2nd of 2 chapters I posted tonight. A wee bit of straight from game dialogue, but heavily tweaked. I love my reviewers!

After my performance with the guard we returned to the inn. Since they only had two rooms available, and one had just a single bed, I decided to sleep in Kristoff's unused room. If he picked tonight to return after being missing for more than a week, well, I could just move over. I sadly suspected it wouldn't become an issue, though. How do you tell someone their spouse is dead? I sighed, briefly wishing I could go back to being just another Warden.

I had just climbed into bed when a knock came at my door. "It's Anders," a voice called from the other side before I could answer.

I sat up, covering my legs demurely with the blankets. "Come in." The door opened.

"Have a moment?"

"Of course," I nodded and he walked in, pulling up a chair near my bed. Ser Pounce-a-lot jumped from his arms to curl up near my feet.

"May I point out that you're all right?"

"I'm all right?"

"And remarkably lovely, if I might say so" he added. "And in your nightclothes, which is really quite adorable!" I couldn't resist smiling at that.

"Really, though. When the templars came for me you could have decided I wasn't worth the trouble, but apparently I am worth the trouble. Considering I'm usually a lot of trouble I should be grateful."

"You're no more trouble than I am," I replied with a grin. This, although true, wasn't exactly a sterling endorsement for either of us.

"I'm starting to realize that. You do know you pushed the templars into fighting, don't you?" He gave me a conspiratorial wink.

"Did I?" I loaded my voice with false innocence. "What a shame…"

"Then, with the guards. 'Rogue templars.' Really?"

"Hey, everything I said was true. They were overstepping their authority. If I talked our way out of it they'd just come back, and maybe with more. The Grand Cleric didn't want Alistair recruited, but she couldn't do a thing about it, the Knight Commander didn't want me recruited but he couldn't stop it. Wardens are beyond the Chantry when it comes to that." I sighed. "Shame our phylacteries weren't there."

"It is a shame. Oh well, if you turn into Oghren every time a templar comes near us I think we'll be fine. Where did a mage even learn to use a sword?" I guess I did go a little overboard.

"It's an ancient elven technique, they were called arcane warriors. I can teach you if you want." Anders seemed to consider this. "I wrote to the First Warden to see if the order would take my phylactery back from the Chantry when I became Commander. He didn't reply." I sighed. It was rather disappointing to find out everything I had been told about the Wardens at Weisshaupt was true. They were so deep in their own politics no one had time for the rest of the order.

"Didn't reply? But you ended a blight!"

"I remember. He's sent me one note. It managed to be cynical, depressing, and scary all at once." He looked at me, waiting for more information. I remembered the letter, which arrived days before I left Denerim. "It said the hopes of the entire order rest on my shoulders, our mission is vital, and if I succeed we will be better positioned to end the next blight, and we all know there will be a next blight."

"Well no pressure there."

"Yep. I mess up, two hundred years from now some archdemon appears, and Wardens everywhere will say 'oh, if only Maggie Amell hadn't been such a lousy Commander!' No pressure at all."

"Hey, Amell is my last name, too!" I laughed. Amell was the last name they gave to every human mage, part of cutting our ties to family. You don't know their name, you can't seek them out. "For what little my opinion may be worth, I think you're doing a fine job. Other than the templars I think the whole of Amaranthine is in love with you. Even Nathaniel actually smiled today. I thought he didn't know how!"

"Good to know he won't be killing me in my sleep." Anders gestured for me to move over. Against my better judgment I did, and he sat next to me on the bed.

"Being a Warden isn't nearly as bad as I expected," he said casually. "It's like a stroll through the park. With darkspawn!"

"So glad I could make that happen for you, Anders," I replied dryly.

"You're a giver. I'm very grateful."

"Honestly, I am glad you're enjoying it. I figured you would quietly loathe me for several years before taking off in the night." This was entirely true, in fact.

"What a vote of confidence!" Anders laughed, though, clearly not offended. "I just wanted to thank you, Maggie. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me, Anders. You helped me clear the Keep of darkspawn and you didn't shove me off the battlements when you found out I'm a blood mage. You even healed my hand without a lecture on abominations and demons. After that how could I let them drag you off to be executed? Besides," I added after a moment, "you really are a brilliant healer, and an excellent mage. You deserve to be a Warden as much as anyone."

