The winter ahead would be difficult. The Blight had caused so much damage to the farmlands, much as the Warden Commander tried to protect them. The harvest had been lean, and there would be many hungry bellies before the season broke. But no one should starve, Maker willing. It would be difficult, but Amaranthine and her people would survive.

The city was in need of repair, but so was Vigil's Keep. The long assault from the darkspawn hoard had leveled an outer wall, collapsed an underground passage, and burned the kennels and gardens to ash. But the Vigil still stood. Voldrik, the dwarf, was eager to begin rebuilding. He'd already come to the Warden Commander with plans and improvements, everything from upgrading the Keep to traditional dwarven structural integrity to a complete system of storm water runoff into underground basins.

"We could put in a retention pond, but that's a waste if you ask me," Voldrik said. He stood with Elissa Cousland in the Keep courtyard, tapping a spot on his incredibly detailed plans. "And it would be easy to run the water into a basin that would empty into the sea, that's what you've got now, but-"

Elissa took in a deep breath, then put on a smile as she rested a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, "Voldrik, this is your area of expertise, not mine. I trust you to make the right decision on everything the Keep needs. Just… go ahead and do whatever needs to be done."

For a moment, Voldrik looked offended. It occurred then to Elissa that he wasn't looking for her approval on his plans. He was showing them off. He rolled the paper up, nodding, "Right, Warden. I'll get on it."

"Thank you, Voldrik. We'd be lost without you," she added in an attempt to repair his ego a bit.

It had been only two days since the attack. Since then, the darkspawn had been silent. Disturbingly so. Even random stragglers were rare.

The Architect had kept his word.

She pushed that out of her mind. She hadn't come to regret allying with the intelligent darkspawn leader yet. But that day would come. Just as the day would come when Morrigan's child would reappear. Ugh. She didn't want to think about that, either.

What she needed was a hot bath and a few precious moments to herself. Nothing had stopped after the last darkspawn was slain. No time to recharge. Repairs aside, there was also the matter of looking for survivors, burning the dead, and clearing away the dead darkspawn. That was a task she assigned exclusively to the Grey Wardens, much to their chagrin. But the threat of taint, even from a corpse, was too high. A handful of city guard had already begun to slowly and painfully succumb to the sickness that came with ingesting darkspawn blood. She had tried to save who she could with the Joining. Elissa had managed to recruit five new Wardens in a row, with only one lost. It was unheard of. And was not able to be repeated. Every single guard and soldier she tried to save from the taint perished. Duncan had told her once that the Joining was not a cure, and she felt foolish for even trying it.

She turned to return to the Keep when she heard someone call to her. She paused on the stairs and turned to see Nathaniel Howe walking towards her with a set jaw and fury in his eyes.

"That dwarf," he growled.

"Oghren? What's he done now?"

"No, the other one. Voldrik. Did you tell him he could do whatever he wanted to the Vigil?"

"I did… what's the matter?"

Nathaniel threw his hands up in the air and paced in an angry line, "He wants to tear down the chapel! He says that it sustained minor damage, but represents a defensive weak spot in the unlikely event of darkspawn tunneling up into it from below. Unlikely!" He spun back to face her, lean face flushed with anger. "My grandparents were married in that chapel. My brother, my sister, and myself were all baptized in that chapel. If he removes a single stone from it, I swear to the Maker I will cut off his beard and feed it to him!"

Elissa watched him rant, a faint smile touching her features. By some small miracle, she had earned his trust and friendship again. They had known each other as children, back in simpler times. Summers spent on the Amaranthine shore were plentiful, and winter holidays huddled before the fireplace in the Highever Estate with the Howes as guests became a tradition. Highever and Amaranthine were a few days travel apart, and her father and Rendon Howe were close friends. In turn, Nathaniel and her brother Fergus were thick as thieves, both being the eldest.

She'd tried to recall what he was like as a child, compared to the man he became. As was often the case with her brother's friends, all she could remember was being teased often, and being told to leave them alone.

She must have been staring at him a bit too long. Nathaniel tilted his head at her with a curious quirk of his brow, "What is it?"

"Nothing, sorry." She shook her head, "I was just thinking about you and Fergus."

A small smile appeared on his pale face, and he shifted from foot to foot. "Ah. Well. With this all over now, we might have time to reminisce. But the chapel, Commander…"

"Will remain untouched, Nathaniel. Don't worry."

He nodded with a soft thank you, and lifted his gaze from his feet to her face, brows pulled together, "Elissa, I-"

"Commander! Commander, someone approaches!"

Elissa turned to see a young squire running up from the gate towards her. "What? Who?"

"A Grey Warden!" answered the boy, flushed and short of breath. "He said not to run up and tell you, that he wanted to surprise you, but you said to tell you if anyone unusual came up, and well, ma'am, he's a bit odd all right."

