Oof! Sorry I am taking so long to get these chapters up! It's much easier to write than to deal with going back and editing what I've written.

By the time they got back to the keep, Anders was in a thunderous mood. Not surprisingly, it was all because of Velanna. Precious, perfect Velanna, who, according to Nathaniel, could do no wrong. Never mind the fact that she had killed all those innocent people, just because she hadn't bothered to find out the truth about her sister's kidnapping—that trivial, inconsequential fact apparently didn't matter.

When Anders heard Nathaniel call Velanna a "pretty brush" while they were camped one night, he had nearly choked on the lamb stew he'd been eating. It wasn't that Velanna wasn't beautiful—she was—it was just such a cheesy line to use. And this coming from someone who usually had no problem using clichéd pick-up lines on people he was interested in.

Anders had decided to try a little experiment and had hit on Velanna himself. Her response was that she found "most humans physically and morally repulsive." The fact that she seemed be separating Nathaniel from this classification was definitely unsettling. There were already so many reasons for Anders to not like Velanna, but the fact that she seemed amenable to Nathaniel's not-so-subtle advances made him like her even less.

Despite his misgivings, he really was trying to be nice to her, to give her the benefit of the doubt. Nathaniel was a good man, and if he could find good things in Velanna, surely Anders could as well? His suggestion of them pooling their magical knowledge together was soundly and completely shut down, though. She had even gone so far as to accuse him of trying to steal her ideas regarding the spells she cast that were apparently known only to the Dalish. Pointing out that she couldn't heal so much as a mild headache, and that he was a skilled healer who would gladly share his knowledge with her, was met with a scowl. "That sort of magic is easy, she had said. "I could learn it if I wanted to; I don't need you to teach me."

Anders gave up trying to talk to her after that. Nathaniel obviously had a masochistic streak that he'd kept hidden up until now—no one in their right mind could actually like Velanna. Even Oghren didn't seem to care for her, and he liked pretty much everyone.

Night after night on the journey back to the Keep, Anders had to sit at camp and watch Nathaniel and Velanna talking together. At first, he wasn't overly bothered by it, as Velanna turned her nose up at every one of Nathaniel's attempts to befriend her, just like she'd done with Anders. But more and more, she seemed to be warming up to him, at least a little. Anders seriously doubted she would ever turn into some starry-eyed, soppy damsel from one of the romance novels that Anders occasionally read out of boredom, but she was definitely responding more favorably to Nathaniel's compliments. There were a couple of occasions where it even seemed as if Velanna was blushing, but it could have just been the light from the campfire reflecting off of her pale skin.

Anders tried his best to just ignore the whole thing and spent his time talking to Oghren, or sometimes even Gideon; but his eyes always strayed back to Nathaniel and Velanna. It wasn't as if they were doing anything intimate, they were just talking, for Andraste's sake. But they were talking low enough that Anders couldn't tell what exactly they were talking about. Was Nathaniel really trying to woo her? Was he even now telling her how much he adored her pointy elven ears or her perky breasts? Actually, Anders could strike that last one off the list; Nathaniel was too much of a gentleman to actually comment on a woman's breasts.

Anders, of course, was not such a gentleman, and he had had no compunctions about commenting on Velanna's pert breasts within an hour of her first joining up with them back in the Wending Wood. He had dodged the slap she had aimed at his face with ease—it wasn't the first time a woman had tried to slap him. Sigrun always acted much more favorably to Anders' compliments, treating them mostly as being good fun, but he could tell that she was also a little flattered.

And it wasn't empty flattery either—Sigrun was quite good looking, much to Anders' surprise. There were no dwarves in the Circle of Magi—dwarves weren't physically capable of casting magic—and it was rare to see dwarves living on the surface, away from Orzammar. Anders' experience of dwarves prior to meeting Sigrun had been an armorer in Denerim, Oghren, and the Glavonak brothers. Seeing as how none of these men had been in any way attractive, Anders had been a bit concerned that dwarven women might be equally unattractive. He had been pleasantly surprised the first time he had seen Sigrun out of her armor. With her dark chestnut hair and full figure, she was actually very pretty. In other circumstances, Anders would have put more effort into pursuing her.

