Reeve Asa won her third consecutive Grand Tourney a few days later. I wasn't there to watch the tilts. Few were. According to Varric it would go down in history as the worst attended final in centuries.

That wasn't surprising considering how the entire City, and half the foreign delegates, were too busy grappling with what the Wardens had done. Learning just what else they had been up to. Their use of black-powder explosives had even been enough to rouse the Arishok, the man leaving his compound for the first time since his arrival to speak with Dumar about what had happened.

I don't know what they talked about. Dumar wouldn't say, but the Qunari returned to their military base and stayed inside after that. At least officially. I wouldn't have been surprised if there were already a small horde of Qunari spies chasing Cousland and Greg, to find out just how the hell they knew the recipe for the powder.

For my part I was dragged into too many of the other meetings that occurred over the next few days. Every moment that Dumar wasn't at the Tourney, he was off receiving reports instead, and he wanted me there as much as possible. I ended up spending my days silent, hungover, and grieving in the background as Brennan, Cullen, and a variety of others recounted what they had discovered.

Brosca and eleven Wardens were dead. Cousland and fourteen other Wardens were eventually unaccounted for, including Velanna. Howe was the only prisoner, eventually secured in Alistair's ship for transport home after a whole lot of arguing. No other ship had departed the city, and each and every one of them still in harbor was searched top to bottom.

Reports of wagons leaving the Tourney Grounds, and several missing horses, would eventually convince everyone they'd gone west. Heading by road toward Nevarra and Orlais, their final destination unknown. Several knights rode off in pursuit, but lost their trail quickly in the mountains.

Runners were sent by horse and by ship, spreading the news. A group of Alistair's personal guard volunteered to ride hard for Weisshaupt, to tell the First Warden, to demand Cousland be thrown out of the order. To beg Maharial to come back to Ferelden, to be named Warden-Commander instead. To redeem an order that had now betrayed their nation's trust for a second time.

The political fallout was as immense as it was exhausting. I struggled through every hour of it, and then returned in the evening to have Fiolya relay information from the Alienage. To be told what the city's Elves could find out quickly and quietly, supplementing what Brennan's Guards and Cullen's Templars provided.

Most of it was obvious with the benefit of hindsight.

The Wardens hadn't brought the Golem with them; it had been the Black Emporium's. Xenon's personal protector hadn't saved him from being slain, his tortured immortality somehow ended. The Wardens had apparently killed him, slain his urchin assistant, and then taken everything easily moved before setting the Emporium alight.

I had no idea what Cousland and her Wardens had found inside that shop. I was sure it would come back to haunt me at the worst possible time.

The rest... well. The rest were a list of the demands they'd given me, twisted to violence thanks to my refusal to work for them.

Brennan's home had been torched by a cloaked mage. Probably Velanna. If the Guard Captain hadn't been called away an hour earlier to meet with Vivienne about someone who'd offered the mage an insult, she'd have been killed while getting ready for Varric's evening feast, freeing up the position for Aveline.

Anders clinic in Darktown had been raided as well. All of his potions had been taken, as had his private journals, and the rest of it smashed to pieces. Unlike with Brenan, they'd known he wasn't there. Had to have known. The vandalism had been a statement and a warning.

Finishing off the bad news was the fact that someone had broken into the Alienage Gatehouse I'd been staying in after I'd gone tearing off after Brosca. After Fiolya had obeyed me, going to down to the Chantry. They'd...

...they'd taken my journals. They were gone. All of my notes, recollections, venting... they were in Cousland's hands now. They hadn't stopped there either; Merrill's things were gone as well. Luck had seen her keep her Eluvian shard on her, not wanting to leave it behind when Meredith was around. Small mercies, considering how much about me the Wardens were about to learn. My only code being that they'd been written in English. It would probably stop anyone from reading them until they were in Greg's hands... but they'd make it that far, eventually. And then he'd be able to read so much of what I'd hidden away from everyone.

My magic. Longing. My lies. My fears. Notes on my Dreamcatcher. Idle fantasies. All of it now in the hands of a woman I now despised, about to to be given over to a man I now loathed. It was enough to turn my stomach when I forced myself to think about anything but the great hole that Petrice's absence had left in my chest.

And if that wasn't enough, the day after the Tourney had ended I'd finally gotten confirmation from the poor quarter near the docks. An Elven waitress who worked a tavern there relaying what I had already guessed had happened.

Wall-Eyed Sam was dead. Murdered in his home, which had been ransacked.

