and raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him. "Be safe, Zevran. Don't make me come and kick your ass for getting yourself killed."

"If it means that you will cry for me and press my devastatingly handsome face against your charming bosom as you rail against the Maker for taking me too soon… it is not much of an incentive to good behavior, yes?" He leaned down and kissed her, gently and thoroughly, before he leaped into the saddle and spurred his horse away from Vigil's Keep.

Risa watched him until she could no longer see him on the road, and then with a sigh and a shake of her head, she trudged back to the keep.


Then, Anders thought, there was the matter of Risa and Nathaniel training the pages in archery together. That put them together for hours each day, and Maker knew they seemed always to be touching each other…. Nathaniel correcting her stance, Risa sweeping a hand down his back to show students the proper alignment of his spine, the better to demonstrate to the pages how THEY should be standing.

Were Nathaniel and the Commander…..

Well, THAT would be highly improper. And annoying! After all, all of his attempts to sweep the Commander off her feet were largely unsuccessful. He knew she liked him well enough – she'd faced Templars and killed them for him – but it seemed she was not interested in Anders' spicy shimmy, so to speak.

So was it Nathaniel's Broody Bowman's Body that captured her affection?


Risa stood behind some of the pages on the archery range, walking up and down the line behind them. "You never aim that weapon at draw at another living being unless you are going to shoot them," she said firmly. "Not to threaten. Not to warn. You do not pull that string back unless you are going to loose."

She started on one end of the line, Nathaniel Howe on the other. They corrected stances, checked bowstrings, and got the pages facing the targets.

"Archers at the ready!" She called. They all got their bows pointed at the ground, strings slack, just as Risa and Nate had told them. She glanced towards the targets, saw that no one was anywhere near them. "Clear downrange!" she called. She looked back toward the pages. "Nock!" she called, and the pages fumbled arrows onto the strings. Another glance downrange. "Draw!" As one, the pages lifted their bows, aimed at the targets, and pulled the strings back as far as their cheeks. "LOOSE!"

A dozen arrows leaped from the string. Three hit their targets.

She and Nate moved down the line again, stepping behind pages, nudging their feet into proper position, turning their torsos more in line with the target, and then going through the whole thing again.

And again.

And again.

Then she stood and aimed at the targets, letting Nathaniel point out what was proper about her stance – and even correcting it, aiming her more squarely toward the target, nudging one of her feet into place with his own. After she fired and hit a bullseye, they traded places – with Risa pointing out Nathaniel's positioning of his feet and how his torso was straight with a sweep of her hand down his spine and his trailing leg.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

"Commander, they're not all hopeless," Nathaniel was telling her later. "They've only just started."

"True," she said. "I have an ulterior motive in training them as archers."

"If any trouble starts, you want them behind the walls." He nodded. "Sound idea. Now, I've seen you shoot, Commander – you're normally MUCH better than this. In fact, as I recall you were firing on the run when we rescued Sigrun." Nathaniel was saying.

"You're the much better archer than I, though," Risa said. "I was mad clear through – not sure I hit as often as I should. You, you're a cold, efficient sniper with that bow of yours. I don't mind playing down my skills so you can show the pages the proper way to do your magic."

Nathaniel smiled. "Well," he said, "it does help that you're of a size with most of the pages…."

"I suppose," she said. "So, pose me if that will help them improve." She grinned. "It's not as if I find it a terrible imposition to have a rugged noble stroking my… ego."


The only one Anders was sure Risa could not be interested in was her second, Loghain. The man had to be more than twice her age! Although the two were often deep in serious conversation, he'd never seen either so much as give each other a meaningful look, never mind touch unless it was absolutely necessary. Oghren had been right – whatever was between those two was strictly on a professional level.