Times were different though, and ever since that night with Nathaniel, Anders hadn't bedded anyone—man or woman. It wasn't really a conscious choice, it was merely that no one he encountered held nearly as much appeal as Nathaniel did. There were more than a few people in the Keep and in Amaranthine who Anders found to be desirable, but it was as if that small taste of Nathaniel had spoiled him for all other treats, no matter how delicious they looked. In a way, he had actually kind of been hoping that Velanna would accept his casual advances. Maybe sleeping with someone that he sort of loathed would help cleanse his palate and allow him to return to his pleasant lifestyle of sleeping with anyone and everyone who caught his eye. Right, he thought ruefully, good luck with that.

They were half a day's journey from Vigil's Keep when they stopped for one last night camping out. Velanna was in a surly mood due to the fact that Anders had been not-so-subtly taunting her all day. He brought up various topics such as some of the more interesting rumors that people said about the Dalish (none of them flattering), commented on her pointed ears—he even poked fun at her magical abilities. All the time he was testing her, looking for her weaknesses and trying to discover which topics she was most sensitive about. On top of wanting to torment her as much as possible, he found that he was quite enjoying himself. Velanna could actually give as good as she got at times, even going so far as to brag about how her fireballs were bigger than his. When he commented that it was not the size that counted, she made a crack about how all men said such things.

If circumstances had been different, he might have actually liked Velanna, at least a little. But he could not forgive her for what she had done. He had heard Nathaniel asking her about it on more than one occasion, about how she felt about killing all of those innocent people over a misunderstanding. Her comment that she felt warm and fuzzy about it turned his stomach. Anders could joke about a great deal of inappropriate things, but that was going too far. The worst part was that he was afraid that she might not actually have been joking.

Jealousy also played a large part in his dislike of her. It wasn't reasonable for Anders to assume that Nathaniel would never pair up with someone else, but that didn't stop him from secretly hoping Nathaniel wouldn't. Nor did it stop him from daydreaming that one day soon Nathaniel would come to his senses and throw himself at Anders. But if Nathaniel were to fall in love with someone else, that dream would be dashed.

Anders' ribbing of Velanna continued even after they'd made camp, until Nathaniel grabbed him by the collar and pulled him behind one of the tents. Anders might have thought that Nathaniel was planning on an impromptu snog were it not for the thunderous look on his face.

"You need to stop with Velanna," Nathaniel said angrily.

Anders snorted. "I could say the same of you."

"What?" Nathaniel looked at Anders in confusion for a moment, before shaking his head. "I want you to stop picking on her."

"Why should I?" Anders folded his arms. "She deserves worse than what she's getting from me. Or have you forgotten all of those corpses we found in the Wending Wood?"

"I haven't forgotten," Nathaniel said, "but your constant teasing of her is just childish. I thought you were a better person than that."

Anders flushed with embarrassment. The last thing he needed was to be chastised by Nathaniel. "I'm so sorry I've been mean to your girlfriend," he said sarcastically. "I didn't realize she had such a delicate disposition."

Nathaniel looked thoroughly confused. "Why would you call her my girlfriend?"

"Oh, please!" Anders huffed. "I've seen the way you look at her, the way you talk to her. Telling her she's a pretty brush, calling her 'my lady.' It's pretty obvious you want to get into her knickers."

He realized he had gone too far with that last comment; Nathaniel's furrowed brow and clenched fists betrayed how angry he was. "I am going to pretend you didn't say that," he said coldly. "I do not just use people like that." He turned and walked towards his tent. "Leave Velanna alone, Anders. I mean it."

Anders made a face at Nathaniel, emboldened by the fact that Nathaniel couldn't see him do so. As he trudged towards his own tent, he saw Velanna sitting alone by the fire, Oghren passed out next to her. She had a disgusted look on her face—obviously she was not pleased to be paired up with the dwarf for the first watch. Anders pondered going over to her and offering her a half-hearted apology to appease Nathaniel, but decided against it. He could deal with that tomorrow. Or next year, possibly.

