xXXXx

The noon bell sounded and Gwen's eyes popped open. "Damn! The meeting!"

Shuffling down the stone steps, she ran her hands through her hair and tugged her clothing back into place. Her grey cloak was clasped around her shoulders and she donned the hood as she slipped into the main hall.

As she pulled at the door leading to the Josephine's office, she noticed the absence of her Ambassador and irritation itched at her.

The meeting was already under way and she cursed under her breath as she ran to the great double doors, throwing the wicket gate open with zeal.

Skidding to a stop, she looked around the room as every face turned to greet her. Slowly, she slid the cloak from her shoulders, simultaneously remembering that she'd had a revitalizing make-over that morning. Cursing under her breath at her fashionable tardiness, she caught stares and smiles from around the room.

Vivienne dipped her chin, looking positively delighted.

Cole gave her a simple, strange, and knowing smile.

Cullen stood frozen, his eyes fixed on her, a faint smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

Solas smirked and cocked his head in appraisal.

Josephine beamed and clasped her hands together.

Cassandra's smiled as her eyes wandered to the Grey Warden to gauge his reaction.

Alistair averted his eyes to the map atop the table, his brow furrowed in thought.

Leliana bowed her head with a slowly growing smile, until she grinned wickedly.

Varric chuckled lowly and wagged his eyebrows.

Hawke raised a single eyebrow, as a wide grin grew on his face.

"Tell me you haven't started without me." Breaking the moment, Gwen caught her breath through the words and her eyes scanned the room again.

"We would not dream of it." Leliana responded first, raising her eyebrows high.

Gwen turned with a jerk to her Spymaster and nodded politely, taking a deep breath. She took her usual place at the front of the table, easing into the empty chair placed there.

Glancing around with a sincere and professional smile, she asked in her clear, controlled, Inquisitor voice, "Shall we begin?"

The Spymaster nodded. "The 21st day of Cloudsreach in the year 9:41 Dragon, we begin the meeting to discuss the current affairs of the Inquisition." Leliana droned out, taking the minutes down as she spoke. "Josie, you may begin."

"Thank you, Leliana. Let us start with the introductions of our newest recruits." Josephine walked around the table to where Alistair sat and handed him the requisition form. "Many of you know this man already: he is the Grey Warden Alistair and one of those who ended the Fifth Blight."

Pointing to the document, she added. "And do we have a surname for you, Alistair?"

With a surprised stutter, he responded. "I—I prefer not to use it."

The Ambassador straightened her back and spoke again, her tone insistent. "Surely for the sake of clarity of our records you would provide it." The dark-haired woman nodded slowly expecting the Warden to speak at any moment, but the man stayed quiet as he signed the parchment, with his first name only, in slow, neat script.

It was Leliana who chimed in, relieving the pressure and the attention from her Warden friend. "Josie, allow me to take care of that document. I will ensure that it is complete."

Josephine gave a questioning look and handed the freshly signed parchment to the Spymaster. "Of course. See that it returns to the file with the other Requisitions after you are finished."

"Have no worries, my friend." Leliana placed the parchment into a folder and placed it on the table in front of her. She spared a glance to Alistair whose eyes thanked her as their attention drew again to the Ambassador.

"Many of you also know Adam Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall." Josephine swept her hand to him, laying the form in front of him on the table to sign.

Recovering from a wince, the rogue responded by leaning over the table to scribble an unintelligible name under his printed version.

Coldly he spoke to the group. "Call me Hawke. There are none left alive who call me by my given name." Pushing the paper harshly toward the Ambassador, the man's face was serious for once and his eyes downcast.

Ready to move forward with the meeting and sensing both of her new recruits' discomfort, Gwen spoke. "I doubt another welcome is necessary, but let me say this: thank you both for your most needed help in Crestwood. We certainly would not be here without you." Looking around, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas nodded with approval.

