I just found out I'm getting an A in my creative writing class so far, I guess it's inspired me to write. A lot. I may have another chapter up today. This party banter made me laugh so much in the game. Oghren's "really?" totally got me.
I had been sorting out my clothes and personal items for an hour when an unfamiliar voice called me from the study. I ran out before they could shout again. "Sssh- I don't want to wake the other Wardens."
The guard, burdened by a large empty bookshelf, set it down softly. "I wouldn't worry, the walls here are thick."
"If you say so," I told him and gave instructions on how I wanted the room set up. They quickly set about replacing the furniture, hanging my antique Warden weapons, and putting up the paintings rescued from Solders Peak while I unpacked the rest of my few belongings. I had finally whittled down the pile of crates to just two, containing books and my writing supplies.
"You must really like griffons," someone said from behind me. I turned and saw a sleepy looking Anders hovering in the doorway looking at the wall now covered in antique shields, swords and crossbows. "Or weapons."
"Why not both?" I asked him. "Come on in, pull up a chair. I made them redecorate for me. There's food on the table there, help yourself."
He grabbed a loaf of bread and fell into an overstuffed leather armchair, watching me unpack the final box. "While I admit I don't know you well, Commander" Anders began, "being so concerned with decor seems to be a bit out of character."
"You didn't see this place before. All teensy Orleasan chairs and tables. Utterly useless. Felt like I was trapped in a doll house. And call me Maggie, please. We're an order of equals."
"Short for Margaret?" He asked. I nodded. "I used to see you around, but never knew your name. You're a few years younger than me, right?"
"I wouldn't know," I answered. "I have no idea how old you are. I suspect so, though, since you've managed to escape half a dozen times. I'd guess that to be all post-Harrowing since they would tranquil you in a second if you escaped as an apprentice, and I only had mine about three years ago."
"I'll be one and thirty in a month," he answered.
I stared up at him. "You know your birthday?"
"I was almost a teenager when I went to the Circle," Anders explained, bitterness in his voice.
"That explains it," I said.
"Explains what?"
"Why you've been so desperate to get out. I was four when I arrived, I didn't know what I was missing. If I had…"
"And now?"
"I wouldn't give it up for anything," I said honestly. "Why do you think Alistair's so worried about me causing problems with the Chantry? About two seconds after you told me you were an apostate I was already plotting, and he knew it the moment that templar opened her mouth."
"And here I thought it was my boyish good looks and your horrible healing skills," he joked. "So, how old are you, then? Roughly."
"Five or six and twenty."
"Huh, you look younger." He didn't seem to have anything else to say, so I resumed my unpacking. Putting the final box in the fireplace I cast a spell to crush it. When the wood collapsed into a neat pile I cast again to light the fire.
"How do people manage without being able to do that?" I mused.
"You ask the only other person here who could do the same thing?" Anders replied with a chuckle.
"Point." I sat at the chair closest to the fire, stretching my legs. "Sleep OK?"
He shrugged. "Nightmares, like you said. They didn't last all night, though. I'll live." Anders pulled his chair closer to the fire. "Still waiting for that hunger thing to kick in."
"Really?" I asked with a grin. "So you always ate two full loaves of bread for breakfast?" He looked at the small chunk of bread remaining in his hand and blinked. "See, I'm not entirely clueless."
"I take it we need to wait for the dwarf before you tell me the bad news?" he asked, and I nodded in response.
"I'd rather not go through it twice."
"Well, if you're going to leave me in suspense, I want entertainment." He waved his hand towards the lute sitting on one of the bookshelves.
"Trust me, you don't. Leliana tried to teach me to play, but I'm awful."
"So tell me a story," he said.
"What, I'm a bard now? You want to hear about Dane and the Werewolves?"
Anders rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm not familiar with that one. That's exactly what I want. I'd also like a glass of warm milk and a stuffed mabari doll." I chuckled. "Tell me about you. How did you leave the Circle? What was the blight like? How accurate are the songs about you?"
"There are songs about me?"
"You never heard Ballad of the Hero of Ferelden? Or The Maker's Mage?"
I winced. "I hope I never do. That second one especially. The title is…"
"Horrible?" he supplied helpfully.
"Very." I agreed. "OK, I'll start with the Circle. Did you know Jowan?"
His eyes widened. "So it's true!"
"Wait, what's true? If you knew why did you ask?"
"The templars were talking about it when they overheard someone saying you were on the way here. You know, before they met their untimely ends. I wondered if it was accurate."
