Anders woke with a start, biting back a strangled cry; images of darkspawn still raged in his mind. His head was pounding and his mouth felt thick and fuzzy, as if something nasty had recently died in it. He was lying on his back on the hard floor and staring up at the ceiling, and he realized he must still be in the throne room. He wondered how long he had been out.

He turned his head to the side, and saw a blanket stretched out on the floor beside him—the unmistakable form of a body beneath it. He sat up, his muscles protesting at the movement. His eyes were still fixated on the still form beside him.

"Mhairi didn't make it." Anders whipped his head around to see Gideon standing nearby.

"What do you mean she didn't make it?" Anders asked. Suddenly it dawned on him. "The Joining can be fatal? Why didn't you tell us?"

Gideon shrugged. "It would have made no difference. From the moment I conscripted you, your fate was sealed. It wasn't as if you could have backed out."

Anders glared at him. "You still should have told us." He stood up shakily, dusting his robes off. "Anything else you need to fill me in on?"

Gideon nodded. "Actually there is. Come on." He beckoned Anders to follow him. They wound their way through the Keep to a large dining hall. Oghren was already sitting at one of the long tables, a feast spread out before him. Anders suddenly realized he was starving.

He sat down in the nearest chair and began shoveling food onto the empty plate in front of him. He tore into a roast chicken without even bothering with his utensils. Maker, had he ever been this hungry before?

"So, Gideon—" Anders started to say, between mouthfuls of food.

"Commander," Gideon cut him off, seating himself beside Oghren.

"What?"

"You're a Grey Warden now," Gideon said sternly, "and I'm your commander. I expect you to address me as such."

"Fine, Commander." Anders' voice had a touch of sarcasm in it. "Are you going to tell us all of the Grey Warden secrets now? Is there some sort of special handshake we need to learn?"

Oghren guffawed at that. "You and me are gonna get along just fine, boy."

Gideon smirked. "Not yet, but I'm sure we could come up with one if you wanted."

Anders raised an eyebrow. So, the Commander was actually capable of cracking jokes. That was a good sign. He grabbed for the mug of ale that one of the servants had just brought him.

"First thing to know about the Grey Wardens," Gideon began, heaping potatoes onto his plate, "is that your appetite's going to increase tenfold."

Anders nodded as he grabbed for a roll. Oghren gave a loud belch, which Anders soon came to learn was a sort of sign of agreement from the dwarf.

Gideon paused in his eating, his tone more serious. "Also, Wardens only live about thirty years after their Joining." Both Anders and Oghren paused at that. "That darkspawn blood you just drank tainted you. It's what helps us to sense the darkspawn and the Archdemon, and it makes us immune to the taint for a time. But eventually we'll succumb to it just like anyone else would. It just takes us longer."

"So, what happens after thirty years," Anders asked. "Do we just . . . fall over dead or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Gideon said. "There's something known as the Calling. Those nightmares you had after you took your Joining will plague you for the rest of your life, but with time you'll learn to more or less block them out. But eventually they come back, worse than ever before. When that happens, Grey Wardens usually go down to the Deep Roads."

"The Deep Roads?" Anders asked. "That's in Orzammar isn't it? Why go there?"

Oghren answered. "It's where the darkspawn come from. Where they hide when there's not a Blight goin' on."

Gideon nodded. "It's a tradition. We Wardens spend our lives fighting darkspawn. It's fitting that we go out taking down as many as we can."

Anders shifted uncomfortably. "What happens if we don't go? Will the taint kill us?"

"I honestly don't know," Gideon replied, "but I've seen people with the taint—it drives them insane. Eventually."

Anders shuddered. Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry.

"So," he said, "now that we've got all of the cheerful stuff out of the way, care to tell me about you and the King?"

Gideon had resumed eating. "What about me and the King?"

"Well, all of the ballads say how you and Alistair were pretty buddy-buddy during the Blight."

Oghren snorted. "Can't believe every story you hear, lad."

