disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra rubbed her chin as the Warden paused her narrative to clear her throat. "Did the man you identified as a Knight-Commander introduce himself to you at all?" she asked tentatively.

Kathryn frowned. "Not during the Landsmeet. Why?"

The Seeker paled. "Then, he did introduce himself... afterwards?"

"Yes," the Warden admitted, her hands once again trembling. "He put those damned shackles on me personally."

"I see." Cassandra shuddered. The thought of what happened to the elf… "Darren deserved more than mere excommunication," she said, fishing for confirmation of the templar's name.

The Warden tilted her head to one side. "Darren? His name is Darrian."

Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat. Either the Warden was mistaken, or the investigating Seeker had been in error. He had reported that the man who'd engineered the Warden's capture had been called Darren. It seemed odd that he would get such a simple fact wrong in his report.

But the mage referred to Darrian in the present tense. Was he the Knight-Divine who Vanished? Or was it just another coincidence?

"Ah, my mistake," she said, still mulling the implications. "Please, continue. What happened after the Landsmeet?"

o_ooo000ooo_o

I ran my fingers over my eyes, temporarily rubbing the weariness away. It had been a long day that had followed an equally long sleepless night, but from the sounds of the revelry still emanating from the ballroom, tomorrow morning was going to be a fair bit quieter. The impending monumental headaches would see to that.

It would be a brave servant who so much as didn't walk on tiptoes. If one dropped a tray of dishes, they'd probably be dismissed on the spot, if not executed.

I made my way back to my quarters, having finally fended off the amorous advances of several drunken nobles, their sons and even some of the more brazen ladies. I couldn't help myself blowing a kiss towards the Grand Cleric as I left however. Her sudden, puce-coloured visage of fury was a glorious sight to behold.

The instant I opened the door to my quarters however, my senses were on edge. I froze and carefully looked around the room, searching for what was out of place. Something was wrong, but everything looked... normal. Thunder was even asleep in front of the fire. But still... something was definitely wrong.

After a few moments of my standing still in the hallway, a cultured, Antivan accented voice said, "Ah, my lovely bella donna. Such paranoia you have. It warms my heart."

I sighed, and lowered my guard. Thunder wouldn't have let in an unwelcome intruder. He and Zevran always got along quite well. Well, from a week or so after the assassin first joined my group of misfits, that is.

"Evening, Zev," I grumbled, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "I wish you wouldn't break into my room like that." I let a flicker of primal fire light the candles next to the bed. Even as weary as I was, I still maintained a discipline over my power. It was the one thing I would never allow myself to let go of.

Zevran emerged from the shadows on the far side of the room. "Ah, but you were always so insistent that I leave your person alone. How else am I to seduce you, if you won't allow me to visit heavenly delights upon your delicious figure."

I sighed. "Right now, the most attractive thing you could do for me would be to ensure I get ten solid hours."

He breathed a soft curse in Antivan. "Creatore! You expect me to be able to keep going for ten hours? You Wardens have quite unrealistic expectations; far beyond the abilities of us mere mortals," he said, his tone playful.

"Sleep, Zev. I want ten hours of sleep."

He shook his head. "Ah, such a cruel woman you are. Raise my hopes beyond all reason, then dash them the next instant."

I sat down on the bed and yawned. "When did you get back?"

"Early this morning." He stepped around the bed and knelt behind me on the mattress. A moment later, his warm, strong hands were massaging my neck and shoulders. "What in Thedas have you been doing? You are practically trembling with stress."

I couldn't help but close my eyes. "Oh, Maker, that's good. Yeah, just there. Oh, yes. Yes. Oh, Zevran!"

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Already? It is quite rare for the first to occur in less than a minute, even for me."

"Just shut up and don't stop, would you?"

"As you wish, my deadly sex goddess."

For all of his boasting, Zevran certainly knew how to use his hands. I could feel the tension drain out of me under his tender, if moderately dirty, ministrations. "Oh, that's good. Did you have a nice trip?"

He hummed noncommittally. "I had a profitable trip. You know how it is; travel the world, meet interesting people, find out what they know and then kill them."

I grunted. "Been there. Done that. Did Alistair tell you about my visit to the Circle?"

Zevran's voice held both amusement and admonishment. "No, I heard about it in great detail from a templar in Val Royeaux. Tsk, tsk, what did I teach you about leaving enemies alive?"

"If I followed your advice, I'd have killed you before you woke up."

He gave a theatrical groan of pain, and thumped his chest with one hand. "Right here, light of my life. You wound me."

"Tell me I'm wrong then," I sniggered.

"Cruel, wanton woman. Turning my own lessons against me." He continued kneading at my neck for a minute or so, before pushing my gown's shoulders down my arms and running his fingers up and down my spine.

I felt a shiver run the length of my body. "Andraste's arse, that feels so good. What did the templar say?"

Zevran was silent for a moment. "The Divine herself has taken an interest in you. That is not a particularly safe position for a mage to be in."

I sighed. "Well, if I keep killing her templars, she's bound to be pissed."

Zev's hands paused, but quickly continued. "This is not about the templars, Kat. Not directly at least. You are a threat to the establishment. People who threaten the stability of powerful organisations are usually removed. By people like my former associates."

I took a deep breath and sighed, which turned into a yawn half way through. "Sorry Zev. I'm not bored, just tired."

"Mmmhmm," he hummed in agreement, his magical hands still easing the tension from my shoulders. "I would hope not. I have spent quite some time developing my skills. If they were to be described as boring, I would have to consider renouncing this life and taking vows."

"Bullshit."

He chuckled at my crude retort. After a few more moments of blissful silence, he ran his fingers down the outside of my shoulders, pushing my gown further off my frame. "Lie down, my sweet. Let me relax you completely."

I didn't have the energy to tell him no. In a moment, I was naked except for my lower smalls and lying face down on the bed cover, with him squatting over my haunch and gently circling his thumbs up and down my spine. I let out a groan of pleasure.

He laughed softly again. "You know, it really shouldn't be so difficult to convince you that this is a good idea."

I hummed an agreement, suddenly unsure exactly why I was always so wary of letting him put his hands on me. "Am I still considered off-limits by the Crows?"

He pressed his thumb hard into a particularly tight knot of muscle. "It is hard to say. By Ignacio, certainly. He is as close to an authority in the Crows as you get here in Denerim. And more to the point, he would prefer to survive; accepting a contract on you has proven to be somewhat unwise in that regard. But there are other cells operating in Ferelden. The thing that protects you the most is your reputation. No Crow would dream of taking a contract on you without... most generous remuneration."

I groaned as the pain in my back spiked, and then gently washed away. "How generous?"

He sighed. "Maybe a dozen individuals in the country would have the resources. You are allies with most of them."

"What about organisations? Or syndicates?"

"Very good, my sweet. Many merchant families have the resources, though fewer now than before the Blight. Some criminal organisations too. The Chantry, certainly. Perhaps even the Revered Mothers in Denerim and Amaranthine alone could entice the Crows to target you once again."

"Sodding wonderful," I grumbled.

He chuckled with evident amusement. "Your time among the dwarves was well spent, I see."

I gave a soft snort of agreement. "That reminds me. Are you going to the Circle any time soon?"

His hands paused their heavenly work. "Possibly. What makes you ask that?"

"You are, aren't you?" I said.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Did you guess? Or know?"

I shook my head against the mattress. "It was just a question, Zev. I take it you're going with Larkworthy or someone, to protect them while they pretend to do some negotiations?"

"Something like that," he admitted. He changed to lightly tickling my skin.

My back twitched under his attention, and I wriggled away from his fingers. "Something like that, eh? Will the new Knight-Commander have an unavoidable, horrifying and fatal accident while you're there?"

"I could not possibly speculate," he said, amusement dancing in his words.

"Right. Good luck. Would you do me a favour while you're there?"

