Later that evening, as we shivered under our blankets, sweat cooling our skin, I noticed Anders began to toss and turn. After the third or fourth time he had gone from his right side, to his back, to his left side, and onto his back again, managing to elbow or kick me accidentally with every rotation and sending the kitten to hide behind our packs, I sat up.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine!" he said quickly, continuing to shift around on the bedroll. I watched him for a while, wondering if he was suddenly having second thoughts when faced with actually sleeping next to me. "Anders?"

"Maker's breath," he muttered. "Did you, um…"

"Did I what?"

"Did you cast something on me?" I pulled away from him sharply, darting to the other side of the tent. Is that a blood mage comment, I thought, beginning to panic. Some crack about mind control? Did he really think I would do something like that? We had talked about my use of blood magic several times. Well, argued might be a more accurate word, but he knew me. Merciful Andraste, did he already regret sharing my bed so much he assumed I enthralled him?!

"Anders," I said, keeping my voice level, "what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Accusing?" he said, sounding confused.

"Yes, accusing!" I insisted. "I told you I would never use that magic against someone and now you're accusing me of casting something on you!" My voice had become almost too loud; I could hear Justice stirring outside.

"What?" Anders sat up sharply, pushing his hair back to look at me. "What are you talking about? Why are you so upset?"

"Why am I upset? You're accusing me of casting something on you! Do you think I would do that?"

"Come over here," he said. I stared at him, not moving, until he grabbed me by the legs and pulled me back to the bedroll. "All right," he said once I was next to him. "I thought you played a little prank on me. But you," he continued, "are acting like I accused you of using mind control on me."

"So… you're not, then?" I said, looking at him and relaxing.

"Makers breath," he muttered. "No, Maggie. Are you completely insane?" Apparently, I thought. When I didn't answer he only sighed. "All right, insane it is."

"Sorry," I offered. "It's a touchy subject." He rolled his eyes, an expression I had come to recognize as his sarcastic equivalent to 'well you don't say.' "Well, what did you think I cast?" I asked, now honestly curious.

"I don't even want to say, after all that!"

I poked him. "Come on, spill it."

He pushed his hair back again. "Fine. I thought you might have, um, cast a rejuvenate spell on me. As a joke. Or maybe a hint." I blinked. What on Thedas…rejuvenate? Then it hit me.

"What… oh. Oh." I said, trying not to giggle. "I… see."

"Please don't laugh," he said, blush evident even in the dim light of the tent.

"I know," I said, unable to stop giggling anyways. "I'm sorry, it's just," I took a breath, trying to get myself under control. "It's just, when I mentioned the jokes about Grey Warden stamina did you actually know what I was talking about?"

Anders raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't really listening, to be honest. I had a lot on my mind at the time."

"Fair enough. Well, there you go. The fabled Warden stamina. Ta-da."

"So this is normal?"

"Yep. I spent months wondering if I'd somehow lost my mind, but Morrigan of all people knew about it. Can't believe you haven't noticed before, it hit me just after the joining."

"Never thought to ask Alistair?"

I snorted. "By the way, former templar to be, I know you're completely innocent in these matters, but is it normal that I didn't even wait until the taste of darkspawn blood was out of my mouth before I started throwing myself at that fellow who leered at me when I got to camp? Hey, why are you running away with your fingers in your ears?"

He laughed. "No worries about rank then, I take it?"

"I was the junior Warden, rank was their problem to worry about."

"Harlot," Anders snickered. I elbowed him.

"Watch it," I warned, "You don't want to get on the bad side of one of the only women in Ferelden who can keep up with you."

From what I could tell, Anders seemed to agree with that sentiment.

The next morning I noticed Sigrun staring at me strangely while I made breakfast. Most of the camp was still asleep, we were trying to keep our voices down. She was busily sharpening her daggers, watching me cook. "Something wrong?" I asked her.

All she said was "your tent," while gesturing with her dagger. My tent? I spun around to look. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I stood up and walked over to see it from her angle.

"What in the…" I muttered noticing a large singed spot. "How did that happen?"

"How did what happen?" Anders had stumbled out of the tent and was now standing behind me. I pointed at the burn. "ohhh, that."

"'oh that'?" I eyed him. "Your doing?"

"Not my fault, though." He shrugged looking unconcerned.

"If it's your doing how is it not your fault?" I groaned. "I've had this tent for three years! Duncan gave me this tent! It survived a whole blight and you burn it after one night?"

"I was distracted, went off by accident."

I could see Sigrun's jaw drop. "You can burn things by accident?! No wonder everyone's scared of mages!"