Alistair. The aching weariness she'd felt a moment ago disappeared, and with a quick, "Excuse me," to Nathaniel, she ran from the courtyard, down the sloping hill past the front gate, and towards the lone armored figure trudging up the road.

The man on the road lifted his head, and his own steps quickened towards her, albeit with a new, slight limp. For a moment, just a moment, Elissa wondered if she should even indulge in a silly, schoolgirl embrace, in front of all her men and Wardens.

Alistair made the decision for her. Powerful arms encircled her, and lifted her off her feet in a crushing embrace. "Maker," he breathed into her ear. "Don't ever let me be away from you that long again."

Elissa's arms wrapped back about him. His armor was too thick and heavy to feel the warmth of his hard body, and she made a mental note to get him out of it as soon as possible. He smelled of sweat and dirt, with bits of dried blood caught in his hair and the beard that had blossomed on his chin after a few days without a razor. "You look like hell," she murmured, cupping his boyish face in her hands.

"Ah, this is why I was in such a hurry. The glowing compliments from my one and only." He stole a quick kiss, and then released her. "I could do with a warm bath and a hot meal, though. Sorry I took so long. Roads were awful."

"You're hurt," she said, stepping back and looking down at his leg.

"It's nothing. Stepped in a badger hole."

She looked back at him with a coy, dubious expression. "How's Fergus?"

"You know, it's a shame I didn't get much opportunity to talk to him in Denerim," he answered as they walked back towards the Keep. "Your brother is a riot. Told me all kinds of stories about you as a girl. He also gave me lots of blackmail ammunition, just so you know," Alistair gave her a sly look.

She grinned up at him, "I'm sure he also warned you never to harm his baby sister."

"Did I say blackmail? I meant delightful tales from your childhood that will never ever be repeated."

They had crossed the gate back into the Keep, and she saw Nathaniel Howe standing perfectly still and staring at the both of them as they walked arm in arm. Oh, this might be awkward. Elissa hauled Alistair over, "I need to introduce you to all the new Wardens."

"Yeah, that's right," Alistair rocked up on his toes, searching the grounds, "Last letter I got from you said that Oghren of all people was up here. Where is he?"

"I am Nathaniel Howe."

He spoke before Elissa could. Alistair's attention snapped back to the lean, pale man with long black hair and his father's nose. Alistair's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "I'm-… sorry. Did you say Howe?" He looked at Elissa, "You never mentioned a Howe. Is he a Grey Warden? Did you make him a Grey Warden?"

"Alistair-…"

Nathaniel's mouth had formed a thin line, and his jaw flexed as his teeth clenched, "Yes. She did. Do you think me unfit of the honor?"

"Yes!" He looked back at Nathaniel, standing a bit taller, chest puffing out. He had a few inches and stone on the other man, and was making sure he noticed it. "I do! Your father-" He huffed and turned back to her, "His father is responsible for the death of your parents, Elissa! Not to mention he sided with Loghain, we-"

A sinister smile had appeared on Nathaniel's face, and Elissa had never seen him look more like his father than he did in that moment. "We can't all be the bastard son to a king, now can we?"

"Enough, both of you."

Alistair stepped back, but not without scowling at the eldest Howe. He shot Elissa another disbelieving look, before shaking his head and walking away, muttering to himself.

Elissa gave Nathaniel a look of her own, with an unspoken 'Behave.' She hooked her arm through Alistair's again, leading him away.

They found Oghren inside the Vigil, seated near a fireplace with a tall blonde mage. The dwarf was offering the man a skin, cheerfully describing the merits of the drink within. Apparently, it doubled as a very effective paint stripper.

The mage, Anders, took the skin with a bit of hesitation. "What about the bouquet? Does it have a nice bouquet?"

Oghren let out a bark of laughter, "You're gonna need to have a nice bucket when you're done with this."

"No, no, not bucket. Bouquet, as in- oh, nevermind. Cheers."

Alistair clapped his hands in delight when he spotted the redheaded dwarf, and dropped his pack at the entrance as he jogged towards him, then hopped on one foot after his injured knee cried out in protest. "Oghren! Look at you! A Grey Warden!"

Oghren glanced over, then grinned broadly behind his braided beard. "Well, look who's finally made it! If it isn't the pretty boy!"

Anders paused in lifting the skin to his lips, then pouted a little, "I thought I was the pretty boy."

Alistair caught the dwarf in a headlock, grinding his knuckles into Oghren's scalp. He quickly released him, and grimaced down at his knuckles. "Maker, I wish I hadn't done that. What on earth do you shampoo with?"

Oghren grinned, "Mushroom paste and nug urine. Natural aphrodisiac, ladies can't keep their hands off me."

"Because they're using them to fend you off. Hello!" Anders stood and offered Alistair a hand, "Anders. Apostate mage, Grey Warden, fine dancer. You are?"

Alistair gripped the offered hand and shook it warmly, "Alistair."

