Bed.

Bed now.

It was an hour or so before sunset when the Grey Wardens returned from their latest excursion in the city of Amaranthine. Smugglers were once again trying to establish a foothold within the city, making not so subtle threats toward the Merchants Guild. Mervis had grown a bit of a spine since Ainslee had first met him and was working with the city guard to keep trade above board. Still, the Wardens and the city guard needed to get involved to remind those who would attempt to restart smuggling exactly who was in charge.

More distressing to Ainslee, however, were the rumors regarding certain nobles longing to remove her as arlessa, permanently. At first, she was willing to dismiss it as mostly talk among them while still being cautious. Over the past few months, it had been a rumor here or an overheard conversation there, but recent events had changed her mind.

Set Tamra had turned up in a ditch with her throat slashed.

Garevel had put guards on the case with the Wardens lending support. They had spent part of the day searching for the prime suspect before setting out for the Vigil; Ser Temmerly the Ox was pinned down with two of his men in one of the abandoned shacks just outside the city walls. Ainslee wanted to be sure her face was seen in the investigation; she would show them that she wasn't intimidated, and the bodies of three of Temmerly's minions who had resisted arrest were a testament to that. Still, the work was exhausting, and between conspiracies, smuggling, darkspawn, and demons—that pride demon in the Blackmarsh, how could she forget that?—she was ready to crawl into bed and stay there for a week. At least.

Right now, though, she'd settle for a meal.

As she entered the main hall, she saw that a fire had been built at the far end where a small sitting area had been set aside near several large bookshelves. The fire looked warm and inviting, and it was a much shorter distance to one of the large, overstuffed chairs than it would be to her quarters across the Vigil. She undid the straps holding her pauldrons in place as she made a beeline toward the chair. Just a short rest there.

A figure stood from one of the chairs as she approached, their face in shadow as they were backlit by the fire. From the figure, Ainslee could tell that it was Varel and a tired smile crossed her face.

"Were you waiting long?"

He set the book aside that he had been holding in his hand, then tugged his tunic into place. "The bird from Amaranthine said you and the others had left early this morning. I had hoped you'd be back today." He stepped forward and helped Ainslee with the stubborn buckle at the side of her breastplate, and she smiled at him in thanks.

Varel pulled the leather straps free of their buckles. "The message on the bird was short, but you have news on the conspiracy?"

"Ser Tamra was found with her throat slashed," Ainslee said with a sigh. "Ser Temmerly the Ox is the suspect, as he and several of his lackeys were spotted near the scene with blood on them. A handful of them attacked us."

"And they are?"

"Dead. There was no reasoning with them. Garevel's men have the last of them pinned down; he insisted that we ride for the Vigil." She sighed with relief as the last of her armor had been removed from her upper body and set on the floor next to one of the chairs. With an exaggerated sigh, she plopped down into the nearest chair, but didn't throw her leg over the side as it was still armored; no sense in tearing holes in the fabric.

She looked up at Varel and saw a deep frown on his face. "There's a part of me that wished—foolishly, probably—that my deeds at the Battle of Denerim would garner more support from these vassals. That maybe the goodwill would have lasted a little longer." She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands for a moment. "Bah, I'm an idealistic fool."

Varel sat in the chair across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. "There will always be people that feel that they deserve more, and they'll try to take advantage of any power vacuum. Some hitched their wagons to the old arl, hoping that any power that came to him would trickle down to them. Perhaps they're jealous of the Cousland girl who was raised as the daughter of a teyrn, never meant to rule in her own stead. Now, she's the arlessa of an arling that was given to the Grey Wardens and not one of their own. Maybe they feel the Couslands are too powerful now."

"Do you think that way?"

"Not at all," he said. "You have the support of your Wardens, many of your vassals… and me."

She pulled her head up from her hands and saw a warm smile on his face, one she couldn't help but return. "I cannot express enough how much that means to me."

"You have my support… now, and always."