With the pleasantries out of the way, the Inquisitor began reading from an organized list of topics to discuss, the first being a brief update on her most recent adventures. She began a summary of events in Crestwood. The inner circle sat spaced around the table as well, every so often adding their opinions and input, as they saw fit.

After mentioning briefly that she had to use her minimal healing abilities, Gwen was interrupted by her fellow Circle mage. For not being involved in dealings outside of Skyhold, the Court Mage was quite assertive with her opinions.

"Ah, you see my dear, you should really have taken the one-on-one, healing classes with moi months ago." Vivienne's voice was coated with a saccharin reprimand. "At that point, you'd been collecting elfroot by the handfuls. To aid in the healing of torn tissues and the prevention of scarring, you masticate the elfroot, then apply the poultice to the dry wound."

She recited the line as if she'd had a textbook open in front of her. "After the wound stops bleeding, you flush the poultice from the tissues, and then proceed with the healing magic."

"Thank you, Vivienne." Gwen smiled pleasantly. "As Alistair and I were alone, I did what any field healer would do. After that episode, Solas continued to teach me more of the healing arts."

The elf interjected. "And I wish to continue to do so, Inquisitor. You're an apt student and have tremendous potential. You have a great deal yet to learn if we are to match Corypheus."

Vivienne's face dropped her charm. "The Inquisitor is to be trained by an apostate? That is as ridiculous as it is dangerous."

"As Inquisitor, it is my choice." Gwen grabbed her empty cup and stood up to stretch her legs. She walked to a side table along the wall, to pour herself another drink. Upon turning, she caught the bald elf's creased brow and thinned lips. Smiling at him with warmth, she spoke with confidence, "And I choose Solas as my teacher."

"None of you have anything to say?" The court mage snapped, attempting to draw the rest of the group into the argument.

Cassandra spoke, knowing her words had weight as a Seeker. "Solas has proven himself again and again. He continues to aid us with his knowledge of the Fade rifts, and Alistair would not be here if it was not for his quick actions in Crestwood. Apostate or no, he has demonstrated his reliability."

"Very well." Vivienne sat back, poised in her seat, with a forced smile plastered on her face. "If you should need any additional training, Inquisitor, I am here as always."

"Of course, Vivienne." Gwen placated the court mage and strolled over to the table again, checking her notes outlining the meeting. "Now, where was I?"

Josephine chimed in, excitedly. "You and Alistair were taking the correspondences to the nearest camp when you were attacked by the wolves. Do continue, Inquisitor, please."

.

A short time later, Leliana had moved the direction of the meeting to listing the happenings across the map, noting areas that required aid, and revealing the next big movements for the Inquisitor.

Leliana spoke in a loud clear voice. "After this morning's meeting, we, the Advisors, agree with the Inquisitor's recommendations and are sending her into the Western Approach. She'll be accompanied by Alistair and Hawke, as well as the others that the Inquisitor herself will hand select."

Gwen nodded at her Spymaster's words, adding her own to the tail-end. "I'll speak with those select few individually. Though, I'd prefer more of a force behind me, being so far from home. It would take weeks to secure troops if we need them and with the Peace Talks in two months, I don't want to spend more time there than necessary."

Cullen interjected, flashing a smile at her when he spoke. "At tomorrow's tactical meeting, we'll assess whether we're sending more soldiers with you. I agree with you; we don't want a repeat of Crestwood." His eyes glanced around the room, falling on Alistair and Hawke.

Josephine piped up. "The Inquisitor brings up another valid point: we will have little time once she returns from the Approach to prepare for the Peace Talks at the Winter Palace. I'd like to form a committee to train her upon her homecoming."

Gwen intoned, "Excellent idea. I'll need all the help I can get."

Through a light laugh, the Ambassador responded over the growing din of laughter and voices, "Then I shall start speaking to those who will be of help in training you immediately."

"I'd like to say I look forward to it, but..." Gwen chuckled, and again, the people in the room laughed along with her, beginning their own idle conversations that echoed into the open room.

After looking over her notes, the map, and the room full of tired eyes, Gwen breathed deep and gave a curt nod to Leliana.