OoOoO

They broke camp immediately after breakfast the next morning, everyone eager to get back to the comfort of the Keep. A warm fire and soft beds awaited Anders and the other Grey Wardens; a goblet full of darkspawn blood awaited Velanna. As much as Anders might dislike her, he still hoped she survived the Joining. Oghren had told Anders what it had been like when Mhairi perished, and Anders would not wish that on anyone.

The trek home was quieter than usual, as Anders was doing his best not to talk to Velanna at all, not wanting to raise Nathaniel's ire. Nathaniel was avoiding Anders, likely because he was still sore at him, but he was not talking to Velanna either, which was surprising. Gideon was subdued, likely thinking ahead to the Joining that he would be putting Velanna through in just a few hours. He had been withdrawn like that before Sigrun's Joining, as well; he obviously didn't relish that part of the Warden-Commander's duties. Oghren was the only one who was talking, and seeing as how he was drunk as usual, most of his talking came in the form of singing bawdy songs, hideously off-key. He didn't shut up until Gideon threatened to feed him to the next ogre they ran across.

Luckily for all of them, they didn't encounter any darkspawn on the way back to the Keep, but when they arrived in the courtyard, it was quite obvious that all was not well. Garavel and Varel were standing at the top of the steps, trying in vain to calm the large angry mob gathered at the bottom. Men and women, even a few children—all of them clearly from the farmsteads surrounding the Keep, rather than from the city. There was so much shouting going on from both sides that it was difficult to tell what exactly was going on. The Keep's soldiers were surrounding the crowd, trying in vain to fight them back without causing violence.

Gideon strode through the courtyard quickly and bounded up the steps. Not wanting to be stuck down with the angry mob, the rest of the Wardens followed after him.

"What in the hell is going on?" Gideon asked. It was the Seneschal who answered.

"They've been out here all morning, Commander. It's a relief you're back. We've been able to keep them under control so far, but things are turning ugly."

Garavel scowled. "The good Seneschal will not let me give the order to use force."

"Of course I won't," Varel said angrily. "There are women and children down there if you hadn't noticed."

Gideon raised his hand, stopping Garavel's protest. "What are they so pissed off about? And why are you arguing with them? You should be trying to calm them down."

"Rabble like this can't be calmed," Garavel said impatiently. "An uprising such as this needs to be put down. By any means necessary."

"I am not going to commit violence against my subjects just because they're protesting." Gideon looked out over the crowd and shouted loud enough to be heard. "Anyone want to tell me what's going on?" The cacophony of voices became even louder as everyone tried to yell out their complaints at the same time.

One man's voice was finally able to rise above all others. "Ye've shut the granaries down, people are starving!" The rest of the crowd shouted in agreement.

"Open the granaries you bastards!" An unknown voice cried from the back. "Feed your people!"

"I would bet you any amount of money that the traitors against you put the peasants up this," Varel said lowly to Gideon. "They would not have gathered like this on their own. Someone has planted the seeds of dissent into their minds."

"Give me the order, Commander," Garavel said, hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword.

Gideon shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

He raised his arms, pushing his hands down as a signal to get everyone to quiet. It actually worked, save for a bit of grumbling here and there. "Now, then. If you all will just calm down a bit, I'm sure we can handle this peacefully."

The man who had first spoken yelled out. "We got no reason to settle peacefully! Yer–"

A woman standing next to him shushed him. "Let the Commander speak," she said. "He's been good to us before, let him have his say."

Gideon nodded his head to her in thanks. "As I said," he addressed the crowd again, "we can handle this without fuss. I will open the granaries again."

The man's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Really?"

Garavel echoed his disbelief. "Commander if you give them an inch they'll take a mile. You cannot just give in to their demands."

"I can this time," Gideon said. "It's not about us winning or losing, it's about doing what's best for the people. I made the wrong decision before, I'll own up to that and set it right."

He looked out over the crowd. "I will give the order to have them reopened. I will make sure that no one goes hungry."

The noise of the crowd surged up again, only this time it was words of praise and thanks, hailing Gideon as a kind man and a good ruler. Gideon grimaced a little at that; it was clear he still wasn't comfortable being in such a position of power. Leading the Grey Wardens was an easy thing for him—it took strength, courage, and the ability to fight and command a small group of people. Ruling over an entire land took diplomacy, a good deal of political savvy, and the heavy burden of knowing that choosing wrong could affect thousands of people. Anders did not envy him at all.

