A/N: I have a crush on Varel. I'm just going to come right out and admit it. And clearly I think Anders is a bit of a lech. But the fun kind, obviously.
Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.
"He is resting in his chambers, Commander."
She sat at the little table in the kitchen, clearly invading the personal space of the cook, who was now forced to make her way around two invaders. "Thank you, Varel."
He opened his mouth and then closed it, and turned to leave.
"Something you wanted to ask me, Varel? Perhaps you'd like to know," she traced idle patterns in the wood (her new favorite way to avoid looking someone in the eye – she was glad Vigil's Keep had a fair share of wooden tables for her to sit at), "how I ended up betrothed to the son of a traitor?"
"It is none of my business, Commander."
"Have a seat, Varel," she said, but did not look up at him, nor did she gesture to the chair across from her. He hesitated, and then pulled the chair out and sat in it, folding his hands together on the tabletop. "Once upon a time, in a teyrnir not very far from this very arling, lived a girl who was very much in love with the eldest son of her father's good friend and neighbor. While the match was not particularly advantageous for her family, her parents encouraged her whims when they veered towards marrying for love," she recounted. She looked up at the seneschal for a moment. "They married for love, and thought everyone was entitled to it in turn, if at all possible." Her finger resumed its swirling movements, and she began talking to the wood again. "The girl and the young man were betrothed, but it would be years before he could return to marry her – he was squiring in the Free Marches, and had yet to make his name. So she waited. And she waited. And then the young man's father thought it was only fitting that when he rose to power by treason, that he also need betray those who had been closest to him – his friends, his son's intended. The girl escaped, aided by a Grey Warden, and together with the future king of Ferelden, slew darkspawn and ended the Blight. The end."
"You killed his father, did you not?" Varel asked, his voice calm and quiet. In that moment she missed her own father dearly.
"Yes. I killed him for his treason against Ferelden and for his crimes against my family. I also killed my childhood hero, the general who led Ferelden to throw off the yoke of Orlesian oppression, the Hero of River Dane." She paused. "I've killed a lot of people, Varel, and few of them sit well with me. I still am just naïve enough, or maybe it's misguided optimism, to want mercy and the chance for redemption to be available for all. But not only is it not possible, if it were, I doubt all of them would take it. I wanted mercy for Loghain, because he was poisoned by Howe. But it was he who led the rebellion, started the civil war, allowed the king to die – he could not be permitted to live. A small part of me will always regret his death – of all of them, I think he could have been redeemed, at least in part."
Varel did not reply, merely continued to sit there, amidst the crackling fire in the kitchen hearth and the sounds of the cook's puttering. He waited for her to continue.
"You know another reason I wanted mercy for Loghain? For all that he did, for all that he deserved his fate…he loved his daughter. He loved her a great deal, and," she looked up, "I am pretty sure Rendon Howe never loved any of his children. He did nothing good for this world. He may have fought beside true heroes like my father and Loghain once upon a time, but simply existing in the company of heroes does not make one of similar quality."
"And so you spare his son? Is this penance for the deeds you have done?"
"I spared his son because I'm selfish, Varel. Of all things to hold onto as a Grey Warden, when I am asked to leave my old life behind, it is my selfishness I am most ashamed of."
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, my lady."
"No, it…I let my past feelings steer my decision. I entertained so many outcomes when you gave me that key and left me alone with him. I could have let him escape, but what good would that have done?"
"Not much."
"Exactly. But neither could I let him hang. So I left it up to the Maker to make my decision for me. A decision that fell to me as arlessa, as commander of this keep, and I tossed a coin in the air and hoped the Maker saw fit to direct me."
"Many have sought guidance from the Maker in the past, my lady. You are no different."
She chuckled. "You've known me little more than a day and already you are justifying my rash actions. This could become a very bad precedent, seneschal. You are supposed to be keeping me on the straight and narrow," she looked up at him to see the slightest ghost of a smile.
"Merely offering information for your consideration, Commander." She nodded slowly, eyes back on the table, and he slid his chair out and stood. "If I may take my leave, Commander, I have other tasks which must be addressed."
"Oh, right, of course, of course. Sorry to keep you."
"It is no bother, my lady," he bowed briefly, barely a clink as his braces touched, before he turned to walk out the door.
"Thank you, Varel," she offered quietly. He only made a 'hm' noise in the back of his throat.
# # # # # #
"So, I hear we have another guest," Anders cheerfully joined her, disrupting her silent brooding. For all that he was a frequent guest of templar manacles, the man was excessively jovial…something she rather needed just now.
"Another brother to add to our ranks, yes."
"So let me get this straight," he paused in his consumption of a heel of bread he'd been chomping on and held up a finger. "You are the Hero of Ferelden, slayer of the archdemon, bosom buddy to our fine king, and child of a noble house. So far the Grey Wardens have included a noblewoman and a king," he held up another finger. "Good stuff, heroic stuff. Now," he paused for dramatic effect, and she had to smile. "You have added to the ranks of this illustrious and secret society by adding," he ticked off her companions, a finger a time, "a drunkard dwarf, a dashingly handsome apostate, and now a thieving son of a traitor." He clicked his tongue at her and she couldn't help but grin at him.
"Yes, well, I have the blood of a Revered Mother in me. You need me," she chuckled.
"Well between you and those lads, you know they didn't even send any lady templars this time? I think they're catching on. At any rate, if the choice came down to more alone time in the Tower, escorted by those fine Chantry soldiers, and sharing in your lovely company, well…"
"Flatterer."
He winked at her. "Don't you know it."
"You're right though. Clearly we need more men of noble blood and heroic mien to bolster our ranks. No one will take us seriously if we don't have pretty clothes and even prettier soldiers to fight the ickle darkspawn."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm quite pretty, and with a needle and thread, my clothes could be too."
"Never knew you were an artiste with the needle and thread."
"My mysteries are deep and wide," he intoned solemnly.
"And yet plunging into their depths still won't get you laid, mage."
Anders raised an eyebrow. "It disturbs me how easily you resist my charms."
"Try spending a year with an Antivan and an Orlesian."
"At the same time? There's so much I didn't know about you! You think the Chantry might take me back into their fold? I'm clearly in the rapture of a deviant."
She laughed. "Maybe sometime I'll tell you about our pillow fights."
"You are a naughty, naughty woman, Commander," he replied, craning his neck back to get a good look at her, and managing to sound a little bit proud.
"And you don't even know the steamy bits," she said, resignation creeping into her fun as she pushed away from the table to stand. "But alas, that is a tale for another time. Now it's time to kick the new Warden out of my bed."
"I don't recall getting the pleasure when I became a Warden. I do believe I woke up on the cold stone floor. I'm…a little insulted."
"I didn't…well that came out wrong."
"Or very very right. Except replace the thief with me," he offered generously.
"It's not technically my bed yet, because I haven't slept in it, but no one was exactly expecting so many guests. Varel said they opened up a few rooms so that no one will have to sleep in bedrolls in the main hall like some indoor camping excursion."
"What, you didn't like toasting marshmallows while Oghren regaled us with tales of his exploits? Women and booze through the eyes of a strange, axe-wielding dwarf. Now, you can't say that wasn't fun."
"I've heard most of them already," she admitted, and drifted out the door, leaving Anders mildly unsure if she had been flirting with him or if in fact she had admitted to some pretty kinky shenanigans involving an Antivan and an Orlesian and pillow fights. He sighed and took another bite of the heel of bread.