He leaned forward, and I felt his lips brush the skin between my shoulders ever so faintly. "Anything," he breathed.

A shiver ran through my body at the ghostly touch. "There's a box of lyrium in the bottom drawer of my desk over there. Would you deliver it to a mage called Godwin for me? He should give you sixty sovereigns for it."

He groaned. "Dear Maker, you are perfect, no? A powerful, lethal sex goddess who treats heresy with the contempt it deserves."

"Heresy? It's only lyrium."

"Oh, my delectable mistress," he laughed. "I cannot believe that you do not know. Lyrium smuggling is, by Divine decree, an heretical sin."

"I don't bother about that shit," I offered. "But if that's the case, you'd best ask Godwin for seventy sovereigns instead."

He gave a whimper. "I honestly did not think it possible for me to adore you any more."

I chuckled softly. "You say the sweetest things."

He ran a finger along my ear, from the lobeless base to the tip, causing me to shiver again. "I shall take your box for you, my dear. But know that my heart remains here with you."

I sighed, not having the willpower to debate him. "What do you think I should do about the bitch in Val Royeaux?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "There is little you can do directly, short of having her assassinated. And her successor may or may not be any better. Otherwise... stop making trouble for her and her representatives. Let the templars rule the mages at Kinloch Hold. Publicly endorse the Chantry. Kiss the Denerim Grand Cleric's ring when she offers it to you. It is only your actions that they find disagreeable, not you personally."

"So, they want me to be someone I'm not?"

"Exactly, my bella donna. A Loyalist mage who happily returns to the gilded, island prison after defeating the Blight would be most agreeable to the Divine."

Anger washed away some of my fatigue. "That's not who I am," I said flatly. "It's not who I'll ever be!"

He chuckled. "This I know full well. But it is something the Divine does not. For all her power, she is very sheltered. The Clerics and Knight-Divines who surround her fill her ears with honeyed words and assurances that all is well. She prefers to believe that the mages of Thedas want to live under her Chantry's governance."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yes." He pushed my hair to the side, leaned down and kissed the nape of my neck. His hot breath wafted across my skin and over my ear as he whispered, "Powerful people are often insecure. They prefer to listen only to those who give them good news. And when someone comes along who upsets them..."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. "Then I'm an evil bitch who needs to be destroyed."

"Not quite so harsh, my sweet. They don't want you destroyed, per se, just... retired. Removed from the public's gaze. The Denerim Grand Cleric told your old friend Greagoir that if you ever stepped foot in the Tower again, you were to be detained and," he paused momentarily, "re-educated."

"They tried that," I murmured.

"So they did. And didn't their failure cause some comment. There is a rumour running rampant among the bucket-helm-brigade that you can resist their Smites. Another reason you should have killed them all at the Tower; now they know."

"It would have taken me too long to kill them all," I justified. "Plus, I'd have got more blood on my boots and I hate that. They're a right bugger to clean properly; you've got to get a tiny brush into all the little crevasses." I gave a half sigh-half moan at a sudden change in technique. "How are they taking it?"

After a low laugh at my response, he replied with maddening vagueness. "About as you would expect."

"Zev," I growled.

He started kneading my lower back. "Oh, fine. Growl at me. Just because..."

I grumbled, and put my hands underneath me to push myself up. He leaned forward, placed his palms on my shoulder blades, and gently pushed me back down.

"They're terrified of you," he said, serious. "Desertions are up, which is always a good sign that things are going your way."

"Oh, that's priceless."

"Indeed, my love," he whispered, sliding himself off my backside and sitting next to me. His delectable fingers began caressing my inner thighs, making my toes curl.

o_ooo000ooo_o

Cassandra turned away from the Warden, to hide the beginning stages of a blush. "Why are you telling me this?" she demanded.

"Oh, I don't know. You asked?"

"I did not ask for eroticism!" she snapped. With her back turned, she could not see the Warden's expression, but the tone of her voice made it clear that she was smirking.

"You asked what happened after the Landsmeet."

Cassandra clenched her teeth together. "So I did. And apparently, what happened was that you added a second companion to your tally," she snapped nastily.

"A third at that point, actually," she replied with no trace of embarrassment.

That revelation brought Cassandra up short. "Oh? Who was the second?" she demanded, her discomfort making her catty. "The drunken dwarf or the qunari warrior? Or did you lie with Loghain while in Redcliffe?"

Kathryn remained silent until the Seeker turned to face her once more. "The second was Alistair. Didn't Leliana tell you? She was the first."

Shock caused Cassandra to stare at the elf, leaving her unable to physically hide her crimson cheeks. "What?" she exploded.

"Leliana was the first of my companions I bedded. Did she not tell you? Goodness, what else has she kept from you?" Kathryn said with a playful toss of her head.

"Nothing!" Cassandra immediately responded. "Leliana is a Seeker of Truth, and hides nothing!"

The Warden leaned forward and lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Did she tell you that the King of Ferelden is very generously proportioned? We had quite saucy discussions and debates about whether or not innocence and inexperience could be overcome with enthusiasm and stamina."

The Seeker clenched her fists at her side, praying that her blush would subside. "And how would she know about the Ferelden King's attributes? Besides hearsay and gossip?"

Kathryn gave her an artfully innocent expression. "Because she has direct experience. Let me tell you, it was a week before anything could have shifted the grin from Alistair's face after a night with Leliana, Isabella and me!" There was silence for a moment before she continued. "Are you all right, Cassandra? You appear to be hyperventilating. Perhaps I should gloss over the more carnal details and you can calm down. Yes?"

A stiff nod was all the response Cassandra deigned to give.

"Very well. Zevran was gone the next morning before Thunder woke me the next morning."

o_ooo000ooo_o

After letting Thunder out for his morning rituals, I staggered down to the guards' mess hall. I ate my porridge slowly, luxuriating in the warmth that seeped through my body, growing spoonful by spoonful. My eyes still felt full of sand. But, despite my weariness I was remarkably relaxed. It had been a very pleasant night. One that was unlikely to be repeated soon.

"Er, excuse me, Warden-Commander?" a tentative voice intruded on my meal.

I looked up at a familiar young man. "Yes? Pickering, isn't it?"

The lad nodded. "Yes, Commander. I wanted to thank you."

I took another mouthful. "For?"

He blushed lightly. "For your words to King Alistair. He has taken an active interest in my career."

I gave a soft snort. "Most commoners don't like having royal attention."

"Well, it has been good for me, at least," he said nervously.

I jerked my head at the seat opposite me. "Sit down. Are you hungry?"

"N-no, thank you," he stammered. "Er, I mean, thank you, I'll sit, but I'm not hungry," he clarified, sitting down hard.

"Relax, guardsman," I offered. "Are you on duty?"

He shook his head. "No, I've been relieved of duty today." He cleared his throat. "I, er… can I, er…" He stopped, took a breath and said, as though reading from an internal cue card,"Can I offer my congratulations on your ennoblement yesterday?"

I shrugged. "Thank you," I replied perfunctorily.

His eyes glanced around the room, and by his expression, I got the impression that he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Er, when are you leaving for Amaranthine? Do you need to visit the market in preparation?"

I froze for a second, but forced myself to take another mouthful. "Why?"

He flushed red. "I… no reason."

"Just making conversation?"

He nodded frantically. "Yes, Commander."

I sighed, plonking the spoon in my bowl and leaned back. "What? What is it?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

He made a face. "I'm sorry, Commander. I've been ordered to accompany you today. That is, while you are outside the palace walls."

I grunted, feeling suddenly rather cross. After my recent good mood, it was an unpleasant grounding. "By whom?"

"My commander," he said softly.

I sighed. "And who ordered him?"

"The King."

I closed my eyes and growled under my breath. Blasted Alistair. Hadn't I shown that I could take care of myself? Time and time and bloody time again? "Fine," I snapped, knowing that I shouldn't take it out on someone just following orders. "I do have some business in the marketplace and alienage today, as a matter of fact. Meet me at the gates in an hour, and ditch the shiny armour. Wear something a little less conspicuous."