"Sam?" Isabella leaned an arm on Varric's table, all of our old crew living in his estate in the aftermath of what happened. "Wall-Eyed Sam? They killed a poor excuse for a pirate, and a worse excuse for a smuggler? Why?"

I looked down, staring into the cup of water in my hands. "They thought he had your Satinalia gift."

"What are you..." Her voice trailed off, lips staying parted. Golden-brown eyes widened, then narrowed. "Maeve. You can't meant what I think you mean."

My head tilted right. "Fiolya? Bring it out, please."

My squire slipped out of the seat on my left, padding over to a cupboard as ten pairs of eyes watched. Opening it, she got up on her toes, rummaged around behind a bag of flour, and then grunted with effort as she pulled a wrapped package out.

A book shaped package that nearly toppled her over when she took all of its weight.

Isabella had gone utterly still, and stayed that way even when the girl got it onto the table in front of her. It was only after Hawke nudged her that the pirate managed to get a hand up, tugging at the wrapping. Pulling it back enough to confirm just what it was.

"One priceless Qunari relic." I said into the silence that followed. "Fiolya and I stole it the night before everything went down, hid it away in Varric's pantry, where no one would think to find it."

Varric let out a low whistle, glancing at me. "The night you slept the day away after getting drunk with Hawke you mean, when you and the kid vanished right around sunset. You had the damn thing even before the Wardens threatened you for it?"

"Yup."

"How?" He asked. "I mean, you said Smith told you to find it, but how'd you know who had it?"

I should have used that moment to tell them all the truth. To come clean. To ruin Smith's lies about his visions, reveal exactly where he and I were from. Just what he might be up to, what he'd apparently inspired Cousland to try and do to 'correct' things that had strayed too far from cannon. What he'd inspired Brosca to do to 'prevent' things from happening in the future. Come clean, washed away the lies and half-truths that I'd been telling for far too long.

I should have... but I was a weak, grieving, cowardly bitch who let Fiolya clear her throat. Let her give them the same cover story I'd told her when I'd taken her out to retrieve it.

"She's had the People watching for Qunari relics since the first time Isabella had her out treasure hunting." She told everyone. "Asking about them, telling shems and Dwarves involved in smuggling that they worked for a wealthy buyer interested in purchasing any that could be found. No questions asked, their weight in gold."

Fenris let out a quiet sound of amusement. "And when that smuggler reached out, you burgled his home."

"Watched him." I corrected. "His stash is in Darktown. Was, I guess. Getting to it helped me teach Fiolya how to pick locks, follow someone silently, and how avoid trouble down there. Found a letter he was drafting, hoping to sell it to Tevinter, but he hadn't gotten around to sending it yet. Must have only just found the book in the last month or two. No idea how or from where, but I'd guess some fisherman picked it up. Had no idea what it was, besides a fancy book, and sold it for nothing. Sam must have had a better idea as to its worth, his letter drafts make me think he was hoping to insane amounts of gold for it."

A rasping noise brought everyone's attention back to Isabella in time to see her hug said book to her chest, her eyes still wide as she jerked them to me. "I never told you it was Qunari."

There was another snort from Fenris, the man shaking his head. "No, but it was obvious to everyone here."

"It was." Anders agreed. "You never go anywhere near them."

Brennan rolled her eyes, "Your ship sank at the same time as the Arishok's. You even got to the city in the same week."

"You know too much about them." Varric added.

Isabella recovered enough to pout a little, speaking up when Thrask opened his mouth to add more. "I get it, all right? I wasn't bloody subtle. I... dammit. I have to get this to Castillon. Maeve, I..."

When she trailed off again, Hawke rolled her eyes and seemed to twitch. The heavy thump and quiet yelp betrayed that she'd just kicked the other woman, who finally manged to get the words out, "...thank you. This is... you have no idea what this means to me."

"We're friends." I told her. "You deserved to have it. Just... when you're sailing the seas again, when you've got a new ship... stop by here once in a while, all right?"

Something gleamed in her eyes, head jerking in a quick nod. "Oh I definitely will, sweet thing."

Merrill pouted, "You're leaving? I mean, we're leaving too, but I hoped you'd want to come with us."

I winced when everyone else sat up straighter, a suspicious look once more falling across Varric's features. I met his stare evenly until he swept his gaze up and down the table, finally settling on Hawke.

"You didn't." He told her. "You better not have."

Hawke's hands rose in surrender. "It wasn't my idea."