"It was just a bit of lightning, not actually fire. I always default to lightning." Anders rationalized. At least when lose control of my magic it's usually a nice non-tent-destroying ice.

"Why don't I remember you shooting lightning around?"

"Oh, that's easy," Anders said, leaning to whisper in my ear. "Because at the time you were facing me and my hands were behind you. Plus, I think your eyes might have been closed." Sigrun looked over with obvious curiosity, but she couldn't hear him.

"oh," was all I said. I glanced from the tent to a very smug looking Anders and shrugged. "Eh, barely singed."

"I don't want to know," Sigrun said.

"Good, since I wasn't going to tell you," I replied smiling.

We set out after breakfast, Nathaniel insisting we would be able to camp at the edge of the woods that evening. I kept pace with him while we walked, a plan formulating.

"I've got two questions for you. Well, requests."

"Oh?" he said neutrally.

"Relax, it's nothing bad. At least, I hope not." He didn't respond, so I went on. "The first is about your sister- her husband is a merchant, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I inwardly grimaced. He was still upset she had married below her status, even if it was for love. Nathaniel still hadn't quite lost the mindset of a noble.

"Well, that woman from Weisshaupt has been trying to get me to convince merchants and traders to operate out of the keep. Do you think they would be interested in relocating? We can at least provide better accommodations to what they have now. And you'd be closer when she's due." I'd managed to find a grand total of one trader so far. I knew I had to find more, there just didn't seem to be any time to ask people.

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "I'd like that. I'll ask her the next time I'm in Amaranthine." I figured he would agree with that suggestion. My other idea was saved for second, hoping the first put him in a good mood. "What else," Nathaniel asked.

"Well, I was thinking," I began, "I need to name a second in command, would you be interested?" He didn't reply, so I added "If you're not interested that's fine, I won't be offended."

"Why me?" A fair question.

"You're good with tactics, people are comfortable following your lead, and I trust your judgment."

"Not Anders?" I could actually hear the smirk in his voice. It was rather impressive.

"Cute. Whatever my personal relationship is with him, I don't play favorites." He was listening, at least. "There's a good chance any one of us might not live long enough to worry about the Calling. If I act like a princess planning a fancy dress ball our odds become much worse. I have three jobs- kill darkspawn, rebuild the order, and keep everyone I recruit alive. I got this job since I'm very good at the first. I'm working hard to be good at the other two now. You are the best person for the job, so I asked you."

"I just cannot see you at a fancy dress ball."

"I'll have you know I'm a remarkably good dancer," I protested.

"I'll have to accept your word on that," Nathaniel replied dryly.

"Anyways, just think about it and let me know what you decide."

"I've already decided," he said. "I'll do it. I'm honored you asked me, actually."

"Like I said, you're the best for the job. Thank you, this is a huge relief for me. I'll have Varel notify Weisshaupt when we get home."

"Strange to think of the Keep as home again," he mused. "For a while I thought I'd never return."

"Good or bad strange?"

"Just strange. Not bad, though."

"It's strange for me to think of anyplace as home. I lived in the tower from the time I was six, but it never felt like a home, just a prison. Last year I lived in the palace, but it was never home, just a place I was staying. I think the closest thing I've had to a home before now was my tent during the blight."

We walked on. I could hear Anders pestering Sigrun for more details on the Legion of the Dead. Oghren was singing softly to himself. I caught a line of the song, 'saucy lass from the merchant caste,' and decided I didn't need to hear any more.

"Good or bad strange," Nathaniel asked me suddenly.

"Good. Definitely good. Having a place to live that I don't carry on my back, not having to drag around everything I own, having a real bed. It's nice." I laughed. "You know, until the Blight ended I'd never even had a room of my own? Apprentices slept in rows of bunk beds in one big room, and mages only rated a three wall cubicle until they made senior enchanter. Not that I was even around long enough for that."

"I find that surprising, given the stories people tell about mages." Realizing what he said, Nathaniel blushed.

"Most would, I guess. Plenty of dark hidden corners and alcoves in the tower, though. I admit, we had different rules there, I was quite shocked to see how inappropriate behavior I'd thought of as polite was when I got out. For us, it was good manners to make sure you stayed under the blankets and as quiet as you could if you were sharing your bunk with someone, and for anyone else in the room to go about their business like nothing was happening. I mentioned that to Alistair once, he was scandalized."I glanced over at him. "You know, like you are now." I giggled.

"It is surprising the Chantry let you carry on like that."