At the next ringing of the hour, Thunder and I stepped out into Denerim with our young shadow for the day. I'd garbed my slight frame in a set of drakeskin leathers I'd found in Wade's 'second-hand armour pile'. The powerful magic imbued within more than made them a match for the armour he made from the drake scales we'd collected during our wanderings. Spellweaver was strapped to my back as usual. My distinctive scarlet hair was hidden under my cowl, and my features mildly obscured by a veil.

Pickering had managed to find some reasonable light armour, and had a pair of long daggers strapped to his hips. On his back he carried a light crossbow of considerable quality. Alistair had certainly been good to him.

He was still painfully correct around me though. Halfway from the palace to the marketplace I took pity. "Relax," I told him. "I don't need a servant waiting on me; just act naturally."

He gave me a weak smile. "I'm a gutter rat from Tanner's Lane. Now I'm escorting the most powerful noble in Ferelden around Denerim. It's a little overwhelming."

I chuckled and scratched Thunder's ears. "I know the feeling. Eighteen months ago I was a prisoner in the Circle of Magi. Now, somehow, I ended up someone important."

"But you defeated the Blight," Pickering pointed out. "I just joined the palace guards."

I looked closely at his profile. It didn't look as though he'd started shaving regularly yet. "You showed the ability to think and you're not afraid to challenge authority. That's a pair of talents worth developing."

"Thinking?" he said, his tone disbelieving. "And disobeying?"

I chuckled softly. "You'd be surprised. I've met a lot of people who manage to go through life without actually using their brains. So long as today is pretty much the same as yesterday, they don't care. You notice things going on around you that others miss. And I don't mean disobeying orders. Just questioning the more moronic ones."

He smiled, but it didn't last long. A moment or two later, he whispered, "I did notice something."

"What's that?"

"There's some people following us."

I nodded. "How many?"

"At least four. But there are probably more."

"Good."

That surprised him. "Good?"

I turned to grin at him. "Yup. If they're clumsy enough to be spotted, you don't really need to worry about so few a number."

He frowned lightly. "That… doesn't really make sense."

"We're not far from the market. If they're still following us, we'll deal with them there."

He swallowed. "But what if they try something before we get to the market?"

I shrugged. "Then we won't need to bother dealing with them at the market, will we?"

Pickering looked at me with a shocked expression. "Are you really not bothered by the fact that there are people following us? They might want to kill us!"

"True," I admitted. "We'll give them a splendid funeral if that's the case."

He blinked, apparently still getting up to speed on the Kathryn Surana method of risk management. "Really?"

I shook my head. "Of course not! We'll leave them in a gutter. I can't be arsed dragging them to a Chantry for cremation."

He stared at me, aghast. "Are you serious?"

"Occasionally. Look, we're in the middle of a pretty dense crowd," I started, before some screams and shouts of fright signalled the evaporation of said crowd.

Through the distraction of people running for cover, several armed thugs rushed us. With bystanders still rushing this way and that, they didn't have a straight line to us, which gave me the chance to draw and ready my weapon. I didn't need to use my more destructive magic on such pitiful buggers, especially since we were in the midst of a bunch of innocent onlookers. I was nowhere near defenceless.

Pickering cursed, and snatched his crossbow from over his shoulder. "Drop it!" I hissed. "Use your blades!"

Rather than arguing with me, he dropped the weapon and slid his long daggers out with steely rasps.

I set about parrying and stabbing. It felt quite cathartic to take my frustrations out of some footpads no one would miss. Thunder joined the fray and buried one of the attackers under his considerable bulk.

My escort proved himself quite capable with his knives. He caught a longsword by crossing his blades, then kicked his attacker in the knee. As the thug screamed and fell forward, Pickering raised his own knee sharply, smashing the man's mouth shut and shattering some of his teeth. He then ducked under a wild swing and slashed open another bastard's guts.

"Behind you!" I shouted, conjuring a shard of rock and sending it hurtling into the ribcage of one of the pair sneaking up behind the young guardsman. That one went down puking. Pickering turned and yelped as the second figure slashed down and opened a deep wound across his left arm. The blade in that hand fell from numbed fingers, but he managed to keep a solid grip on the right one. He brought it up and stabbed the man's side, causing crimson blood to fountain from his mouth. Poor Pickering got a face full.

I tossed a bolt of arcane energy at the thug I'd knocked away from Pickering, which silenced him permanently. I took a second to take in the rest of the scene. Two more thugs were approaching from behind us, and another pair from ahead.

They weren't focused on me though. They were looking directly at Pickering.

I didn't know whether to be offended or relieved.

One of the pair behind us was armed with a crossbow. She raised it and took aim at my escort.

I reached into the Fade, drew on its flow and caught the archer in a prison of crushing force. Her sudden shrieks of agony distracted her allies nicely. Her partner skidded to a halt before screaming, "Mage!" He turned to run in terror, but I dropped him with a well placed lightning bolt, burning a hole almost straight through his body.

I turned to face the other pair, only to discover that Thunder had things well in hand. One was lying very still in the middle of the muddy street with less throat than usual. The other was trying in vain to escape an enraged mabari capable of running down a rabbit in flight.

The result wasn't in question, merely the timing.

I turned back to Pickering. He held his injured arm tight against his body, looking pale and sweaty. "You all right?" I asked him.

He kept his mouth clenched tight against the pain, but nodded. His breath was coming in sharp gasps, the distinctive sound magnified by the fact he was drawing them through his nose.

Once I'd confirmed all our attackers were dead or incapacitated, I reached out and gently grasped his wounded arm. "Relax." I cast a field healing spell, washing the wound in azure light. The flesh knitted together under my direction, leaving a thin pink line. "Sorry about that. I just can't seem to get the hang of healing without leaving a scar."

"Maker's breath," he breathed in astonishment. "That's amazing!"

I grunted. "Try it out before you thank me. It wouldn't surprise me if I left something out."

He looked momentarily alarmed. He clenched and flexed his hand and arm, wincing a little at the pain of exercising newly healed tissue. "It feels incredible." He bent over and retrieved his crossbow, checking it for damage.

I nodded. "Good. Now, follow me."

We strode over to the lone survivor and waited. She was still held upright by the mystical prison, but her body was broken. She collapsed bonelessly as the spell ran its course. I crouched down next to her. My magic hadn't been gentle. Her eyes were stained red with burst blood vessels. Her hands and fingers were broken and twisted.

"Recognise her?" I asked tonelessly.

Pickering swallowed, but shook his head. "No. I've never seen her before. She looks… Rivani."

The dusky-skinned woman raised her head from the muddy road. She opened her mouth but had no breath to speak. Her teeth were rimmed with blood and bile. With a rattling cough, her eyes glazed and she lay still.

Looting the bodies gave no clue as to why they attacked us, beyond the fact that they each had a purse of fifteen silvers. Such an amount would tempt only the most desperate person into attempting the life of a mage. But it was a princely sum for the head of an inexperienced guardsman.

"Come on. Let's get going," I said shortly. If my escort was in danger, I needed to get him out of sight as soon as possible.

Pickering hesitated. "We can't just leave them," he said.

"We can, and we will. Come on," I insisted.

"But," he said, trotting along behind me.

"We'll tell the city guard stationed in the market district, but we've got better things to do than mind a bunch of corpses."

In the market, Kylon noticed our approach and gave a nod. His expression turned to one of exasperation as he spotted the bloodstains on our armour. "Maker's breath, again? How many suicidal idiots do we have in this city?"

"Several less than yesterday," I quipped. "We were jumped on Aliwal road. You mind sorting it out?"

He grumbled, but nodded. With a resigned gesture, he motioned his two companions to head off towards the scene of the crime. "I don't know whether to be pleased you're thinning the ranks of the criminal element in the city or upset that you're generating me more paperwork. Don't take this the wrong way, Warden-Commander, but I think I'm going to be quite relieved to see you leave my city."