"Oh no, it was mine." Merrill piped up again. "This city is too busy for me to work on my Eluvian, and Maeve... my lethallan needs some time away. To rest. To grieve. She isn't going to get that here. And Hawke says she has plenty of rooms in her castle, so I thought we could visit her for a while. She seems fun."

When Varric glanced to me, I could only shrug tiredly. "I need a break, Varric. I... need time to process it."

"...and Smith might be there." He said shrewdly.

Hawke's nose wrinkled as if she'd smelled something foul, while a silent Carver scowled into his drink.

"Doubt it." I said, speaking publicly what the three of us had already discussed in private. "We're pretty sure we'll get there to find him and Bethany gone, but... there's a chance he won't be. That he didn't know how far Cousland planned to go. He's an imperious ass, but I don't... this seems a bit beyond how far he'd want to go. If he's still in Amaranthine... I'm going to get answers."

Anders jaw tightened, "I'm tempted to go with you, just for that chance."

"You'd be welcome to." Hawke said at once. "If you're willing."

The blonde mage seemed to be seriously considering it before he shook his head. "No. I want to, but I've got people here I need to take care of. People who already helping me rebuild my clinic. I can't abandon them, or what's left of the Underground. Not when I have a chance to make them realize how badly they've set back our cause, to correct things."

Carver nodded, not looking surprised, speaking for the siblings. "We figured. We'll let you know what we find, and if we hear anything on Amell and that bloody witch."

"Thank you."

The quiet that followed gave Ser Thrask an opening, turning to me. "Lady... are you sure you wish to depart Kirkwall? The Knight-Commander will... likely be upset when she finally awakens, to be told that you are gone."

"She'll live."

And Meredith would, entirely thanks to Vivienne's efforts. It had apparently been a close call, and she'd have a long recovery ahead of her. Brosca's grenades had contained several forms of toxin along with a kind of poisoned lyrium. Not red, blue, but somehow altered. No idea how, but I guessed whoever had made Brosca's amulet was responsible. Probably Dagna, or Bethany, or the two of them working together. Point was that the Knight Commander would live, but Meredith's sanity would be in doubt as she'd have to forgo taking the purified stuff for several months. Until the corrupted stuff was out of her system, and her nearly broken body had fully recovered.

"And... I'll write her, I guess." I added, "Plus I don't think we're moving to Ferelden permanently. Just... for a while. Until I can drink wine without feeling the need to drown myself with it."

Merrill's hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently. Knowing what I really meant was, 'until I can sleep alone without screaming'. She had been spooning me every night since it had happened, or else Isabella or Fiolya had. They'd had to; every time they'd tried to slip out I woke up thrashing. Howling. Sobbing.

Not that my waking moments were any better. Not when I kept finding myself wondering where Petrice was, when I nearly had drowned myself with whiskey that first night.

Not when I was so unstable that Longing was circling protectively around me at all times, singing songs from Earth whenever I was alone to try and soothe me.

She had to be close. Grief had nearly broken through my wards two nights ago, and Longing claimed that the Nightmare had passed through the city that same evening. Had tested my defenses before moving on. Entire flocks of lesser Despair demons were circling my Dream-Catcher, and Longing swore up and down that a Spirit of Vengeance had been poking around as well.

I believed her, and I'd given her the years worth of memories I'd offered even if she hadn't been the one to help me. Let her churn through my playing of Dragon Age: Origins. She was still trying to figure out just how the hell her reality was a game in mine, and just who had helped me in her stead. What had supercharged my mana, my magic, my endurance. What had let me wield a bow when I'd been shit with the weapon every other time I'd held one.

Things were... off since then. My terrible mana pool had grown by at least half, maybe doubled, though it was hard to tell specifically without time and testing we hadn't had. Worse, I'd temporarily stolen Hawke's bow yesterday, and gone with Merrill to test it... and on my first try I'd put an arrow into a bullseye a fifty yards away without effort. Then I'd done it five more times while my lethallan watched, carefully checking me for any kind of spiritual influence.

Nothing. And nothing on Longing's side of the Veil either.

None of us knew what happened. It was why I'd given Longing those memories. It... was worrying. I needed someone who knew more, who I could be open with about everything. Longing wasn't my first choice, but she was what I had. I'd give her my memories on the other games later, once she'd processed Origins. Once she'd managed to hunt down a Spirit of Wisdom for answers and advice. Once things were settled again. Once I wasn't drawing demons like flies in both my sleep and my waking moments.

"Six months, maybe." I told everyone. "A year at the outside, and the three of us will come back."

