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[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 74:  A Little History, A Bit of Myth

With Blake’s arrival the grim task begun by Fergus and Alistair went much faster. A new Revered Mother and a group of lay sisters and brothers took charge of the Highever Chantry, providing some solace for the survivors. At the bottom of the pile was the Cousland family: Bryce, Eleanor, Oriana and Oren, Elissa, even Nan; they were recognized by their clothes alone. Ser Gilmore and presumably Dairren were nearby. “He was a good man, holding the doors against Howe’s men to give us time to find father,” Blake said quietly.

 

“I’m glad his sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, brother,” Fergus replied. “I believe Bann Loren is dead. I don’t know of any other family. If you don’t mind I’ll write a report Zevran can take back to Her Majesty; one of her people is surely keeping track of the lands.”

 

“Package wants to plant a tree to honor Duncan’s memory,” Blake said after a few minutes. “It’s a Dalish rite, burying their dead and then planting a tree over the remains.”

 

“It’s a nice thought. Maybe I should plant a few laurels here to honor all those who died fighting the betrayer,” Fergus mused.

 

“I think Mother and Father would like that,” Blake agreed. Together they prepared the remains for the ceremony to be held the next morning.

 

Jannasilane was in the study off the library carefully examining books and making lists while in the library servants were busy cleaning all surfaces. Handcarts of books still to be examined waited in the hall. “I think this can be salvaged,” she mumbled to herself and carefully wrote down the title and author on one list before adding it a crate with other volumes needing professional attention. She’d set up three other crates she used to sort the books by their condition. She stood and stretched, she wasn’t used to sitting for so long, “They said this should keep me out of trouble,” she sniffed at the idea. She padded out to the library.

 

“Almost done here, miss, and then them books can go back on the shelves,” one of the men said cheerfully. “This solution of yours really works a treat, on stone and wood. I told my missus about it and she’s going to try it at home. We’ve got three boys and what they bring home sometimes,” he shook his head.

 

“You all have done a wonderful job, Darby, this is truth,” she smiled at all of them. “I am just going to stretch my legs for a bit.” She decided to head to the kitchen first to see if there was anything left from breakfast. She had a yearning for something other than the bread and cheese always available in the dining room. The current, and untrained, kitchen staff had quickly gotten used to the practice of always having something available when a Grey Warden was in the house. Jannasilane was going to miss Zevran and Riordan, even if they were being rather bossy about what she could do.

 

Alistair found her first when she was arranging chairs in front of the library’s fire. He sat down and pulled her into his lap and just held her. “You are unhappy, my Ali,” she held her hands on either side of that handsome face. She loved his new beard and sideburns, especially when they rubbed against her skin.

 

“Not unhappy, exactly,” he said evasively. He sighed and picked up a strand of her hair, idly wrapping it around his finger, “we reached the last of the bodies today and found what’s left of . . . It was bad. Blake and Fergus are talking to the Revered Mother about a ceremony.” He felt helpless but there was nothing he could do at this point but be available should his friends need him.

 

“And I must return to Denerim the following day to make sure security at the Palace is as it should be. Even Anora had to admit that there were few more capable of strengthening security than a former Crow,” Zevran said quietly, startling them. “I would have left sooner but I could not leave my Warden to face such a burden. And of course I needed to make sure he arrived safely.”

 

Alistair and Zevran found several bottles of wine and cajoled Sara from the kitchen to set up the pot of stew and a cold buffet in the library. Somehow neither of them felt like straying too far from the cozy atmosphere Jannasilane had created with lanterns and mismatched chairs. Riordan joined them before the brothers returned. “You have done well, little one,” he looked around appreciatively. “I have always felt a library should be a comfortable, friendly room and not just a place to store books.” He looked soberly at Alistair, “Soon we need to talk. I have some questions which need to be answered before I leave in a few days. I have been here longer than I planned, and have no regrets but they are waiting for me in Jader to make my report. Warden-Commander Nalia has been a good leader and a good friend; I owe it to her to make my request for transfer in person.” He was looking forward to the challenge of setting up a training program for new recruits at Soldier’s Peak and hopefully plunder the ancient library for forgotten pieces of Grey Warden lore.

 

Blake and Fergus finally joined them. Blake looked around the room as he had done each time he entered a new room, looking for ghosts or signs of battle but Jannasilane had done her work well. The new arrangement helped make it easier to push those images away. Fergus went straight for the wine and gulped down a glass before refilling it and slumping down in one of the empty chairs. “The Revered Mother is making the final arrangements for a ceremony tomorrow morning so we can say our last goodbye,” he informed the others. Nugflutter whined at his feet and, almost absent-mindedly, he picked up the little bundle of fur. The little pup was as intuitive as its mistress and licked his face before curling into him. Fergus found stroking him oddly comforting and said nothing for a few minutes. “It will be early, so I don’t expect any of you to come. I’ve given the staff the day off so they can remember their loved ones in their own way.”

 

“We’ll be there,” Alistair said.

 

Blake smiled from where he prowled restlessly among the shelves; he knew his friend never even thought of not attending.  He didn’t really want to talk about his family, not just then. He finally chose a chair next to Zevran and contemplated his brother, “Nugflutter seems right at home in your arms, brother, maybe you should think of getting one.”

 

“Considering the way your mabari runs away from him that might not be a good idea. I do plan on rebuilding the kennels for breeding again,” Fergus smiled tiredly. It was a constant source of wonder and amusement to him that just seeing the tiny Nugflutter made the large mabari run, even if it was mostly a game to them. “Will you be returning to Denerim soon?”

 

Blake shook his head, “Not until I have to leave for the wedding. Eamon is remaining to advise Anora and keep an eye on things for me. Though that might be as much because of Isolde as anything, she does not want to remain in Redcliffe. Probably wise, under the circumstances,” he added. Zevran snorted disparagingly at the mention of the foolish Orlesian.

 

“He is certainly taking the fact of your marrying Anora instead of me much better than I expected after all the talk of Calenhad’s line remaining on the throne,” Alistair mused.

 

“Arl Eamon is a wily old man and a pragmatist,” Zevran shrugged elegantly. “He does not wish to lose influence and Alistair was more important as a rallying figure than as the actual handsome ass on the throne. No offense, oh magnificent Hero.”

 

Alistair frowned, “I’m not sure how to take that.” There were some chuckles and the Cousland brothers exchanged quick looks of secret knowledge which were not missed by their companions. “Something you two know and wish to share?”

 

“Know might be an overstatement. There are some family rumors which have persisted for generations but no documentation to support them,” Blake teased.

 

Fergus took over, if left to his brother they might be up all night, “You all probably recall from your history lessons that Calenhad was from Highever and did battle with Teyrna Elethea Cousland during his effort to unite the Alamarri tribes into one nation. History also says that after she lost and swore fealty to him he allowed her to retain her lands and title, that he was more interested in unification than revenge. And probably that is all to the story,” he paused to take a sip of wine and gauge the interest of his listeners. Satisfied with their attention he continued, “However, you may not know she was a beautiful woman of an age with Calenhad. Her husband, also a Cousland and a distant cousin was much older than she and not a well man. And they had no heirs as of yet.”

 

“I like where this is going,” Zevran purred. “Royal scandals are the most fun.”

 

“It is the first I’ve heard of this, but it is probably not discussed outside the family,” Riordan tried to remember everything he’d been told of the Couslands but couldn’t recall much from before the Orlesian Occupation.

 

“If you like rumors and innuendo you’ll appreciate the rumor that Elethea’s father arranged for Calenhad to be sent to Ser Forannan because he felt the friendship between his young daughter and the merchant’s young son was unsuitably close. It was a bond which grew during visits between the families, infrequent though they may have been. Here the rumors diverge; some say the marriage was forced because Elethea was with child. Her father died and when Calenhad triumphed over Highever she told him of their child, a child who was heir to the Teyrnir.”

 

“Wait, what about records? I thought you said she and her husband had no heirs,” Alistair interrupted, fascinated by the story but unwilling to overlook the facts.

 

Blake shrugged, “I think there was a fire. Accidents happen, sometimes records have to be recreated and if some dates get changed as a result . . .”

 

“I think the other rumors, the majority, are more likely - that when they met as adults on the battlefield they renewed their childhood friendship on a more intimate level,” Fergus asserted. “Calenhad did not leave immediately and they spoke privately about the terms of her ‘surrender.’ Did she use the possibility of a child as leverage to keep her lands? If you believe the records a child was born less than a year after Calenhad stormed Highever and her husband never sired another child. Perhaps, Alistair, we are distant relatives,” Fergus suggested with a sly smile.

 

“Huh,” Alistair thought about it and grinned, “works for me.”

 

“Then, cousin, I think I shall retire for the evening. Goodnight everyone. Package, you have done wonders for my home and are welcome at any time, do not let Alistair tire you overmuch,” he teased.

 

The younger Cousland watched his brother leave but wasn’t ready to follow suit, “Since we’re talking ancient history I have a question of my own for you, Package. Why did your family leave the Anderfels?” he asked out of idle curiosity and was just as surprised as the other by her reaction.

 

Jannasilane tensed and got up to pour herself more wine. As Fergus had done earlier she gulped it down before answering, “We didn’t leave. We escaped,” she declared before picking up the sleeping Nugflutter and sitting in the chair vacated by Fergus. She brought her feet up and curled into herself, nuzzling her little dog to calm herself. She looked at the four men watching her with concern but couldn’t help feeling a brief antipathy to all of them, even her beloved Ali. She sighed; she knew it was unfair and that they weren’t to blame for what was done generations before she was born. She didn’t speak right away, “You have to realize that a project such as the Griffon Group’s cannot be done quickly. It would be decades before they knew if they were successful and there were many failed beginnings. And many Firsts commanded the Wardens after the project was created. Generally a First Warden doesn’t hold the office more than a handful of years. After more than a century perhaps they forgot the purpose.”

 

She looked at them sadly, “Nobody knew how to guide the Griffonsong into shifting, or realized the obstacles put in place. I reread my mother’s journal and have thought on this much since I woke from my injuries. I did not have much I could do without becoming over-tired,” she smiled crookedly. “From what I can decipher prior to my mother’s handwriting the Wardens and the Griffon Group eventually gave up on the possibility of any Griffonsong actually being able to turn.”

 

“Their mistake, beautiful Pocket Goddess,” Zevran smiled.

 

“Yes,” she sighed. “My grandmothers of several greats write of the Griffonsong not being allowed to leave.” In her mind she could see the pages of her mother’s journal, now hers; entries burned into her memory.

 

More recruits volunteered for the project, but none survived. The griffons become fewer and fewer and still the First will not allow us out of the ancient fort. More Wardens know of our presence because we Need them. It is disturbing. I fear what will become of us; there are only three ways out. Either through the narrow canyon connecting the old fortress to Weisshaupt and all the Wardens, up the sheer walls of the cliff behind us, and death. –Sylvie

 

Sometimes I think Andraste was fortunate to be burned. I don’t know what he told them but dwarves were hired to build a door to keep us here. The First appointed a Gatekeeper. Since we haven’t turned into griffons he’s determined to breed us to bolster the ranks of the Wardens. What will we do? Most of our children are Griffonsong like us. Only a new First can change the situation, for good or ill. –Charlton

 

“A door was built to lock the Griffonsong into their compound and a Gatekeeper assigned. After the shape-shifting aspect of the project was deemed a failure the focus became breeding a ‘natural Warden. Even this was not very successful; most of the children born were Griffonsong or ‘neutrals.’ The neutrals were removed before their first year.”