I shrugged. "They couldn't watch us all the time. I suspect they believed we were all damned anyways, or not really people at all, and didn't care what we did so long as it wasn't blood magic. And back then templars were all men, so no templars in the girl's bedroom. The priest said that wouldn't be appropriate, although the Maker knows how many of them peeked anyways, the dirty minded bastards."

"You're kidding, right? Templars hate mages, I didn't think they even looked close enough to see which were female!"

I laughed at that, but it was the common perception. "More than peeked for some of them, but even I never crossed that line. I may be a Maker-cursed mage but I've not the type to whore myself to the jailkeep for a bit of candy and a kind word about how I'm not like the others. I know damn well I'm just like the others, or worse." That was what they all seemed to say, apparently. I'd heard it from the other girls who had no problem letting the templars under their robes. 'You're not like the others, you're such a good person. How could you be a mage, you aren't wicked at all. I wish we could be married.' And the silly fools believed them, too. That was the sad part.

"You know what's really sick?" I asked, before going on to answer for him. "The templar who was at my harrowing, he stammered and blushed over me, drooling the whole time, while telling me he was the one who had the sword to my throat, ready to cut my head off at the first sign of abomination. But he would have felt just awful about it."

"I suddenly find myself hoping very desperately that my sister's child is not a mage."

"Yeah, so do I," I agreed.

We camped on the edge of the woods, just as Nathaniel had promised. Sigrun had been removed from cooking rotation until she got a better grasp on surface foods after an incident with an unusually gritty soup, so Anders made a rabbit stew for everyone. "Oghren," I called out after we had settled around the fire. "I know you've got plenty of ale with you, pass some around." He grumbled but complied.

"What's the occasion?" Sigrun asked, sipping her ale.

I shrugged. "Well, we've finally got a second in command, but I think he was the only one that didn't expect it. I mostly just wanted a drink, we haven't killed anything in days." I stretched my legs out, I had discarded boots and stockings as soon as Anders had the tent assembled. The fire warmed my bare feet. "And tomorrow isn't going to be easy."

"You can tell already?" Sigrun asked, sounding more excited than concerned.

I closed my eyes and focused, trying to forget they were all looking at me. My hair felt on end, a screaming in the back of my mind. "I can tell," I eventually replied. "Darkspawn, a lot of them. Too far to say how many or what kind, though. Just that it's a lot." I refilled my bowl and sat back down. "Give it time, you'll do the same. I'm better than I was during the blight. I bet if Duncan was still with us he could tell me how many, what kind, and where they were exactly, but he had more than twenty years as a Warden on me. Let's say it's enough we deserve a drink tonight. I'd advise against enough to cause a hangover, though."

I was kicking myself inside for putting the trip off for so long. I thought it would be dealing with bandits, perhaps, or a dalish/human confrontation I wanted no part in. Not darkspawn. The camp was fairly quiet for the rest of the evening.

I ran from one underground room to another, broodmothers howling in each of them. I was alone, darting through tentacles, knowing I wasn't strong enough to kill one of them by myself. My hair fell into my eyes and I shoved it back roughly. The black was streaked heavily with grey. In a tunnel a group of hurlocks surrounded me, I cast an area spell of freezing, pulled spellweaver from my back and started swinging. Blood splashed on my arms, hiding the blotchy grey patches covering my skin. I don't know how long I fought but eventually they fell. I cheered, but my voice was dry and dead, without emotion. Something grabbed me by the shoulder, shaking me roughly. I raised my arm and summoned an attack, but strong hands encircled my wrists. I screamed, pulling to free myself.

"Maggie, it's me!" A familiar voice called out, but my wrists were still trapped, sparks falling from my fingers. I blinked, eyes clearing. I was in my tent. Sweat covered my pale, scarred but otherwise normal arms. My hair, still black, hung in my face. Anders was looking at me, eyes wide with fear.

"Makers breath!" I gasped. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "You were screaming." He pulled me into his arms, I was silent against him, fighting for breath.

"I'm sorry," I finally said. "Nightmare." I couldn't remember ever attacking someone after a nightmare, but I couldn't remember someone ever waking me from one, either. Anders eased his grip on me. I could hear people talking outside. Nathaniel's voice cut through the night.

"I don't care how strange mages are, no one makes a sound like that unless they're hurt or terrified! She was screaming 'no' at something!" Sigrun, her voice lower, was replying to him. It was still full dark, so they must have been on third watch.

"Back in a second," I said, extracting myself from Anders' arms. I climbed from the tent, still in my nightdress. Both of their necks snapped, looking at me. "Sorry," I muttered, blushing. "I had a nightmare. It was a bad one."

