Dinner was a loud affair, with all the new recruits, a handful of nobles and guardsmen, all gathered around a large table in the dining hall over a lean meal, supplemented with plenty of wine. For a moment Alistair was reminded of the meals with Duncan and the other Grey Wardens. Was it only a year and a half ago? All those brave men, gathered together, chatting animatedly over food and drink. All of them dead.

He was looking forward to coming to the Vigil. He'd gone so long without a home. Once on the road he'd talked to Elissa about it, wondering what life would be like when it was all over. She didn't have much of an idea what life would be like, either. She'd never had that time with Wardens. She'd gone from the comfortable life of a noble to sleeping in tents on the cold, hard ground. Truth be told, she was more removed from home than he ever was.

Alistair had taken a tour of the Keep that afternoon. He'd asked a servant where the Warden Commander's room was, and peeked inside. It wasn't too presumptuous to assume that he'd be sleeping there as well, was it? Back with the Wardens, they had barracks. Everyone slept in the same room. There was one pair of men, Garrison and Maurice, who were lovers. Sure, they tried to be discreet, but everyone knew and would chuckle to one another when they went missing. By the time they'd resurface, trying to act nonchalant, someone was usually drunk enough to tease them and needle them for details. Garrison would get so red-faced, but Maurice would simply roll his eyes and tease them right back with something ten times as raunchy.

Truth be told, Alistair had no idea what it meant to be a Grey Warden in love. In love with another Grey Warden. It certainly never came up with Duncan. Standing in Elissa's large room with its big bed, plush carpets, and tasteful tapestries, he envisioned them living there forever. This was the new base for Wardens in Ferelden, after all. This was their new life.

Maker, was he ever happy she didn't make him King.

She sat beside him, her hand resting atop his knee under the table while she talked cheerfully with Nathaniel Howe. The Howe sat on the other side of her, and Alistair quietly envisioned that narrow, weasely face on his plate as he sawed through his tough mutton dinner.

Alistair felt like an outsider again. Oghren was here, sure, but he was getting increasingly drunk at his end of the table, and spent more and more time talking to himself.

There was another dwarf, marked as casteless, sitting across from him and watching him with interest as he worked furiously to cut the fat from his meat. Elissa had introduced her as Sigrun.

"I don't understand," Sigrun said, leaning closer so that he could hear her over Oghren's caterwauling. "You were with the Commander before, why didn't you come to Amaranthine with her?"

He could hear Howe talking to Elissa at the same time, "-the fields," he was saying. "Fergus and I would be out there, trying to shoot game, and you'd be chasing after us, scaring them all away."

Elissa laughed, and Alistair dropped his fork and blade in frustration, turning his attention to Sigrun. "Yes. Well. I had business in Denerim. You know. Royal blood and all, had to make my abdication official," he tried to give the Howe a pointed look, but Nathaniel didn't seem to hear. His full attention was on Elissa. Alistair sucked in a breath, looking back at the bewildered Sigrun.

"Wait. You willingly gave up the throne? Why?"

"Because I didn't want it. Who would want to be... saddled with that sort of thing? Anora can have it, she's a far better queen than I'd ever be."

Oghren let out a sudden snort, "I dunno Alistair, you'd be a fine queen," he drawled, then cackled to himself.

"Besides..." Alistair continued through clenched teeth. "A king has to produce an heir. Something next to impossible for a Grey Warden. I don't want there to be another war and fight for the crown after I'm gone just because I couldn't have a child."

"But what about the power?" It was Anders who spoke, his chin in his hand. "You could have done anything you wanted. Named an heir. Freed the mages. Outlawed pants."

"Being King is a lot more than just getting your way all the time." His head shook, "In fact, I'd say it's not getting your way all the time. It's... I don't know, making sure everyone else gets their way, and that they don't end up killing you when they don't get their way enough. I just didn't want it, all right? I wanted to stay a Grey Warden."

"Abdication takes that long?" Sigrun's tattooed face twisted up into a dubious expression.

"It wasn't just abdication, I had a lot to do, help clean up after the battle, rebuild the city. Then I went to Highever to... to arrange a memorial." He poked at his meat with a fork, and caught more of Nathaniel and Elissa's conversation.

"-like a damn puppy," Nathaniel said.

"Maker, I'd almost forgotten!" Elissa said with a laugh. "That's why my father started calling me Pup!"

Nathaniel smiled warmly at that, "I remember that." The smile faded slightly. "He was a good man, your father. We should have Fergus visit us here. It would be just like old times. But I know I'd protest much less to your following us about."