Thrask nodded. "Thank you for telling us, my lady. By the three of you, I presume you mean the Lady Merrill and Squire Fiolya?"

"Yes." Merrill squeezed my fingers again. "I'm not letting her go anywhere without me."

"And I," Fiolya said, "Am her squire. I go where my Dame goes."

"Well said." Our Templar smiled. "Does the Baroness know?"

Another nod from me. "Yeah. She's not happy, but she understands. You can tell Cullen once our ship's cleared the harbor, Elowen's going to wait to tell the Viscount until then. I wouldn't put it past him to try and force me to stay until Meredith is awake or something."

Brennan grimaced. "He probably would, with how much of a mess things are. He's grasping at every favor he can to shore up his support. Make sure no one tries to make a move while Meredith's crippled."

"Keep the city intact for me?" I asked her.

"I'll try. Warn me if more Gray Wardens want to assassinate me." She replied. "I'll be living here moving forward."

I nodded, "I will."

"When do you leave?" Brennan asked.

A glance at Hawke had her answer for us, "Dawn tomorrow. Speaking of, we need to finish packing if we're going to escort her to the Mother's funeral on time tonight."

Everyone began rising from their chairs. The Hawkes slipped out, to give us privacy for our goodbyes. They were good people like that.

Brennan was first, sweeping me up into a hug that hauled me clear off my feet and made several of the others chuckle. I hugged her back once she'd put me down. We kissed each other's cheeks, told each other to stay safe. Then she stepped aside, letting Thrask embrace me. I told him the same, as did he, and then the two of them were saying goodbye to Merrill and Fiolya before returning to their duties.

Anders simply held a hand out, shaking mine once. "We'll all miss her, Maeve. As we will miss you."

"...yeah. Stay safe, Anders. The Wardens aren't done with you."

"I will." He promised, moving on just as the others had, leaving me to face down a scowling Fenris.

"...I..." He inhaled sharply, then let it out. "I was wrong. You... are not a typical mage. Merely a strange one."

I arched an eyebrow. "Did you have to sound so pained?"

The taller Elf snorted, "You have no idea how painful it is to admit a foolish witch may only be slightly mad, rather than entirely so."

"Heh." I held my fist up. "Watch over the Alienage for me. Especially Elowen."

He nodded, and won a point by not hesitating to rap knuckles with me. "I shall. We will talk more when you return."

"Agreed."

Fenris moved on, giving Merrill the most awkward nod I think I'd ever seen before murmuring something to Fiolya. Then he was out the door, probably running away before he broke out in hives after having to admit that he didn't entirely hate a mage.

Varric chuckled as it became his turn, "I'll keep track of him for you, Buzz. Still, you sure about this?"

Smiling faintly, I stepped up to give his broad shoulders a hug. "Yeah. Just a few months. Until I'm... until I can deal with this. And I'll be safe with Hawke, won't I?"

"...yeah, you will." His strong arms made my bones creak before he let go, both of us separating. "You'd better be, or I'll be giving her a piece of my mind. And I expect a letter on every ship between here and there, got it?"

I smiled more honestly, "Only if I get a new serial on each one in return. And I promise to come back as soon as I can if you hear anything solid on Bartrand."

"Deal." He brought a fist up, my own dainty knuckles knocking against his. "I'll get everything ready for tonight."

For Petrice's funeral.

I'd argued for it to be done in the Alienage. Elowen had argued for the same. Dumar had argued for the same. Hell, Cullen had argued for the same. She had been our Revered Mother. Had become our spiritual leader. Been the only Human that virtually every Elf in the city had respected, liked, listened to.

Elthina had dismissed the lot of us, and arranged for it to be done outside of the Grand Chantry, in the central square instead. She'd done it curtly, chiding us for our lack of political instinct. It had been enraging enough that Dumar and Varric had been forced to pull me aside when I'd begun to lose my temper.

It was to be a combined event for Petrice and all of those others who'd died in the attack. Templars, Guards, civilians, and the few foreign knights who had fallen trying to stop the Golem. Letting the Alienage, letting me mourn her in peace wasn't good enough. Not when there was a statement to be made.

Petrice had passed beyond this world, and had become a political weapon for Elthina to use. The funeral was to be some kind of grand ceremony, including speeches and hymns. Half of the city's nobility was to be present, to listen to Elthina speak on the passing of her former secretary. To hear the Grand Cleric tell everyone the details of what had happened to Meredith.

...to say that I was livid with the old bat was an understatement.