"What did they say?" I asked, curious.
"That you two were lovers, and in some kind of blood magic pact. After your harrowing when you discovered he was about to be made tranquil both of you took a priest hostage and tried to escape after destroying your phylacteries. He got away, but you didn't, and that's when the Wardens conscripted you. There were hints that you enthralled the Warden who was there to force him into it. You later hunted Jowan down and killed him in revenge for his escaping without you and working with Loghain."
I howled with laughter until tears spilled down my face. "Oh Maker, that's awesome. I can't believe it. No wonder people act strange around me if that's what they say. I can't wait to tell Jowan, he'll love it!"
"Not true, I take it? That's a shame, it was a pretty exciting story. I was rather surprised to meet you after hearing that. You didn't live up to what I expected. I pictured someone much more obviously evil."
"As opposed to my subtle evil?" I asked him. "Wow, where to begin… Well, first, Jowan was my best friend, but we were never lovers. The Chantry girl was his lover; they were the ones trying to escape so they could get married. He was a blood mage, I didn't know at the time. He taught me, but not until much later. The part about it being just after my Harrowing, and destroying his phylactery was true. Mine had already been sent to Denerim, though. We got caught leaving the vaults. He panicked and cast a blood spell, the priest totally lost it and said she never wanted to see him again, and he bolted. I was conscripted since the templars didn't want to let me leave after that, but the Wardens had been there to evaluate me as a potential recruit in the first place. I was head of my class in primal and they needed combat mages for the battle."
He weighed that for a bit. "That makes much more sense after meeting you. A lot less exciting, though. What about the last part? Obviously not true if he lives, but what did happen?"
"Well, the Chantry thinks the last part is true, since that's what I told them." He leaned forward in his chair, grinning. "Amazing what they believe with a burned bit of a robe as evidence."
"Well?"
"He did work for Loghain, but he didn't have a choice. I freed him from that mess, and he spent the Blight guiding refugees North, using magic to protect them from darkspawn. I visited him not too long ago to meet his new wife, she was one of the refugees. She's rather lovely woman, and they're expecting a child by the end of winter. I'm hoping to visit again after that."
It was his turn to laugh after I said that.
"He said if it's a girl they'll name her after me." Anders was roaring at this point, doubled over.
"What's got skirt boy so riled up?" Oghren asked from behind us.
"Hey Oghren, I'm just telling him about Jowan, another mage from the Circle. Food over there," I pointed. He made a large plate and pushed a chair over to join us by the fire.
"So, a mage, huh? What's it like," he said looking at Anders, between mouthfuls of food.
I sat, waiting for whatever punchline Oghren was working towards. He never expressed curiosity about being a mage before, there had to be some reason he was asking Anders now.
"To have all this power at my fingertips?" Anders replied, taking the bait. I tucked my legs under me and covered my mouth, hiding the growing grin.
"No," Oghren said, grin too wide to be mistaken even behind the beard. "To always have to wear a skirt?" He roared with laughter. Anders didn't miss a beat, though.
"Oh, you don't know the story behind the robes?" He paused, smiling innocently. "You know how strict things are in the Circle, right? Of course you do." At this point his smile took on a decidedly wicked quality. "Well, the robes make quick trysts in the corner easy. No laces or buttons. You're done before the templars catch on." I felt myself blushing and resisted the urge to cover my cheeks.
"Really?" Oghren asked, his eyes as big as dinner plates.
"Just ask anyone," Anders insisted, turning to me with a wink.
"Warden!" Oghren said, followed quickly by "Maggie! Is it true?"
"Well," I drawled, trying to salvage some dignity from the conversation. "That's not the only reason for the robes."
"But IS IT TRUE?" Oghren insisted again.
I sighed in defeat. "Yeah, it's pretty much true."
He stared at both of us. "Sodding mages. That's no fair."
"It's not like we spend all our time in the Circle just looking for a chance to get into each others' robes," I protested.
"Well, of course," Anders said. "We also had to eat and sleep on occasion. And go to class. But otherwise…" He grinned at me. I mentally urged him to stop talking. The first thing I realized after leaving the tower was that normal people did not act like mages. After one of my more innocent stories turned Alistair's ears red and sent him jogging to the other side of camp I learned not to discuss some topics.
"Why did I think conscripting you was a good idea?" I groaned. Oghren stared at us and cackled. "Laugh it up, Oghren." I cast Anders a dirty look. He only responded with an angelic smile.