Alistair jabbed his fork into his mutton several times. "Weren't there more of you?" he asked Sigrun, a bit too loudly.

"Oh, you mean Velanna. She... left?"

"Oh good," Anders said, "I'm not the only one."

"What do you mean?" Alistair looked between the two of them.

"Some people think she died in the siege. That a wall fell on her." The dwarf shook her head, "But she wasn't there. And she has the ability to travel with... tree roots, I guess? I don't know, magic is strange."

Anders nodded, "Underground. Saw it myself. She'd magic up some plant roots, and use them to drag herself through the earth itself to get from one place to another. She's not dead."

"So she just left?" Alistair asked. "In the middle of a battle?"

"She was psychotic," Anders said gravely.

"She was only with the Wardens to hunt down her sister." Sigrun shrugged. "We never found her. So... I think she left to hunt her down on her own."

"But... you can't just leave the Grey Wardens!"

Anders scoffed and took a drink of wine.

Sigrun was frowning as well, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Elissa laughed brightly at something Nathaniel said, and Alistair returned to his task of mutilating his mutton. "That's it? I thought there was someone else."

"Justice," Anders said. "He prefers not to join us for meals."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"He's dead."

"Not like me," Sigrun chimed in. "Really dead. But walking and talking dead."

Alistair was silent for a long moment, mouth hanging open.

"Sometimes dancing dead," Sigrun added helpfully. "He does this twitchy thing…"

"Siggy, we're eating."

Alistair glanced at Elissa, then back to the mage and dwarf, "You mean… he's an animated corpse?"

Anders sighed a little, pushing his plate away. "Yes. An animated corpse. Used to be a Grey Warden, then he died, and his dead body was possessed by a spirit of Justice. Typical Tuesday." The lean mage took a long swallow of wine, and then shrugged, "Like you said. One doesn't just leave the Grey Wardens."

Alistair sat in silence for a moment, and the conversation continued around him as Oghren tried to get Sigrun to sing some dwarven song with him. To think Alistair believed their last merry band was a motley crew. It wasn't as if they were made Wardens. But now… a Howe, a corpse, a psychotic elf, another apostate mage… After the Landsmeet, Riordan had been considering conscripting Loghain. Loghain! Didn't being a Grey Warden mean anything anymore?

We aren't judges. Kinslayers, blood mages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits; anyone with the skill and mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us.

Alistair shook Riordan's words from his mind, looking back at Elissa. She was watching him, and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "You all right? You look tired."

"I am," he answered, voice barely more than a rumble.

She looked at the mangled mutton on his plate a long moment, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Did you want me to take you upstairs to bed?" she asked in a low voice.

Alistair felt the muscles between his shoulders relax, and he lowered his head with closed eyes at the sensation of her breath on his neck. She wanted him alone, too. Good. He was starting to feel neglected. His golden eyes found her blue, and he nodded with a small smile.

She smiled back and got to her feet, helping Alistair to his. "You'll excuse me," she said to Nathaniel. "He doesn't feel well. I'm going to show him to his room."

The good cheer vanished from the Howe's face as he looked between the two of them. "Of course."

Elissa and Alistair slipped quickly from the dining hall, down one of the darkened passages, towards the great hall and the stairwell beyond. "You've collected an… interesting bunch," Alistair murmured as he followed her.

"Don't start."

"Not just the Howe."

She gave him a look, "I can drop you off and go back to dinner, if that is what you want."

Alistair blinked at her, "I just... I do eventually want to talk to you, you know."

Elissa paused in the doorway of the hall, and turned to face him. "Alistair…" She slipped her arms about his middle and leaned into him. There was no armor to separate them now, and the soft, familiar warmth of her body against his was both calming and electrifying. "I don't want to talk or think about anything right now. I finally have you back. Let me forget everything else for tonight, please."

He rested his chin on the crown of her head, holding her tight. "Of course, my love," he murmured, and turned his head to press a kiss to her ear.

There was a sudden slam. The front door to the Vigil had shut heavily, and an elderly woman was jogging towards the dining hall.

"Woolsey?" Elissa called out, disentangling herself from Alistair.

He tipped his head back with a weary sigh, "I thought you were going to forget everything else tonight…"

Mistress Woolsey stopped in her tracks, and spun to face the Wardens, looking a bit frazzled, "Commander, it's Paien!"

Elissa shook her head, "It's what?"

Woolsey huffed, "One of the elder Orlesian Grey Wardens! He came from Weisshaupt on behalf of the First Warden!" She paused, and a hint of dread crept into her voice, "He's… very eager to see you, Commander."