Time passed, after that, days going by with Anders and I not talking. Before I knew it, another week had flown by.

And I just happened to be Hightown, having met with some noble's servant who'd been poorly treated, wandering about the area while pondering how to teach the abuser a lesson-when my eyes landed on familiar faces.

Sandal and Bodahn!

"We meet again." I came to a stop in front of them, grinning.

"War-"

I shook my head, eyes wide, hissing. "Shh! Just Ana is fine."

"Oh! Forgive me, War-Ana." He corrected himself, fumbling over his words.

Adopting a kinder expression, I ducked my head. "I'm sorry. Word hasn't spread here yet, no one realizes who I am. It offers a nice degree of secrecy."

"Look, precious, I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands."

A vaguely familiar voice caught my attention, and I glanced around, spying that violent dwarf from last week. He was walking with four people, two men and two women, all human. One of the men and one of the women walked on either side of him, the three of them in an animated conversation. The other two, hanging back, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

I'd seen the humans around, the older two doing jobs for Athenril. The older Hawke twins, Garrett and Marian. And the younger twins, Bethany and Carver, who'd practically acted as shadows for them, never actually going so far as to help them in the dealings.

The group came to a stop right beside me, Carver whisper-shouting. I could hear him clearly, seeing as how he was close enough to reach out and touch.

"You make him understand! We're running from your bloody templars!" His words directed toward Bethany and Garrett.

"This isn't helping, brother." Garrett touched the younger man's arm, voice kind, soft.

"Carver, relax." Marian waved away his words, shaking her head.

The dwarf was all but tapping his foot in irritation, unable to hear their conversation, patience running thin.

"We are what you need." She continued, turning her attentions back to him.

"You're looking for a quick way out of the slums, right? You and every other Ferelden in this dump." He threw out his hands and stormed off. "Find another meal ticket."

Today just got more and more interesting, the longer it went on.

Hmm...

"Back to waiting for someone to turn us in." Carver muttered, visibly sulking.

"You're not a mage." Garrett chuckled. "It's not you they're after."

"Shh. We're in public." Bethany was deathly pale, terrified.

"What we need is coin." Marian stated.

"Coin, status, something we can shove in that dwarf's face. And keep people off our backs." A scowl. "And all I can think of is Uncle Gamlen."

"He got us in to the city, more or less." Garrett mused. "If there's a chance he can push Bartrand..."

"I don't know..."

"What else can we do?" The younger man's frown deepened. "We're losing ground, and I don't fancy waking up in the Gallows."

They had started walking again, away from us. Out of my hearing range. But not out of sight.

I got to watch as a red-haired man walked toward the group, bumping into Marian and-

My eyes narrowed. He'd lifted her purse.

Before I could take a step in their direction, to see what would happen, a cross-bolt hit the man. Pinning him by his shirt to the wall.

In walked Varric, entering my line of sight. He grabbed the purse back and dislodged the arrow, letting the man stumble over himself as he ran.

I casually strolled close enough to hear again, feeling a pull toward them. Like a string that was growing shorter and shorter.

"...at your service!" Tossing the bag into Marian's hands, the dwarf grinned, introducing himself. "I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?" She raised an eyebrow, sizing him up.

"I would! What my brother doesn't realize is that we need people just like you." An encompassing gesture toward the Hawke's. Unintentionally? including me. "He would never admit it, either-he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

"What makes you so certain we can help? You know nothing about us."

A chuckle. "On the contrary-you've made quite the name for yourselves over the last year. The Coterie has been squeezing smugglers out left and right, and the only group to survive owes it all to you four. The name Hawke is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat!"

If by "fresh," he meant a year ago, then yeah.

Their names were everywhere, spoken softly as bribe and sternly as threat.

I'd had some dealings with them, through Athenril. Their whole time here had been one long test.

...

"They're looking for Wardens." The elf held out a sheaf of papers, extending them toward me.

I took them, flipping through. Skimming the words. "Thank you. It wasn't too difficult, was it?"

"Oh. No." He waved his hands about, sounding worried. Glancing up, I raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't hard at all. They're practically shouting it atop their lungs everywhere they go."

