"Warden Commander, we're nearly there."

Ainslee Cousland nodded to the Grey Warden recruit beside her as they rounded a bend that led to the Grey Wardens' new home of Vigil's Keep. It seemed smaller than she remembered; memories of a place seen as a child were always larger in the mind's eye. It had been years since she had been here, the one time her father had brought his family to Amaranthine for some celebration or other. Ainslee remembered seeing the Howe family and several other nobles gathered in the yard, showing fealty to their liege lord.

Howe. Ainslee fought the urge to growl audibly as she clenched her fists, the leather palms of her gauntlets groaning in response. The reaction would no doubt give her traveling companion pause, and the less Ainslee thought about the Howes, the better. Rendon Howe was dead thanks to her blade, their lands and fortunes forfeit. That was what she needed to remember.

The decision to walk from where the road leading to the fortress broke off from the Pilgrim's Path had been a good one, Ainslee thought. The days on horseback from Denerim had made her legs and backside stiff and sore; she had spent too much time in Denerim of late, between recuperating after what was being called "The Battle of Denerim" to watching the small, intimate wedding ceremony between Anora and Alistair before their larger spectacle in front of the kingdom…

No, best not to go down that road too far. She was still trying to put the pieces of her broken heart together; Alistair's anger and coldness toward her were both helpful and devastating. Distance between them would help her close that chapter of her life, Ainslee was sure of it.

"Warden Commander?"

With a shake of her head, Ainslee brought herself out of her reverie as she turned her attention to the young soldier next to her—Mahri, she had said her name was—sent by the seneschal to escort her to Vigil's Keep. The blonde braid that fell down her back caught slightly on the edge of the armor covering her shoulders; she'd have to get that cut soon, or the ends would be a shaggy, ragged mess. "I'm sorry, I was lost in thought." Ainslee saw the furrowed brow on Mahri's face and felt her own lower in return. "What is it?"

"I expected a welcoming party for us," she said, motioning toward the fortress ahead with a gesture of her hand. "I think something is wrong."

The sound of snarling, gnashing teeth from within the fortress wall, followed by the screams of terror from a fleeing man, caused both women to quickly turn their heads toward the furor.

"Well, there's your answer," Ainslee said, pulling her sword and shield ahead of her as Mahri readied her own weapon. "I'm ready to spill some darkspawn blood, how 'bout you?"

"Darkspawn?" Mahri gasped, her eyes wide as several stocky genlocks approached.

"Nothing gets the blood flowing like battling darkspawn," Ainslee said, rushing forward to greet the approaching creature. "Especially their blood!"

"Well, I'll be a nug's uncle. That blighter down below was right; a talking darkspawn."

Crouched down behind several crates on the fortress battlements, Ainslee turned to look at her friend Oghren. So, this is where he disappeared to; leave it to him to sniff out the darkspawn. "Always thought they were too stupid for speech," he added.

The four of them were crouched behind a large crossbow mounted to the floor of the battlements that circled the main fortress. Darkspawn had been raining crossbow bolts down upon them as they had approached, and the bodies that had been impaled on the spikes at the bottom of the wall also indicated that they had been along the battlements until Ainslee and her companions had put a stop to it. From between the wooden beams of the crossbow, they could see several hurlocks surrounding prisoners that had been forced to their knees, and one larger, more ornately armored darkspawn that appeared to be the leader. Ainslee couldn't make out what the raspy voice was saying, but it appeared to be speaking to the frightened prisoners.

"I'll believe it when I see it," the mage, Anders, whispered. Ainslee nodded and chewed her bottom lip slightly. Encountering Anders down below had been a blessing; whether or not he was the wanted fugitive as he claimed could be debated later. At this point, beggars couldn't be choosers.

"I thought I had seen it all," Ainslee said. "Definitely wasn't anticipating talking darkspawn—"

She then gasped as the large, hurlock like creature picked up one of the prisoners by the neck, the man's feet barely touching the ground as his fingers scrabbled against the hurlock's grip in a desperate attempt to free himself. Before she could react, the hurlock threw the man over the edge, where the screams abruptly ended with a crunching thud from below.