The alienage was still relatively empty, given the recent unpleasantness. Slavery had culled their numbers, as had the riots. Oddly, the Blight had had only a minor impact on the population here. The elves had fared better against the darkspawn than all the humans, because they stayed in and defended their homes rather than run for help.

Still, even with the laws Alistair and Anora had passed, the elves were not fully trusting of humans. Pickering got more than a few dirty looks as we strolled down the muddy street.

"I don't think I'm really welcome here," he said, glancing around at the hard stares.

"It's not you," I replied.

He didn't look convinced. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure," I said with a smile. "It's the blood on your face and armour they're worried about."

"The…" he started, before rubbing at the dried red stain on his cheek.

"Don't worry about it. We can wash it off when we get to where we're going."

He swallowed audibly and nodded, but didn't ask for more information. I found that quite interesting in such an inexperienced guard.

A small group of elves walked towards us down the centre of the crooked little lane that formed the alienage's main thoroughfare. A familiar face led them.

"Shianni," I said with a smile and a nod.

"Cousin," the flame-haired elf replied.

Pickering drew a sharp breath. "Cousin?" he whispered.

I glanced at him. "We're second cousins, or something. The templars took me from this alienage. Look at us. We have the same hair." I turned back to Shianni. "It's nice to see you again."

"I'll ask if you're bringing trouble here - again - before I say the same," she replied with a tight smile.

I gave a laugh and stepped forward to embrace her. She returned my hug. "I need to ask you a favour, if you don't mind?"

Shianni nodded. "Of course. We owe you so many favours it's hard to keep track. Come inside. You can tell me what you want, and your shemlen friend can clean himself up." She looked down at Thunder and scowled. "Are you going to ransack my larder again?" she demanded.

Thunder tilted his head to one side, and gave her a whine of questionable innocence.

"I know it was you! You left muddy footprints everywhere!"

Thunder drooped his head to one side, and covered his eyes with a paw.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Don't give me that! If I let you inside, will you behave?"

Thunder immediately sat bolt upright on his haunches and barked an affirmative.

"Fine," she grumbled. "You can come in, but keep your snout out of my cupboards, you hear?"

Another bark, and Thunder bounded forward with tail wagging, leading us to Shianni's small home.

Shianni and I sat down at the small table in the middle of the main room. It was only really made for one person, and a small one at that. Pickering stood in the corner of the room with a bucket and a small scrap of hessian our hostess had given him. He looked decidedly uncomfortable with his shirt off in the presence of two females, but he was quite adamant that he needed to clean up.

"Have any Dalish visited recently?" I asked Shianni. "I know Lanaya's First said he would send some apprentices to each Fereldan alienage regularly to check for signs of magical children."

She nodded. "A pair visited a couple of months ago. They are overdue for another visit. Why?"

I withdrew Alistair's missive. "I have a letter and a proposal for Lanaya. But I couldn't find her clan when I was in the south last week. Could you hold onto it until the next time the Dalish visit? I can't wait around that long."

Shianni made no move to take the parchment. "What exactly is the proposal?"

"An alliance of sorts. Distrust between humans and elves runs deep, but the Blight forged some bonds of camaraderie. I want to strengthen them. It's an offer for volunteers from the clans to come and work with Alistair's army for a time, and a hope that some of his archers will be permitted to live with the Dalish at the same time."

"You think the clansmen would want to spend time with the shemlen? Or that they'd accept shemlen living among them?"

I shrugged. "I hope some of them will. A few to start with, but eventually I'd like to see a few dozen at a time."

She did not look convinced. "From what I know, most of the clans will think that it's a plot to infiltrate them. Even coming from me, they won't consider it favourably."

I winced. The Dalish had not been pleased to see how city elves were treated, but they still considered their city brethren to be little better than the shemlen they lived among. "I suppose. I just hope that at least one clan allows a couple of human archers to live with them and learn their art. If we start small then we can build up trust over time."

With a sigh, my cousin reached out and accepted the package of papers. "Fine. I'll hold onto them until the next visit. But don't be optimistic."

"Eamon has a copy and more information, if the Dalish need to speak with him." I looked over at Pickering, who was struggling back into his armour. "Are you ready to head back to the palace? I've got a busy day tomorrow."

The trip north from Denerim was not particularly arduous. Beyond the fact that I was on foot, it had been little more than a pleasant trip in a nice part of the year. Of course, being in the same travelling party as the King made it a bit safer than usual. However, it was slow going, and I felt uncomfortably restricted by the column of soldiers. Two days march out from Vigil's Keep, I bid Alistair farewell, walked out of sight of the camp, and shifted into a form more suitable for travelling.

Thunder and I raced the remaining leagues away in less than half the time. With the addition of a few spells and some mabari and mouse fur to the inside of my archdemon-scale, I could incorporate the armour into all my forms. So running as a mabari for hours on a nice sunny day meant that I ended up at my destination, once transformed back into an elf, fully armed and armoured, yet with fresh feet.

I could always direct some minor healing energies at my extremities, but not having to do so was a wonderful relief.

Travelling so light meant that I was always ready for a fight.

A fortuitous circumstance, as it happened.

Thunder and I crested a hill and spotted a lone figure on the next rise a half mile or so down the road. She was wearing armour and was armed with sword and shield, but her helmet lay on the grass beside her, next to a water-skin and a small travelling pack. Her partially braided hair was dark and her skin lightly tanned. Had Eamon not told me she had been sent north, I'd not have recognised her.

We ran on, down the shallow depression and back up the other hill, closer to her.

Mhairi looked little different. Her armour was of a much higher quality than the last time I'd seen her, as was her sword and shield. She sat on a tree stump about twenty yards off the main road, her long legs straight out and crossed at the ankles. She had tilted her head in curiosity at our approach.

Thunder trotted up to her, wagging his stubby tail. "Hello boy," she said, holding her hand out to be sniffed. "Aren't you the Warden-Commander's mabari? Where is she? And who is your friend?"

I shimmered into my own form. "I'm here."

She gasped, and leapt to her feet so abruptly that she almost fell over the other way. "Warden-Commander! Forgive me!"

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

She actually blushed. "I, er, I should have been at attention to wait for you."

I barked an amused laugh. "Right. How long have you been waiting?"

"Er," she stammered. "I came down yesterday and again this morning to greet you."

"You'd really have stood at attention for hours waiting for me to show up? I don't expect that, you know."

She gave me a tentative smile. "I… I wasn't sure what to expect, honestly. I'm here to escort you and your, ah, escort to Vigil's keep. Where are they?"

I sighed while shifting my armour around to a more comfortable position. One of the things about changing form while in armour was that it never quite sat right when you changed back. "About a day behind me. I left them this morning. I was sick of the fuss of travelling with them. They just slowed me down," I replied. "How far is it to the Keep from here?"

She pointed into the distance. "A little more than a mile, Commander. You can just make out the walls from here."

My elven eyes could do more than 'just make out' the walls. Even from this distance, they were clear of men. "Shouldn't there be patrols on the walls at least?"

She frowned at me. "There were when I left this morning."

I glanced up at the sun. It was only an hour or so to dusk. "Well, lets go then. I want a bath and a hot meal."

"Yes, Commander."

It did not take us long to reach the Keep. As we drew closer it became terribly apparent that something was wrong. I sensed the oily prickling of nearby darkspawn.

A screaming man ran out of the gate towards us, terrified of the darkspawn behind him. I barked an order to stand firm, and then went to work. While I was pleased that the man stood with me, he was not going to be on my list of potential recruits.

Thunder, as ever, was a joy to have. Individual darkspawn, whether hurlock or genlock, fell to a single snap of his mighty jaws. The four of us slaughtered the unholy creatures, both in the fields and inside the gates. In all honesty, it felt great to let loose with my powers after all the frustration with the Chantry over the past few weeks.