Gideon nodded. "That was Leliana, the Bard we were travelling with. She's a 'we should all be best friends' sort of person. It irritated her to no end that Alistair and I didn't get along."

"Why didn't you get along?" Anders asked. "I'd have thought you two would be pretty close, seeing as how you were the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden at the time."

"We were . . . very different people," Gideon replied. "We had actually started getting along towards the end, but then the Landsmeet happened and whatever chance we had at friendship was gone for good."

Anders cocked his head, curious. "What, because you made him marry Anora?"

"No, because I spared Loghain and made him a Grey Warden," Gideon scowled. "Alistair thought I was betraying him by doing so, and making a mockery of the Grey Wardens."

Anders looked at him incredulously, "Wait, you spared Teyrn Loghain? The man who betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar?"

"You didn't know that?" Gideon asked, surprised.

"The news we get at the Tower comes in bits and pieces. We heard about the Landsmeet, but nothing was ever said of what happened to Loghain."

"We never made a big deal about it. I may have spared him, but I certainly didn't want him to be thought of as a hero."

Anders couldn't help but agree with the King, if all the things he'd heard about Loghain were true he probably did deserve to die. "Then why did you let him live? After everything he'd done?"

Gideon sighed. "I had enough blood on my hands already, I didn't want any more. And even if I'd let Alistair execute him instead, the choice still would have been mine."

Anders waited for Gideon to go on. "Before the battle at Ostagar, a man named Rendon Howe had my family murdered. He was the Arl of Amaranthine—and don't think the irony is lost on me that I've take his place as the new arl." He smiled, humorously.

"I was finally able to confront him, months later. To avenge my family. So I killed him, slit his throat, but . . it didn't bring me the peace I was looking for."

Oghren looked angry. "Don't you go feeling guilty for killing that bastard, he deserved what he got!"

Gideon nodded at the dwarf. "I don't feel guilty, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. All I'm saying is that my killing him didn't change anything. I got revenge on my family, but they were still dead. There was no closure, no peace."

He drank deeply from his mug of ale. "Alistair wanted Loghain dead for the fact that he killed a man he cared for, that he saw as a father figure. That betrayal was more important to him than Loghain's betrayal of Cailan; Alistair's need for revenge was personal. If we had had enough time, I would have brought Loghain to trial. He'd have been found guilty, of course, but at least it would have been fair.

But since we couldn't do that," Gideon continued, "I decided to conscript him. After all, there were only three Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden and we had a Blight to defeat; we needed all the help we could get."

Anders was at a loss for what to say. "I'm sorry about your family," he finally managed.

Gideon grimaced. "So am I. But my brother survived Ostagar, thankfully. He's the new Teyrn of Highever."

Anders searched his mind for a different topic of conversation, something not so dark.

"So what about that gorgeous witch you traveled with?" he asked, playfully. "The one you took with you to the Circle Tower?"

Gideon gave him a piercing look. "How did you know she was with me at the Tower?"

"Some of the mages who survived told me about her," Anders said. "Mages living in the Tower don't have much else to do but gossip." He gave a lopsided grin. "Rumor also had it that the two of you were . . ." Gideon's glare cut him off. Well, that was definitely the wrong topic to choose.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Gideon rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "You should get some rest. I've a feeling we have a lot more work ahead of us than I thought." He grimaced. "There's plenty of rooms up on the second floor, you two can have your pick of them. I've taken the chambers at the end of the hall." He looked Anders up and down. "Don't suppose you have much in the way of supplies."

Anders grinned. "Naught but the clothes on my back, I'm afraid."

Gideon nodded. "Well, you can search through the storerooms, see if there's anything you can use. We'll head into Amaranthine soon and get you outfitted properly."

Oghren didn't seem to be slowing down with his eating, but Anders' felt as if he could sleep for a year. He got up from the table and moved toward the door. Just before going through it he turned back to Gideon.

"Commander." He waited for Gideon to look up at him. "Thank you. For taking a chance on me."