 

We lose more children each year. If they are not Griffonsong they are quickly taken away. Rumors say they are sold to Tevinter, others that they are fostered until they are minimally old enough to be conscripted. I hope it is the latter and they are transferred away from here so they can enjoy more freedom than we ever have. How often I wish we did not enjoy our enhanced stamina and health – the pawings and brutal matings with those who can force our bodies to respond in pleasure simply by virtue of bribing the Gatekeeper into keeping us locked up until the Need claws us. Not all Wardens are like that but it doesn’t take many to turn our lives into hell. Poor, gentle Brianna . . . something was wrong with her birth and her mind never developed as it should. What demon escaped the Fade long enough to give her a body all desire? As punishment for spilling coffee on his new shirt the Gatekeeper locked her up until she began to claw herself with Need and then he gave her to three of the basest Wardens I have ever seen. I can still hear her cries of forced pleasure mixed with screams of pain. Her mind is broken and she has to be commanded to eat. Perhaps her madness is a blessing . . . –Tylaa.

 

“The Gatekeepers had much power over the Griffonsong. Their existence was still not announced to all Grey Wardens though I am sure there were rumors. Some Wardens had to service the Needs of the Griffonsong, after all. Some of the stories . . . when we were imprisoned . . . the abuses I suffered seem trivial in comparison. At least in Fort Drakon my own body was not turned against me until I begged for every obscene touch,” she shivered and hugged Nugflutter even tighter.

 

“Braska,” Zevran whispered, echoing the horror all four men felt at the story being told. He and perhaps Riordan were not completely surprised; they were worldly enough to have seen how power and secrecy can lead to abuse and corruption. “Some would say that is the basis of Antiva rule,” he thought cynically. The Crow guild masters and his own training crossed his mind, “They may even be not so far wrong.” Jannasilane ignored them, too caught up in past to notice she was shivering in the present.

 

I remember when this First first took command. We were not allowed to be locked up. A few of us were even allowed to leave in the company of other Wardens. It’s easy to forget in here that Thedas is so big and has so much to offer. One of the younger Wardens is from Ferelden; he says they were kicked out by the king. Is it treason to wish such a thing would happen here? But of course in the Anderfels it is the First and not the King who holds the power. I think I would like to see Ferelden.

 

But things change. This one has been First for longer than the others. He is very strong-willed, could the taint be driving him mad and only we can see it? Our situation is worse than ever. We are each confined to a small room with a narrow bed. The fortunate among us have a chair. Wardens come in and couple with the Griffonsong of their choice. The one from Ferelden seems to have a connection with one of us but they are smart enough to hide it. He doesn’t always choose her for her own safety. The First is paranoid about a bond forming between Warden and Griffonsong; he uses our own bodies against us, turning us into whores and Warden Broodmothers. The Gatekeeper is our jailor, our pimp and our punisher. –Rayleen.

 

The Fereldan did it! I refuse to demean him by calling him a Warden. He must have been working for months, secreting rope ladders at the top of the cliff and gathering supplies. I don’t know how he managed to create a rock slide but it will be weeks before the Wardens can dig through the canyon. It was a pleasure to slit the Gatekeeper’s throat. Some of us were too weak or too scared to climb the ropes but each of them cheered us on. The Fereldan provided them with poison if they preferred that sort of escape. I wish Rayleen were alive to see us climbing those ladders. –Carovie

 

Ferelden at last! Ancient forests, mountains, cities, farmland and unexplored wilds . . . I wish more of us survived to see it. I hope those of us who separated to travel through Antiva and elsewhere had better success. Some of us died at the hands of bandits and darkspawn. Then there were the accidents which we might have survived if we had a healer amongst us. We did not travel as quickly as I hoped, (caged animals do not have the endurance of trained hunters) and the Grey Wardens tracking us finally drew near in Orlais. My child will be born here in this young nation, but I know I will not last long past his or her birth. My sisters and brothers will take care of them just as we have always done. I ask only one thing: remember to honor the sacrifices of Jannara the Griffonsong and Alexander Lane, the Fereldan. They died fighting the Grey Wardens so that the rest of us could escape. May the Maker and Andraste receive them and give them the peace and blessings life on Thedas denied them. –Carovie

 

“The Griffonsong escaped with the help of the Fereldan. He was a Grey Warden but ‘Warden’ was a vile epithet my ancestor refused to ascribe to him. Ferelden was their ultimate destination; thanks to Arland it was seen as the best place to find new lives. As long as they had Griffonsong near then the Need could be mostly satisfied. They travelled through many different nations. Only a few made it to Ferelden; some died, some were captured, and some elected to stay in Nevarra, Antiva and other places. Many were hunted down and either killed or returned. My understanding is that only a small handful had any journals or records, my mother’s great-great-great-grandmother was one though that may be the wrong number of greats. My mother thought it possible that very few even remember their heritage. My stepfather’s family was another who survived and remembered. Somewhere in Orlais the Fereldan and one of the Griffonsong sacrificed themselves battling the pursuing Grey Wardens to allow the remaining few time to get away. Their names were Alexander Lane and Jannara,” during the telling Jannasilane had pushed as far back in the chair as she could.

 

“The Maker have mercy on them for I can find none,” Riordan said quietly. “I have been to Weisshaupt and it is cold place, the Wardens there harsh and severe. I think I know where they would have been held but it is long unused. Supposedly a rockslide destroyed it and there was no reason to rebuild, and those who are there may believe it for I sensed no deceit.” He was concerned, the archives at Weisshaupt were vast and there was little doubt in his mind that there were some sorts of records, probably encrypted and sealed, but not destroyed. “I will make sure my report mentions nothing of you and your unique abilities.”

 

Alistair said nothing, just moved to kneel in front of her chair. He didn’t think she even realized she was shaking. “I am sorry, my Ali, I know you would like to visit the home of the Grey Wardens but I can’t go. I never liked that part of our history and now that I know how bad the Need can be . . . I am afraid. What if they figure out what I am? I will kill myself and hope the Maker forgives me before I allow them to turn me into their creature.” She wrapped herself around him, struck by remembered and anticipated terror.

 

“Don’t worry, my love, I’ll never ask you to. I have no desire to see where your ancestors were held and tortured, for that’s what it amounts to,” he continued holding and stroking her, sick inside. “None of us will say anything.” His realization that the Order of the Grey had the capability to be so dishonorable shook him. He had a lot of thinking to do, but that could wait. Right now his Janna needed him.

 

“I’m sorry I asked, Package. I didn’t want to think about my family but never at your expense,” Blake apologized, almost as shaken as she was. “Your ancestors should have been honored, not enslaved. You risked a lot more than I realized to help us.”

 

Jannasilane shook her head at him, “It was my duty as much as yours. Perhaps I overreact. This is not your fault; I think I am just tired.” She didn’t protest when Alistair picked her up and carried her off. Right then she wanted to be with her Warden.

 

The three men by the fire watched them leave. When she was out of earshot Riordan spoke, “Alessandra and Jannasilane, names to remember those who sacrificed themselves so others might live. The little one lives up to that honor.”

 

“That she does,” Blake smiled. His smile faded and he stared at the older Grey Warden, “Riordan, I don’t know if you’ve heard them or not but there are rumors about Fort Drakon, that some beast attacked the Archdemon in the sky. You may be asked about them.”

 

“I have a suggestion, my dear Wardesty,” Zevran loved to tease Blake with the title as much as Alistair did. “Why do we not use the absent Morrigan, should these questions be asked? A talented apostate assisted you, one schooled in old and forgotten arts. Add that she was a skilled illusionist and let them draw their own conclusions. None of us were with her and in the chaos of battle who is to say the lovely Morrigan did not turn herself into a giant bird or some such creature.” He gave an elegant shrug after proffering his suggestion.

 

“I don’t know why Alistair calls me devious,” Blake smiled wickedly at his lover. “That works for me. I pity the fool who tries to track down Morrigan for answers.” Even Riordan had to laugh at that. His brief knowledge of the witch was enough to know the Warden was correct.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 75:  Greetings, Warden-Commander 

“I’m going to miss having you around, you big Hero,” Blake teased Alistair. Riordan was due back any day now and then the other Wardens and Package were leaving for Soldier’s Peak. “It’s going to be a lot quieter around here. Do you think the information you gave Riordan will be enough to satisfy the First?”

 

“I don’t know,” Alistair rubbed his chest, something he was wont to do whenever he thought of that last battle. “It does give the Order new information.” He thought of the interrogation by Riordan before the older man left for Jader.

 

Riordan cornered him in the Teyrn’s study and locked the door, “Alistair, it is time we discussed why you are still alive.”

 

Alistair gulped, “I, I don’t know.” He frowned, ‘and that’s true enough. I’m certainly not going to tell him Morrigan was trying to have an old god baby,’ he thought. He looked at Riordan in alarm, “The Archdemon is dead, isn’t it? I don’t sense it anymore.”

 

“No, no, the Archdemon is gone. None have reported anything to make us think otherwise. But,” Riordan continued, “none of us know how it is you have survived. Tell me everything,” he demanded.

 

“On that rooftop I went berserk after I saw what happened to Janna,” both men winced, recalling the injuries she received after the Archdemon singled her out for its attention. “I was so full of rage and hate I couldn’t think of anything else but killing it. Even burying my sword in its skull didn’t ease my anger; I didn’t care if I lived or died. Archie wasn’t too happy either. I could feel its presence inside me, trying to tear into my mind, my spirit, even my soul. I was being shredded from the inside and there was nothing I could do. The agony, it’s hard to explain,” he looked at Riordan to see if he understood.

 

The other man was frowning in concentration but gestured him to go on so Alistair took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing, “I don’t know what Blake has already told you but I think I know why the Archdemon came to Ferelden. It can see through the eyes of the darkspawn and it can share what it sees with others. It read my mind, or my emotions, and gave me pictures of all the injuries being inflicted on Janna as if I were seeing her through the eyes of the darkspawn slicing her. I could see what the Archdemon saw when it threw her against the wall. I saw the ogre killing Duncan and Cailan as well as the darkspawn hoisting Cailan’s body up where that statue used to be. The weirdest images are when the darkspawn attacked us after we lit the beacon of Ishal and the spears and arrows thrown at Blake and me.”

 

“Maker’s breath,” Riordan paled. “That is quite a vicious tool at its disposal. The Wardens at Weisshaupt will be interested in this ability to see. It makes a mockery of the most sophisticated spy organization anywhere in Thedas. And to be able to plant images into the mind of another . . . although this may be something it can only do in close contact with a non-darkspawn. The darkspawn are preconditioned to seek it out, they yearn for contact and perhaps this predisposition makes it possible to share information with the more intelligent among them even from a distance. This is something to consider.” He fell silent, thinking of all the implications to this new information.

 

“There is something else,” Alistair offered tentatively. “I can’t swear to it but I thought I sensed two entities, the Archdemon and Urthemiel. Or maybe a remnant of Urthemiel uncorrupted by the darkspawn taint? Two minds or two sides of the same entity? It was . . . odd, definitely odd. And I may have imagined it, I don’t know.”

 

Riordan opened his mouth to say something and then closed it instead. He stared at Alistair, frowning and thinking. “There are many Grey Wardens who could ‘hear’ the Archdemon and have never reported such a possibility, at least as far as I know. You say you are unsure yourself?” Alistair shrugged. “Then I think I will not include this in my report as even you cannot say it is fact. However I think you should write your own account including this feeling of two entities and reasons why you may have sensed it at all. Nebulous as your feeling is it might give some of the scholars at Weisshaupt a new avenue to explore. I suggest you also detail your background before becoming a Grey Warden and any unusual events which have happened. The issue of you still being alive needs to be addressed and you must be prepared for questions, Alistair. Personally, I am glad you and the little one can enjoy a life together but I will not lie. Your survival is . . . troubling.”