Ah. "Still." I pulled a few coins from my pocket, tossing them to him. "For the papers. Although... I have to ask, and please don't think me racist, but-" I offered an apologetic smile. "I'm impressed you can write. Most elves I meet don't bother with learning written human language."

He puffed up, a glow about him as he smiled proudly. "I've been teaching myself whenever I have the time. I'm hoping a noble will take me in, as a servant."

"Oh? Hmm." His handwriting was decent, better than some of my wardens back in Amaranthine. Better than Alistair's, too, on a bad day. And he seemed like an honest sort, nothing coming up against him in my search of his history. "If you'd agree to it, I could take you on." Confusion stared back at me. I grabbed a document from my desk drawer. "How's your reading?"

"Ah, I can read well enough. Better than my writing."

"Good." Holding it out, I waited for him to take it. "Go ahead and read that."

It was an official document from King Alistair, awarding Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens. With my name and signature indicating that I am the Arlessa of Amaranthine and the Commander of the Grey.

The teen froze, his eyes the only things moving. Darting to my face.

My cheshire grin reflected back at me in his wide eyes. "Well?"

"I... I'm not worthy." He quickly placed the sheet on the desk, practically throwing it as if it had burned him, and dropped to his knees, head down.

"Pfft." I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Oh, get up. I'm ten. Besides, I'm not exactly known as an arlessa here, am I? I haven't let people know who I am yet. But, is that noble enough for you to consider?" A genuine question.

"I..." Slowly, he rose to his feet, at a loss for words.

It was true. Even after two weeks had passed since the Blight had ended, no one had put it together that I was the Warden. The Hero of Ferelden. So, I was basically saying I wanted him and him alone as a servant, and that I trusted him above the many people I had interacted with and was already using in some capacity.

"Yes." He blurted. "Yes. Thank you. I will not let you down. I will not disappoint you."

"One of my rules is don't be formal with me, unless I ask for it beforehand. And that's usually something to do with a third party. Most times, it's to save yours or someone else's life." He nodded at my words, seemingly soaking them up. "Another rule is talk back. If you don't agree with something I say, as long as it's not breaking that other one, by all means, let me know. And then tell me why. It could be something I don't understand or simply don't know. Or overlooking. And, of course, the whole don't talk about things that either I tell you not to or you feel you shouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, say someone came up to you, someone you know I trust. They ask you for something or about something. And you have a feeling you shouldn't tell them. If you can lie and say you don't know, then feel free to do so. If you're a bad liar or just know you wouldn't be able to lie for whatever reason, tell them I said you weren't to speak about it to anyone other than me or Zevran."

"Who is Zevran?"

"He's my right-hand man in the Crows."

He seemed to take a pause, taking a deep breath, the wheels in his head turning. "I can do this."

"I know you can." I gave him a soft smile. Encouraging. "I picked you."

Truthfully, I'd given him simple tasks over the last couple days, the final one resulting in him digging for information about the Hawkes and Varric, and what their current goals were. And they seemed to be in something together.

Finding a Grey Warden.

It won't be long until they're knocking on Anders' door.

"I'm going to write a letter, and so are you." I handed him a clean parchment and a quill. "I'm going to write to Anders, saying you're with me. You're going to write to him, telling him that he's expecting company soon. But it's up to him, whether or not he wants to work with them. Let him know it's potentially any of the Hawkes and Varric."

Within ten minutes, they were written up and both enclosed in two different envelopes.

"Do you have any kind of sigil that's important to you?" Holding up a stamp, I motioned toward the wax on my envelope, before placing it down to take my specialized seal.

"I do, actually." His cheeks pinked, like he was embarrassed to admit it.

"Would you like that to be your seal? You're going to need one, so people know it's authentically from you."

Several minutes later, we had it done, the wax cooling.

It was a peacock feather wrapped around a pen.

"There's beauty in words."

I loved it.

"Alright. Now, will you deliver these for me?"

"Of course." Picking them up, he retreated toward the door. "I'll be back shortly."

"Take your time, it's alright. There's no rush, with this." Waving away his words. "I doubt they'll visit him today."