We made better time on our way back to the keep. Our first evening back Nathaniel cornered me after dinner as I was walking into my rooms. "Commander, I believe I owe you an apology. More than one, perhaps." I was half asleep, but it was obvious he wasn't enjoying saying whatever it was he came to say, so I tried to look alert.
"Nathaniel, you do not. Well, other than for refusing to call me Maggie."
He smiled a bit at that. "All right, Maggie. But I do owe you an apology. I planned to kill you, without checking the facts. I would have made a terrible mistake."
"Apology accepted, Nathaniel." He looked relieved. "Also, my comment about map reading was insensitive. I can understand now why you and Anders are…"
"Bitter?" I supplied, smiling.
"Thank you."
"Again, not a problem, Nathaniel. So, how do you like being a Warden so far?"
"It is… not what I expected."
I had to laugh at this. "I can imagine. Most Commanders have years of experience. They just tossed me into the job because I fought the archdemon. I only know how to make things up as I go along."
"I actually meant I was enjoying it more than I expected," he replied, smiling. That was a huge surprise. "I thought it would be a punishment. It really isn't." Nathaniel looked slightly anxious for a moment, and continued. "I certainly didn't expect to make friends. If- if I'm reading that correctly."
I grinned at him, relieved. "I would be glad to call you a friend." I felt bad for him, having his father destroy everything he knew, returning home to find his world gone. And I can imagine making friends as a noble would be difficult. Where I had people hate me for being a mage, he was most likely surrounded by people pretending to like him for being an Arl's son. Alistair had complained of that after he became King.
"So, can I ask you something?" I nodded, curious.
"You and Anders…?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"Oh Maker, have you been talking to Oghren? He gossips like an Orlesian courtier." I blushed before going on. "Anders and I are friends. We have a similar background and, as you yourself have pointed out, agree on many topics." He had to chuckle at that.
He looked like the answer had created more questions. "What were you doing when you started a fire, then? I've been quite curious."
"Are you familiar with Tintreasch?"
"The drinking game? Of course."
"Well, in the tower we didn't drink, we hit each other with bolts of lightning instead." His eyes widened. "Very, very small bolts of lightning. But, Anders and I decided to invent a new form, which he called Warden Mage Rules"
"I'm almost afraid to ask…" Nathaniel replied, looking curious and not at all afraid.
"It included both," I supplied, realizing how incredibly foolish it sounded when I said it out loud.
Echoing my thoughts, Nathaniel replied slowly. "Neither of you found it… somewhat idiotic to get drunk and shoot lightning at each other while inside?"
"Well, it does now," I agreed. "Seemed like a good plan at the time, though. We didn't actually talk about it, we came up with the idea at once and just started playing. I think if even one of us had bothered to speak the new rules out loud we would have seen the major flaw. It'll be a strictly outdoor game in the future."
"It does explain how you started a fire."
"Not exactly," I admitted. "That's just what we were doing when it started. Anders was complaining about the cold, so we sat by the fireplace."
Nathaniel jumped in before I could continue. "So he was cold and started a fire?!"
"Maker, no. He's not insane." Nathaniel looked at me doubtfully. "No more than any of us, at least. He was wrapped in a blanket; it just got too close to the hearth. We were both too drunk to notice. A silly mistake."
"I… see." I wasn't doing much to convince Nathaniel his commander was, in fact, a competent and reasonable adult. At least he looked more amused than annoyed as he said goodnight.
Varel cornered me as soon as breakfast was over, insisting I couldn't put the vassals off any longer. I wasn't really arlessa, I made sure of that before I left, but the title did fall to the current Commander of the Grey, which meant I had to act like I was. Eamon had done some bureaucratic magic to make sure I didn't hold a title in name, since the Chantry was spitting nails about the Wardens naming me Commander as it was. They didn't like a mage in charge of, well, anything. The nobles were expected to arrive by late afternoon.
Since I had to play Warden Commander for a few hours, and downplay being a mage, I opted to wear my armor. Anders bumped into me as I headed towards the main hall, Ser Pounce-a-lot nipping at his heels. "We're heading to Blackmarsh tomorrow, and maybe the woods on our way back, plan on being out for a week at least," I warned him. He didn't seem to hear me, staring at my armor instead. "I know, I know," I muttered. "I look absurd, but this is the only plate I've ever found that fits me properly, and I want to look the part when I deal with those sodding nobles, even if it is two hundred years old."
"Where did you even get that? I thought the custom stuff wasn't going to be done for another couple weeks."
"It belonged to the last Commander of the Grey before they were driven from Ferelden. She had been possessed by a demon. Killed the demon, kept her armor. Alistair said it looked good on me." Of course, he laughed for half an hour after saying that, struck by the absurdity of seeing a mage in armor at all. I didn't need to share that bit, though. Anders tapped a fingernail against my shoulder, smiling at the noise. "Go ahead, laugh. I know how awful I look. Get it out now before Bann whatever and Ser so and so show up."
He did laugh, but only a little. "Have I ever mentioned that I find women in armor incredibly attractive?" Anders asked, continuing down the hall without waiting for an answer. Andraste, save me from this man, I thought, catching myself watching him walk away. He waved over his shoulder. Damn! I suppose it was less distracting than Zevran's constant lewd innuendos had been. Well, less distracting for the rest of the group, at any rate. As for me, I was far more distracted than I had any right to be.