"Move," Ainslee ordered. "Quickly. Quietly." She crept forward with her sword and shield in front of her. As they approached, the hurlock turned back toward the last human being held on his knees with another hurlock's sword at his throat.

"Be taking this one gently," the darkspawn said, "we wish no more death than necessary."

The prisoner spat at the darkspawn. "Necessary?" As if your kind has done anything else but bring death."

Ainslee took a few more steps closer, hugging the wall of the fortress and keeping as low as possible. She placed herself behind the larger hurlock, using his body to block her movements from the other hurlock holding the human prisoner. With luck, she could distract them before they killed him.

"You are thinking that you know our kind, human? You do not, but that will soon be changed."

"Then kill me if you must, creature," the prisoner said, his eyes flicking toward Ainslee as he noticed her movement. "Others will come; they will stop you."

The hurlock must have seen his gesture, as it turned and watched Ainslee and the others approach. "Your words be true, human. As you were guessing."

"Holy shit!" Anders exclaimed as he began to prepare a spell. "It does talk!"

Oghren lowered the front shield of his helmet over his face and spun his great axe in his hand. "Then let's shut that blighter up."

Ainslee brought her shield up and pointed her sword at the hurlocks. "Couldn't agree more."

"Capture the Grey Warden. The others, kill them." The talking darkspawn motioned toward an area around the corner of the fortress, and two more genlocks appeared. The hurlock holding the human prisoner struck out at him with his armored forearm, the metal hitting the prisoner's skull with a dull thud. The man's eyes rolled back and showed the whites for a moment before he slumped to the ground. "The Withered calls you to fight!"

"Come get some," Ainslee growled.

"He's alive, Warden Commander!"

Ainslee placed a foot on the chest of the dead hurlock at her feet, yanking her blade free. She quickly sheathed it and replaced her shield on her back as she ran over to where Anders knelt beside the injured man, an aura of blue light flowing between them. Ainslee watched as the man's eyes fluttered before slowly opening. His gaze seemed to be far away for a moment before focusing on Anders.

"Welcome back," the mage said.

"Help me up."

Anders laid a gentle hand on the man's chest. "Whoa, not so fast. That hurlock rang your bell pretty good. You'll probably be dizzy and sick to your stomach for a bit, so take it slow."

"Duly noted," the man said, allowing Anders to help him to a sitting position, where he groaned and rubbed the knot on his head. They paused for a moment before he nodded and Anders pulled him to his feet. Ainslee thought he might topple over, but he held his ground and turned his attention to her.

"Warden Commander, my name is Varel. I am the seneschal of Vigil's Keep and most grateful for your timely rescue," he said, holding out his hand; she gripped his forearm and gave it a shake. Varel carried a large sword on his back and wore silverite chain mail that was nearly the same shade of silver as his collar length hair and the stubble that dotted his face. His voice was gravelly, but not unpleasant, and lent an air of calm wisdom to his words. His brown eyes were far lighter than her own dark ones, with small lines in the skin around them.

"Ainslee Cousland. What happened here?"

"The darkspawn decided to pay us a visit," Varel said, motioning out toward the courtyard of Vigil's Keep. Ainslee followed his motion and saw the bodies that dotted the ground—darkspawn, Grey Wardens, and the people who lived and worked for them. "There are survivors hidden away in some of the outbuildings, but the Grey Wardens from Orlais… either dead or missing."

"Well, shit," Ainslee said, gently rubbing her forehead with the leather palm of her gauntlet. "That's likely to cause some trouble."

"Unfortunately, that's a possibility. The Empress of Orlais wasn't pleased when her Grey Wardens were stopped at the border during the Blight," Varel said. He looked out beyond the outer walls of the fortress, his eyes squinting. "We'll have to speak more on that later, Commander. It appears that we have guests approaching. With luck, they'll be more hospitable than our previous guests."