Darkspawn are great whacking posts.

We cleared and secured the outer keep, assisting the survivors. I left the nameless man to rally the remaining guards in the courtyard before venturing inside with Thunder and Mhairi. The fact that darkspawn were inside a fortified Keep manned by Grey Wardens was astonishing, and maybe even terrifying if I took the time to think about it. Where had they come from, and how had they taken the Wardens by surprise.

Philosophical questions would have to wait until later, I decided, as I hacked, slashed and butchered my way through the blighted monsters. With gritted teeth, we moved through the Keep.

Sounds of combat echoed behind a sturdy wooden door. Inhuman screams, gurgles, flashes of power.

I kicked the door open and rushed through, with Thunder and Mhairi right on my heels. The knight almost bowled me over as I skidded to a stop. Instead of the mass of darkspawn I'd sensed just moments ago, a lone mage was quite competently - and cheerfully - incinerating the lone living hurlock in the room. As his burst of fire ended, he turned his back on the pile of corpses, casually shaking the final remnants of heat from his hands and giving the tips of his fingers a satisfied blow. He jumped slightly as he noticed that he was not alone in the room, his eyes tightening with tension. He half turned back to the pile of corpses, as though embarrassed about being found in the vicinity.

"Er… I didn't do it," he offered with a feeble shrug, trying to give the impression that he just happened to be standing near a merrily burning hurlock, and that he was completely uninvolved with the recent unpleasantness; indeed, that he had no idea how such a thing had happened. His success was limited.

I leaned slightly to one side to see past him. Besides the hurlock that was rapidly turning to oily charcoal, there were several other bodies lying there, both tainted and armoured. The armoured bodies wore familiar purple kilts.

I raised an eyebrow, looking him over. Despite the recent battle, he was completely uninjured, which spoke rather well of his abilities. His robes were of an odd, Tevinter style, with feathers featuring prominently around his shoulders and gold highlights running from around his neck down his chest. Leather bracers covered his forearms from wrist to elbow, and two diagonal belts crisscrossed his waist for no appreciable reason I could fathom. Tall and broad of shoulder, his hair was tied back in a simple tail, eerily similar to Duncan's. He had an earring in one ear and golden circlets around his biceps. His very tightly defined biceps. This was no scholar-mage, this was a man used to using his muscles as well as his magic.

As I looked him over, recognition lit up on his features, and he seemed glad to have something to talk of rather than the dead bodies behind him. "Hey, I recognise you from the Circle!" He frowned. "What are you doing wearing all that armour? How in the Maker's name can you cast spells when you've got all that weight around you?"

"It's a skill," I replied, still looking him over. He certainly looked familiar, but I didn't think I knew him personally. In fact, he looked rather like someone else I knew. "Sorry, who are you?"

"You don't remember me? I certainly remember you, Kathryn Surana. You were the only other mage I heard of who could infuriate Greagoir as much as I could."

Thunder made a half-whine that sounded like disbelief.

I scratched his ears and shook my head, examining the mage's features closely. "Sorry, no. You weren't in any of my classes."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "Well, no, that's true, I was a few years ahead of you. But I rather hoped that I was more memorable than that." Suddenly, he brightened. His moods seemed to change like the wind. "Although, that may not be so surprising. While I am a Harrowed mage of the Circle, I only resided there occasionally. In between my jaunts out into the wonderful wide world of Ferelden, that is."

Ah, now that story sounded familiar. "Oh, you're the mage that kept escaping!" I said with a grin and a nod. "Well done, that man!"

He suddenly looked very pleased. "Aha! Not a Loyalist, I see. How very refreshing. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Anders, mage and wanted apostate," he said with pride.

Mhairi gasped. "An apostate? At Vigil's Keep?"

He gave her a smile, perhaps hoping that it was charming, but in the circumstances looked mildly lecherous. "You weren't here when we arrived. I'm sure I would have remembered such a lovely woman as yourself."

I frowned, not at the flirting, but at his name. "Anders? Really? That's what you're calling yourself?"

He looked affronted. "What's wrong with Anders?"

I rolled my eyes. "All right then, you can call me Fereldan." I gestured over my shoulder at the speechless Mhairi. "This is Fereldan too, though it might get a tad confusing. Especially if we add any more locals to our group. And when we finally track down the other Grey Wardens who were supposed to be here, they're all called Orlesian." I paused. "Though I suppose they'd be used to that name by now, what with being in Ferelden for more than a couple of minutes."

Anders broke into a huge grin. "Oh my, you are a woman after my own heart. As to my chosen moniker, my mother's family is from Anderfels, thus," he gestured to himself grandly. "Anders."

I rolled my eyes. "Well then, what did Greagoir call you?" I asked. Greagoir wouldn't muck about with nicknames.

He tilted his head to one side, thinking. "Well, let's see. Disgusting criminal. Talentless waste of flesh. Idiotic bastard. Wanted apostate. Throw him in the dungeon… no wait, that last one wasn't really directed at me."

I gave him a fake scowl. "Fine. What did Irving call you?" I asked, not really expecting an enlightening answer.

His smirk broadened. "My dear boy, generally. Though depending on the instance, he did say it with varying degrees of disappointment."

I laughed aloud. "Ah, yes, that sounds familiar. He still tries using guilt like a mace. Fine, if you don't want to tell me, Anders it is. But if you're an apostate, why are you here at the Keep? It belongs to the Grey Wardens. Are you a volunteer, or a recruit?"

"Goodness no, dear lady." He shrugged his shoulders. "These templars caught up to me on my most recent extra-Circle excursion, that's all. They were escorting me back to the tower." He nudged one of the templar corpses with a toe. "They decided to impose upon the seneschal's hospitality this evening, rather than spend a night camping in the cold. Exceptional timing, I must say; what with the darkspawn attack and all."

Mhairi finally found her voice, disgust evident in her tone. "What happened to the templars?"

"Oh them?" Anders said, giving the armoured bodies an unconcerned glance. "The darkspawn got them. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest," he said, as if we could have mistaken his attitude for anything else. He gestured at one with his thumb. "Biff there made the most amusing gurgle when he went down."

"Not too fond of them, huh?" I quipped. Biff? There was a templar named Biff?

Anders spread his hands as though I had just shared some deep, philosophical secret of the universe. "Oh, I know, I know. Most people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up each morning. Me, I'm just so picky."

I gave my head a toss. "Pfft, you got woken with a kick to the head? Luxury!"

Mhairi coughed. "Commander, we cannot remain here. There are still darkspawn roaming the Keep!"

Anders readily agreed. "True. These darkspawn don't leave much time for chit-chat, do they? Well, tell you what. I'll help you and we can discuss what comes later... later, once all these bastards are properly put down, yes?"

Thunder agreed with Anders' realistic outlook with a satisfied bark. He trotted forward and gave the mage a thorough sniff, giving the mage a wag of his stumpy tail in return for scratched ears.

"You are one big puppy," he said admiringly.

I snorted. "Right, let's go and evict these buggers. This is Thunder, it appears that he likes you. This is Mhairi," one glance over my shoulder prompted me to add, "and it appears that she doesn't."

Anders took in Mhairi's expression, and didn't disagree. "Right. Lead the way. I'll be right behind you. Directly behind you, really," he said with a grin and a waggle of eyebrows.

I raised an eyebrow and swept past him. "Just so long as you keep your wits about you."

"Oh, I guarantee I'll be completely focused... on the task at hand."

"Prat," I mock growled, giving Spellweaver a threatening twirl. He just grinned back.

The darkspawn, as usual, were disorganised and chaotic. They seemed to have no purpose beyond killing, and no tactics beyond charging in one wave. Which rather stood out in contrast to the fact that they'd somehow managed to infiltrate a keep full of Grey Wardens.