"Hey, Ainslee," a voice called out from across the hall. Ainslee leaned over to the side and saw Oghren in the doorway leading to the small dining area that the Wardens used when there were no guests at the Vigil. "Get over here. Sparkle-fingers just claimed that he could drink me under the table. I'm going to prove his manskirt wearing ass wrong, and you need to watch so you can verify it tomorrow."

Ainslee watched Varel roll his eyes and hold out a hand; she grabbed it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Try to keep the broken cups to a minimum," he said with a grin.

"It's Oghren," Ainslee scoffed. "I'll do my best."

With her stomach both full with dinner and sore from laughing at Anders' and Oghren's contest, Ainslee found her way to the sitting room attached to her bedchamber. Anders had put up a valiant fight, going cup to cup with Oghren for what seemed like a half dozen before he suddenly ran from the table and out of the room.

"If I haven't told him once," Oghren had said, with slurred words and a shaky finger pointing into the air in front of his face, "I told him a hundred times, don't play with fire 'less you wanna get burned." He belched loudly as he had finished, then caught what Ainslee thought was a retch. That was her cue to bid the Wardens good night and head for her chambers. Cleaning up vomit wasn't part of her duties as Warden Commander.

As she entered the door to her quarters, a soft orange glow from the fireplace and wall lanterns brightened the space, lending a cozy feel to her sitting room. The fire was a little larger than she thought; one of the servants had likely been by earlier to set it for her. Her sword and armor had been brought to her quarters and set on its stand, wiped clean of the dirt and detritus. That was a job she hadn't been looking forward to upon her return to the Vigil; whoever had done that was going to get a bear hug from their Commander.

She stepped toward the overstuffed chair and small side table near the fire, her attention on the small items that had been left there. There was a carved wooden cup, a plate covered by a small cloth, and a book. Curious, she sat in the chair and examined each one. The cup was filled with a dark liquid; a sip revealed it to be mulled wine. The cloth hid a small piece of honey cake and a fork which she eagerly used to take a bite of the cake. As she chewed, she picked up the last items on the table, a book and a folded piece of paper on top. The book—Darktown's Deal, by an up-and-coming author named Varric Tethras—looked fairly new, with only a small amount of creasing along the spine. She set the book aside and opened the folded piece of paper.

Simple pleasures can often soothe one's soul. Enjoy - V

Her heart seemed to skip a beat and a smile spread across Ainslee's face as she folded the paper. It was a touching gesture, one that made her throat tighten slightly and her eyes mist. Setting the paper to the side, she spent a few moments finishing the wine and honey cake while her thoughts danced in her head. When she was done, she picked up the book and note and moved into her bed chamber, where she changed into her long nightgown. The book was placed on the table next to her bed, the note tucked under her pillow.

Perhaps her dreams would be different tonight.

It had been an uneventful ranging mission around the Vigil. The group of Grey Wardens—Ainslee, Oghren, Anders, and Sigrun—had conducted a wide patrol around the perimeter of the fortress, far enough away for it to be a hike back if they had to make a beeline toward it, but close enough to have the fortress within sight. The weather had been sunny and pleasant, their sight unhindered by clouds or mist, and their darkspawn senses had remained silent. Perhaps the worst was behind them.

"How ya feeling today, Sparkle-fingers?" Oghren chuckled.

"Stop shouting," Anders said, wincing at the sun. Ainslee could see that, despite his rejuvenation spell, Anders was still feeling the effects of the previous evening's contest.

"That'll teach you not to play with fire."

Sigrun giggled. "But Anders is a mage… he's always playing with fire."

"You know what I meant, duster."

It was close to midday when the Wardens began their trek back toward the fortress, their chatter growing quiet as a hum in the distance grew louder as they approached the Vigil's walls. Ainslee felt her brow lower and her pace quicken as the hum became a discordant jumble of voices. As they rounded a corner and entered the gates of the Vigil, she saw several of the guards moving at a quick pace toward the main hall.

"What's going on?" she asked one of the guards stationed near the gate.

"A crowd of peasants pushed their way through here while you were on patrol, Commander. Guard Captain Garevel and Seneschal Varel are trying to talk them down, but the crowd is getting rowdy."