"Guests?" She looked out toward the main gate and saw a small group of figures approaching. A majority of them were dressed in heavy armor, the silver glinting in the sunlight that managed to break through the clouds overhead. The figure at the head of the group also wore heavy armor, mostly silver but with bits of gold in the chestplate and pauldrons.

She knew that walk.

"Hey! Chantry Boy!"

Ainslee turned to see Oghren bellowing toward the approaching group, his arm waving madly above him. The golden armored figure looked in their direction before lifting a hand in greeting.

Ainslee's blood grew cold in her veins.

The ground was soft under Ainslee's knee as she knelt down between Varel and Anders, her eyes focused on the armored foot in front of her. Maybe if I don't look him in the eye, he won't be real.

"Warden Commander Cousland. Rise."

Shit.

She stood and looked into the eyes of the King. They were cold, angry eyes… much the same as they had appeared when she last saw them in Denerim. She steeled herself. "King Alistair."

"Well, it looks like we arrived a bit too late to be much help. That's too bad; I really enjoyed the darkspawn killing thing. Who'd have thought I would have enjoyed that rather than being King?" He broke eye contact with her and looked toward Varel. "What's the situation here?"

Ainslee ground her teeth together and clenched her fists. He just couldn't stop twisting the knife, could he?

"King Alistair, I'm Seneschal Varel. What darkspawn remained have fled, however the Grey Wardens from Orlais are either dead or missing. We will see to the survivors here and inform you if we have located any of the Wardens."

"Well, at least you have the Hero of Ferelden here, so that's something, eh?" Alistair returned his gaze to Ainslee. "A word?"

Ainslee looked toward where Varel and Anders stood nearby. Varel raised a brow as if to ask a silent question, but she simply shook her head and motioned off to the side. "After you, Your Majejsty."

As they stepped away, Ainslee heard one of Alistair's soldiers speaking to Varel about "a dangerous criminal," but brought her attention to Alistair as he stopped and turned to face her.

"Don't you want to hear about my blushing bride? About how my job at being King is going?"

Ainslee sighed. "Are we going to go through this, again? As I said before, it had to be done to keep the kingdom united."

"To solidify Anora's position on the throne with a Theirin, you mean."

"I know you didn't want to be the King; you don't know the first thing about being a ruler, but she does. As I recall, you were quick to make me the 'leader' when Duncan recruited me."

Alistair pointed off into the distance, presumably in the direction of Denerim. "You condemned me to life with her instead of you! Didn't you even think about my feelings?"

"Of course I did, don't be an ass! I wanted to be with you, but Anora wasn't going to be second to a mistress and I wasn't ready to be a mistress. It was part of the deal—"

He crossed his arms over his chest, the metal on metal contact making a small thud. "Oh, a deal? Like haggling for a nice side of beef at a butcher."

"And it broke my heart to do it. You're the King now; you have duties, including producing an heir—"

"Ugh," he said with disgust.

"It's best that we focus on our duties now. Our time together is over."

"You're right," Alistair said, his voice hard. "It is. Goodbye, Warden Commander." He turned on his heel and returned to his soldiers. Ainslee turned and moved off toward what she hoped was the main hall of Vigil's Keep, Alistair's voice fading into the distance behind her.

"I'd really like to help fight the darkspawn, Seneschal Varel, but you're on your own for the time being. You've got the Hero of Ferelden with you, so if there's nothing else, I'll be taking my leave..."

The Vigil's dining hall was blissfully empty as Ainslee entered, tankard in one hand and bottle of ale in the other. She had a simple goal for the evening: get drunk. Not only had Alistair once again twisted a knife in her heart and gut, but Mahri hadn't survived her joining. She had been so eager to be a Grey Warden…

Ainslee flopped down into the chair at the head of the table—her chair, as the Warden Commander—and filled her tankard to the point where the ale threatened to slosh over the side. She leaned forward and slurped up the nearly overflowing ale, the coolness of it soothing her dry mouth. "You're not getting away from me. No spills. Won't get drunk that way."

Footsteps echoed in the doorway as she swallowed a large mouthful of the liquid. The steps paused, then began to approach. She sighed heavily, not wanting to be the Warden Commander at the moment. She had other priorities.

