This is chapter 1 of 2 I'm posting tonight. Wrote a long one, had to break it up. Some straight from game dialogue, heavily tweaked.

Nathaniel was also awake and pacing when I left my tent. "Maker's breath, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I said, feeling guilty. "I'll set my tent further away tomorrow."

"No need to apologize to me, I was concerned."

"Just a nightmare. It was nothing, honestly." He nodded and excused himself, retreating into his tent. I poured some coffee and sat by the fire with Anders. "I'm such an ass," I muttered.

"We were just worried, don't feel bad. He got up while I was trying to decide what to do. Nathaniel said I should be the one to wake you."

"Oh?"

"Well, he thought finding you in his tent, when he threatened to kill you just days earlier, could be upsetting."

"Hm, he makes a good point."

Eventually the others staggered from their tents, we broke camp, and returned to the road. Oghren attempted to get everyone to sing along with a song about a tavern wench, but after the third verse even Anders was blushing. I don't think anyone, anywhere, in the history of Thedas, has ever done… that with a bottle of mead. Just before we passed the city walls Anders stopped, taking a dramatic breath. "Ah, can you smell that? That is the smell of freedom!"

I sniffed. "Smells like apple pie!"

"No, it's definitely freedom. Dogs and dust, too, of course, but the freedom is there."

"Well, this is Ferelden. The smell of dogs goes without saying." He laughed.

"After my last escape they put me in solitary confinement for a year. Eventually I'm sure they would have branded me a maleficar, true or not, and executed me."

"I'm shocked they hadn't already, to be honest," I told him. I quickly added "I'm glad they didn't, though."

"You and me both! You know the Chantry, though. They hate executions since they can't torment you once you're dead." He sighed. "All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools." I had to admit, my short list of goals paralleled his.

"Hey, pretty girl, right here" I teased, elbowing him. Wait, where did that come from? By Andraste's frilly smallclothes, would you shut up, I told myself sternly. He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Hmmm… Maybe I'm closer to the dream than I imagined." I felt myself blushing, and he added, "Oh, never mind me. I just remember I should be sitting in a cell right about now, and have to smile."

We entered the city proper with Oghren and Nathaniel snickering. I had Nathaniel guide us directly to the local inn. One of the Orlesian Wardens, a man named Kristoff, had been staying here before he disappeared. The innkeeper didn't question me when I asked for the key once I said I was his commanding officer, which I found strange. Could anyone have walked in and said the same? I wasn't even wearing my warden robes, just normal blue and gold Tevinter ones. Sure, during the blight people believed us when we told them we were Wardens, but there was a price on the head of any living member of the order at the time. It wasn't as though people would claim it out of hand for the glory, since there isn't a lot of glory to be found in being a wanted traitor accused of regicide. Now, though, the Wardens were national heroes. I'd seen more than one man in Denerim claiming such a thing at a tavern, hoping to impress a young lady.

Kristoff's room had been empty for well over a week: that much was obvious. A very thin layer of dust covered every inch of the place. I removed his personal belongings to store at the Keep just in case something had happened. He had been married, if he was dead his wife would want them. "This is first," I said, examining his papers and maps to determine where he might be. "Trade routes can't take priority over a missing brother."

"Did you know him," Nathaniel asked me.

"No, but that doesn't matter. I'd hope he would do the same for any of us." I wasn't actually sure he would, having known only a handful of actual Wardens besides me, but I certainly hoped it was true. It seemed like it should be after all. We ate in his room, mostly so I could avoid the drunks of the common area who kept wandering over to us, beginning conversations with lines like "Hey! Hey! Hey, you're… you're that important person, right?" Maker preserve me, I thought, before Oghren jumped in, insisting we were rather important indeed, and should be given free drinks accordingly. Nathaniel had to drag him away before he made it to the 'falling over' stage of intoxication.

Leaving the inn we were rewarded with an unseasonably warm evening. People were wandering the streets, enjoying the last few hours of daylight. Anders cleared his throat, approaching an elven woman in light armor who was standing just across the narrow street.

I tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation, really I did. I just didn't quite manage to succeed. All I gathered was that she had discovered… something for him in the city, and was quite angry with him. I stood around, trying to look completely fascinated with the city's battlements. It wasn't quite as believable as I had hoped, though, since she turned right to me next. "Word of advice," she said to me. I could see Anders tense up, covering his face with one hand. "Don't let him sweet talk you. He's very good at that." With a final warning to Anders that she would never help him, or any mage, again, she stalked off.

Well doesn't that just figure. I had been hoping he was entertaining and fun in a sincere kind of way, not, well, not like Zevran had been. Not that I cared. Or should care. Commanding officer, remember, I told myself. No pawing the recruits.

"I… suppose that requires an explanation?" Anders offered, face crimson.

"Friend of yours, I take it?" I said, trying to keep my voice light.

"Ooooh, do I detect a note of jealousy?" He giggled as he said this, and I could feel myself blushing. "The last time I escaped I asked Namaya to look into something for me. During the blight some of the phylacteries were moved here, it turns out mine is among them."

I gasped. "Are they all here? Do you think mine could be?"

"I don't know, but mine is. Do you think we could go find it, so I can destroy it?" He was all but bouncing in place as he said this.

"That isn't even the right question." He looked at me. "The question is should we just destroy yours, and hopefully mine, or every damn one of them? We'll go after dark."

He grinned, and we set off for the market district, to find the trade route contact and Nathaniel's sister.

She turned out to be a rather nice woman not much older than me who married a commoner for love, not desperation. And she gave her brother an earful about how evil their father had been, and how he deserved to die. I hoped Nathaniel would listen to her about that, at least. It would greatly reduce the risk of me waking up to a knife in my chest. For his part, he presented her with some of the family jewelry that was in storage at the Keep. I don't think Varel would have been pleased, but Nathaniel did ask me about the items specifically and I said he should. I had no use for anything that wasn't enchanted, and selling someone else's heirlooms because their father was a monster seemed crass. "She's due in the spring," he added, actually smiling. I didn't even realize he knew how!

"So that would make you," I paused, trying to recall common familial terms, "an uncle?" It's amazing what a disadvantage you're at in any normal conversation when you have no context of family relationships.

"It would! I can hardly believe it." The smile fell, though, and he began to muse aloud about what might have happened if he had stayed in Ferelden, wondering if he could have stopped their father.

"It wasn't your fault, Nathaniel," I replied. He nodded, and said he would need to think, so I didn't press him further.

By the time we left it was dark. Stopping briefly back at the inn to arrange rooms, we set off for the templar warehouse. Nathaniel deftly picked the door lock. "I can't believe I'm helping you with this," he said.

"Go, then," I said to him, as well as Oghren. "If you don't want to be involved I won't hold it against you. This isn't Warden business, after all."

Oghren shrugged. "It could be a trap. I'm not letting you two sparkle-fingers in alone." Natianiel agreed, although not in so many words. We walked in, closing the door behind us.

"No guards?" Anders said, in a whisper. "Maybe they don't want to draw attention? Could we be that lucky?"

"Or it is a trap," I replied, peering into the corners of the room. He shrugged as we walked ahead, into the next room of the warehouse. Three templars stood waiting, including the one who was so angry about his conscription, Ser Rylock.

"And here I thought the infamous Anders wouldn't take the bait," she said. He groaned.

"I should have known it was you." He looked crushed.

"You made a poor choice with this one, Commander," she told me. "Anders will never submit, not to us and not to you."

"Submit?" I looked at her. "We're not a bunch of repressed templars. So long as he does his job his life is his own. And he's done just fine so far."

"So far, yes. I'll make sure that this murderer is never a bother to anyone again."