Which was why I was blowing that farce off, and going to the Alienage instead, where an equally furious Elowen was arranging a grand bonfire in Petrice's name. There would be no speeches. No statements. Just... grief and mourning.

It was probably a stupid move, politically. Dumar had said as much when I'd told him that no Elven noble was going to attend Elthina's show.

I told him I didn't care, and neither would any of the others. He'd sighed, said he understood, and that he'd do his best to cover for us. I was grateful, even as that smarter part of me knew it was a sign of Dumar's lack of spine. Of him backing down, not wanting to confront me, to order us to attend anyway like he really should have. Not that I cared that much; I was leaving, and I was not going to let myself get dragged back into those politics when I came back.

If I came back.

"Thank you." I said quietly. "For everything, Varric."

He gave me a sad smile, patted my shoulder, and then ushered Merrill and Fiolya out along with him.

Leaving an awkward Isabella staring at me, the Tome of Koslun tucked under one arm. I stared back at her, the two of us waiting for the other to speak first.

She broke after a minute or two, groaning. "Dammit, Maeve. You... you just had to give me this now? When even I'd feel terrible for kissing you, or hauling you straight to bed for freeing me from a death mark?"

"...only time I could." I shrugged tiredly. "Honestly I was probably going to hold onto it for a while. Had a nice new set of earrings to give you instead. Figured I'd wait to give you the Tome until things calmed down a little. Then... shit happened."

Isabella let out a heavy breath, then came closer. She pulled me into a one-armed hug, chin and cheek nuzzling the top of my head. "Give me a year to get this to Castillon. To get a new ship. Then I'll be in Amaranthine, to bring you back here, or take you wherever you want to go."

"Isabella-"

"If you want to sail past the edges of the map..." Her chest heaved in another long breath, "We can see what lays beyond the Donarks together."

It was my turn to take a deep breath. That old guilt nearly making me shatter in her embrace. "...I'll see you in a year, Isabella. Take care of yourself."

Warm lips pressed against the bare side of my head. "Take care of yourself, sweet thing."

And then she was gone, head ducked so that we could both pretend I didn't see the wetness in her eyes. Her gratitude for what I'd given her, done for her.

As I raised two giant middle fingers to canon. To Gregory Smith and the Hero of Ferelden.

I waited until I heard her boots on the stairs before I turned around as well, tiredly shuffled my way out of the dining room and down the hall. Heard others talking in a lounge. Heard Hawke and Carver bickering about how much the elder Hawke had bought while they were in the city.

Fiolya met me outside of my usual room. My little squire was sometimes wiser than any teenager had a right to be. She hugged me, kissed the tip of my nose, and then slipped away without saying a word.

Merrill was waiting for me inside, pulling me to the small couch before a smoldering fireplace.

I was crying again before we sat down, before I could hide my face in the crook of her neck. Before I could hear her humming a Dalish song as she held me. Felt my tether vibrate before Longing took up the same tune.

I sobbed into her skin for God knew how long. All of my bravado was gone. The rigid self control. The smooth half-truths. Everything that had let me spend more than a year alive in Thedas was been burnt to cinders.

Petrice was gone. The... one true thing I could say I had done right in Thedas. Helping her, redirecting her, befriending her... I'd changed canon, yeah, but I'd changed it for the better there. Even with everything else being strange, or fucked up, I'd been able to know that I'd done right by Petrice.

And she had still died.

I'd killed most of the men and women responsible. The one's who had carried out the plan, thrown the bombs that had ended her life.

But she was still gone.

Merrill held me until it was time to leave for the Alienage.

Time to say goodbye to the last member of our fellowship... the only one we knew we'd never see again.

And here we are at the end of Book 1 of En Garde, where we will begin a hiatus for a little while so that I can work on my next original novel, then start working ahead on the next book of this story.

This hiatus will not be a total one. I have plans for nine short interludes, mixing and matching letters along with Longing point of view sections. I'm going to hold off on posting any of those until I have made good progress on the next sections of the story, at which point I'll begin posting them once a week as a count-down to when the primary story will resume. Hopefully, that countdown will get started sometime in December. It'll come down to when I have the rough draft for my next novel finished; the sooner that's written the sooner I'll be back to working on En Garde.

My outline is still fairly rough, but I've decided that book 2 will complete 'En Garde' as the Dragon-Age 2 portion of this story. It'll last the same 50 chapters as book 1, so there will be plenty of content. Once it's done, I'll begin work on 'Riposte', which will the Inquisition-era follow-up to 'En Garde', and which will probably be roughly the same length story wise.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy the ride.

Kat 2V