"Commander?" The gravelly voice sounded wary as it spoke.

"Seneschal Varel," she said, taking another drink of the ale. "Something wrong?"

"No, Commander. I… wanted to see if everything was all right. You seemed… troubled… at the King's presence."

She motioned to a seat to her left as she twisted in her own and threw a leg over the arm of the chair. "We have… history."

Varel sat in the chair and rested his forearms on the tabletop. He had removed his chain mail and wore a simple tunic and trousers, revealing a body that was much more lithe than Ainslee had thought; armor always seemed to make people appear larger than they were.

She motioned to the bottle of ale. "I don't have a second tankard, but you're welcome to join me."

He shook his head. "I would normally accept, but that darkspawn did a number on my head. Best that I pass tonight."

"Fair enough," Ainslee said, taking another draw. "So, how long have you been the seneschal here?"

"This is my second appointment as seneschal," Varel said as he knotted his fingers together on top of the table. "I was appointed by the Orlesian Grey Wardens when they arrived."

"And the first time?"

Varel paused for a moment, his expression slightly pinched. "I was seneschal to Arl Howe for a time."

Ainslee felt her brow furrow as she took another drink of ale. "Hmph. You served Rendon Howe? You do know what that bastard did to my family?"

"I do."

She leveled a finger at him. "So, why should I have you as my seneschal for one second more? How can I trust that you don't have the same ambitions as Rendon Howe now that he's gone? In fact, why shouldn't I just run you through with my sword?"

Varel raised a brow as he looked at her. "Arl Howe and I… didn't see eye to eye on most things. I was demoted."

"For what?"

"For telling him things he didn't want to hear, like the truth. For objecting to his orders."

"What orders?"

Varel sat back in his chair, a hand rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Arl Howe had spies throughout Ferelden, watching his enemies as well as making sure his vassals were loyal to him. He had plotted assassinations of his enemies, both real and perceived, for some time and I had objected, pointing out that his own liege lords—your father or King Cailan, for example—would not take kindly to brazen power plays. He also wanted to raise taxes on his vassals in order to pay for his spies. I objected one too many times and found myself demoted. Escort duty; I suspect it was to remove me from Arl Howe's sight."

"Were you seneschal when he attacked Highever?"

Varel shook his head. "No, I wasn't. I was escorting Bann Esmerelle back to her estate in Amaranthine. I heard about it when I returned to the Vigil." He reached forward and touched her hand lightly. "I am truly sorry for what happened to you and yours."

"Thank you." She fought back tears as she took several large mouthfuls of ale from her tankard. "What else?"

"His spies later found out that your brother was alive and with the Chasind. He ordered me, through his new seneschal, to pay the assassins that were meant for your brother." He looked at her with a raised brow. "Sadly," he said, his voice taking on an acerbic tone, "we were ambushed on the road between the Vigil and the crossroads where we were to meet them. It was a shame, really, that all that gold that went missing."

Ainslee's brow lifted. "Where did that gold really go?"

Varel shrugged. "To the people. To those that suffered under Howe's taxes and tariffs. To those that had to flee so that they could start a new life elsewhere. Eventually, Howe stopped sending me on escort duty."

He paused for a moment before speaking again. "This arling—no, the world—is a better place without Rendon Howe in it. I bear no loyalty to him or what he stood for. Allow me to prove this to you. My only ambition is to see this arling and the Grey Wardens—and you—succeed. My heart belongs to Amaranthine and I wish to see it rise above Rendon Howe's legacy."

"Well, words are nothing but wind, as my father would say." She leaned forward, looking Varel deep in his eyes. "Show me."

This short story was written for the annual Secret Santa exchange for the "Still Cheeky Monkeys of DA" fan group. This was written for Kira Tamarion, who likes characters with "a bit of snow on the chimney." I saw Varel's name on the list and the idea for this story popped into my head. I had so much fun delving into Varel's head!

Huge thanks to my awesome beta, Suliven, who beat this about with her big beta stick. You rock!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!