Unless the Orlesian Wardens had sent incompetents. That was possible, I suppose.

Anders was a welcome addition to our group. His healing skills were phenomenal. Easily on a par with Wynne, with the added benefit of him not being a controlling, overbearing old biddy. Any wounds sustained by Mhairi and Thunder were healed within seconds.

And he was very pleasant to look at. That certainly didn't hurt.

After the second skirmish, I'd decided that Anders was going to be a Grey Warden. All I had to do was figure out how to make him think that it was his idea.

The four of us moved through the Keep like one of Anders' healing spells washing away an infected wound. We butchered darkspawn where ever we found them. But there was very little other resistance to the monstrous invaders.

With one notable exception. A red-haired and -bearded dervish of axe-blade, spittle and curses massacred his way through a group of six darkspawn like a wolf through a herd of drunken sheep, pausing only momentarily to give me a jaunty wave. The darkspawn took the opportunity to howl at the implied insult and charge as a united front, which made the dwarf's mighty cleaves even more effective. With one swing, he chopped a hurlock in two at the waist, and decapitated another on the back swing.

Not wanting to be left out of the fun, I joined in, followed quickly by Thunder, Mhairi and Anders. The rest of the fight didn't go much better. For the darkspawn.

When the last was turned into a gruesome pile of gore on the floor, Oghren leaned over the nearby railing and shouted, "A-ha! There you are! When these darkspawn showed up, I thought, 'just you wait until the new Commander gets here and you'll all be spitting teeth out of your arses!' Followed the screams, and sure enough, here you are. Good on ya!"

Thunder bounded around in a circle, giving excited yips. He bolted up the short flight of stairs towards the dwarf. "Oghren? You're here?" I exclaimed with a smile.

"Doubting your eyes, huh? I get like that, after the fifth bottle or so. Came here thinking I might try my hand at becoming a bona fide Grey Warden." He attempted to push Thunder away, unable to prevent the dog from smearing his face with a good layer of sticky slobber. "Get off me you drooling monstrosity!" he shouted. "You lick your own arse! I don't wan't your tongue anywhere near me!"

Well, that explained why he'd left the army, I thought, as he failed to completely fend off Thunder's enthusiastic greeting. The Grey Wardens were possibly the only place he'd get more respect than Ferelden's armed forces. He finally managed to get away from my mabari and moved over to the head of the stairs.

Mhairi cleared her throat, and said softly, "He was here when I left. I can't believe the Wardens didn't kick him out."

I blinked and turned to her, wondering how she'd missed the inclusion of a drunken dwarf berserker in all those tales of Alistair the Great she'd devoured. Oghren however, beat me to the punch.

"Hey! If it isn't the recruit with the great rack!" he said, leaning casually against a support pillar. The scene looked rather surreal; a redolent figure in blood-speckled armour.

Mhairi sighed. "Yes. A prize for the Wardens, to be sure."

Oghren, as usual, was completely un-offendable. "I know, I know, too good to be true, right? Hey... who's the mage? Boyfriend? Should I leave you two alone?" he leered, though I wasn't sure if he meant me or Mhairi.

Anders spoke up for the first time. "Wow. A dwarf that smells like a brewery. You never see that anywhere," he said laconically.

"Huh. A mage comedian. Thought those normally died young."

You know, the way Anders and Oghren half-smiled as they insulted each other signalled that they would probably either be great friends or they'd end up killing each other. My money was on both. "It's good to see you again," I said honestly with a broad smile.

Anders whipped his head around to stare at me, astonished. "I find that hard to believe."

"As do I," Mhairi agreed fervently.

I mentally shrugged. To tell the truth, I'd felt similarly when Oghren had invited himself along on our expedition to find Branka and the Anvil. They'd change their minds soon enough, after he had casually hacked apart unholy terrors that were trying to claw their faces off. As usual, Oghren got to the point. "Now let's go introduce some darkspawn arses to my foot. Only polite thing to do."

I flicked tainted blood off Spellweaver. "Since when do you ever worry about being polite?"

He gave me an imperious leer. "Manners are like arses. Everyone's got 'em, some smell nicer than others, but they're only useful in certain situations."

Anders coughed, covering a laugh. "That sounded almost profound. Who did you steal that line from?"

He gave a gravelly laugh. "My wife, from back when she was first made a Paragon and given her own house. She had to act all smarmy with them deshyrs, but she had their number all right."

Anders gave a slow blink. "Sorry, a Paragon? You mean like... a living dwarf god? Your wife is one?"

"Aye. Well, she was. She's gone now," he said abruptly, his heavy-lidded eyes suddenly flashing dangerously. "Come on, I feel like killing some darkspawn."

With the addition of Oghren to our group, it would have taken an army of darkspawn to stand against us. We marched through corridor after corridor, room after room, smashing and squishing darkspawn with ease. I'd fought with both Oghren and Thunder all the way up Fort Drakon, and then against the archdemon. I knew how they worked, and likewise, they knew when to let me unleash my magic. We fought as a unit, far more effective together than individually.

I noted a definite increase in Mhairi and Anders' competency, as they learned to adjust their techniques to fit their roles. Anders started using certain spells more often and with greater efficiency, and Mhairi learned to move with Oghren, to avoid his wild strikes and take advantage of the destruction of darkspawn defences.

Eventually, with the inner Keep retaken, we skirted the battlements, where I could feel the last powerful darkspawn hiding. Just as we arrived it casually shoved a soldier off the battlements, before turning back to face a lone prisoner. It turned out to be a hurlock, its face painted like an Orlesian prostitute. But the most astonishing thing was, it spoke.

Now, I'd seen darkspawn shriek and yell. Emissaries were quite capable of hurling non-verbal insults and threats that were quite understandable, if only due to the vivid hand gestures that inevitably went along with them. But they did not speak.

This one did. It even questioned its prisoner.

Surprised the hell out of me.

A greying man in well-used armour defied his captors, insulting them and challenging them to kill him. I petrified the darkspawn holding the blade to his throat, allowing him to escape uninjured. Once he was clear, Anders and I bombarded the unholy group of monsters with elements and entropic curses.

The chatty one took a bit of killing, to Oghren's surprise and satisfaction. It wasn't often that he got to trade unrestrained blows with someone capable of shrugging off his usual efforts. He took the hurlock's best shots without flinching, and returned the favour with interest. As it was, the fight went as expected, with the painted darkspawn ending the fight a foot shorter (well, a head really) than he started.

Once the excitement had calmed, I walked over to the remains. I nudged the decapitated head with my armoured boot until it was, well, facing up. "Ugly bastard," I said to no one in particular."

"Such a judgemental soul you are," Anders chided mockingly. "He might be considered handsome by the all the lady darkspawn in the deep tunnels. That paint on his face might be the height of fashion among them. Maybe he's got a rotting wife, and six or seven decomposing kids waiting for him down in some dingy hole somewhere. You never know."

I glanced up at him and grinned at his banter. "You've never seen a 'lady darkspawn' I take it?"

He blinked, and shook his head. "No, I honestly can't say that I have. Well, that I know of. Maybe they look just like the men. I don't know."

Oghren and I shared a look. "You'd know," we said in unison.

He raised an eyebrow at our dual response. "I must point out that I have no real desire to, either."

"Yeah, hold onto that thought," Oghren supplied, casually wiping his axe blade on the tunic of a dismembered darkspawn. "This one's a prize catch compared to them."

I grunted. "That and they don't really get to the surface."

Anders scratched at his ear, looking thoughtful. "I suddenly have an uncontrollable desire never to venture underground."

"A pity," I murmured. "There's a lot of beauty down there. The Deep Roads are a magnificent sight. Until you've walked down them for time enough to respect their sheer scale, you haven't seen true engineering."

Anders gave me a sceptical look, but Oghren guffawed. "Aye. They piss on what you call roads up here on the surface."

I clicked my tongue at him. "They also have dozens of darkspawn jumping out and ambushing you from every corner."