The Bard broke the conversations with her authoritative tone. "Anything else to add before we adjourn?"

Heads shook across the room, and Cole had already managed to slip out undetected. Grateful for a chance to retreat from the spotlight—or perhaps Alistair—Gwen left the room in search of more miniature stanchions for the table.

Upon returning minutes later, she blessedly found herself alone.

.

The Inquisitor stayed behind in the War Room to familiarize herself with the new developments and potential errands to curry favor across the realm. She leaned over the enormous table to gather the stanchions together and placed them adjacent to a pile of small pieces of parchment, with notes on each.

Humming to herself, she flipped through the pile, reading over each, then placing several in front of her for further consideration. Unbeknownst to her, the wicket gate opened behind her and Alistair stalked in silently, pausing as he heard her speaking to herself.

"Missing Seekers for Cassandra, yes. Ostwick Nobles, no. More mages to take in? I'll have to speak with Fiona about that."

The woman tapped the table idly with her fingertips and moved through more of the papers, placing two more in front of her.

"A memorial for Haven, sure. Grey Warden treaties, maybe. I'll have to talk to Alistair or Blackwall. Oh, Maker. Darkspawn in the Storm Coast? Bull cleared that area over a month ago—"

"Darkspawn?" The Warden stood a few feet behind her now, startling a jump from her.

"For a warrior, you move with great stealth." An amused glare passed over her eyes and she turned slightly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hard not to be stealthy when I'm wearing such light-weight clothing." He chanced a small grin, then dropped his expression and his eyes to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for another tense conversation. Attempting to keep it professional, she began, "And yes, we encounter pockets of darkspawn occasionally, though they remain largely out of sight. I wonder why they would start appearing so soon after we left the Coast. Is that typical?"

He took a place next to her and leaned over to look at the map, proving his authority on a well-known subject. "The stragglers aren't as organized as people think. They crop up in places where the Deep Roads passages crumble or the dwarven barriers break. Perhaps your Qunari weakened the area's natural defenses."

Gwen nodded in understanding, adding her own information. "According to the reports, there was a Dragon there and a giant if my memory serves me. Both were eradicated by Iron Bull's team."

"There you have it." The man dropped his eyes to the map, studying its surface with feigned interest.

"Are you here only to offer your Grey Warden expertise or is there... something you needed?" A timid smile played on her lips and her eyes watched his as they returned quickly to her face.

The Warden turned and casually leaned his backside on the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "I... just came to talk." His words were quick and cryptic, his face forced into an emotionless expression.

Gwen stood tall, and saw through his numbness. "What about, exactly?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "Fine. I want to apologize about this morning."

She turned back toward the war table and fumbled with the stanchions. "I accept it, and offer my own, of course."

"Oh, very convincing, Gwen." His hand flew into the air dramatically as he sighed, "I don't want our relationship reduced to this guarded professionalism. I actually liked being friends with you."

"I agree with you." She said succinctly, purposefully not meeting his eye. "Though, I think I'd still like time to clear my head."

"Maker's breath, how long will you need? Hours?" The man groaned lowly. "Days?"

Gwen met his appraising eyes immediately, her face etched with criticism. "As long as it takes."

Alistair blurted out, scoffing at her, "If it takes days to clear your head, it's way too, um, full."

Her voice rose in irritation. "With what do you imagine it's filled with exactly?"

Abashed, he responded quietly, "Besides the business of the Inquisition and personal, uh, matters? All sorts of reasonable things, I'd wager."

Huffing lightly, she returned to face the table with quill in hand, focusing on the tasks laid out.

He raised an eyebrow, his prowess returning. "Perhaps there's a place in your mind where you could forgive a man whose been an insensitive arse."

Refusing to make eye contact, Gwen pretended to work, though her face softened. "There may be such a place."

He chanced to scoot closer, pursing his full lips in remorse. "Could there be a space in there where a friendship near its inception can survive my colossal buffoonery?"