"You're all right?" Nathaniel confirmed.

I nodded, managing an embarrassed smile. "As much as I ever am. Just be grateful you didn't join during a blight or you'd get them as bad as me, too."

"You always get them like this?" Sigrun's voice was heavy with concern.

"No, not always, but when I do they're bad. It might be because the darkspawn are close." I reached out again, probing for their taint in the distance. "Closer than they were before, at least. I don't think they know we're here, they're just moving around, not coming towards us specifically. Keep sharp just in case." They promised to do just that and I turned back, returning to my tent.

"Sorry," I said to Anders again, climbing back into the bedroll.

"No apology necessary. Let's try and get some rest." He held me to his chest, running a hand over my hair, until I fell asleep again.

The next morning I was working on my second cup of coffee by the time Anders woke up. He glanced at me, taking notice of Duncan's silverite dagger at my waist, my staff and sword crossed over my back. "Expecting a rough day?"

I shrugged. "Better to be prepared. This is a larger group than most of you have had to deal with before." I passed him several lyrium potions, he wordlessly tucked them into a pouch on his belt.

I had been right to worry, it turned out. We encountered a large group of bandits not even an hour after leaving camp. Trader carts were overturned and on fire, blocking the roadway. "I don't think this is bandits," I commented, examining them.

"Why not?" Oghren was looting corpses and, from his perspective, I could see how he would assume bandits.

"The stuff, it's still here. All of it." I cast a freezing spell, extinguishing the fire. "The merchants might even be able to salvage it."

Bandits and darkspawn, I thought to myself as we walked. Why is it the darkspawn never seem to attack bandits. Do they have a secret treaty? Some kind of trade alliance? How I wish I could stumble across the two groups fighting it out between themselves, and just clean up the winners.

I tensed as we moved on. We were getting closer to the darkspawn, but something else was nearby, too. I couldn't sense it, but I could hear wood smashing and creaking.

"Andraste's ass," I shouted as a few sylvans charged towards us. "I hate these things." Oghren and I attacked and, after their shock wore off, the others joined us.

"So… trees can walk?" Sigrun finally asked, once they were down.

"Just those. It's not normal, believe me." I looked around. I last saw the sylvans when we were fighting werewolves to get the aid of the Dalish. "Hm. You know, I don't know if they always travel together, but keep an eye out for werewolves."

"Maker's breath," Anders muttered, horrified.

"Werewolves, Maggie? You are joking, right?" Ever practical, Nathaniel was eyeing me like I'd just told him to watch for flying bunnies.

"Yes, werewolves. The last time I saw the trees it was in a part of the Brecilian crawling with them. Not saying we will, just be prepared. Their heart is a bit lower than it would be on a human."

"Strange," Nathaniel said to Anders, ignoring me and smirking. "She sounds completely serious. You trust her around you when you're unconscious?"

"She is serious, you nug humper," Oghren bellowed. "You should have seen 'er. Running through the woods, setting their fur on fire, all while singing. A lass after my own heart." He punctuated this statement with an impressive belch.

"Look, I'll draw you a nice picture when we get back, or you can write to the king and ask him for confirmation, but I'm telling you, werewolves are real. Or were. I might have killed them all. Maker, that would be a refreshing change." I paused. "Besides, I may be warning you for nothing. I'm just saying that's the only other time I've seen those damned moving trees."

"Singing?" Anders quirked an eyebrow up.

"Um, maybe?" I blushed. I had been so very, very tired at the time, nearly delirious with exhaustion. It put me in a sillier mood than usual. Alistair had teased me for weeks afterwards. "I don't know, the song, it was in my head. You know how that goes. Gets in there and you have to start singing it or you go nuts."

"What song?"

"A children's song Jowan used to sing to me when we were little. It was nothing."

"What song?" Anders insisted again.

"Hafter's Furry Father," I admitted. Anders and Nathaniel both roared with laughter, obviously familiar with the tune.

"You sang a nursery rhyme about werewolves while killing werewolves?"

"I hate you both." I groaned, wanting to end the discussion.

"Liar, you're crazy about me." Anders poked me in the ribs, I made a face at him.

"And I'm your second in command," Nathaniel said.

"Hey, look, a bridge!" I called, walking ahead. "Let's see where it goes!"

A/N: Hafter was, of course, Dane's foster son, and rumored to be the true son of a werewolf. I am constantly in awe of how much detail bioware puts into those codex entries. I bow to them.

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