 

“I’ve made some notes but I thought I would wait until we’re at Soldier’s Peak before I write my own account. I want to make sure I don’t contradict anything he’s already told them but I still feel that my time here has been better spent with your brother, learning how a Teyrn is governed or administered. You know what surprises me?” he asked, almost rhetorically.

 

“You find him attractive and are ready to hop borders, leaving Zevran and me crushed that all our efforts were for nothing,” Blake teased.

 

“Ha ha, you are so funny your Wardesty. I will sorely miss your witty repartee when we leave,” Alistair rolled his eyes. “But seriously, I enjoy what I’ve learned so far from Fergus: balancing the variety of needs against the resources available, planning a course of action, talking to the people who live here, even the bookkeeping. Something about entering items into the ledger and adding up the numbers, I dunno, I find it relaxing and even helps me think.”

 

Blake grinned, “Then it’s a good thing you’re the one staying with the Wardens; I’m sure the new Warden-Commander will be glad you’re not just a pretty face with a strong arm.”

 

“I’m sure rebuilding and governing the country with Anora will be nothing but bonbons and endless revelry,” Alistair replied drily.

 

Riordan arrived that afternoon so dinner was a more festive affair. “Friends,” Riordan lifted a glass, “it is good to be back in Ferelden and my presence here tonight is proof that I am permanently reassigned to the land of my birth. I look forward to renewing ties with the family and friends of my youth and to helping the new Commander of the Grey rebuild the Order. To Alistair, the new Warden-Commander of Ferelden.” Everybody but Alistair lifted their glasses in approval.

 

“But, but I thought somebody more senior, maybe you . . . more experience,” to the amusement of his friends Alistair was flustered and not quite coherent. He took a deep breath and let it out, “I will endeavor to live up to the expectations and responsibilities entrusted to me. Maker!” he blinked and drank deeply from his goblet.

 

“You’ll do fine, Alistair. Duncan had confidence in you. He and Commander Nalia frequently exchanged information and she shared some of his correspondence with me. He thought you had great potential as a leader and administrator once you gained your confidence as a Grey Warden. He anticipated that you would be Constable within five years. From what I have seen he is correct. You are also Fereldan and the Hero, which will make you much more acceptable to your countrymen than another might be. I will assist you any way I can in the time left to me, my friend,” Riordan smiled at his new Commander.

 

Fergus added with a guileless expression, “The Lady Package will be a great aide to you, I’m sure. My brother has been teaching her the finer points of being a chatelaine.”

 

“He is still much better at batting his eyelashes than I am,” Jannasilane pretended to pout. The others all laughed, Blake most of all.

 

“To the Warden-Commander and his lady,” Fergus toasted. One of the servants who’d survived Howe’s betrayal smiled to once again hear honest laughter within the old walls.

 

Just a few days later the carriage rolled away from Castle Cousland with Jannasilane leaning out the window waving back at the Cousland brothers. Finally Alistair pulled her back, “I don’t want you falling out the window, my love, and attractive as your backside is I prefer to see your face.”

 

Riordan chuckled at her outraged expression, “I have to agree with the Commander, this side of you is far more charming.”

 

Jannasilane sighed, “It seems so strange to be traveling in a carriage and most of our friends scattered. Blake and Zevran will be in Denerim but with much to occupy them. Leliana will be gone after the wedding and coronation,” her voice trailed off.

 

“A year ago we hardly knew each other. You hadn’t been with us a month and I was going crazy with desire and doubt,” Alistair placed his arm around her and played with her hair. “I like this side of the year much better. I know what you mean, though, it doesn’t quite seem real to wake up in a bed or travel in a carriage instead of being surrounded by others at a camp site making fun of my cooking or listening to one of Leliana’s stories. Don’t tell him but it even seems weird to not hear Zev trying to get me to ‘hop borders’ or make me blush.”

 

“For a year you traveled in a cocoon of intensity, a shared goal between you, and now you emerge to assume your own lives. It will take time to get used to a more regular life if not a normal one,” Riordan offered his insights.

 

“I suppose Grey Wardens never have ‘normal’ lives,” Alistair mused. “When I was young that’s all I wanted, with a family to call my own. Now I can’t imagine living any other way. In a strange way the Blight gave me everything I could desire. I have good friends, an honorable career with a worthy purpose, even a family of sorts. Most important of all a woman I love who actually loves me in return. What I wanted as a child seems so, so bland compared to what I have now. I should really thank the Maker more often,” he finished.

 

Riordan chuckled, “You probably should, Commander,” he teased the younger man. “Perhaps some or all of those things would have happened anyway. Ferelden did not have enough Wardens even without a Blight. Now you have a different type of challenge ahead, you and the little one.”

 

Jannasilane smiled and shook her head, “Don’t forget that you are part of that now, my Riordan. Zevran frequently says that Fate is a tricky ******. Sometimes I thought he might be speaking of a brothel worker whose name was Fate.” The others laughed, because they had indeed heard the Antivan say that phrase many times. They discussed plans for Soldier’s Peak and exchanged ideas about Amaranthine.

 

Alistair decided that since some senior Wardens were already on their way to Amaranthine before he was promoted he would let them settle in. He and Riordan estimated that the word of Anora’s boon should have spread to the entire Arling by the time they arrived. “Let them deal with cleaning up some of Howe’s mess,” Alistair muttered. “The Drydens are merchants which means they travel pretty regularly. I wonder if they’ll be willing to handle communications for us until we have something permanently in place.” By the time they arrived at Soldier’s Peak two days later they had a rough plan of action.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 76:  So Many Things To Do

“Do I have any money?  Or perhaps I should say does the Warden-Commander have any money?”

 

“What are you thinking, my Ali?”

 

He didn’t answer her directly, “In Orlais and elsewhere the Wardens have an office, a compound, some sort of presence in every major city, right?” He gave Riordan the opportunity to correct him before continuing, “I know we used to have a compound at the Palace, but now that the Wardens have an Arling it might be more, um, circumspect to have our own separate place in Denerim. I don’t want anybody to think the Grey Wardens are seeking to turn Ferelden into another Anderfels.”

 

Jannasilane decided she found this thoughtful, planning side of her Alistair quite sexy and watched and listened quietly. “Soon after we complete our assessment here I should go to Denerim. I want, if we have the money, to purchase one large or a few small buildings between the Alienage and the market district, where all races can feel welcomed. Maybe have a small barracks for them to stay while we do an initial assessment of their abilities and hopefully identify troublemakers before they can cause problems. Sure, we say they leave their old lives behind and are now brothers but let’s be honest, prejudices aren’t going to die just because somebody is now a Warden. I honestly don’t think we can afford at this stage to recruit somebody who radically hates mages, elves, dwarves or humans. We’ll tear ourselves apart before we even start. We’re not facing a Blight anymore to put things in perspective for people.

 

I think I prefer all or at least most Joinings be done here and that the newly minted Wardens stay to train, to learn and get used to being a Warden, maybe for a month or two. Recruits are hardly likely to find their way to the Peak on their own, and I want it to remain as private as possible. We have Amaranthine for the public face of the Wardens. Moreover, I don’t want to put anybody through the Joining under the age of 25 if I can avoid it. Certainly I want them to be at least in their twenties.”

 

Riordan regarded the young Warden-Commander. “You have given this a lot of thought, do you think you were too young, Alistair?” his expression gave away nothing.

 

“My case was a bit different; the Archdemon was hardly going to wait. And I had to be conscripted away from the templars. Daveth and Ser Jory were both older than me, one with a new family. If it weren’t for my Janna I probably wouldn’t have that chance,” he reached for her hand and held it. “I remember Blake’s face when I told him about dying and not living to old age. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to know they’ve had a chance to live before I tell anybody that again. Some of the Wardens at Ostagar were older when they were recruited and they seemed more settled in their role. One luxury I have, if that’s really the right term, is that the Arling will need its own soldiers and guards separate from the Grey Wardens,” Alistair answered strongly.

 

“Those are good points, as long as it is a guideline you do not allow to dictate your actions. Sometimes those years can temper hot heads. On the other hand, families are not generally encouraged for Wardens because of conflicting loyalties,” Riordan warned him.

 

“If it’s a mistake it’s one I’d rather make than not try at all. A soldier for the Arling is still serving the Grey Wardens,” the former templar sighed and sat back. “Later I want to talk to you about the Joinings you witnessed.”

 

Riordan smiled to himself, he was well satisfied with Alistair’s response. He didn’t know if he agreed but the new Commander was taking his responsibility seriously and giving a great deal of thought to his decisions. He acknowledged to himself that Alistair was right; his position was unique in that he was not just in charge of the Grey Wardens but an Arling which had its own needs and priorities. “You should have enough money if you start your Denerim venture on a small scale. Until you see the state of the Arling I would be leery of committing too many funds. Remember, Howe was in charge. Then once you are settled in Amaranthine you can progress.”

 

“This is truth. Talk to Anora, my Ali. You will need to call upon her as a formality and you can ask her for suggestions,” Jannasilane pursed her lips thoughtfully, having no idea that seeing her do so filled Alistair’s head with other more pleasurable ideas. “You might as well start building friendly relations with her sooner than later.”

 

“Then I’ll have to bring you with me, she likes you,” Alistair half-teased. “You’re both right, I’m letting my enthusiasm get ahead of me. I’ll still go to Denerim and talk to Sergeant Kylon and Hahren Valendrian in the Alienage. When we go back to Denerim for the wedding hopefully we’ll have some potential recruits lined up.”

 

Alistair tried not to fidget while he waited to be conducted to Anora. Maker, he hated just sitting around doing nothing. He wondered if he should have sent word he was coming but couldn’t worry about it now. He filed it away in his head as one of the many things to ask Riordan or Fergus later. “I bet if Janna were with me I’d see the queen faster,” he grumbled to himself but was careful to keep his face as blank as possible. “Is it wrong to be wearing my unofficial Warden clothes? They fit better and certainly identify me clearly enough if the reaction of the people is any indication. Maybe I’ll just consider them the ‘Hero of Ferelden’ version of Grey Warden armor. Maker, what a title. I should probably see a tailor as soon as I leave here. Jannasilane gave me strict orders to get something suitable for Blake’s wedding.”

 

He continued mentally evaluating and reorganizing his list of things to do while he waited. Finally the seneschal himself came to retrieve him. He saluted Alistair with a bow, “Her Majesty is ready to see you now, my lord, if you will follow me.” If he was amused by Alistair’s surprise at the way he was addressed he hid it well. “She is waiting for you in the small salon.”

 

Alistair quickly if not gracefully got to his feet and followed the older man walking briskly away. “It’s good to see Denerim and the Palace so far along in their rebuilding. You and the people working with you should feel really proud of your efforts, it looks amazing.”

 

The old seneschal blinked. It was the first time anyone outside the royal family, noble or otherwise, had ever complimented the staff. He unbent a little, “Thank you, my lord. That is most kind of you. If you will indulge me, how fares the young lady Jannasilane?”

 

The smile lighting up Alistair’s face was answer enough, “She’s perfect and fully recovered, certainly enough to start bossing me around. I’ll tell her you were asking about her, she’ll be happy you remembered her, er, um, I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name at the moment.”

 

“Fenton, sir, thank you. You are most kind,” he bowed once again. He entered a nice-sized room with a view of the gardens where Anora was waiting, “The Commander of the Grey of Ferelden, Your Majesty,” he announced and stepped back with a bow, discreetly gesturing Alistair to move forward.

 

Alistair carefully bowed as Riordan taught him; deep enough to show respect without being subservient. “Greetings, Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to see you.” He straightened and tried very hard not to look at the food spread out on the table next to Anora.