An ache in her chest made her wince and stop the farce of working while the man beside her apologized in his own, lopsided, yet endearing way. She knew then that it would be some time before she could think of him as nothing more than a friend; he was too damn charming.

It was with that notion that she turned and put on her best show. One that would hopefully fool the fool standing in front of her. The fool she had begun to have feelings for, and the one who would continue to torment her conscience until they had to part ways in the weeks to come. If he wanted to keep their friendship intact, she couldn't deny him that, nor could she deny herself the same pleasure.

Smiling at his words, she leaned back on the table to sit next to him. "Such a place exists."

"Thank the Maker," He breathed out forcefully. "It was exhausting trying to be so clever."

Her laugh echoed off the high ceiling and a wide smile laid on her lips. "It was very entertaining; thank you for the show."

With some reservation, the Warden resumed his jovial way of speaking. "That's what I'm here for: to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners."

"So it seems." Gwen chuckled, tilting her head at him.

"Now that we're on friendly terms again, what do you say to getting out of here? I think you promised to give me a tour last night."

The smile faded from her lips. "I'm sorry. I want to give my advisors these recommendations before the day is done. It's one less thing I have to do tomorrow." The Inquisitor gestured to the map, but Alistair's eyes didn't follow, and instead stayed locked on her.

The Inquisitor moved one marker to sit atop the paper pertaining to Cassandra's Seekers, then picked up a quill to write a 'J' on the corner. "This afternoon isn't good for fraternizing, I'm afraid."

Nodding glumly, he responded. "I can help you with your work. Perhaps with both of us working it'll be finished sooner."

"After this I'll be meeting with a few important people privately." Gwen pressed her lips into a smile. "Thank you for the offer, but you should relax."

"How about meeting me for dinner? You have to eat, right?"

"I'm not sure—I mean, yes, I have to eat." She looked away from him, pursing her lips as she moved another marker onto a scrap of paper detailing the construction of a Haven Memorial, jotting a small 'C' on the edge. "I can try."

"It's fine; I understand."

"My first day back is the busiest, I did tell you that last night." She scolded him lightly.

"I know you did, I just… thought maybe you were exaggerating since you had the time to visit me earlier." Pushing himself up from the table, Alistair walked toward the door.

With the notes in her hand, she whirled around and called out to him. "I promise I'll try to meet you for dinner."

The man turned to send her a solemn nod.

Gwen's heart sank a bit to see him walk out the wicket gate but once he left the room, she released a breath she didn't know she held. "Back to work." She sighed, the distraction of her duty suddenly welcome after the rush of mixed emotions that came from their conversation.

oOOOo

Outside of the War Room, Alistair passed through Josephine's office and offered a nod of his head and a quick smile.

"Wait, Alistair, do you have a moment?" The Ambassador spoke softly, attempting to diffuse his apparent agitation and gain his favor.

"Josephine, is it?" He halted his steps, but only briefly. "What can I do for you?"

The woman rose and gestured to a pile of canvas bags in various sizes. "These were intended for our armory, but last night the soldiers found the Undercroft doors to be tightly locked. Would you mind taking them down there for me? It may take two trips, but they are far too heavy for me to lift even one at a time."

"Of course, anything to help the Inquisition." Alistair lifted a bag into each of his arms and turned away, only to turn back again. "Where exactly is the Undercroft?"

"Ah, how silly of me." She rose quickly, straightening her sleeves as she passed him and stood in the doorway to point. "The door is there: across the main hall, just past the throne."

With a cheerful nod, Alistair stepped into the hall. "I'll be back in a few minutes for the others."

"Thank you." She said with a relieved breath.

"It's no problem, really. You've given me something to occupy the next few minutes, at least." He chuckled at himself.

"Your modesty is admirable." Josephine reached out to touch his arm and his eyes locked on hers. In a hushed voice, she spoke, "I know you may not be with us for long, but if you should need anything from me while you're here, please ask."

"I will, thank you."

.