Gideon nodded at him. "You've nothing to thank me for," he said gruffly. "Pull your weight and we'll get on just fine."

Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, Anders wandered down the hallway and picked a door at random. Barely looking around the room, he headed over to the bed and flopped down onto it; he was asleep within seconds.

He awoke the next morning feeling more or less rested; his dreams had been fitful, but he was used to that. As a mage, his connection to the Fade was stronger than non-mages and he was well used to shielding his mind from the more troublesome dreams.

A half-hour's wandering through the Keep eventually led him to the bathing chambers, where he did what he could to clean up. The effect was slightly ruined by the fact that he had to put his not-quite-clean robes back on, as he didn't have any others to wear. He'd have a look around the storerooms later as the Commander suggested, but he very much doubted that he'd find any mage's robes in a place like this.

Gideon and Seneschal Varel were in the dining hall when Anders arrived, talking together. Or rather, Varel was talking and Gideon was giving short replies between bites of food.

". . . there is another small matter that you should deal with as well," Anders heard Varel say as he sat down to his breakfast. "Before the attack, some of the Orlesian Wardens caught a thief sneaking around the Keep. He's in the dungeon now, I thought it best for you to decide what's to be done with him."

Gideon nodded, swallowing a bite of porridge. "I'll see to him when I'm done here."

After breakfast, Anders and Oghren gathered what supplies they had and met Gideon outside. The plan was for Gideon to deal with the prisoner and then head to Amaranthine for supplies. The evidence of the previous day's battle had pretty much been wiped clean; all of the darkspawn corpses had been piled on the still-smoldering pyre some distance from the Keep, and the rain had washed away all traces of the carnage.

Gideon walked over to where two merchants had set up shop near the Keep's outer wall. "Herren, Wade!" He was grinning. "What in Andraste's name are you two doing here?"

"Freezing our arses off, that's what we're doing," the bald one pouted.

"Now Wade," the man who must have been Herren said, "it's not that cold, and we owe it to the Wardens to help out as much as we can."

Gideon seemed to be half-listening to the two men bickering as he browsed the wares they had brought with them.

"So . . ." Oghren grinned at Anders, "mage, huh? What's it like?"

Anders grinned. "To have all this power at my fingertips, you mean?"

'No. To always have to wear a skirt." Oghren howled with laughter at his own joke.

"Ohhh, you don't know the story behind the robes?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You know how strict things are in the Circle, right? Well, the robes make quick trysts in the corner easy." He gave Oghren a sly grin. "No laces or buttons, you're done before the Templars even catch on."

Oghren shifted uncomfortably. "Really?"

"Of course!" Anders leered, "Just ask anyone." His grin widened at the look of discomfort on the dwarf's face.

Gideon rolled his eyes, apparently overhearing their conversation. "Come on, you two. Let's go see this prisoner."

The dungeon in Vigil's Keep looked like all dungeons everywhere—dimly lit, bare, no windows. It was a little too reminiscent of Anders' time in solitary confinement in the Tower, and he left the main door open just a crack.

The lone guard stood to attention when Gideon entered. "Careful, ser," he said as Gideon approached the only occupied cell. "This one's a nasty piece of work; more than just a common thief, I'd wager. Took four Wardens to capture the bastard."

Oghren whistled, "Impressive."

Gideon glanced at the dwarf before returning his attention to the guard. He motioned for the man to unlock the cell door, and then dismissed him. The guard looked as if he wanted to object, but Gideon's personality was forceful enough to make anyone obey.

The figure sitting inside the cell stood up and walked to the open doorway, but made no move to leave the cell. Anders shrugged his staff off of his back, and he saw Oghren place a hand on his axe; if there was to be any trouble, at least they'd be ready. Though he didn't quite understand why Gideon was putting himself in such a vulnerable position in the first place.