 

Once again she was besieged with conflicting emotions when she saw him, “I look at him and see my father’s murderer; I blink and there’s Cailan; I blink again and see Maric. Which is closest to the real Alistair?” Anora toyed with the idea of making him stand and watch her eat but he was a good friend to her husband-to-be and by her own decisions a powerful noble. “Congratulations, Commander. Please join me. Arl Eamon will be here soon, we find afternoon tea to be the best time to discuss matters and it allows each of us a small break from our many duties.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty, Grey Wardens can be worse than General Lee around food,” he commented with a grin.

 

She couldn’t help relaxing a bit at his candor. She watched him fill a plate and marveled once again at how much one person could eat. “How is Jannasilane? I trust she is fully recovered from her injuries. I admit I was hoping to see her.”

 

“She is as healthy as ever, thank the Maker, and helping Riordan get Soldier’s Peak ready for the first round of recruits. We should be ready to get one group of recruits embarked on their Grey Warden education and training before Janna and I head to Amaranthine. The Orlesian Wardens should be there already and can handle things until I arrive. And she made me promise to get new clothes for your wedding,” he couldn’t help the hint of a grumble at the thought of seeing a tailor.

 

“Well, now I know the best ways to torture you,” Anora said drily, “Don’t allow you to eat and make sure you have to get suitable clothes.” She smiled slightly to see him squirm. “I will deny it if you ever repeat this but there are days when I wish I could just throw on some leathers and avoid my wardrobe completely.”

 

Alistair blinked, “But, you always look so effortlessly perfect. Janna wishes she could do half so well.”

 

“Now that’s as pleasing a sop to a woman’s vanity as one could hope for. I have had help and a lot of practice; Jannasilane will do just fine. If you truly wish to thank me, Alistair, tell me what you found at Highever. Zevran told me it was grim but wouldn’t go into any details,” she politely commanded.

 

The blond warrior put down the food he was holding and looked soberly at the elegant woman in front of him, “Are you really sure you wish to know, Your Majesty? It was bad, very bad.”

 

“Cailan and I were both quite fond of Fergus, though of course we saw less of him after he married. In fact, as much as a prince or king can have a best friend I would say for Cailan that was Fergus. I do not wish to inadvertently distress either him or Blake, my intended if you’ll recall, with an unfortunate reference.”

 

“Right. Well. First let me tell you what I know of that night so you’ll have the background,” he spoke quietly and watched Anora closely. She couldn’t help turning pale but he had to give her credit, she didn’t once allow him to gloss over anything. “. . . and the Couslands were at the bottom of the pile. Blake arrived before we reached them. If it weren’t for my Janna I don’t know if the castle would be habitable yet. Maker strike me down if I ever become as despicable as that . . . that Howe.”

 

Anora stared into the cup of tea on the table in front of her. She needed a minute until she was sure her hand wouldn’t shake before she dared pick it up. “How awful, how utterly horrible that any needed to deal with such an outrage. I am glad, Alistair, that you were with Fergus. I can’t begin to imagine how terrible it would have been if he were alone and greeted with that horror.” She looked him straight in the eyes, “Thank you for telling me. I have seen low behavior in the guise of political maneuvering but that man’s vileness, well, I don’t think there are words.” Neither said anything more until Eamon arrived.

 

“Your Majesty,” the Arl bowed before turning to her companion. He was adept at covering his surprise, though with his political network Alistair would be surprised if he didn’t know to the second how long he’d been in Denerim and where, “Alistair, it is good to see you, my boy, or should I say Warden-Commander. Congratulations, I have every confidence you will do well. What brings you to Denerim? Is your young lady with you? I didn’t expect to see you again until the wedding. If you haven’t made other arrangements you are more than welcome to stay with me. Isolde returned to Redcliffe to retrieve some of her belongs and will return with Connor in a week’s time, leaving me to my own devices,” he was uncommonly garrulous, allowing the somberness to fade from the other two.

 

“The Lady Jannasilane decided he needed new clothes,” Anora said mildly, though the twinkle in her eyes and sly smile gave notice to the two men she was teasing.

 

“The wedding should be about you, not this Hero of Ferelden guy,” Alistair couldn’t help flushing just a little. “I can put on Warden-Commander stuff for afterward. And I should probably have some non-Wardeny clothes, anyway,” this time he didn’t bother to hide his grumbling, causing both Anora and Eamon to chuckle outright. “However,” Alistair straightened, “that’s not my primary purpose; I’m in Denerim on Grey Warden business and I thought it only right that since this is the first time I’ve been here as Warden-Commander I call on Your Majesty and pay my respects.”

 

“Is it some great secret or can you tell us the nature of this business?” Anora was prepared for some sort of request; most people didn’t mention any business unless they wanted something.

 

“Actually, Janna said you might have some advice for me,” he explained his desire for a new Denerim location for the Wardens. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful the Wardens have Amaranthine, but Denerim is the capital and everybody knows how to get here. Maybe a lot of potential recruits will just ‘show up at the door’ but it’s not likely. I’d like to have a place here to send them and then take one larger group away rather than have a trail of recruits following behind. They’re not always diplomatic,” he smiled a little, remembering how Duncan used to lecture him.

 

“There have been some grumblings about the Wardens being given Amaranthine though I don’t think any really want to clean up the mess Howe undoubtedly left behind. Perhaps some information on the state of Highever should be allowed to percolate through the Bannorn. That should quiet them for now; I sincerely doubt any would want their families to face anything similar.”

 

“There’s also what he did here in the Arl of Denerim’s estate, Your Majesty,” Eamon quietly reminded them. “Perhaps the sad state of affairs can be expounded upon and the condition of Highever can be quietly used to substantiate the claims of misuse. It is going to take a clever man, and a dedicated one, to undo the harm that man did to the Arling in such a short time.”

 

“Ha, bet Bann Sighard would like a chance to tear out that dungeon,” Alistair muttered sotto voce.

 

If Anora heard him she ignored him, “That’s settled, then. Arl Eamon, you should be able to gather a list of properties Alistair might find suitable by the end of the day tomorrow, should you not?” She directed a sharp glance at the older man, knowing it wasn’t exactly his duty but quite sure he would be able to put together the information discreetly.

 

Arl Eamon didn’t disappoint her, “Yes, Your Majesty. I think it best we do not advertise the purpose or Alistair might find himself spending more coin than he would like.”

 

“I have a suggestion for you, Alistair, since you wish my advice. I’m sure there are a number of properties easily accessible from the docks as well as the market and the Alienage which are virtually derelict. Such properties are bound to be cheaper and you can use your potential recruits to help rebuild to your specifications. This may provide you or your agent with useful information as to their character.”

 

Alistair slowly nodded his head as he thought it over, “And other abilities they may have. It’ll be good to have Wardens who are also blacksmiths, armorers and the like. If I find I can’t use them then at the very least they’ll get paid for their efforts and can’t complain we were wasting their time. Even after we’re done with our space I bet we could work something out with different city leaders for potential recruits to do small projects or supplement the work force on a larger one. Also . . .” he caught himself. “I’m sorry; I was running ahead with the idea, wasn’t I? Thank you, it’s an excellent suggestion, I’m glad I came.”

 

“Interesting as this has been I have other duties to attend to,” she smiled to take any sting out of her dismissal.

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I suppose duty calls us all,” Alistair stood and bowed before he left with Eamon.

 

“Father would have approved of his sense of responsibility and even many of his decisions. He might even have liked him, though there is that Theirin sense of humor which he often found irritating. I don’t think he would even have faulted Alistair’s actions at the Landsmeet. . . He does share Cailan’s enthusiasm, though it seems more tempered or perhaps I should say better directed. . . . I’d like to be friends with Jannasilane, she is such a refreshing young woman and she’s important to Blake. I can see why she reminds him of Elissa. I know Alistair was just talking but he might have a good idea about Bann Sighard. Somebody needs to take over the Arl of Denerim and there aren’t many candidates. Arl Wulff . . . poor man, I don’t think he has the heart even if I could convince him.” She continued to mull over candidates as she went to her next meeting and then put the problem to the side so she could focus on the issue in front of her.

 

As Eamon walked with Alistair through the Palace corridors he noticed the whispers and glances directed at the young man at his side. Guards stood just a little straighter, maids sighed and slowed down for a longer look. Alistair seemed oblivious. “The boy, young man I should say, has come into his own. He would have been an excellent king in time but I think his current position is where he will truly excel. Blake is strong enough and savvy enough to balance Anora; they’ll be good for Ferelden if they don’t start working against each other. I hope in time Anora will be able to look past the Landsmeet and truly appreciate Alistair for the fine man he is.” They reached the entrance, “I will see you later, Alistair. I’ve already sent notice to the staff so you can head to the estate whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Thank you, Arl Eamon, that is appreciated. Off to the tailor I go,” he said without any enthusiasm whatsoever. Then he smiled and shook hands with the older Arl before leaving.

 

“Isolde looked like she was sucking on something sour when she realized I was higher-ranking than she and Eamon. I bet her head would have exploded if I actually became king. At least Connor was glad to see me,” he was on his way back to Soldier’s Peak with one of the Dryden caravans. He was looking forward to seeing his Janna again; one week without her company was a week too long in his opinion.

 

“Going to the top of the fortress to look for him will not bring Alistair any faster,” Riordan finally said in amused exasperation. “Since yesterday morning you have been hopping around like one of the chickens you wish to get. We have accomplished much. The library was a treasure trove of information on running this place. Levi already has word out to the many members of his family and soon the shelves will be filled with various supplies and thanks to his brother we have a decent supply of arms and armor to supplement whatever the recruits bring with them.” Nugflutter barked his agreement with the senior Warden.

 

Jannasilane scowled at them and then reluctantly gave a self-deprecating smile, “I am being silly, this is truth. This is the first time we have been away from each other when we are not at odds or there is trouble. I am most used to his presence.” She wandered the main hall, lightly touching the furnishings and other changes they’d wrought in the past week. “I want my Ali to be proud of what we have done and to show him I can be a help to him other than fighting and, uhm, er,” she looked a bit anxious.

 

Riordan smiled, “Little one, you have already given him everything he ever truly wanted. Anything else is a delightful bonus and you have plenty of time to discover how you can best make your life together. And I think he will be quite pleased with what he finds. Thanks to Ser Nugflutter we have far exceeded any expectations I had,” Riordan promoted the little dog after he demonstrated an uncanny ability to ferret out useful items in unusual places and expose hidden faults before they could become a liability. He went back to studying the map spread out on the table, making some additional notes and adjustments based on the morning’s exploration.

 

“Riordan,” Jannasilane spoke in a soft, hesitant whisper, “about the night we arrived . . . I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think . . . I don’t want you to think less of me. I know you never said anything . . .”

 

The senior Warden brought her fingers to his lips, and waited until she was looking at him, “Has this been bothering you all this time? Little one, I was privileged to meet you at Ostagar and honored to travel with you and enjoy your company on the road to Denerim. You are a miracle and I can only feel blessed that you even consider me worthy of sharing the beautiful connection between you and your Alistair. I hardly fault you for behavior or needs that were forced upon you by nature of your unusual heritage. You dishonor us both and Alistair as well by thinking any shame should be attached to your actions.”

 

“I am most fortunate in my friends, this is truth,” she sniffled against his neck after throwing her arms around him.

 

“If you and Zevran ever have a contest on who can charm the most women my money is on you,” Alistair commented wryly after walking in unannounced in spite of her vigilance. “I definitely feel outclassed.”

 

Riordan laughed and stood, still holding Janna’s hands in his, “Ah, my young friend, I think that is a compliment but you should not feel so because you have the prize.” He then placed her hands in the templar’s. “How was your trip to Denerim?”