"Should I start busting heads?" Oghren asked.

"Not yet," Ainslee said, moving at a jog toward the crowd of people gathered at the steps to the main hall, her level of concern growing as she saw that many of them were armed. She gently made her way along the outskirts of the crowd, with some shouting louder as they spotted her while others drew weapons. Making her way up the steps, she stopped between Varel and Garevel and held her hands up to quiet the crowd. "What's going on here?"

"The darkspawn are near the city!"

"You can see the darkspawn from the city walls, but you send no one to protect us!"

"You have to protect us!"

"Things are quickly getting out of hand, Commander," Garevel said. "They all came as a group a short while ago. As you can see, they're armed."

Varel leaned in closer to Ainslee. "I recognize several of these people as acquaintances of Ser Temmerly the Ox and Lady Liza Packton. I fear the conspirators are behind this. If these people rose up on their own, I'll eat the leather from my boots. Speak to them, see if you can get them to listen to reason."

"You don't coddle revolts, you put them down," Garevel growled, but acquiesced.

Ainslee turned toward Varel. "What makes you think the conspirators are behind it?"

Varel jerked a thumb behind him. "You've got visitors."

"Well, shit." Ainslee stepped forward, placing two of her fingers in her mouth and giving a loud whistle. The shouting ebbed, but a low rumble of voices continued. "Everyone, we need to stand together…"

"Bullshit! You're supposed to protect us!"

"Shut up and let the Commander speak!"

"I will protect you and yours," Ainslee said, her gaze meeting the eyes of a number of the people. "If the Vigil falls, the city will be less safe. If you turn on our soldiers, you'll be less safe. We've—"

The de facto leader of the group stepped forward, a short sword in his hand. "Your words are empty! We have to take the Keep and order the soldiers to protect us!"

"You do that," Ainslee said, "and you'll endanger us all! Spill blood here today, and it won't stop until the darkspawn win."

"No," several people said to the leader, sheathing their weapons. "What the Commander said makes sense. She knows the darkspawn. We're going home." They turned and made for the gates.

"Wait," the leader called out as he followed the dispersing people. "We need to take the Keep… so we can protect ourselves…" His words faded as he realized that there would be no riot today. With a withering glance toward Ainslee, he stomped off.

"Well done, Commander," Garevel said, sheathing his sword. "I'll order my men to stand down."

Ainslee looked to Varel, who nodded. "Truly well done."

She felt her face flush and a smile crossed her face. It seemed to please him, as he smiled along with her for a moment before his face became stern once more. "Before this rabble started, several of the nobles were here waiting for you in the hall. Shall we see what they want?"

"I think we may already know the answer," Ainslee said, leading the way into the hall. At first, it appeared to be nearly empty, with just a couple of men looking at the pictures that hung on the wall. As Ainslee, Varel, and Garevel stepped in, Bann Esmerelle emerged from around one of the pillars that held up the vaulted ceiling. Further in, Ainslee watched as Lord Guy, Lady Morag, Lady Liza Packton, and a handful others also appeared.

Armed and armored.

"Bann Esmerelle," Ainslee said. "I suppose you don't have any idea why there were a rabble of peasants outside my door, demanding protection, do you?"

"They just wanted protection like the good Arl had provided… the Arl that you murdered."

Ainslee took a step forward. "And I'd do it again."

Esmerelle drew her weapon. "Rendon Howe was good to us… good to me. I will avenge him."

Ainslee felt herself shoved from behind, where she nearly lost her balance in an effort to stay on her feet. There was a quick twang and hiss from behind one of the pillars, followed by the whistle of a projectile flying past her. Ainslee turned back toward where she had been standing and saw a long crossbow bolt loosely penetrating the breastplate of Varel's armor. Before he could remove it, a second bolt suddenly appeared in his wrist, penetrating all the way through the flesh so that the tip appeared on the other side. He stumbled and groaned before falling to the floor.

"Varel!"

"Commander! Behind you!"

