Disclaimer
I don't own anything of consequence.

Author Note *Short, I promise* I haven't written anything decent in YEARS. Not helped by me forgetting my password. :-/ And real life that gets in the way. Many thanks to Darling Bec for introducing me to the wonderful world of Thedas, and between her and Lindsay-love, who keep me writing. (Friend Fiction is also fun) ):-) Anyway for anyone who might want to read this in context of their own Warden, the only bits you need to replace are 'Fortuna' 'Amell', who is my beloved female warden. No descriptions of the Warden present in this piece or any pairings. Very neutral. Enjoy!

Things That Go Yum In The Night

Since the raid at Vigils keep by darkspawn, all those months ago, the staff both old and new had never recovered their ease. Catching the Grey Wardens unawares was all but unheard of. 'In war, victory. In peace, vigilance' as the motto went, but 'In death, sacrifice.' Anders was pretty sure he wasn't ready to die yet, even as he went to investigate the things that went bump in the night.

Someone, or perhaps even something, was moving around the Keep, obviously trying to be stealthy, but he heard it as it passed his room and saw the slight darkening under the space of the door as it moved by. He waited a short while, unsure if he should confront whoever, or whatever it was directly, raise the alarm or… pretend simply he'd seen and heard nothing. He quashed that idea. He was no coward, and was determined not to wake up dead because he had his throat cut in the night. He reached for his staff, set it to a gentle, barely noticeable glow, and slipped out after the intruder.

It had to be said that the stronghold for the Wardens was never overly warm, either in temperature or in ambiance, but it had become a home of sorts over the long months he'd spent there. When he thought about it, it was odd. He didn't have to run from the Templars since he was conscripted, and so seemed to have spent more time in Amaranthine than he had almost anywhere in his life.

A change in thought occurred when he spotted that he was not the only one investigating the late night goings on. Ser Pounce-A-Lot, tail boldly in the air to show him the way, was trundling merrily along behind whoever it was. Anders wanted to warn his beloved kitty of the imminent danger he was in, but had no way of doing so. Consoling himself with the saying about cats having many lives, he maintained a safe distance and followed where cats, it seemed, had no fear to tread.

This intruder, possibly a darkspawn scout, seemed to know exactly where it was going. He could hear the footsteps, not heavy but not as quiet as his own either. At one point, just as he thought he was getting close, he saw whoever it was turn a corner. He stopped and prepared himself. Taking a deep breath, he strolled into the kitchens after the intruder, who had gone into the cool pantry.

Gotcha. He thought to himself as he charged in after them, staff at the ready.

What he saw, he was not prepared for.

A plate, or rather platter, sat on the grand table, and on it was bread, smothered with fresh butter, and piled high with sliced smoked ham and Orlesian cheese. Beside it were an apple, a dozen Nevarran olives, and a cold sausage from the previous night's feast. Beside the platter was a flagon of milk, and beside that a saucer, being filled with milk, by Warden Commander Fortuna Amell.

"I should have known if anybody would catch me it would be you," she sighed, looking up as she up righted the jug, but then Ser Pounce meowed loudly, and she set the milk down for him. "Anders. Put that staff out."

It took a moment to register what she said, "Uh… yes." He snuffed out the mana supply from the fade to the weapon, and the light from it though small to begin with, died instantly.

"If Woolsey catches us, she won't be pleased. But I didn't bring down an Archdemon just to be denied a sandwich, if I want one. Which as it happens, I do, but even so, better to be discreet about it. Won't you join me?"

There was a reminder of the pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach he'd forgotten about. With trade from Denerim being strangled by bandits, highwaymen and thieves, the meals at the Keep had been growing smaller. Still, the Commander had been paying more attention to the worries of the farmers and the pressing concerns of the city folk that those in the Keep would just have to make do. She sipped her milk without a word as she watched him gather a plate, and idly she bent down to scratch Pounce behind his ears.

"No wonder he loves you, the kitchen staff all give him water." Anders froze. His eyes darted to the Commander, who still had an olive between her teeth. Going by her wide eyed expression, she may have anticipated him, but not anyone else. She moved slowly. "Its unsurprising that cat has a soft spot for milkmaids and mages."

Nathaniel and Sigrun didn't bother to hide their amusement at catching their commander red handed with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Not all mages. He really doesn't like Velanna much at all. Not that I blame him, of course. She's always so angry." pointed out Anders.

He sat down and watched his commanding officer bite into the first of two sandwiches with a glow of satisfaction. He enjoyed seeing her in these moments when she was just Fortuna, not Warden Commander of the Grey and Hero of Ferelden, Lady Fortuna Amell of Ameranthine, formerly of the Circle of Magi. All of which were just a list of titles that said nothing of who she was, or what she was really like. Still, history and all of Thedas would remember those honorifics, and not the young woman finding pleasure in a good hearty meal, in the middle of the night surrounded by friends and comrades.

"That's because she never gets to go anywhere. How is she supposed to look for her sister if the Commander constantly chooses for her to stay at the Keep instead of searching Amaranthine?" It was clear that Amell had a response to Nathaniel's comment, but her mouth was full of stodgy bread and she was not prepared to make more of a fool of herself by spraying her subordinates with crumbs. Instead, she frowned, and chewed harder.

Once again, her fellow mage stepped in on her defense. "That's up to the Commander. But I wouldn't want to be around such an angry elf all the time either."

"But maybe she would be less angry if she actually went out." Reasoned Sigrun

"I doubt it." shrugged Amell, biting her sandwich from her right hand and fussing Ser Pounce with her left. The debate went on over her head, getting ever louder, and eventually, in a level voice, Amell said, "I'm going back to my quarters." It was clear nobody was listening to her anyway. She still had most of her meal left, but she intended to leave no evidence. "Come on, Ser Pounce-A-Lot, I don't wish to get my guts turned into garters by Mistress Woolsey, and neither should you."

"Meow." Agreed the cat, and faithfully trundled after the Commander as she departed.

It took the others a while to realise when and where she'd gone. The conversation had just taken a turn for that taboo of family. Nathaniel's were considered heroes or traitors, Sigrun had disowned hers when she joined the Legion of the Dead, and Anders refused to go there at all by deflecting every attempt at conversation on the matter.

"She's gone." Anders drew attention to the fact.

Sigrun gave him a withering look, "Trust a mage to notice the obvious and point it out to everyone. Actually, she's been gone for some time. Ser Pounce too."

"She's taken my cat." The dwarf rolled her eyes. Anders picked up his plate, balanced his flagon on it and put his staff over his shoulder. "Come on, then." When all he got were strange looks, he explained, "You never have midnight feasts in kitchens or food halls, only in dormitories or sometimes libraries." like it was something everyone should know.