 

Alistair sat down and pulled Jannasilane into his lap. He nuzzled her hair and inhaled deeply. “I think it went well, but there’s something I want to say first.” He wrapped his arms around the woman he loved and held her close, “My love, we’ve talked about this. I love you, I adore you and I could never think less of you . . . unless you were to leave me. You have opened up a whole world to me and I can only be grateful.” He kissed the top of her head and waited while she snuggled against him, “We’ll have to go back to Denerim about a week before the wedding so I can have a final fitting. I think you’ll be pleased, my love but Maker, I hope I don’t have to go through that again. He took an awful lot of measurements and asked me what you’d be wearing, what trim did I want, what style . . . I’d rather drink dwarven ale again.” He shuddered at the memory, causing Jannasilane to giggle and Riordan to smile.

 

“You were right about seeing Anora; she gave me some good ideas. The Grey Wardens are now the proud owners of the most damaged set of warehouses between the docks and the market. Sergeant Kylon and Hahren Valendrian agreed to be points of contact for any wanting to join and report on how they got along with fellow candidates. Leliana was in town so she did the bargaining although I think the owners were just glad to get rid of it. An associate of Levi’s has agreed to receive any Warden communications and forward them with one of the Dryden caravans. It will all be encrypted and sealed so it should be safe enough for now. At some point we will need to have our own couriers but for now,” Alistair shrugged. He didn't need to say anything more. “Getting tithes from the nobles will be difficult because so many of them suffered tremendous losses, but I have a list from Eamon so we can begin to make some budget estimates. I spoke to some who remained in Denerim and reminded them that the Archdemon being gone and the darkspawn being gone were two different things and so I return with coin, partial payment of what’s owed. I have a lot of ideas about going forward, but they can wait until we see how things settle.”

 

Riordan bowed slightly, “You have accomplished much, my friend. We have not been entirely sluggish in your absence. The little one has worked hard with the Drydens to make sure the bedrooms in the other hall and the outer buildings will soon be ready for occupation.”

 

“My Ali, we had to replace all the mattresses and bed clothes. The demons may have kept the vermin away but two centuries without care . . . everything we need should arrive soon. Mostly it was a lot of cleaning and simple repairs. The Wardens were quite clever with their fireplaces. I do not quite understand but the system of chimneys and flues make it surprisingly easy to keep the Peak comfortably warm.”

 

“Dryden’s wife Abigail has a widowed sister who is willing to be permanent cook and housekeeper, if you agree, Commander. Upon seeing the amount of food which will be needed once we have a few Wardens in residence we all believe that this is a necessity. Should she need assistance then the recruits and her own family will be available. We have arranged for a trial run to test her abilities. This is a map of the area around Soldier’s Peak, about a mile in any direction. If you will notice here,” he pointed to an area on the map, forcing Alistair to get up and look, “there are two caves side by side. They are difficult to get to but have the advantage of not being easy to spy upon. They face away from here and the area in front quickly drops off into a steep cliff, and it is next to impossible to climb to the top. They need complete exploration but they seem empty. I thought one would be good for the Joining and the other for those who are unsuccessful.” The three of them were silent for a moment at the grim reminder. “They are about a half day hard travel from here.”

 

Alistair studied the map, “You two have certainly been busy. This is amazing, Riordan. I’d like to check out those caves tomorrow, make sure there are no nesting bears, dragons or darkspawn. The Peak looks, well, it looks kind of homey. I like it. Maybe later you can show me the changes you made but right now I need to eat. And then . . . maybe rest a little,” he twirled a strand of Jannasilane’s hair around his finger, leaving no doubt about what he really meant.

 

She blushed a little and smiled up at him. She was as eager as he to be together again, “It is good to have you returned, my Ali.”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 77:  Joy in Denerim

All the nobles were in Denerim once again. This time it was a more joyous occasion than the last. Repairs were still going on everywhere you looked but as the big day approached they were more and more hidden by buntings, banners and any festive looking scrap of metal, leather or fabric found. The smell of fresh lumber mingled with the normal scents of roasting food, sweat, spilled beer from the taverns, perfumes and produce. The poor were still poor, thieves still found pockets to pick, mothers still berated rambunctious children but there was an overall atmosphere of levity and good will. They had survived and were determined to rebuild and show the world that Fereldans were tough. The wedding of Anora Mac Tir Theirin to Blake Cousland was a new beginning for Ferelden and the people wanted to temporarily put aside their grief in order to celebrate the end of the Blight and the civil war.

 

“You know, I’m going to miss that carriage,” Alistair looked down at Jannasilane and winked. “I never knew how much fun you could have in one.” They were on their way to what would eventually be the Warden compound in Denerim where Riordan would meet them.

 

“You are a wicked, wicked man, my Ali,” Jannasilane flushed, remembering the way the vibrations of the road reverberated through her entire being when he was inside her.

 

He brought her fingers to his lips, “Only with you, my love, only with you.” He continued to hold her hand as they strode forward. They were both wearing hoods and as incognito as possible; Alistair wanted to see the potential recruits in action without their knowing who he was. Hoods weren’t enough to disguise their height or build so many people paused to look at the striking couple but nobody stopped them. “There it is,” Alistair pointed to three warehouses grouped together. About fifteen people - men, women, humans, elves and one dwarf - were clearing the site. Some stones and lumber were piled to the side and more was put with the rubble. The two of them munched on candied nuts and watched and listened. The candidates worked reasonably well together though there were some disputes and words like “shem” and “knife-ears” drifted towards them.

 

Jannasilane spotted a familiar redheaded figure directing the activities, “Isn’t that Soris?” she gestured in that direction.

 

Alistair looked and smiled, “Clever,” he acknowledged. “That’s an easy way to ferret out those who won’t work with elves, put one in charge. Let’s go meet the candidates, shall we?” He pushed back his hood and they moved forward to greet the elf. “Soris,” he called out, “it is good to see you again. How goes it?”

 

“Al-, Warden-Commander, I didn’t know when you’d be coming to see our progress. My lady,” he bowed nervously. Whispers swept through the recruits, backs straightened and work slowed as they all tried to get a look at the Hero of Ferelden and his Lady. Soris turned to them, “I’m sure the Commander will be speaking with you soon but these lots aren’t going to clear themselves.” He drew Alistair and Jannasilane to the side where they could talk and continue to watch. “Hahren Valendrian knows I’ve always wanted to build things and the destruction of the Alienage gave me an opportunity to put everything I learned from books I scrounged here and there or observing master contractors into practice. Not that the Alienage is rebuilt yet,” he hastened to add, “but we’ve started. Sergeant Kylon brought a master to see what we’ve done and he offered me an apprenticeship. It’s a great opportunity for me. I can help my people and learn my trade . . .”

 

Soris would have gone on but Jannasilane stopped him with a smile, “I am most pleased for you, Soris. Is that why you are here, to help build the Warden compound? Why do you have different piles of lumber?”

 

The elf flushed, “Who builds isn’t up to me, but the ground has to be cleared first so you know what you have to work with. That I can help with. A lot of the stone and lumber which formed these warehouses is useless, but not all of it. If the supports or foundation can remain, they will until somebody makes a final decision. Anything worth reusing we pile carefully over here. One thing about life in the Alienage, you learn how to use things over again.”

 

“Good,” Alistair ignored the trace of bitterness in Soris’ last statement. “I’m sure that we’ll need to make every copper count in order to rebuild the Order properly. Have you had any troubles?” he discreetly nodded at the busy recruits.

 

“Not many. Saykor, the dwarf, was quick to point out that Grey Wardens accepted mages, humans, elves and dwarves into their ranks if they were thought good enough and that leadership was as likely to be one as the other so if they didn’t like it they could ‘take their sodding ignorant asses somewhere else.’” He couldn’t help grinning at that, “He’s the best fighter of the bunch and nobody was willing to challenge him. A few left, there’ve been some grumblings, a few disputes and name-calling when tempers get hot but they at least try to work together. There was some petty pilfering and vandalism, to be expected on vacant lots, but they got together and arranged a rotation so now a few are always on site.”

 

“Saykor seems much more polite than Oghren,” Jannasilane commented, prompting Alistair to laugh. Their ease with the elf went a long way to enhancing Soris’ esteem in the eyes of the candidates still unsure of him. She sat on top of a barrel to wait for Riordan while Soris introduced Alistair to the candidates.

 

“Soris is a good lad,” Riordan commented that evening after dinner. The dining table was the only table big enough to spread out both copies of their plans for the new compound. After seeing the lots they wanted to discuss changes and make sure they changed both sets. At Fergus’ invitation, the three of them were staying at the Cousland manor. Alistair was amused to see how nervous Blake was now that the marriage was so close. The bridegroom-to-be barely ate and left dinner early. “I admit I am curious to see the Alienage and what changes he has made; the builder who apprenticed him must be an unusual man.”

 

 “My lady Package, it is a pleasure to see you. Come join us, my brother is being unusually quiet,” Fergus called from the library. Blake stopped his pacing and glared at him. Fergus just grinned and poured a small brandy for their friend. “The servants all wished me to tell you how much your assistance meant to them. I think every house in Highever is now lemon-fresh. I wager we have the best smelling town in all of Thedas,” he quipped. He watched her sniff the potent beverage and take a small sip. She contemplated the rich amber liquid, took a larger swallow, and immediately started to cough. Both Couslands laughed; Fergus enthusiastically pounded her on the back, “Sister, brandy is meant for sipping, not gulping.”

 

“It,” she coughed and started again, “it is not as strong as dwarven ale, for this I am grateful. I feel quite warm now.” She took another sip, “Yes, it is much better this way.” She studied Fergus carefully, “You look well, this is truth. Thank you for letting us stay here. Eamon invited us as well but I am not sure even my battle song would quiet that woman’s high-pitched nattering,” she sneered slightly. She refused to use Isolde’s name as much as possible; she would never forgive the woman for constantly belittling her Ali.

 

Blake grinned. He knew that in Package’s opinion no greater sin existed than an offense against Alistair. To be fair, Isolde made it hard for anybody other than Eamon to like her. “Teagan drops by often enough, I don’t know if it’s because he hopes to see you or just avoid Lady Screech, I mean Isolde.”

 

“Don’t let either her or Eamon hear you,” Teagan walked in with a laugh. “Hello, Fergus, Blake, your man let me in. I think he’s beginning to think I’m a relative. Or did you take pity on me? Jannasilane,” he bowed over her hand, “it is good to see you again and fully healed, my friend.” He sat down next to her. “I come in person to invite you all to luncheon tomorrow. You can bring Nugflutter if you wish; I know Connor would like to see him again.”

 

“Does that include me as well, Bann Teagan?” chimed Leliana. The pretty redhead walked in behind the suffering manservant. Even though the guards knew she was an acceptable guest he really wished the master’s visitors would allow him to do his job. As if sensing his disquiet the bard turned to him and opened her blue eyes wide to great effect, “Please accept my apologies. I am just so eager to see my friend again that I am afraid I forgot my sense of decorum.”

 

He couldn’t help unbending, “It is quite alright miss, I know his lordship is quite fond of you and that you are a welcome visitor.” He bowed and retired to his position near the door.

 

The men stood at her entrance, Teagan grinning in appreciation, “You will be a most welcome and lovely addition to our gathering, my lady.”

 

Luncheon was a festive affair in spite of Isolde. Although to be fair even Jannasilane had to admit the Orlesian woman restrained herself and managed to hide her dislike of Alistair. “Young Soris sounds like an intelligent young man,” Eamon commented. “If I understand you correctly one family’s fire indirectly helps heat the next family’s home. Every family’s fireplace is between two homes, thus benefiting his neighbor and resulting in more even heating for all. And he is restructuring the building the Tevinters used so that it will be a proper clinic if they need it with a rooftop garden.”