"Ooh, right, right. I seem to remember you being mentioned once or twice…" Anders glanced to Elissa. "He's the… um. Who is he?"

"Alistair," Elissa answered, a smile creeping onto her features. "The other Grey Warden. Helped me stop the Blight, killed Loghain..."

"Was he the one who would get drunk and pass out all the time?"

"That was me," Oghren said with a wide grin.

"Ah, then he was the bitchy one, from the Wilds."

Elissa shook her head, "Wrong again."

"Oh, so he was the one who spent all his free time licking his own balls."

"That was the dog," Alistair said with a grimace.

"Sorry, mate, can't place you. Know she's mentioned you, though. Dwarven rot gut?"

Alistair held up a hand, "I've had enough of Oghren's brews to last me a lifetime. Don't think I have any stomach lining left."

"Pansies, the lot of you," Oghren muttered.

"What I'd like to do," Alistair continued, looking over at Elissa, "is get out of this armor. Been in it nearly three days now, I'm sure I smell like death."

"No, that would be Justice," Anders said, plopping back into his chair and taking a swig from Oghren's skin. "You can't even keep yourself straight, can you?"

Quick footsteps echoed off the stone walls as a young squire sprinted towards them, "Warden Commander! Seneschal Varel said to get you. Lord Eddelbrek just arrived."

Elissa let out a breath, closing her eyes a moment. So many meetings. So many conspirators dead with so much land to disperse fairly. "Right. Thank you, Ollie." She rested a hand on Alistair's elbow before stepping away, "Forgive me. Duty calls. I'll see you at supper?"

Alistair managed to bite back a pout. So much for stealing her away for a few hours. He nodded, "Of course, my dear." He watched her disappear from the cavernous hall, then let out a sigh as he dropped into a chair.

Anders handed the skin back to Oghren and hopped to his feet, "I'm a healer, you know. Let's have a look at that leg."

"She mentioned me a little, didn't she?" The man looked from the mage to the dwarf.

"You know how she gets, Alistair," Oghren drew a long swallow from the skin, and then held it out to him. "Bottles it all up and shit. Not like a woman at all in that regard, and for that I am thankful."

Alistair hesitated before he accepted the drink. That might be true. In all the time he knew her, battling the Blight, she rarely mentioned her family. He would go on about Duncan, and she would just nod and listen. Seldom did she open up about the siege on her home, leaving her mother and father behind to die, not knowing if her brother was alive or dead. She had more important things to focus on, she'd say. He worked off his boot and greave, took a swallow of whatever alcohol Oghren had, and made a face once it cleared his mouth. "You're certain this isn't just urine?"

"I was only teasing," Anders said with a smirk. He squinted at the injury on the man's knee. "I know exactly who you are. You're the Templar."

"I was never a Templar," Alistair rubbed his face wearily. "I trained to be one, but I never really-"

"But you wanted to be one," Anders arched a brow as he raised a hand over Alistair's knee. "Couldn't wait to hunt down mages and haul them back to the Circle, I bet."

"No, actually. It wasn't my choice. Why is every-" He huffed, then leveled a look at the mage. "You're looking for an argument, and you aren't going to get one. I don't care if you're an apostate. You're a Grey Warden now, so that means you're my brother."

"Does that mean you're doin' your sister?"

"Shut up, Oghren."

Anders watched Alistair for a long moment as glowing magical energy gathered between his outstretched fingers. "It wasn't your choice," he echoed thoughtfully.

"No. And I would have been a very poor one. My aunt and uncle didn't know what else to do with me, so I got stuck with the Chantry. Becoming a Grey Warden was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Anders grimaced for a moment, but shrugged, refocusing his attention on the wounded man. Healing magic streamed from his fingertips, and he deftly removed the thread stitches while the skin and flesh closed together. He leaned back once finished, wiping his forehead. "There you are. Good as new."

Alistair brought his knee to his chest, bending it gingerly. It was tight, but free from pain. He let out an appreciative chuckle. "Well done, mate. Thanks." He got to his feet, testing the feel of his full weight on his leg. "Very well done. So. Oghren. The Howe."

"You mean Nathaniel? What about him?"

"He's… a Howe."

Oghren stared blankly up at Alistair, wiping drips of drink from his moustache.

"Nah, he's all right," Anders drawled, kicking his feet back up before the fire. "Bit of a tight ass, sure. Took him awhile to come around to the fact that his father was a baddie. I guess him and Cousland were chums when they were little."

"They what?"

"And if you want my opinion," the mage tilted his head with a lascivious smile, "I think he wouldn't mind getting chummy with her again."

Alistair's stunned and disgusted expression made the mage break down into giggles, and he quickly scowled. "You're teasing me again."

"Hey, I never had a brother, I thought that was what they do!" Grinning, Anders gave the man a playful salute, "Go on, get washed up, for all our sake."