I stepped back, clenching my fists. Templars aren't allowed to go against the right of conscription. If they could the Wardens wouldn't have a single, solitary mage! By the Black City, I was conscripted against the wishes of the very knight commander! "Excuse me? Are you questioning the Grey Warden right of conscription? Who in the Maker's name do you think you are?" I could feel my face getting red with anger. "Those treaties have been in place since the DIVINE AGE," I shouted. "The Grand Cleric herself has no authority over us. What makes you so special, you BITCH?" Energy crackled around my fingertips. Maker, if I didn't hate templars already I would now, feeling my hopes of finding my phylactery dashed and being forced to defend laws that had been in place for a thousand years or more.

Nathaniel put a hand on my arm, holding me back, even though I could see him tensing out of the corner of my eye, preparing to attack at a moment's notice. He was right. If this ended in death they would need to deal the first blow. Killing templars out of hand would be a political nightmare for the order, and the First Warden himself would most likely show up to hang me if I started the fight.

"Hardly surprising," she said. "The Grey Wardens have ever been a haven for criminals and maleficar." She put a hand on her sword. Come on, come on, I thought, tensing. "I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught. Now you come with us." I almost forgot my burning urge to kill her for a moment. Who talks like that in this day and age? Her sword was out and Nathaniel released me to grab for his bow.

I shrieked as we flew into battle, ignoring my staff in favor of the sword. Alternating between striking with the weapon and casting spells, I managed to sweep one templar's footing out after I froze him, throwing my weight on the hilt of the blade to push it through the armor, piercing his chest after he fell. Using my foot to hold his body in place, I yanked the sword free, blood splattering across my face. Spinning to look for another target I saw Rylock was the only one standing. After a blast of lightning from Anders she, too, was down.

I gasped, waiting for my breathing to return to normal. After a moment Anders spoke. "I wonder if Namaya knew about this? I suppose it doesn't matter." I raised an eyebrow. If it were my friend I'd certainly think it mattered if they set me up to be ambushed or not. But then, I get the feeling whatever happened between she and Anders may have earned her some revenge.

"Thank you," he added. "You stood by me, and I appreciate that."

"You're a friend, Anders. Friends stick up for each other." Did he really expect me to hand him over?

"I guess they do," he replied, before suggesting we leave soon. I agreed, and we cleared out just as soon as everything of value was removed from the building. No phylacteries, of course, but once we saw the templars I doubt either of us expected them.

I found the head of the city guards after we left the warehouse. "Warden Commander," he stammered, casting a glance at our bloodstained appearance. I put on my best 'official business' voice and stood at attention.

"Ser, I'm afraid we were just ambushed by a group of rogue templars. They attempted to take one of my men to the Circle, in violation of both the Grey Warden right of conscription and His Highness King Alistair, who personally witnessed and authorized the conscription." Oh, that sounds good! The guards eyes were wide, and he was nodding. "This man is a full Warden, not even a recruit!" I did my best to sound absolutely scandalized. "When I wouldn't give in to their illegal demands they attacked, we were forced to kill them in self defense. You'll find their bodies in the warehouse."

The guard paled. "Templars questioning the rights of the Grey Wardens? And in Amaranthine no less? That's madness!" I agreed and wished him a good night before we turned back to the inn.

"So, we just broke into a warehouse," Nathaniel said, as we walked to the inn. Oghren and Anders were ignoring us, busy insulting each other.

"Yes. Thank you for helping, by the way."

"You goaded a templar into a fight," he went on.

"She questioned one of the most sacred rights of our order, a right we need to survive, and stepped well beyond her authority. She also questioned the authority of the King, who happens to be my best friend. I had every reason to be angry."

"If you say so. But then, you reported it to a guard yourself? With a bard-worthy performance?"

"Oh, I'm not that good," I protested. "And of course I reported it! The bodies would be found; I don't want someone innocent being blamed. And if any other templars think they'll earn a promotion ignoring the law and taking us on without orders they'll think twice before they act."

Nathaniel paused for a moment. "That is, actually, fairly sound reasoning."

"This surprises you?" I said. Although, upon reflection I couldn't blame him for his initial impression. Our introduction did involve me conscripting someone who threatened my life, drunkenly setting my room on fire with another Warden, and waking up half the camp with my screaming the next night. The man probably thought he was being led around the arling by a madwoman. He had the decency not to reply.