 

“Shianni has much to do with setting up the clinic; she worked with Wynne helping those who were quite sick. They are planning to use it for other community events as well,” Jannasilane added. “For now many elves stay there until their homes are rebuilt. They are all eager for things to be back to normal but Soris and Hahren Valendrian have convinced them it is in their best interests to take time and properly rebuild as much as possible. I do not think it will take long, even the children and the elderly are helping in any way they can.”

 

“What are your plans, Alistair?”

 

“Until the wedding Riordan and I are going to spend as much time as possible with the potential recruits at the new site. Jannasilane will also help test their training and adaptability. I guarantee none of them has battled anybody with her skill set. I’ll meet with some of the nobles who want more information on disposing of, well, clearing their lands safely.”

 

Leliana spoke up, “This afternoon Jannasilane and I are going shopping. It will be fun to look for accessories to supplement her wardrobe.”

 

“I am sure she can use your advice,” Isolde tried to be friendly. “Sometimes it is quite difficult to strike just the right note and Amaranthine . . . some of the banns still place a higher value on fashion than elsewhere in Ferelden.” She was careful not to reference the Orlesian occupation but they all knew she meant Orlais’ influence on the village they built into a city. Eamon was fond of Alistair and his young lady; she couldn’t overcome her dislike for Alistair but she was willing to at least try to get past her feelings for the girl. “Perhaps before you go shopping you would like to come with me and I can discuss with you my wardrobe. It might give you some in-, ideas.”

 

At the other end of the table Eamon’s eyes warmed at her, for an Orlesian woman to allow another woman to see the contents of her wardrobe was a major concession. Jannasilane didn’t know this but he could tell her redheaded friend was well aware. He did not deny his wife’s faults but he knew what none of the others, including Teagan, did; that much of her demeanor was armor built up years ago when they were first married. “My poor Isolde, she suffered so many slights and insults, was made the butt of too many jokes until Maric finally accepted her but by then it was too late. She had shed too many tears. Maybe I did not do her a favor by marrying her but that ship sailed a long time ago.”

 

“Well, if she’s trying to be nice I can as well,” Jannasilane thought. “That is kind of you, Lady Isolde. It is truth I do not know much of fashion or its importance. I doubt I will ever understand the, the nuances as you and Leliana do,” she remarked politely.

 

“Can Nugflutter come with me while you’re with mother?” Connor asked eagerly. He beamed when Jannasilane replied in the affirmative. He was even happier when she suggested the little dog stay with him while she was shopping if Isolde agreed.

 

After they returned Teagan and Leliana kept Isolde entertained with some of the sights they witnessed and the antics of street performers while Jannasilane slipped up to Connor’s room where he was reading a book to Nugflutter who seemed to be enjoying it. “You know I am most cross with you, young man,” she startled him. The boy jumped to his feet, confused. “You were not supposed to grow so quickly. You are now taller than me, it is most vexing.”

 

Connor relaxed and grinned, “Uncle Teagan says if I keep growing I might get as tall as Cousin Alistair.” He was inordinately pleased that he was able to call the Hero of Ferelden ‘cousin’ even if the relationship was a bit sideways. “Miss, Jannasilane, you’ve been to the Circle, right?” he asked nervously. Jannasilane replied in the affirmative and waited, curious. “Will I like it? My tutor seems happy enough but Mother and the Chantry say magic is evil. She hasn’t said that lately but I know she’s worried.”

 

Jannasilane sat down then and thought how to answer him. Once she was ready she patted the seat next to her. After he sat down she finally replied, “I do not know. You remember Wynne? She told Blake once that when she was a young girl she was angry and frustrated but in time she came to see that she could find joy in doing her duty and in teaching young apprentices. She just had to stop railing at her fate in order to see all she was being offered. The Revered Mother helped her come to terms with her fate. She’d been with the Chantry her entire life, brought there as a babe.”

 

“Not all in the Chantry think magic is evil,” she continued. “I think this is an interpretation many put on it but the Sister I knew growing up said magic was a tool, a power or gift from the Maker that comes with great responsibility but man decides whether to use it for good or ill. This makes much more sense to me. When we were helping the Circle I met a mage, an apprentice as you will be, who felt she was evil just for being born with ‘the curse of magic.’ She felt they deserved death. To so mark as evil so many of his children because of powers He granted them? This I cannot believe. You have already experienced some of the temptations and peculiar dangers mages face; I am sure the templars will be watching you carefully because of this. I think you may find your new life difficult because of this and because you are the son of an Arl and have grown up with the privacy and privileges many of your fellow apprentices have never known. On the other hand there are many books and the opportunity to learn many things and you will be among people your own age and abilities.” She held her hand out waved it in a seesaw motion, “Will you like it? I do not know and this is truth. I think, I think perhaps it is up to you.”

 

Neither of them said anything while Connor pondered her answers. Finally he sighed and gave her a sweet little smile, “Thank you. I suppose I knew it wouldn’t be easy but nobody seemed to want to really answer me. They either smile and say I’ll be fine or change the subject. Even my tutor just says it’ll be an adjustment and the templar with her tells me I’ll find out soon enough. I figured even Teagan’s friend Leliana wouldn’t tell me anything different.”

“Teagan’s friend? I think Leliana has not been telling me something. At least I know what some of their remarks this afternoon meant,” her eyes twinkled at being able to grill the bard about her romantic life for a change. “Shall we join the others for tea before I have to leave?” On the way to the small salon she got as much information as she could in order to tease her two friends.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 78:  First, a Royal Joining

The storytellers later called it the Dawn of Denerim; ‘The new day cast a special golden glow and bathed Anora and Blake in the Maker’s light.’ Those lucky enough to be inside the Chantry and everybody lined up outside straining to get a glimpse of the newly married royal couple agreed it was a beautiful wedding and Anora never looked lovelier. Blake’s dark good looks in Cousland blue trimmed with silver and gold set off Anora’s blond beauty perfectly. The nobles enjoyed the chance to preen a bit in front of their peers and who could blame them? The just married royals exited the Chantry and stood framed by the doorway for a moment before beginning the long walk to their open carriage festooned with flowers and ribbons. Soon the official witnesses followed them.

 

The crowds began cheering as soon as they saw them, “Hooray! Cheers to the royal couple!” “Aren’t they ever so pretty.” “My, ‘e looks bonny enough to get a child on ‘er wi’ ‘is wicked good looks.” “Oo, his brother’s a handsome one, too.” “Isn’t that one o’ Arl Wulff’s daughters? Poor family.” “And the Hero of Ferelden, too. I didn’t know Grey Wardens were supposed to be so handsome.” “Hooray!”

 

Blake’s wicked grin nearly had a nearby woman swooning. He leaned and whispered in Anora’s ear, “You’re stuck now. I think they like us.”

 

She looked sideways at him with a small smile, “Until you do something to annoy them.” He snorted good-naturedly. Judging by the increased cheers the people seemed to approve of their good humor. He helped her into the carriage and they slowly started their ceremonial tour of the city. Eventually they would end up back at the Palace for the oaths of fealty but first they would tour Denerim and stop to speak to different community leaders, including the Alienage and the docks. Two less decorated carriages followed with their witnesses. Teagan, Arl Eamon, Arl Wulff and Wulff’s younger daughter were in the first carriage. Alistair, Jannasilane, Fergus and Bann Alfstanna brought up the rear.

 

“We could have walked, it would have been faster,” Blake observed when their progress was impeded yet again by a surge of onlookers.

 

“For you perhaps. This dress might be suitable inside the Chantry or the Palace, but not for walking the streets of Denerim. Even Zevran agreed this was the best approach if we were determined to ‘expose ourselves to the masses.’ I rather think he’s not happy with you at the moment.”

 

“I see I’m going to have to watch myself if you two are going to gang up on me.” He tilted his head and studied her, “Fergus was right. He said you were ‘As beautiful a bride the second time as the first and a visual symphony of champagne and wild roses.’ It may not be practical but you look especially lovely wearing it, Anora.”

 

Anora blushed in pleasure, “Thank you, I didn’t know you Couslands were so poetic. Perhaps I am the one who needs to watch myself.”

 

 “What a beautiful wedding. It is unfortunate that the previous Grand Cleric died before she could perform the ceremony. I understand she was looking forward to it, especially in lieu of all the funerals she conducted. Poor woman, she survived the darkspawn but not the rebuilding,” Ginetta said politely.

 

“I heard about that . . . a falling beam wasn’t it? At least there was a qualified Revered Mother able to step into her shoes. I pity her predecessor but I think the country’s morale would have suffered if the wedding had to be postponed for any reason,” Teagan observed. “I think every noble, major or minor, was in attendance. Unfortunately as witnesses we were hardly in a position to swivel our heads around to see if we looked prettier than our neighbors,” he half-teased.

 

“True, but we had the best view of the participants. They looked very dramatic, he’s so dark and she’s so blond . . . do you think their temperaments are equally different? I am trying to think where I read it but I’m sure I read somewhere a theory that there is a correlation between looks and disposition. I don’t think it was ever given any real credence but it is amusing to consider,” Ginetta’s eyes twinkled with good humor.

 

Eamon and Wulff mostly remained quiet. Eamon was content to observe the crowds and listen to Teagan flirting with Wulff’s daughter. He’d been urging Teagan to get married for years but his brother had been resistant. Wulff spoke to be polite more than anything but he was keenly aware of his daughter’s conversation and was ready to step in if need be. He knew Teagan’s reputation.

 

“So you’re an archer, my lady? I am a decent enough sword and shield man but I would appreciate any advice you could give me,” he smiled charmingly. He’d rarely spoken to the slender brunette and was quite pleased to find she was conversant on many topics and that they had much in common. Something about her brown eyes and upturned nose gave her a pixieish expression and belied the quiet way she conducted herself. He found her full lips and slight overbite quietly sexy and her dark eyebrows gave her a touch of drama to otherwise pleasing but unremarkable features.

 

“Isn’t Leliana an expert with a bow? Perhaps you should ask her,” Ginetta responded with a small smile. She liked Teagan, had for years, but she wasn’t willing to step into another’s entanglements.

 

Teagan made what was really an easy decision. Leliana was a pleasing companion but he wanted the chance to get to know the younger Wulff daughter, “It’s hard not to like Leliana. I imagine her stories helped lighten what was too often a grim existence for the months she traveled with the Wardens. She’ll be leaving Denerim, perhaps Ferelden, soon to pursue her own interests once again.”

 

“Perhaps you could allow Teagan and his men to travel with you since you will cover much of the same road. I will not be returning to Redcliffe directly; I have business to which I must first attend,” Eamon suggested. Unspoken between the two brothers was Connor’s name. Teagan did not envy his brother that particular business.

 

“Then I am sure we will find some opportunities to test your bowmanship, Bann Teagan,” this time her smile was wider and friendlier.

 

Leliana would be pleased to know her efforts to find Teagan a suitable wife were bearing fruit. She liked Teagan and enjoyed his company. He was intelligent, witty, charming, steadfast and a good lover. He enjoyed the pleasures Denerim offered but he loved Rainesfere, Redcliffe, and the quieter life. Both knew that their connection was a temporary one and mostly due to their mutual friendship with Jannasilane. “Alistair will certainly be happier if Teagan is married. He is still a little jealous though he would deny it,” she snickered to herself. She had settled on Arl Wulff’s younger daughter, a pretty enough young woman about Alistair’s age whom she thought would be compatible. She didn’t worry overmuch about her appearance as evidenced by her freckles and sun-streaked light brown hair except to be self-conscious about her overbite (which Leliana thought was foolish, she found it alluring), and the woman was a practical Fereldan to her core, which Leliana suspected would be most attractive to Teagan after years of observing Isolde. The icing on the cake was that geographically they were close. It took very little effort on her part to arrange for Lady Ginetta to ride with Teagan.