Anders and Mhairi shared a look as Oghren scratched at his beard plaits with one blood-smeared hand, appearing to consider the point. "That's true. No such thing as a dull trip in the Deep Roads. Ya gotta admit that."

I knelt and looted the bodies, a habit I no longer thought about but which surprised Anders and offended Mhairi. "Is that truly necessary, Commander?"

"You'd be surprised," I replied easily. The talking darkspawn had quite impressive equipment, including a sword that wouldn't have been out of place in a teyrn's personal armoury. No written notes, however. Were these darkspawn with speech ability literate as well? That would not be good.

The grey-haired chap rose from his feet onto wobbly legs. "I… I thank you, Commander. Your timing was impeccable."

I gave him a level look and gestured with my hand towards the shattered keep. "Really? I'd say I was at least a day too late."

He closed his eyes. "A poor choice of words on my part. I thank you for your intervention. You saved my life. If I can be of any assistance whatsoever..."

With a nod, I said, "Right, well, as you were. I've got to get things in order. Maybe someone who knows what's going on survived."

Mhairi cleared her throat. "If I may Commander, allow me to introduce you. This is Varel, seneschal of Vigil's Keep. He sent me to meet you."

"Ah," I said, for want of anything else to say. "I suppose you can help me then."

"Indeed, Commander," Varel responded, bowing. "How may I assist you?"

I gestured for him to follow me. "Walk and talk. We'll do a full survey of the Keep and see who survived, and you can get me up to speed."

I sighed deeply as we stepped out into the early dawn. The Keep was secured and the survivors counted, though we still needed to assess and scour out all the remaining houses and outbuildings within the walls before I would be comfortable in finally claiming victory.

Anders looked rather haggard, but bore the stress of a sleepless night well. Varel looked even more weary, but his military discipline meant that he didn't show it so readily. Mhairi looked tired too, her shoulders slumped and her shield held low. Oghren looked a little worse for wear, but that may just be because he hadn't had a drink in the last quarter hour. He gave a gravelly sigh himself. "I'll never get used to the sunrise. Bloody amazing sight."

I nodded in complete agreement. "Aye," I said, unconsciously lapsing into his own dialect. "It's amazing." We simply stood there, smiling ever more brightly, as the first rays of the morning warmed our faces and cleansed our souls of the taint we'd just waded through. An unconscious smile grew on my face in the golden morning light.

Anders frowned as he looked at me. "Aren't you tired? We've been fighting all night. You look like you've just woken up."

I shrugged. "Grey Wardens are a little more hardy than most," I said, subtly promoting a benefit of joining. "We can go all night," I finished with a suggestive wink.

"Really," he leered, latching onto my less-than-subtle double entendre. "I like the sound of that."

I concealed a smile. My lure was baited. Unfortunately, Oghren also picked up on it.

"Hur, hur. Maybe you ought to try a dwarf sometime. We can go all week."

Anders grinned at Oghren, raised a hand and let a crackle of magic flicker over his fingers before unleashing a burst of azure magic over our group. Everyone stood a little straighter and sighed at the sensation. "Rejuvenation spells. Mages can go indefinitely."

Mhairi sighed at the dick-waving. Her own eyes were still slightly puffy with weariness, but she raised an arm and pointed. "Commander? There are men approaching Vigil's Keep."

I turned away from the sun and looked out the open gate. Indeed, a familiar dozen or so men and women marched in two lines towards the Keep. The vanguard of Alistair's escort had finally caught up. The man leading the right hand column was garbed in burnished silverite armour of a quality several steps above that of his companions.

Thunder gave a "Whuff!" of excitement and bounded off, his claws throwing up huge clods of moist earth. Well, there was no doubting who was at the gate now.

"Does your mabari always to that?" Anders asked.

"When he knows the person, usually," I replied. "Or when he wants to kill someone without me interrupting him. I once let him keep the loot from the darkspawn he killed. He grasped the concept that coins could be turned into doggie treats remarkably quickly. It was days before I had to fight again."

Oghren looked up at me, deeply curious. "Huh?"

I shrugged. "A couple of months ago I was travelling to Highever with Fergus and Aedan Cousland. Apart from one big group early in the trip, we ran into lots of small groups of darkspawn; small enough that Thunder and Shadow, that's Aedan's mabari, could take them out themselves. All the loot from those little groups of darkspawn went to buying treats for the dogs."

"So, that fur-covered, smelly shit-factory of yours gets a share of my loot now? Sod that!"

Mhairi growled slightly. "You call a dog a smelly?" she muttered under her breath.

I chuckled. "Never mind. Come on, let's go and greet our visitors."

We met at the gates, one group bloody and battle-weary, the other glistening in polished armour and looking astonished at our appearance. Plus one enormous dog, occasionally bouncing around in a circle, wagging his stubby tail and looking up at the King happily.

"It looks like I arrived a bit late. Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing," Alistair said, taking off his helmet and looking around at the dead bodies in the courtyard.

Mhairi gasped, "King Alistair!" and sank to one knee in pious veneration. Bemusedly, Varel also genuflected. Oghren, Anders and I remained on our feet.

"I'd wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome," he continued, fending off Thunder's nuzzling by the simple expedient of scratching his ears. It would take a dozen ogres to move my dog away from someone willing to scratch him there. "I certainly wasn't expecting this. What's the situation?"

I rubbed my jaw, noting that there was still blood on my face. "We've killed the darkspawn in the Keep itself, but there are some stragglers about, somewhere nearby. The Orlesian Wardens are either dead or... missing."

Alistair's eyes widened. "Missing? As in taken by the darkspawn? Do they even do that?"

"They do for one reason we know of," I said darkly. "And I'll hunt down every last one to prevent that from happening."

Varel cleared his throat. "I have conducted a brief census. We cannot account for all the Wardens, your Majesty."

He nodded sombrely. "I see. And are you all right, Kat? You weren't hurt in the battle, were you?"

I tilted my head to one side. "What's wrong with your eyes? Do I look hurt to you?"

He grinned. "That's the Kathryn Surana I remember!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You'd forgotten?" I asked, putting a dangerous edge in my voice.

He chuckled. "Scrubbed from my memory, more like."

I snorted in amusement. "And that's the Alistair Theirin I remember." I crooked my finger at Alistair while the rest of those in earshot gaped at me like a goldfish. I moved off to one side, away from prying ears; Alistair followed a few steps behind. "We have a problem," I said without jest.

"You mean, besides the darkspawn attacking and killing all bar one Grey Warden in Amaranthine?"

The fact I didn't smile at his quip washed away his mirth. "The darkspawn leader of the attack on the Keep - it spoke," I said urgently but in low tones.

He leaned forward. "Sorry? Did you just say...?"

I hissed out, "The damned thing spoke, Alistair. Not well, but coherently. The darkspawn have always been cunning, but now they're becoming sentient!"

His eyes suddenly lit with realisation. "Oh, shit!"

I nodded. "Exactly. Facing them ten-, twenty-, even a hundred-to-one isn't impossible when their tactics consist of forming one front and charging. Facing them even at five-to-one when they can give and take orders... well, that's nightmare material."

"We need to talk to Weisshaupt. Like, right now."

I shook my head. "No. You need to. I can't waste a single man as a messenger. I need you to send a missive to Heinrich, Helmet, and every other Commander in Thedas too, and let them know that we've found darkspawn who bloody well talk in Ferelden. Tell them that I need to know everything, and I mean, everything they know about them. Observations, theories, histories, rumours, everything! Don't let them fob you off with any excuses about secrets either!"

He backed away a half step, holding his hands up against my vehemence. "I get it, Kat. Everything. I understand. I'll get right on it."

I sighed, but nodded. I turned and made my way back towards the group at the gates, him at my heels. "Thank you. I just..." I let my shoulders slump. "This could go pear-shaped very quickly."