When I had been conscripted I was worried that I didn't honestly deserve my place. If Duncan hadn't been there I'm sure I would have been sent to the mage's prison, or executed. Helping a blood mage escape is a good deal worse than just sneaking out on your own. I spent much of the trip to Ostagar wondering if I was chosen out of pity, just to save me from the gallows. Duncan figured out what was on my mind, somehow, and reassured me just before we arrived that I deserved a place regardless. He also said that he himself was conscripted all but from the gallows years before. Even if the same thoughts hadn't occurred to Anders I wanted to make sure he knew that.

At some point while I was lost in thought Anders had put an arm around my shoulders. I hadn't noticed at first, but now that I did I wasn't exactly sure what to do. Yes, he was good looking. Yes, he was fun. Yes, we had a lot in common. And Maker's breath, he smelled so good. However, being sent into a templar-filled trap by someone who was very obviously a former lover wasn't exactly a glowing recommendation for being anything but friends with the man. Plus, no pawing the recruits. I briefly wondered what Alistair would do, but I realized he would be terrified of having a woman in his bedroom alone while he wore nothing but his nightclothes in the first place. I didn't even need to think about what Zevran would do.

"So have you remembered meeting me in the tower yet?" he asked suddenly. "We didn't actually speak, but we did meet."

"I've been trying to," I told him. The day after meeting I had scoured my memory, trying to recall every face from the tower and place his among them, without luck.

"I'm a little hurt. I thought we shared quite a moment. I've cherished it for many years, actually." He tried to pull me closer, so I was leaning against him, but I resisted, turning to look at his face instead.

"Wait, we didn't…? Did we?" I was now rapidly going through a smaller subset of male faces from the tower, heat rising in my face.

"Oh, now I'm really hurt. If that was the case I know you would remember me." I allowed myself a small chuckle at that.

"Just tell me, then," I demanded. "I have been hit on the head a lot in the last few years. Maybe a cracked skull pushed the memory out of me."

He laughed and pulled me towards him again. Maker, I'm a fool, I thought as I rested my head on his shoulder, not resisting. Why does he always complain about the cold? He's so warm, I thought, before stomping the idea down in my mind. "Well, I had just returned from a vacation. My fifth, I believe, which would make it about four or five years ago." I was still an apprentice then, around twenty years old, but he would have been a mage at the time, closer to my age now. "I was walking down the hall, carrying a pile of books." This narrowed nothing down, no one went anywhere in the tower without a pile of books. "My hair was much shorter then, very short. I'd cut it when I escaped so they wouldn't recognize me as easily." Andraste's ass. I was starting to remember. The fashion among human men had been hair longer than the collar for many years in the tower, anyone with 'very' short hair stood out.

"Anyways," he went on. "You were scurrying past, trailing the Knight Commander who was lecturing you about inappropriate behavior of some kind behind the storage room. That," he added, "certainly caught my attention." Oh no. "So I was trying my damndest to get a look at you, you know, without looking like I was trying to get a look at you. And I managed to drop one of my books." Oh no oh no no no. I remembered exactly. There was a code, among apprentices, at the time. Drop a book to indicate interest in someone when a templar was around and you couldn't speak to them.

"Well I felt like a complete fool," Anders said. "You stopped right in your tracks, and I'm thinking you must believe I'm a total oaf." The other half of the code was, of course, pick up the book and return it with a wink, indicating 'sure, sounds fun.' Another of those keep it in the tower stories, for sure. "So you just stand there, staring at me," because you're gorgeous, you ass? I thought, but remained silent. "And you look at my robes like you couldn't imagine anyone so clumsy could pass the harrowing." No, I thought, it was because I couldn't believe a harrowed mage would ever notice an apprentice like me. "But you reach down and grab my book, returning it to me with the most beautiful grin I'd ever seen. And you winked at me. Winked! At me! Not even ten feet from the knight commander. I was walking on air the rest of the day," he finished dramatically. Oh thank the maker, he doesn't know. I relaxed, realizing I was safe. Well, safer, since I was still curled against him in my bed. But, he was on top of the blankets, and my hands were in my lap. So I wasn't pawing anyone, technically. Commanding officer, I reminded myself.

Suddenly Anders spoke up again. "You know, had I known about that whole code everyone was using at the time I would have ripped the entire tower apart brick by brick looking for you before the end of the day." Damn damn damn damn damn!!!

I'm pretty sure he heard me gasp then. He stood without saying another word, kissed me on the cheek, and left, breaking his silence only to smile and say goodnight before closing my door.

Hopefully he didn't hear me cursing into my pillow thirty seconds later.