 

In the last carriage, Alistair kept a soldier’s eye on the crowd even as he admired his beloved. Her gown of bronze and wine shot through with silver threads complemented her hair and skin. She’d learned from Leliana enough to darken her lips to a deep, rich red and he knew exactly where he wanted to see them. She had done something to her eyes that made them brighter and her lashes long and thick. Her hair again swept up and to one side; he brought one hand up to toy with one of the earrings he gave her months previously in Arl Eamon’s study. She turned her head and smiled up at him. “You look exceptionally beautiful today, my love. I admit,” he leaned down to whisper softly, “when I saw you in your finery I became impatient to take it all off.” He straightened and looked around and back down, “I am a lucky, lucky man.”

 

“You are a shameless man to say such things,” she teasingly reproved him. Her eyes traveled over him, admiring how the deep forest green pants and long tunic brought out the sunshine in his hair and eyes. He’d chosen trim in the Amaranthine colors of raw gold and cream though he called them mud yellow and dirty white to the dismay of his tailor. The white silk shirt had a thin patterned stripe of the same gold. The finishing touch was a heavy silk sash in the gold tied loosely around his waist, emphasizing his fit and muscular build. “You are most handsome, my Ali. Many women are admiring you; I do not know whether to be proud or jealous.”

 

Alistair grinned, “Try being both and later I’ll prove to you why you have no reason to be jealous.”

 

Bann Alfstanna choked back a laugh and Fergus helpfully pounded her on the back. “See, Alfstanna,” Fergus teased, “the Hero of Ferelden is a man like any other no matter what the stories say.” Alistair rolled his eyes at the title and the reference to all the exaggerated tales making the rounds.

 

“Really? You mean it isn’t true that you held off an ogre with one hand while embracing a buxom pirate with the other only to be felled by one sip of ale?” Alfstanna quipped.

 

Jannasilane opened her eyes wide in feigned innocence, “Well, it was dwarven ale.”

 

The Warden-Commander shook his head, “That’s what happens when you travel with a talented bard, an outrageous Antivan, and a colorful dwarf. No respect, not even from my nearest and dearest.” He sighed deeply. He brought Jannasilane’s hand to his lips and nibbled her fingers, “You’ll just have to try and make me feel better, my love.”

 

That was three days ago. Teagan, Leliana, Fergus and many others had already departed. Now Alistair was looking at his eighteen potential recruits. He let them all participate in the revelries after the wedding, knowing that for some it would be their last opportunity. He used that time to draft and revise the speech he would give them before talking to each of them privately. “Maker, I hope I don’t mess this up,” he thought nervously. Jannasilane’s presence and support, as well as Riordan’s, helped give him confidence. In the shadows he gave one final adjustment to his Warden armbands for luck and then stepped forward.

 

Jannasilane was so proud of him, standing there so confident and brave, knowing some of his candidates would be dead soon. She noticed how quickly they all quieted and drew their chairs close to hear what he had to say. Alistair looked at each face before he began, making them each feel important. “I am in equal parts pleased, touched, and proud to see so many of you wishing to become Grey Wardens. I will be honest, not all of you will be going to Soldier’s Peak with me,” he expected protests and wasn’t disappointed. “This is not because I doubt your willingness, your enthusiasm or your sense of purpose. I wish to speak to each of you privately but before I do so I want to give you something to think about.” He half sat on top of a table, “The life of a Grey Warden is harder, harder than anything you have ever done. Soldiers retire or pursue other ventures when the battle is over. Grey Wardens do not. We remain forever vigilant; we do not retire. Ever. There are always darkspawn.”

 

The room was so quiet a mouse couldn’t have sneaked past anyone’s notice. Alistair took a moment and mentally thanked Fergus for allowing him to continue to use the estate in his absence. “I have the huge task of rebuilding the Order here in Ferelden; it is a challenge I embrace and an honor that humbles me. This means I am not just looking for those who will fight darkspawn directly. Look around you, the Cousland manor is clean and well maintained. This is not because of the guards and soldiers outside. The food we’ll be eating is not because of guards or soldiers. They’re due to the efforts of the servants be they cook or housekeeper. If you’ve ever seen a Grey Warden eat then you know a good cook is worth more than their weight in gold.”

 

“He’s right,” Saykor snorted. “In one day Wardens can eat what would last most families a week. By the ancestors I think some of them even ate the bones.”

 

“Thanks to Her Majesty’s incredible generosity the Grey Wardens also hold the Arling of Amaranthine formerly held by Renden Howe. I don’t know what I’ll find when I arrive. The Arling will have its own needs and perhaps require your services there. I want to give each of you the best chance of success. If I take you to the Peak now you will stay there training and learning for weeks, maybe months under Riordan’s instruction. Frankly, I think it would be shortsighted to take you all now when there may be a lot for you to do elsewhere. Our compound in Denerim isn’t going to build itself, you know. Moreover, just because you don’t go now doesn’t mean you won’t go later. After talking to you privately any who leave to seek another path will be paid for their labors to date with no hard feelings and respect for the decision.” “Whether the decision is yours or mine,” he added to himself. “Before I leave for Soldier’s Peak all of you will swear an oath to the Order.”

 

An almost notoriously quiet young woman from the Alienage, Mira, raised her hand, “Commander, ser, all of us . . . well we want to fight the darkspawn. I hear that some Wardens have even been thieves and murderers. And I don’t think I’ve ever met a mage,” she frowned in thought.

 

“Mages are valued Grey Wardens and you will need to learn how to work with them for your unit’s benefit. I’ve been attacked by enough darkspawn emissaries to be glad we had some mages on our side. What you’ve heard, yes, it’s true. In fact, one of the new recruits who died at Ostagar was a pickpocket from here in Denerim. The Grey Wardens isn’t a charity where everybody gets a second chance. No, my predecessor saw something in Daveth beyond his skill and quickness that made him think the man could be a good Grey Warden. He was right; Daveth was as determined to fight the darkspawn without concern for his own life as any I have ever met.”

 

Riordan watched the candidates carefully while Alistair spoke. Some of them seemed relieved to know they might be able to serve in other capacities. Others frowned at the idea of working with mages. Most of them seemed dedicated. “Good, they are thinking.” After Mira’s comment he decided to add his own thoughts, “I have been a Grey Warden for as long as Alistair has been alive. Many good Wardens have a pre-Warden past that would have resulted in jail or execution or was simply one which they do not look at with pride. This does not mean Commanders troll the prisons looking for recruits but if such a one comes to their attention they examine their character, their current circumstances and the nature of their crime. If they sense a spark or determination that might make a good Warden they have the option to recruit them. Alistair spoke of the lifelong commitment of a Grey Warden, this means that essentially your old lives are over, erased, and a new one begins. For this reason we do not ask another of their past, it is irrelevant. We are all sisters and brothers standing together in a united purpose. If my brother wishes to tell me of his pre-Warden life that is his choice but I will not ask.”

 

“Now, I don’t know about any of you but I’m ready to eat and the dining room is just across the hall,” Alistair stood. He thought the candidates had enough to think about and he was hungry.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 79:  And Then the Other Joining

Seventeen swore the oath of loyalty and ten, including Saykor and Mira, traveled to Soldier’s Peak. Alistair quickly gave up trying to read the reports from Amaranthine when they were in camp. With so many curious recruits around him he just didn’t have time to study them. The Orlesian Wardens were exploring the area and rumors of darkspawn activity were as much he was able to ascertain. Jannasilane stopped them at one point and looked around carefully. Alistair extended his senses as much as possible and finally shook his head in defeat, “I don’t sense any darkspawn.”

 

“I thought I heard not darkspawn but those other vile creatures, spiders,” she growled.

 

Riordan smiled, “The little one does not like spiders.” He no longer minded the creatures.

 

“This is truth. We also do not have any Rockbinder’s Brew to clean our blades and armor so we must be careful,” she stated.

 

Saykor looked at her curiously, “Rockbinder’s? You must have been in Orzammar; Tapster’s Tavern is the only place that sells it. Orzammar can be pretty tight about letting in outsiders but if you were traveling with the Wardens . . .” Now all the recruits listened intently for this was the first time any recalled the normally taciturn dwarf actually showing signs of curiosity about another.

 

Jannasilane nodded her head, “Yes, they would not have let us in otherwise. Much of it was quite grand but . . . They called me little! I was in the kingdom of dwarves and still called small,” she stamped her foot and scowled petulantly. The recruits all burst out laughing, even Saykor.

 

“It’s true,” Alistair responded, “at one point we couldn’t even see her among the dwarves. I think they stepped on her,” causing another burst of laughter among the recruits and earning a glare from his beloved.

 

“You are a braver man than I, Alistair, to so risk the little one’s displeasure,” Riordan chuckled. “She is right about the mess, friends. If you have never battled large spiders before then be prepared to spend a lot of time and effort cleaning your weapons. Their remains are noxious and uncommonly sticky. For all our sakes those who have bows should ready them.” There were only a few spiders and a few rounds of arrows easily dispatched them. The spiders were the only hindrance to their travels.

 

“Are the recruits all settled in?” Alistair looked up when Riordan entered the Commander’s office. Those who survived the Joining would move into the main fortress but for now they were in the many outbuildings set up as living quarters. Riordan replied in the affirmative and sat down opposite the desk. “Tomorrow we’ll make sure they are all properly outfitted in armor and weapons. Mikhael’s been busy making sure everything we found here is in good condition. We should also tell them a little something about the different types of darkspawn because we go hunting the day after tomorrow.”

 

Riordan sat quietly and waited. He did not disagree with Alistair. At this point further delay would not help the recruits but he did not think that was why the young Commander was so concerned. Nor did he think it was just the thought of the inevitable deaths from the Joining that worried Alistair. The blond warrior tapped the reports from Amaranthine, “The Grey Wardens from Orlais have been busy. I expected that, to be honest. There are always going to be bandits, thugs and other unscrupulous people willing to take advantage of other’s misfortunes. And I assumed there would be some trouble just because they are Orlesian. Read these,” he commanded and handed them over to the older Warden. He waited impatiently until Riordan was finished. Riordan’s frown confirmed his own concerns, “I thought the darkspawn flew back into the Deep Roads after a Blight. Yet there still seem to be a large number roaming the countryside.”

 

“I too am surprised and perturbed at this news, Commander,” Riordan carefully stacked the reports and handed them back to Alistair. “Of course neither of us experienced a Blight and its aftermath before so we could be overly optimistic about the quickness of their retreat. Unfortunately, Weisshaupt has all the statistical information before and after a Blight. Do you wish to change your plans and take the recruits with you to Amaranthine after the Joining?”

 

Alistair drummed his fingers on the desk while thinking. “No,” he said finally. “I think I’d rather they get at least some training. When I arrive I will have six other Grey Wardens plus Jannasilane and numerous soldiers. I’ll send requests for information to the First and other Warden-Commanders when I get to Denerim. Do you remember Martiello? He seemed the itchiest to move of all the candidates. I’ll send you word when I get to Denerim and find out if there are any other rumors about darkspawn. He can bring my letter with the Drydens. Once he knows the way he can go back and forth. I’ll send another message from Vigil’s Keep via the Dryden contact and . . . let’s start weekly reports both ways for now. We should do that anyway, right? If you don’t hear from me make sure our courier isn’t injured or dead in a ditch then you and the new Wardens let His Majesty and the First know what’s happening and head for Amaranthine. Hopefully this will just turn out to be a slower retreat than we expected.”