The crowd slowly dispersed, with one or two casting not very pleased looks back at Gideon—apparently not everyone would be appeased so easily. Anders noticed Gideon giving each of them long, hard looks and imagined he was taking note of their faces for future reference.

"Glad that's over," Gideon said, turning back to the others. "I don't know if I'll get off so easily next time; I need to earn these people's trust."

The Seneschal nodded at him. "Very true, Commander. Not all of the peasants hated Rendon Howe—some of them believed him to be a good ruler, just as some of the nobles did. And, speaking of nobles . . . there are a few inside waiting for you."

Gideon looked wary. "They just happened to show up in the middle of a riot?"

"It would seem so, ser. They insisted on being shown into the throne room; they said they had important business with you."

Gideon sighed. "Everyone has important business with me, it seems. Very well." He nodded to Garavel and gave him orders to disperse his soldiers before turning and going into the Keep, Varel and the others following behind.

When they entered the throne room, alarm bells instantly started to go off in Anders' head. Esmerelle and a few other nobles were standing around, all of them dressed in armor—not the typical style of dress for nobles who were meeting with their Arl for an important discussion.

The burly man standing next to Bann Esmerelle looked extremely familiar to Anders, though he knew it hadn't been from the fealty ceremony. It took him a few moments to realize that the man was Ser Temmerly—the man who had brutally murdered that woman who apparently had proof of the conspiracy against the Arl of Amaranthine.

Gideon noticed him as well, eyebrows going up in surprise. "Bann Esmerelle," he said smoothly, bowing to her just enough to show respect but still retaining eye contact. "It is an honor to be graced with your presence." The tone of his voice indicated that it was not much of an honor at all. "And Ser Temmerly. I can't say it's so much an honor as it is a surprise. I had thought you were having a nice stay in our dungeon." His eyes cut to Seneschal Varel, making it very clear that words would be had about this particular matter later.

Temmerly laughed. "I got an early parole, you might say."

"Or help from your friends," Gideon growled. "What do you want, Esmerelle?" All pretenses at politeness had vanished.

"You killed Rendon," Esmerelle spat. "Did you really think you would be able to get away with that? I had thought his own blood," her eyes flitted to Nathaniel briefly, "would have been more than capable of taking care of you, but he has obviously turned traitor, just as the Couslands did."

Nathaniel advanced towards her angrily, stopped only by Gideon's hand on his chest. "You were the one who told Nathaniel about his father, weren't you. You spread those lies about my family allying ourselves with Orlais."

"Your father was a traitor!" Ser Temmerly bellowed. "All here know it!"

Gideon ignored him for the moment, his eyes still on Esmerelle. "You're a fool to have believed Nathaniel would do your dirty work for you. He is a good man, far better than his father ever was."

Anders smiled to himself. His respect for Gideon—which had always been pretty high—had just gone up tenfold. He watched as Nathaniel relaxed slightly, and Gideon lowered his hand.

"So you're here for revenge, is that it?" Gideon glared at Esmerelle. "You're going to pit yourself and a few other soft, spoiled noblemen against me and my Grey Wardens?"

Esmerelle smirked. "Oh, it will not just be us pitting ourselves against you." She let out a piercing whistle—a signal for several figures who had been hiding in the shadows to suddenly emerge. One of the men raised his bow and fired an arrow, straight at Gideon. Before the warrior had time to react, Varel raised his arm in front of Gideon, in an attempt to shield him. It worked, in a way—instead of hitting Gideon, it slammed into Varel's forearm with a meaty thunk. The Seneschal cried out and fell to his knees, clutching at his arm.

Anders cast a quick regenerative spell on the seneschal to keep him somewhat safe; there was no time to do anything more than that as the newly arrived warriors began to descend on them.

There were half a dozen of them, all dressed in light leathers, save for one. In the little time that he had to think of such things, Anders took in the fine cut of the man's black leather armor, far richer and more expensive-looking than the others. His sword was of finely made steel, and he had tattoos on his arms and face—though Anders couldn't make them out very clearly. A few of the others had tattoos as well, but it was obvious that this man was the leader.