Ainslee whirled about and dodged away from Esmerelle's sword as it swung down in an attempt to strike her. As the Bann prepared to swing again, Ainslee pulled her sword and shield. "You miss Rendon Howe so much… prepare to join him."

"Not even a fair fight… for the blighters, anyway."

"'Oooh, my name is Bann Esmerelle and I'll never bear arms against you.' Blah, blah, blah."

Ainslee heard Oghren, Sigrun, and Anders move about the fallen attackers. A few well placed cones of cold by Anders had allowed Oghren to smash the frozen attackers to frozen pulp, while Sigrun had moved amongst the shadows, where she stabbed and slashed the attackers almost at will. Oghren was right—despite their numbers, it was hardly a fair fight against the Grey Wardens.

There was, however, a more immediate matter. She looked into the eyes of Bann Esmerelle, who was impaled on Ainslee's sword, her mouth moving silently as her bugged out eyes stared down at the weapon. Blood trickled from her mouth to land on the metal.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Esmerelle," Ainslee said, bringing her forearm up to rest it against the bann's chest. "Don't you just hate it when you misplace a sword by putting it into a traitor's stomach? Such a shame." Ainslee shoved Esmerelle backward, the sword pulling out of the flesh as the bann fell backward onto the floor, where she writhed weakly and held her arms over the wound in an effort to keep what was inside her body where it belonged.

Varel!

Ainslee whirled around, looking for Varel. Garevel had pulled him up against one of the pillars in the hall, where Varel stood with his back against it. She ran to his side, dropping her sword and shield as she reached him. His wrist was impaled by the arrow and bleeding freely.

"Come on," she said, gently placing her hand on the injured arm, "we need to get the bleeding stopped."

"He'll be fine, Commander," Garevel said.

"I'll see to it," Ainslee said. "That damn riot was a cover for this… easy to blame a riot for the Warden Commander's body being found with a bunch of dead rioters."

"I've failed you," Garevel said. "It won't happen again. My most trusted men will get this cleaned up and keep Esmerelle and her lackeys' involvement quiet."

"No need… for panic…" Varel agreed, groaning as his arm moved slightly. Ainslee nodded at the Wardens, then moved Varel through the hall to a small infirmary near the kitchen. Once there, she gently removed his gauntlet and gasped at the amount of blood that had soaked through his shirt and pooled onto the metal.

"It's just a scratch," Varel said. When Ainslee met his gaze, he gave her a wink. "Truly, it looks worse than it really is."

An examination of the bolt found a crack in the wood near the arrowhead. She positioned Varel's forearm such that the cracked shaft and arrowhead rested over the edge of the table that held the bandages and healing herbs. She grabbed a cleaning brush from nearby and used it to put pressure on the crack, which gave way and sent the arrowhead clattering to the floor. The sound almost covered the grunt of pain as she carefully drew the bolt back through the hole.

"I'm so sorry," Ainslee said, her throat feeling tight. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," he said, his voice soft in the space between them. He grabbed a bandage from a small alcove above the table and pressed it to the wound as she mixed several herbs in a pestle, ground them with the mortar, then added a dash of honey to it before applying them to a cloth and pressing it to Varel's wrist.

"I didn't know you were an herbalist."

She chuckled slightly. "I'm really not. Wynne from the Circle taught me a little during the Blight. I only picked up a fraction of it. Let's have a real herbalist look at it later." She slowly wound the ends of the cloth around Varel's wrist, knotting it and tucking the ends under a layer of cloth. Her fingers brushed his skin, reluctant to let go. She looked up and saw him looking at her, a tender smile on his face.

"Thank you."

She nodded slightly, then gently intertwined her fingers with his. His face blurred slightly and a lump formed in her throat. "Don't jump in front of crossbow bolts again… please."

He reached up—slowly, gently—and brushed one of the tears off her face. "I would gladly do it again to keep you safe, Commander."

"Ainslee," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "Please."

He smiled. "Ainslee," he said, the softness of his voice sending a spark through her.