We moved back to where everyone else was watching us with interest. "Pear-shaped? What's so special about pears? Banana-shaped, now that's bad. Pineapple shaped, I shudder to think."

I rolled my eyes. "Wonderful. I'm baring my soul and you're discussing the etymology of metaphors."

He grinned at me. "It's a gift. What can I say?" He sobered before continuing. "You have quite the task ahead of you. Really, I'd like to help you fight darkspawn, but you're on your own for the moment."

Oghren all but exploded at that. "Hey! What am I? Chopped nug livers?"

"From the smell, that's not a bad guess," retorted Anders. I couldn't help but smile. The pair were shaping up to be just as amusing as Alistair and Morrigan.

Oghren grunted and said, "I came here to join the Grey Wardens, and from the looks of it, you could use the extra hands! Where's the giant cup? I'll gargle and spit!"

I rolled my eyes, discovering that Alistair had done exactly the same. "You're not allowed to spit," I said pointedly, hoping he wasn't about to start spouting Warden secrets he wasn't supposed to know. The words were hardly out of my mouth when I just knew what rejoinder Oghren was going to come out with.

"Heh. That's what I always say..."

Yep. Saw that one coming.

Mhairi looked unsure, but seemed to understand the dire situation. "I... suppose all are welcome, in this dire time." Well, that was about as much of a vote of confidence that I was going to get from her.

Anders nodded at the dwarf. "Joining the Wardens, hey? Well good luck with that."

A female human in templar armour burst forward from the rear of Alistair's retinue. "King Alistair! Your Majesty, beware! This man is a dangerous criminal!"

Alistair looked taken aback at her outburst, and opened his mouth to reply. However, I beat him to the punch. I tucked my helmet under my arm, puffed up what little chest I'd been blessed with, and spat back, "Who are you calling a man?" If some templar was going to publicly call me a dangerous criminal, then damn it, they were going to have to at least get my bloody gender right.

Judging by the silence that followed, my outburst seemed to confused a great many people. The templar for starters, but also Alistair and Anders too. "Um, she means me," Anders said, sounding as though he were explaining a complex theory to a child.

I looked him over. "Really? I thought you were just an escapee. What did you do that was so dangerous?"

"This," the templar said heatedly, glaring at me, "is an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!"

"Oh, please. The things you people know about justice would fit into a thimble. I'll just escape again, anyhow," Anders said with resigned acceptance.

"Never!" the templar spat. "I will see you hanged for what you've done here, murderer!"

Anders and I both shouted, "Murderer?" in unison. We exchanged glances, and he gestured a deferral for me to go first. "Who exactly do you think he murdered?" I demanded of the templar.

She looked between Anders and myself, fury etched on her features. "The templars who were charged with returning him to the Circle!" she shouted. "If they still lived, they would not allow him to wander around unescorted!"

I raised a hand and pointed towards the Keep. At the same time, I leaned forward, putting an expression on my face that reflected my thoughts about the idiocy of that statement. "We just had a night-long, running battle against several score of darkspawn. They somehow invaded Vigil's Keep, and slaughtered their way through the defenders therein. Less than one in ten of the people here yesterday still live, and your immediate conclusion, on seeing a free mage, is to assume that he killed his templar escort?" She blinked a few times and glanced at Alistair for support, but I continued before he could interrupt. "Did you get smacked around the head a lot as a child?"

"What? No!"

"Do you habitually sniff concentrated deathroot extract?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Is your lyrium mixed with Soulrot?"

Her mouth dropped open, and she looked to be on the verge of bursting a vein.

"Odd. I didn't think the templars would induct someone so monumentally stupid as to require the letters 'L' and 'R' stencilled on their boots and gloves, yet they manifestly do so," I said, waving both my hands up and down her frame.

"Kat," Alistair said warningly. "Ser Rylock is merely performing her duty as she sees fit. And please keep quiet abo-"

"She's an idiot, Alistair," I interrupted sternly, ignoring the gibbering templar. "And giving idiots the power of life and death over people who can't fight back is barbaric."

"It doesn't matter!" Rylock screamed. "He is an apostate, and he will be hanged for his crimes!"

I waved at her again, still addressing Alistair. "See? She'd prefer to stamp her feet and execute an innocent man rather than entertain the notion that she's wrong," I said, glossing over the fact that, for all I knew, she may actually have been right.

Alistair gave me a pointed look. "Well, there is one way this could be resolved, yes Commander?"

I snarled at him. I wanted to manoeuvre Anders into a situation where he would make the choice himself, not have it thrust upon him. Someone who habitually escaped incarceration would have no difficulty in running away from the Wardens if he felt trapped. But, needs must. I couldn't have such a skilled healer removed from my side. "Indeed. I hereby conscript this mage into the Grey Wardens."

Rylock gasped, seeing her bloodsport slipping away. "What? Never!"

"I believe the Grey Wardens still retain the Right of Conscription, no? I will allow it."

My eyes bulged. "You will allow it?" I hissed at him. "Allow?"

He winced at his unconsidered words, and gave me an apologetic shrug.

Rylock however, had slumped in apparent defeat. "If... if your Majesty feels it is best..."

I snapped my eyes to her, looking at her body language. If I was any judge, the meek acceptance was just an act.

Oghren gave a bark of laughter. "Ha! Way to go, kid! Welcome aboard!" he shouted, giving Anders a hearty slap on the kidney; Anders was quite tall after all, especially compared to Oghren. His shoulder was out of the dwarf's reach.

Anders winced a bit at the blow, but looked a bit bemused at the turn of events. "Me? A Grey Warden? I guess that will work..."

Mhairi actually looked pleased. I suppose getting your wounds healed so quickly and painlessly would change all but the most stubborn person's opinion. "Congratulations, ser mage. I look forward to fighting at your side."

Alistair nodded. "Then if you have everything under control, I will need to take my leave."

Varel stepped forward. "I believe the estate has been secured, yes. We have suffered great losses, but the darkspawn are gone and there are survivors." He glanced at Alistair's questioning expression. "Oh... excuse my manners, your Majesty. I am Varel, seneschal of Vigil's Keep. I will aid the Commander in ruling the lands of Amaranthine."

Ugh, this again. "This arling belongs to the Wardens, not me," I said firmly. Alistair sighed and let his shoulders droop at the prospect of having the same argument with me again.

Varel took this in his stride. "But as Commander of the Grey you are the equivalent of our arlessa, as well."

I sighed, just accepting it. Arguing publicly with the King wouldn't do my authority any good.

He continued. "Come and speak to me soon. There are many matters to attend to, not the least of which is the Joining. You will need to replenish your numbers." A shiver ran down my back at that. What did the seneschal of a Keep know about the Joining?

Alistair gave me an odd look. "I wish I didn't have to drop this all into your lap, Kat. It would be so much more interesting to keep you at court..."

I snorted. "Right! Up until the time I managed to somehow mortally offended every second noble in the kingdom. And it wouldn't be long before the Hag of the Hill came out of her Cathedral to complain about me three times a day. At that point, I suspect you'd have had as much interest as you could take, and would try and work out how to get me out of town with as little collateral damage as possible."

He chuckled at my answer, but there was a wistful edge to it. "I daresay you're right, but I still miss you." He sighed. "It will be up to you to deal with the vestiges of the Blight before the situation grows out of control. No easy task, but I'm confident you are up to it."

"Have I ever let you down?" I challenged.

"You made me King," he pointed out.

I crossed my arms. "You were the only candidate," I retorted.

He looked to the heavens. "Dear Maker. Just once... please? Just once I'd like to win an argument with her."

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thank you to my reviewers - EF, MB18932, Nightbrainzz, Alifangirl21 and Arsinoe de Blassenville - I can't get enough of them.

Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I needed to get a few incidental things out of the way before we got to Vigil's Keep, and the chapter just kept growing. Hopefully a 14000 word chapter is worth the wait.