The prisoner leaned against the doorway and Anders got a closer look at him: nearly black hair, chiseled features with a slightly over-large nose, not bad looking at all. There was an air about him that reminded him of Gideon—something in his stance and his expression made him seem almost . . . noble.

"Well, well, if it isn't the 'Great Hero'," the man sneered. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the man's voice sent tiny shivers down Anders' spine; it was tantalizing—rich and gravelly.

Gideon's face was stony. "Nathaniel Howe."

Anders started at the name. He wondered if the man was related to Arl Howe, the one who Gideon had said murdered his family.

Quicker than lightning, Gideon pulled his arm back and punched Nathaniel in the face, hard enough to make the man stagger backwards. Ah, that would explain why he wanted the cell door opened.

"Your father murdered my entire family!" Gideon hissed as he advanced into the cell.

"My father served the Crown!" Nathaniel exclaimed, trying to stem the flow of blood that ran from his nose. "Your father was going to sell us out to the Orlesians!"

Gideon went rigid. "Who told you that?" his voice was cold, menacing.

"Doesn't matter," Nathaniel replied sullenly. The two men stood there, glaring at each other.

"Look," Nathaniel finally said, "I didn't have anything to do with what happened to your family, I swear. I've been in the Free Marches for the past eight years. I just got back to Ferelden a month ago."

"So why did you come here?" Gideon asked.

"To kill you." The man replied immediately.

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was blunt."

Nathaniel's shoulders slumped a little. "But after I got to the Keep, I realized I couldn't do it. I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. I wanted to . . ." he sighed, "well, it doesn't really matter what I wanted." He sounded weary, and slightly defeated.

His face hardened once again. "So are you going to deal out the same justice that you did to my father?"

Gideon looked at him, searchingly. "By rights you should hang for your crimes." He sighed and shook his head. "But we were friends once, and you're not your father."

"So what are you going to do with me?" Nathaniel crossed his arms.

Gideon sighed once more. "I don't rightly know. I suppose I should—" He stopped and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

Just then Varel came in. "I see you've spoken to our guest. Have you decided what to do with him?"

Long moments passed as Gideon stood there silently, lost in thought.

"Commander?" Varel asked.

Gideon seemed to shake himself from his reverie. "Put him through the Joining." He said, firmly.

"What?" Nathaniel exclaimed.

Varel looked just as shocked as Nathaniel. "Commander, are you sure that's wise?"

Anders felt he had to speak up. "The man just said he came here to kill you!"

Gideon glared at both men. "In case you've forgotten, I'm the Warden-Commander here. If I want to invoke the Right of Conscription, then I'm damn well going to do so."

Anders scowled. "You know, you don't need to conscript everyone you meet. I'm just saying."

Oghren grunted in agreement. "You best watch your back."

Gideon nodded. "Duly noted." He seemed to notice that Nathaniel's nose was still dripping blood. Anders figured it was most likely broken.

"You better heal him, Anders." He smirked. "The man will be drinking more than enough blood as it is." Nathaniel looked at him, confused.

Anders stepped towards Nathaniel and raised his hand. A soft blue glow emanated from his hand and he could hear the crunch of Nathaniel's nose twisting back into its proper place.

Nathaniel flinched, his eyes widening. He seemed more surprised than pained. "You're a mage."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Figured that out all by yourself, did you?" He gestured towards Oghren. "And he's a dwarf, in case you weren't sure."

Oghren guffawed. "Good one!"

Nathaniel glared at him and followed Gideon out of the cell. He cast one last dark glance back at the mage before exiting the dungeon.

"You're welcome!" Anders called after him.

He sighed and shook his head. No good could possibly come of this.

A quick note about DA2: I enjoyed the game, but as far as I'm concerned it can be considered AU. If Bioware can break canon then so can I :) I don't know exactly how this story's going to end yet, but I guarantee it won't end with Anders & Justice making any sort of deal; this fic is not intended to be a prequel to DA2. (Though I'll probably steal a little of Anders' dialog from the game, because there's just too much of his backstory revealed in it to ignore.)