The nobles arrived fashionably late. I had intended to greet them standing, the idea of lounging on a throne watching people bow before me just made me squeamish. But I was tired of standing around in the heavy plate and sat for a brief moment. As if on cue the guards opened the main doors. "Were they waiting for me to sit," I asked Varel. He shrugged as I jumped to my feet.
First, there was the bowing. Lots of bowing. Every person was introduced by name and area they controlled, I promptly forgot their names, and they bowed. I moved to bow back, but Varel grabbed my arm, keeping me upright. I guess that was part of the being in charge thing. I don't think many of them noticed my breech in protocol. I wasn't really sure I would have cared if they did.
Then, I had to meet with all of them, discuss why they hated me, what they wanted me to do, and promise to take their demands under advisement. Everyone wanted us to send them soldiers. Even the city asked for some. The city had walls! And its own guard force! What did they do all day if not protect people?
Finally, a woman whispered information of a conspiracy against me among some of Arl Howe's more ardent supporters. She promised paperwork with details in just a few days.
Varel cleared them out of the hall and we sat to discuss this conspiracy. "I can't say I'm surprised," I muttered. Turning to Nathaniel I asked, "do you remember who your father was most closely allied with?" He shook his head.
"I haven't even been in Ferelden for years. My father's allegiances were always changing rapidly." What a shock that was. Varel suggested a master spy who I could find in Amaranthine. It seemed as good an option as any. The 'Orleasian option' of taking a hostage just sounded like a pain. Plus, I didn't want us paying to feed them.
"What about the guards," he asked. "Where should we send them?"
Mistress Woolsey pushed me to protect trade routes above all else, but I ignored her. If the First Warden wanted us to just sit back and get rich he could come here himself. And find my damn phylactery while he's at it.
"The city has walls, and a guard force of their own," I began. "Why is the city guard unable to protect them?"
"I believe the issue is with numbers. Perhaps training as well. They are not our people, so we have little say."
"Blast. Send a couple men to the city, one or two, as a gesture of goodwill to help with getting them up to speed. Encourage the Bann to increase wages and push for recruitment. We need to protect lives above brick and mortar; the farmers have no one helping them."
He nodded and handed me a stack of letters before leaving. I headed to my room, eagerly looking forward to getting out of this armor. Examining the letters it seemed as though everyone in Amaranthine had written to me. Save my child, find my husband, save my farm, find a missing person, fine fine fine- that's what we do, that was something I could manage.
One caught my eye and I laughed. Save my smuggling business? Oh, who are they kidding? Into the trash that one went.
A note from Weisshaupt, confirming they had recorded the names of my first recruits, and informing me that initial reports had been favorable. It didn't specify if that was reports of me, the recruits, or the Ferelden Wardens in general. Just "the initial reports." For all I knew it was a report of the Amaranthine summer weather, or the current Orleasian footwear trends. Annoyingly vague, but I filed it away.
Finally the last letter, more battered than the rest. Familiar scratchy handwriting, all points and daggers, reading not "the Wardens," or "Warden Commander," but simply "Maggie Amell."
It had been posted from Antiva City.
"Oh you LOUSY son of a BITCH!" I screamed, without thinking. Where in the hell did he get off writing to me after all these months? What could he hope to say that would make me forgive sneaking off in the middle of the night? Did he expect me to be patiently waiting for his return; is that who he thought I was? Did he think I wouldn't have moved on?
Dropping the letter like it was on fire I punched the desk. There was a crunching noise. "Ow."
Three men appeared in my doorway. "What's wrong," Nathaniel said, looking nervous.
"Nothing, nothing, sorry," I brushed them off.
"Maggie, your hand!" Anders exclaimed, rushing forward. He healed me and, without asking permission, grabbed the letter from my desk. His face darkened when he saw where it had been sent from, tossing it back in front of me with more force than necessary. "I see."
Oghren stepped around Anders, trying to see the letter. "Well doesn't that just figure," he muttered. Oghren cast me a sympathetic glance before patting my arm. He dragged Nathaniel from the room with him.
Anders was staring at me scowling. "Aren't you going to open it," he finally asked.
"Why should I?"
He didn't say anything at first, looking disappointed and angry. This was not the reaction I had expected from him. Annoyance, curiosity, those would have made sense. But disappointment? Eventually he did reply. "You don't care? You're not curious?"
I tapped my fingertips on the desk, filled with nervous energy. "I'm curious, sure, but it's not real curiosity. It's like wanting to know the end of a story, or see the last act of a play." He looked at me, so I went on. "Nothing in that letter would change anything. It would just make me angry all over again." I paused and looked at my hand. "Well, more angry."
"But you lov-" I cut him off mid-word.
"No, I don't. I did. In the past. I may do a lot of stupid things, but I'd hope I'll never be one of those women who spends her life mooning over some ass that up and left her. That ship, as they say, has sailed." I picked up the letter, examining the paper briefly before holding it up. "Can you toss this in the fireplace for me?"
Anders met my eyes before he took the letter. I was curious, insanely curious, to read it. How could I not be? I knew this was for the best, though. I hadn't even thought of him since the night I told Anders about him over cards. That fact wasn't lost on me, either.
His fingertips lingered over mine when he took the letter from my hand, and seconds later it was gone forever.
Anders walked behind me, leaning over to warp his arms around my shoulders briefly. "I still say he was a fool."
Maker's breath, who am I kidding?