The bags were all carried to the door of the Undercroft before Alistair stepped foot into the space. He'd wanted to give the Ambassador her privacy, rather than interrupting her every time he opened the door to retrieve the packages.

Despite the task, it feels good to be doing something… anything is better than sitting around in my room, alone with my damned thoughts.

Pressing the handle, he gave a shove and the heavy door opened slowly. As he stooped to pick up the bags, he heard the noises within: hammering on metal, scraping on leather, tinking of glass bottles, the hissing of the quenching trough, and a chorus of indistinct voices.

Standing at the top of the room, he looked out over the few men and women who worked in the Inquisition armory. A couple faces rose and fell back into their work after realizing there was a newcomer in their midst. The mixed scents of sawdust, leather, metal, and alchemical concoctions hung in the air.

A red-headed female dwarf flitted around the stations, emanating a cheerful presence, pausing as she looked over to the Grey Warden.

"Alistair?"

Astonished that someone knew his name, he skipped down the stairs toward the dwarf. As he neared her, something in the back of his mind recognized the sprightly woman. "I've seen you before. Forgive me, I'm terrible with names."

"It's me, Dagna! You and Mihna Surana sponsored my studies and sent me to the Ferelden Circle Tower." She held out her hand to shake his and he dropped the packs he held before her. "I could never forget you… How is your troupe?"

"Dispersed."

"Ah, that happens." She looked at the packs that lay before her feet. "Oo, are these for me?!"

"I guess so. I'm just an errand boy today."

"No! Not you!" She spoke with such exuberance that Alistair could do nothing but smile at her.

"Yes, truly. I'm here at the Inquisitor's request, and we'll be off to the Western Approach in a few days."

"A few days?" She looked him up and down, and gripped her chin in thought. "Ya know, if you're not busy... I could use an extra hand, if you have the time."

This could take the edge off the boredom.

"Sure." Alistair smiled. "Let me grab the other bags and you can let me know what needs to be done."

.

With the bags in their respective locations around the room, Dagna began introducing Alistair to the workers in her Undercroft. They were much less lively than the dwarf and the extent of their eagerness to train him displayed plainly on their stoic faces.

That is, until he came to the leather-worker. Giving Alistair a cheerful grin, he shook the Warden's hand vigorously, with his large oiled palms. Taken aback, Alistair watched him from across the table, as the man wiped down a pair of leather gloves and polished them to a sheen with a buffing cloth. He was at least twenty years older than Alistair, with dark grey hair, shorn down to a fuzz on the top of his balding head. He had a wide smile, and amazingly, still had all his teeth.

With a deep, resonant voice, he welcomed the stranger. "Good to meet you, I'm Lem."

"Alistair, and likewise."

Dagna began a tirade. "We get swamped in leatherworking. Little Quizzie wears it, the rogues wear it, heck, warriors wear it under their armor. Point is, everyone uses it, everyone needs it replaced or repaired."

Lem smirked at him. "Do you know how to sew?"

I have a feeling I'm going to regret this in the long run.

"On occasion, I've had to repair my own leather, and cloth, on the road, so yes: I do know how to sew." Alistair fidgeted with a strip of leather on the table and smirked back to the older man. "I can't vouch for my craftsmanship."

"Good enough." The leatherworker hummed.

Dagna seemed pleased and touched Alistair on the forearm. "You don't need to come here like it's a job, but every little bit helps, ya know?"

"I appreciate it, Dagna."

"No problem." She spun around and took a few steps away, before she pivoted back and called out to Alistair. "We'll be breaking down for the day at the next bell, but you can probably grasp the basics in that time."

Chuckling, he responded, "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

She turned with a smile and walked away while making her last statement. "You're the best, Alistair!"

Lifting his eyebrows in amused confusion, he turned to Lem, who stared at him with another grin. "She's rambunctious, but she knows her shit."

"I can see that." He glanced across the room once before turning to the table, where he took a seat on a stool and watched the man work. Soon, a half dozen pairs of gloves in various sizes were laying on the table, ready for buffing.

