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Time passed in a blur. She and Varel hosted a group of nobles who bent her ear with conflicting yet entirely reasonable requests, as well as rumors of a conspiracy against her. Anders found and adopted a little orange tabby. The Wardens journeyed together to Amaranthine and found even more work for themselves while managing to reunite Nathaniel with his long-lost sister. All the while she and Anders kept up their breezy flirtation. She tried not to think of him when she brought herself off in the middle of the night, but it was difficult and even silly, since thoughts of him were usually the reason she was still awake.
She'd marked three weeks at the Keep when the mail girl handed her an ecru envelope sealed with red wax bearing the initials "AT." Anja dashed up to her room, sat down at her desk, and used her dagger to carefully separate wax from paper.
Dearest Anja,
Thank you for your letter. My journey to Val Royeaux was uneventful—the best type of journey, in my opinion.
I did spend a couple of days resting and sightseeing before arranging to meet with the Warden Commander. The Grand Cathedral is quite beautiful. It's an architectural wonder, really. Isn't it amazing what human beings can do with access to enough power and vast sums of money?
I tried the wines and cheeses too. They were quite good. But as you predicted, I'd still take dwarven ale and Fereldan cheddar any day of the week.
You know I can't wait to be with you at Vigil's Keep. I'll tell you all about my favorite book, my favorite time of day, that great big cat…and the little girl who lived down the road from the monastery. (How did you know? Are all women so sly?) Of course, once I get you behind closed doors my mouth is going to be fully occupied, so you'll just have to wait a bit to hear any of this…
Now to the reason for my visit. I have excellent news. The Orlesian Warden Commander has agreed to send fifty Wardens to assist in our efforts against the stragglers. Even better, he didn't seem opposed to the idea of their staying on permanently. I'm sure his order will be met with a lot of eye-rolling—these are Orlesian Wardens we're talking about, after all. But they're five hundred strong and I think that relocating ten percent of their number is perfectly reasonable given what's happened and what's still happening in Ferelden.
By the way, they were both curious and baffled as to how we survived slaying the Archdemon. I could only shrug and shake my head. It's a mystery for the ages!
I look forward to seeing you soon, my love. In fact, I leave tomorrow morning. With any luck I'll be in your arms by the end of the week.
Yours,
Alistair
One more week. She could hold out that long. When he got back, they'd have a long talk.
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She was in her office the next day when Nathaniel dropped by to recommend that they make another journey to Amaranthine.
"What do you mean, we should go back? We've only just returned," she said impatiently.
"The attacks are already stepping up," Nathaniel pointed out. "Even if they don't manage to kill us, or you, they're sapping our time and energy. We confront them every other time we step foot outside the Keep. Just give him his fifty sovereigns and let him do his job."
Anja had refused to pay an informant to help root out the conspiracy against them. Fifty sovereigns was a lot of coin—coin that could go a long way to improving the Keep. She absolutely hated the idea of giving so much money to some shady middleman, especially when the Wardens were so capable and well armed. But Nathaniel was right. And the longer it went on, the bolder they would become.
Two days later they were in Amaranthine, handing the money to the Dark Wolf. Then Anders ran into a friend who gave them a bad tip about the location of Anders' phylactery, and they went on a wild goose chase and he was almost captured by templars.
What a crazy week it had been. Now Anja was sitting on a secluded bench under some flowering trees, taking a few minutes to gather her thoughts, when Anders strolled up and gestured at the seat beside her.
"May I?"
"Of course."
He sat down, and she was glad it was at a comfortable distance. The smell of his soap was already starting to unnerve her.
"I'm glad I found you here. I wanted to thank you for being willing to help me find my phylactery. And for not turning me over to Rylock, of course."
She smiled at him sympathetically. "Why would I turn you over to the templars, Anders? Granted, I never had much problem with the Circle, but we're all different, aren't we? I trust you. I know how you detest maleficarum. Besides, I meant what I told them. You're already doing a great job as a Warden."
He looked pleased at the compliment, then gave her a knowing grin. "Well, I appreciate that you're sympathetic. No doubt my life, and now yours, would be a lot easier if I were more like you."
"If everyone were like me the world would be an incredibly dull place," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Think of it! People would bring books to parties. Instead of drinking and dancing they'd read, or study the tapestries on the walls. There'd never be any ale or dessert. Eventually there'd be mass suicide, and just like that, the darkspawn would have Ferelden all to themselves."
He was laughing now. "That's ridiculous! Don't say that about yourself."
"But it's true!"
"No way. You're grounded, rational, determined. A leader. Look at all you went through to end the Blight! You killed the bloody Archdemon! You'll be written about in history books. You're all these things I could never be."
"And yet…dull."
"Hey." His amber eyes grew serious as he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. It was the first time she'd seen that look on his face, and suddenly she was terrified. "Let me show you how not dull I think you are." He slipped a hand behind her head, pulled her gently toward him, and closed his eyes.
She snapped her head back, and he let go of her immediately. She covered her face with her hands, making a steeple over her nose, and avoided looking at him directly. "I…you must know by now that I want you, Anders. But I can't do this to Alistair. I'm just not the type."
He nodded and reached out to touch her cheek, and his smile held the barest trace of disappointment. "I know, Anja. You're a good woman." He rose and held out his hand to her. When she looked up, the twinkle was already returning to his eyes. "More's the pity!"
Just then Anja's stomach growled. Anders patted his belly. "Come on, let's go to the dining hall. It's suppertime."
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The next evening she stood on her balcony, waiting. The sun had set, and the trees were black silhouettes against a sky streaked with red, orange, and purple.
A burly, dark-haired sentry, slightly out of breath, knocked on her open door. "Commander. A man at the gates to see you. Alone, on horseback."
"His name?"
The man shifted uncomfortably and straightened his shoulders. "He would only say, 'The mage sasser,' Commander."
A tiny smile played about her lips. She nodded. "Show him to the guest quarters. I'll meet with him shortly."
"Yes, Commander."
She closed her door to brush her hair and she heard Alistair arrive at his room down the hall. When the shuffling and commotion ceased, she headed to his temporary lodging in the guest quarters. She felt a perplexing mix of joy, excitement, and apprehension as she raised her hand and knocked gently.
The door opened a crack. She saw a shock of copper hair, a warm hazel eye, and half a grin, and then he disappeared, opening the door wide and closing it shut behind her.
She'd almost forgotten how tall he was. And how wide. He was wearing the green tunic over a linen shirt and breeches, and he smelled faintly of horses. In one smooth motion he picked her up and buried his nose in her hair. "Maker, I've missed you. Four weeks! Do you realize that until this we'd never been apart for more than twenty-four hours?" He set her down, cupped her face in his hands, and proceeded to shower her with kisses, which she returned warmly before taking a step back.
Somehow, despite all the doubts she'd been experiencing lately, having him here in front of her was reassuring. He was beaming at her and she couldn't help but smile back. She felt some of her anxiety melt away.
"So, the 'mage sasser'! That's a new one."
"I was tired—ran out of ideas. Damned surname is nothing but trouble these days. But cute, right? Goes way back, doesn't it?"
Funny how she'd thought of it not long ago—a moment of levity in a busy day before all hell had broken loose. "It goes all the way back."
He put one arm behind her back and one under her knees and effortlessly scooped her up. "All the way back. Yep. Just how I want you lying on this bed."
He dumped her there unceremoniously, and she giggled as he climbed over her. He grinned and began unlacing his tunic.