All of these thoughts ran though Anders' mind in a matter of seconds, the short time it took for him to register their presence to the point where the leader had his sword drawn and was headed for Gideon. The nobles present had also drawn their weapons, and had eagerly jumped into the fray.

Anders hurriedly cast a warding spell around Gideon, as he seemed to be the main target for most of the fighters. Bann Esmerelle, however, had her eye on someone else. The quarters were too close for Nathaniel to use his bow effectively, so he had his two daggers drawn and was dueling Esmerelle.

The ones who had been hiding in the shadow were good; it was obvious that they had been well trained. Mercenaries, perhaps. The nobles could certainly afford to pay for skilled fighters.

Near the end of the fight—with most of the nobles down, including Ser Temmerly—Esmerelle was still standing, though she was flagging. She had to know this was a battle she could no longer win; her allies and her hired fighters were all down, save for the leader. Still, she fought fiercely, refusing to give up. Perhaps because it was Nathaniel she was battling, and she refused to let Rendon's "traitorous" son be the one to do her in.

Anders was actually a little surprised that Nathaniel hadn't been able to finish her off yet, but from the defensive stance he continued to fall into, it seemed he was a little reluctant to take her down. Determined to help Nathaniel, and to hurry the battle to its inevitable end, Anders cast a walking bomb at Esmerelle. The noblewoman screamed as the poison burst through her veins.

"Andraste's tits, Nathaniel," Gideon called out as he fought the last mercenary standing, "just finish her already!"

Nathaniel finally seemed to shake himself and he took the opening presented to him as Esmerelle doubled over in pain. He stepped in neatly and slid one of his daggers into the vulnerable area beneath her armpit where the pauldrons and breastplate did not quite meet. He put all of his force behind sliding the dagger in, and it went far enough to pierce her heart.

Esmerelle fell to her knees, looking up at Nathaniel with hatred etched on her face. "Your father . . . was the better man." She slumped against the floor, open eyes staring at nothing as she took her final rattling breath and went still.

The man who Gideon had been fighting redoubled his efforts, but to no avail. Oghren and Nathaniel joined Gideon, and the man fell dead, Oghren's axe buried in his back.

Oghren pulled the axe out of the man with a disgusting squelching noise as Gideon and Anders hurried over to Seneschal Varel. He was conscious, but only barely. Gideon took out his dagger and sawed at the arrow still lodged in Varel's arm until there was a large enough groove in it that he could break it in half. Instructing Nathaniel to hold Varel still, Gideon pulled the arrow shaft out. Varel cried out in pain, but Anders was casting a healing spell before the arrow was even completely removed.

A few moments of healing and the color was returning to Varel's face. He nodded weakly to Anders. "My thanks to you. And to you as well, Commander."

Gideon shook his head. "I should be the one thanking you—that arrow was meant for me." He stood up and pulled Varel to his feet. "I appreciate your attempt to keep me from harm, but don't ever pull a stunt like that again." His words were hard, but Anders could see the concern that he was trying to conceal.

Gideon turned away and strode over to one of the prone figures, the one Anders had marked as the leader of the mercenaries. Gideon grasped the man's wrist and pulled his arm up, inspecting the tattoo on his forearm. As Anders walked over to them, he saw that the tattoo was some sort of bird.

"Is that an eagle?" Anders asked.

Gideon shook his head. "A crow." He stood up, his face grim. "An Antivan Crow, to be exact."

"What in Andraste's hairy arse-cheeks are the Crows doing, coming after you?" Oghren growled. "After everythin' ya did for them."

"Same as they always do," Gideon said flatly, "taking what I imagine was a large sum of money to assassinate a pesky arl who was getting in the way."

Anders looked around the room, taking in the carnage. "I wonder how hard it is to get blood out of carpet?" He toed at the dark red rug that covered the floor. "At least it's the same color, maybe no one will even notice it."

"Maker's breath, Anders, do you have to make a joke of everything?" Nathaniel glared at the mage. "This is my family's home. These—" he gestured to the bodies, "were my father's most loyal servants. There is nothing here to joke about."

The small grin that had been on Anders' face quickly faded. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't mean anything."