"Would you get a clean cloth for yourself and another for me? They're over in the corner, by the hide frames."

"I can do that."

Rising from his seat, he traveled to where the man had directed him and found a sack full of clean rags. While pulling the cloths from the bag, Alistair's eyes roamed to the nearest hide frame where he noticed thick and dark fur hanging.

That looks oddly familiar.

Meandering over to it, he touched the soft fur and his mind was sent back to Crestwood and the wolf attack with Gwen.

A thin, involuntary laugh escaped his lips, and he turned to Lem. "Is-is this wolf fur?"

"That's right; good eye. A bunch of them came in about a week ago. Damn amateurs left a shit-ton of meat and fat on the skins too. Took some time to scrape it down."

"Were there four of them?"

Lem was starting to become wise to the man's questions, and he rose to stand with Alistair. "Yeah, four. I only scraped two of em. The rest I salted for later. You skinned these, didn't you?"

His hand touched the fur, stroking it softly as his mind swam. "I think so… in Crestwood."

"Didn't anybody teach you how to skin, boy?"

Alistair laughed. "I'm afraid not."

"Well, you made a lot of extra work for yourself, but their yours if you want to finish the rest of them."

With a hopeful gaze, the Warden turned to take the rags to Lem. "They're not slated for another project?"

"I don't have much use for the ones with fur this time of year, not for battle armor anyway." He moved back to his seat as they talked. "It'll be good practice for you, since you skinned them. They're yours, if you want them."

Alistair nodded humbly. "I'd like that very much, thank you."

The leatherworker chuckled warmly as they buffed the gloves together. "I understand, more than you know. I can still remember the first thing I made with my own skins. I was eleven and I made my first ever knapsack. It wasn't perfect, but damn, I was proud of that thing!"

The Warden gave a chuckle, but his mind was running. "What could I make with these, Lem?"

"Good for sleeping on once they're tanned. For armor, maybe pauldrons or a fur mantle, like the Commander's." The man lifted his eyes, seeing Alistair's indecision. "You don't need to make up your mind now. Best to clean them up first."

"Right." Alistair nodded, lifting one of the salted hides skeptically.

Lem chuckled lowly and came to his side, hoisting up one of the pelts with liveliness. "Grab that side and I'll show ya how it's done."

The seasoned leatherworker taught Alistair the basics of cleaning the hide and he caught on quickly. The Warden-turned-skinner, had one wolf pelt almost entirely rid of flesh, when the bell ran and the long workday ended for the men and women in the Undercroft.

Alistair lagged behind to finish the pelt, only to be extricated by Dagna when the dwarf was ready to lock up for the night.

.

Renewed that he had a plan for his downtime, Alistair ventured back to his room with the hope he'd be able to see Gwen at dinner and perhaps begin to repair their tenuous friendship.

Upon entering his quarters, Alistair found a missive with the Inquisitor's seal lying on his bed, atop a short stack of books, the top which read 'History of Ferelden: Volume Two'. Anticipation hit his stomach as he fumbled with the golden wax and opened the folded parchment.

…

Alistair,

Don't be angry with me, please, but I won't be able to make it to dinner. The private meetings are still going on and will continue through the evening, I'm told. I took advantage of a short break to write this so that you wouldn't worry about not seeing me.

Forgive me, I should have better prepared you for this. I miss our talks and walks and promise tomorrow I'll make time for you.

I forget that we are new friends and you don't know much about me, except what we shared on our recent adventure. However, I didn't forget what you told me about your interest in reading. I spent another of my short breaks perusing the lower library for these.

This is a poor substitute for my company, but enjoy.

Gwen

…

Tossing the paper to the bed, he lifted the book, running his hand across the embossed cover which held a familiar insignia, his own familial crest: twin Mabari figures, facing one another. A thin smile crossed his lips and he carried himself to the armchair by the fire. Opening the book as he sat, he toed his boots off and stretched his feet toward the warm fire on the hearth.