"You never do," Nathaniel said crossly. He knelt down over Esmerelle's body and reached for something that had been around her neck—a gold chain with a red-jeweled pendant hanging from it. He tugged on the chain, breaking it free from Esmerelle's neck. He looked at the pendant for a moment before closing his fist around it and standing. Without a word, without even asking Gideon for leave, he walked out of the room.

"Such a lovely home you have here," Velanna said sarcastically, startling them all. They were still unused to having her in the group, and Anders had lost track of where she was during the battle. Now she was shouldering her staff and wandering around the room, completely unmindful of the bodies. "Do you welcome all of your new Grey Wardens like this? Or am I just special?" She turned her head and smirked at Gideon, who completely ignored her.

Gideon was too busy talking with Oghren to pay attention to Velanna's snark. "I'm telling you Oghren, it was the Crows. Look at his tattoos."

Oghren grumbled. "They said they'd leave you alone, that there weren' going to be any more contracts out on you."

"Apparently they changed their minds. Gold has a tendency to do that, especially when there's lots of it." Gideon looked at the nobles. "Bann Esmerelle, Temmerly . . . Maker only knows how they got him out, we'll need to check on the men who were supposed to be guarding the dungeon. Either they're dead, or they were in on the treason—which means they will be dead very shortly.

"Lady Liza Packton, not a surprise at all. Lord Vondren, a few others I don't recognize." He looked up at Anders. "Here's your conspiracy, right here."

Anders nodded. "I recognize that man over there; he was definitely in that group of whisperers I saw during the fealty ceremony." Anders looked over at the door Nathaniel had exited through, concerned.

"Don't worry about him," Gideon said, "he'll be fine."

Anders looked back at him, brow creased. "How do you know that? He just killed his father's closest confidant." He pointed to Bann Esmerelle. "And apparently she was his father's lover, as well. Did you hear what she told him at the end? Did you see how Nathaniel looked after she said those words?" Anders had; Nathaniel had looked absolutely crushed when Esmerelle said that his father was a better man. Anders did not believe that drivel for a second, but Nathaniel was sensitive when it came to his father.

"You're supposed to be his friend," Anders continued angrily. "And all you've got to say is that he'll be fine?"

"He will," Gideon said patiently. "I heard what Esmerelle said just as well as you did, and I saw what it did to him. But I know Nathaniel—he just needs some time to himself. He's stronger than you think."

"It's not about being strong," Anders waved his hand dismissively. "Even the strongest man can still have weaknesses." He realized that everyone was staring at him, all with the same surprised look, save for Gideon. Gideon was actually smiling a little. "I know that, Anders," he said calmly. "But just give him a little time to absorb what happened." He looked over at Varel who was leaning against the wall, holding his arm gingerly. "You all right?"

The Seneschal nodded. "Yes, Commander. It just feels a bit sore, is all. I'll be fine soon enough."

"Very well." Gideon nodded to Anders. "Get the Seneschal up to his room, and make sure he's as healed as you can make him. I need him back on his feet as soon as possible." Gideon nodded at the Seneschal. "You've important work here Varel, I'll not have you dying on me yet."

Seneschal Varel chuckled weakly. "Not yet, Commander. It will take more than a stray arrow to take me down." He accepted Anders' arm around his waist and leaned his weight against the mage. Anders slowly helped him out of the room, casting one last look back at Gideon, who was glaring down at Ser Temmerly's body. Anders wondered if Gideon was right, and those had really been Antivan Crows. He had no reason to doubt Gideon's assessment, but he was surprised to see them so far from home. The nobles must have paid them a great deal to get them to come all this way to assassinate Gideon.

Anders helped Varel up to his room, and despite the man's feeble protests that he could do it himself, Anders helped him undress and get into his nightshirt. He cast one more healing spell on the Seneschal just to be sure, and slipped in a small spell to help him sleep.

Afterwards, Anders debated about whether or not he should go and check on Nathaniel. On the one hand, it was a healer's duty to make sure everyone in his charge was safe and sound, especially after battle; but on the other hand, Nathaniel had clearly wanted to be alone. He also did not seem to be very happy with Anders at the moment.

Anders decided it was best to leave it until morning—he could check on Nathaniel before breakfast.