 

“I will push their training as much as possible, my friend. I think you are wise to plan for the worse eventuality. I anticipated three months in order to give them times to relax and become accustomed to their new lives but two should be sufficient. Unless you tell me otherwise we will head for Amaranthine two months after their Joining.”

 

The Commander filed the reports away in the desk drawer and stood up. He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned a little, “One blessing, at least we shouldn’t have to go as far as Orzammar to find darkspawn. We can just head east until we run into some.”

 

“It is also good that the little one is a skilled herbalist. While we are gone she can prepare the base potion since we have no mages with us; I spoke to Avernus. He suggested that the addition of a small amount of Spindleweed can keep it viable for a month and we can simply add the final three ingredients when it is time.”

 

“Huh, that’s good to know. At least on some trips we can have some with us just in case. That would be easier than packing each ingredient separately. You know, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time here teaching recruits maybe you should write this information down and at least keep it here in the office. You can be the Professor of Wardenology,” he joked.

 

Riordan gave a shallow bow, “I am most honored though I should probably demand a raise.”

 

“How about a plaque? We can probably afford a tastefully small plaque.” On that lighter note the two Wardens left the office.

 

They followed the sounds of merriment where Saykor and others were trying to teach Jannasilane Diamondback. Alistair watched and listened from the shadows. He didn’t want to spoil their fun by having their Commander join them. It struck him how young she was compared to them, and him. “Have you ever felt old, Riordan? Older than your years? It’s odd but I don’t think I was ever so light-hearted except maybe when I was really young before being sent to the Chantry and then moments here and there while traveling.” He sighed and smiled a little ruefully.

 

“Sometimes. Right now, for instance,” he responded with raised eyebrows, causing Alistair to smirk. “And when I met the little one at Ostagar and realized my old friend was her father, and that I am old enough to be yours. You are thinking of the little one, are you not?” Just then she scowled and threw down her cards, causing the others to burst out laughing. “I suppose you never had the opportunity to just be a young man and now your command will forever separate you from those who would otherwise be your peers. Experiences mature some of us beyond our years. Even the little one is older in experience than most of those with her. I am glad she can still have moments such as this. It refreshes me.”

 

“I think I know what you mean.” They were both silent and continued watching the young people a few more minutes.

 

Saykor stared mercilessly at Jannasilane, “You lost and now you have to pay up. We get to ask a question and you have to answer. That was the bet.”

 

Jannasilane crossed her arms and glared back, “This I know. It is not necessary for you to remind me each time I lose.”

 

“It’s part of my fun. You are a terrible bluffer,” the dwarf grinned. “Now . . . what to ask now . . .”

 

“I want to know how you got those three scars,” Alda, a young woman from south of Denerim mimicked the path marked by the Archdemon.

 

“I’ll answer that,” Alistair made his presence known. He hated remembering that day. He touched her hair lightly, “Didn’t you learn anything from Oghren?” He turned his attention to Alda, “Archie didn’t like her much. I don’t know why since I think she’s quite adorable. He obviously had very bad taste.”

 

Alda’s eyes got wide, “Archie? You mean the Archdemon?” Alistair, Riordan and Jannasilane all nodded.

 

Saykor scowled, “No fair, Commander. She has to answer the question. Who is Oghren? And no help from the over-sized peanut gallery,” he warned. He was quite perceptive and realized that the Wardens didn’t really like talking about her injuries. His respect for her increased drastically after Alistair’s revelation.

 

“Oghren is,” Jannasilane began giggling; “Oghren is a warrior from Orzammar . . .” They passed the rest of the evening telling some of the funnier stories from their travels. It was late when they all went to bed.

 

“Looks like we can head out later today rather than waiting until tomorrow,” Alistair was staring glumly at the cold rain that didn’t look like it was going to stop any time soon. He hated traveling and fighting in the rain. No matter what he did it always seemed to find a path down his neck and back. “Saykor is the only one who needs any repairs done, the others are happy to replace what they have. We leave after lunch.”

 

Riordan nodded, “Very well. I am eager to get underway even though, with this miserable rain, I know my joints will ache before we are done. The cost of years of battle.”

 

“I will try to send you both warm, dry thoughts from back here, my Wardens,” Jannasilane wrapped her arms around Alistair’s waist and leaned her head against his back.

 

He could feel her smiling, “You are a wicked woman and I will think of a suitable punishment while we’re gone.” He put his hands over hers and savored the feel of her against him. “Consider yourself warned.”

 

Three days later a small fire near the entrance of the cave lit the faces of the anxious recruits. They were dirty, tired, nervous, and exhilarated with the success of their first mission: gathering darkspawn blood. Alistair tried to remember the exact words Duncan used at Ostagar; he didn’t want to flub his first time conducting the ritual. “Now it is time. We Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are to battle the darkspawn and fate may dictate you pay that price now rather than later. This is why the Joining is secret.” He paused, half-expecting Blake to ask if that meant the Joining could kill them. Instead he only heard the feet shuffling nervously and some gasps. “You all have some experience with the darkspawn and a Blight so you already have a better understanding of a Warden’s role than those at my Joining. Such secrecy is necessary, especially as the memories of dark times fade.” Riordan came forward carrying the chalice, “And so we drink of the darkspawn blood, forever changing us; allowing us to sense them and to better fight them.”

 

Saykor nodded his head slowly, “I’m ready.” He looked shrewdly at Alistair, “This is why you spoke to us in Denerim as you did, isn’t it Commander? That was our last chance to change our minds.” He didn’t expect an answer so wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one.

 

“Before we begin Riordan will speak the words said before my Joining and every Joining before that,” Alistair and Riordan bowed their heads.

 

“Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.”

 

Alistair allowed a moment of silence before he picked up the chalice, “Saykor, step forward. You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint.” The dwarf took a deep breath and let it out before taking the chalice in his hand. He looked into the goblet before raising it and taking a sip. As Duncan had before him, Alistair was ready and removed it before Saykor could feel the effects. The dwarf fell to the ground, senseless but alive. “Mira . . . Alda . . . Samuel . . . Bart . . . Zeke . . . Terry . . . Karochko . . . Gabriel . . . Harami . . .” Riordan was behind each recruit to ease them to the ground when they fell.

 

“Only three died; this is quite a high success for a Joining, Alistair. Customarily we don’t expect more than half,” Riordan helped make the survivors comfortable before they moved those who didn’t survive.

 

Hours later Alistair watched Riordan lead the new Wardens back to Soldier’s Peak where they would take up residence inside the main building during their training. Some of them were fingering the new amulet they each wore around their throat. Solemnly he lit the pyre, “Alda, Bart, and Karochko, may you each find the peace of the Maker or the Creators. Your sacrifice will be remembered.” He stared into the flames for some time before joining his men.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 80:  Amaranthine Anxiously Awaits Alistair’s Arrival

Their escort was a very business-like young woman. Blake had insisted at least one soldier accompany them, “If it’s just you two bandits will surely attack while you’re busy in your tent.”

 

“What my husband means,” Anora rolled her eyes but secretly she amused to see how red Alistair and Jannasilane became, “is that it is not seemly for an Arl to travel without at least one guard. No matter how accomplished that Arl is. One guard shouldn’t diminish the Hero of Ferelden’s ‘kick-ass’ reputation.” She was even more amused to see their jaws drop when she said ‘kick-ass.’ “Mhairi has been in Amaranthine for the last few weeks, assisting the Grey Wardens from Orlais. They sent her here to wait for you.”

 

Mhairi was as capable as Ser Cauthrien was and was a perfect example of the ‘ever vigilant’ line of the Grey Warden motto. She was not, however, chatty. She didn’t seem unfriendly, just reserved or even shy. “It’s probably something perverse in me that misses even Morrigan’s snide comments,” Alistair thought in amusement. “At least she doesn’t seem to be falling over herself in awe of the bloody ‘Hero of Ferelden.’ And for her sake I’m glad she isn’t like Terry, trying to get me into her bed. Janna would cook for her or something equally vicious. My love has such a mean streak,” he looked fondly at the woman he adored. “I don’t like what I heard in Denerim, that the darkspawn have mostly retreated everywhere but Amaranthine. I suppose it’s possible that after the Archdemon died they ran in the opposite direction from Redcliffe but I still don’t like it. I hope the other Commanders have some information for me.”

 

Jannasilane looked around her curiously. The land was much more open than the parts of Ferelden she traveled with the Wardens. The small farm she grew up on was surrounded by forest. “I am unfamiliar with this area,” she spoke politely, trying to draw the young woman into conversation, “Can you tell me how far we are from Amaranthine, Ser Mhairi?”

 

“We are already in the Arling itself; it’s a large Arling full of farms and several miles of coastland. The city of Amaranthine is beyond where we’re going, Vigil’s Keep. The Arl’s family has lived there for centuries; it’s only another mile or so, my lady,” Mhairi answered pleasantly.

 

“Ser Mhairi, I understood Amaranthine is still being plagued by darkspawn attacks but we haven’t seen any. What are your thoughts?” Alistair wanted to know if she was as intelligent as she was competent.

 

“C-commander?” Mhairi was a good soldier and knighted by the time she was twenty-one but she wasn’t used to her commanding officers asking for her opinion. She stood to attention as she would to deliver her report and gathered her thoughts. “Darkspawn were sighted in small groups all over the Arling. The Grey Wardens from Orlais split up to investigate these sightings but only encountered a couple of stray creatures. They did find enough evidence to suggest the sightings were not exaggerations or mistakes by excitable farmers. They should be back at Vigil’s Keep by now in order to compare their findings and report to you. Sir, in my opinion they are as confused as anybody is by the fact they haven’t found the source. I may be wrong; the Grey Wardens haven’t exactly confided in me. It’s almost like the darkspawn are taunting and testing . . . playing games . . . but they can’t do that, can they?”

 

Alistair stared into the distance, his eyes narrowed in thought, “Unless they found something else to lead them and give them purpose then in my experience I would have to say no.”

 

“That’s . . . that’s disturbing,” Mhairi frowned, unsettled by the possibility. “I’m glad now we didn’t follow the main road. This is faster and took us past some of the places where darkspawn were sighted.”

 

“Good thinking,” Alistair said mildly. “Sightings yet no real damage; no sense of lingering corruption to tingle my senses. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” He suggested they pick up their pace, “I don’t know about you but I’m tired of this rain. Since we’re so close let’s move a bit quicker, maybe we’ll be in time for a hot meal.”

 

They picked up their pace but the rain turned into a downpour and the sky was dark before they sighted the Vigil. Immediately Alistair and Jannasilane went on alert. “Darkspawn,” Alistair yelled. “Janna, get to those chasing that man. Mhairi to the left, I’ll take the group on the right.” He moved to intercept and smiled grimly to hear her battle song ringing out.

 

“These are tougher and more cunning than the ones in the Korcari Wilds. Something is definitely leading them, but what? It can’t have anything to do with Morrigan’s ritual; it’s only been three months. Three years might be a different story but not three months. Better hear what that man has to say . . . he looks like he might be a guard, or was one at some point.” Alistair hustled over to question him.

 

Jannasilane watched the man she saved beating the dead genlock. Alistair and Mhairi both were coming over so she said nothing, figuring the poor man needed to release some of his fear and anger. When he sensed the large warrior’s presence he stopped and looked up, “The Hero of Ferelden . . . thank the Maker you came! They came out of nowhere.”

 

“Calm down. Tell me what happened. Where are the other Wardens and how many darkspawn are there?” Alistair spoke quietly, trying not to agitate the man further.

 

Words came flooding out of the other man, “All was quiet . . . suddenly dozens of darkspawn . . . mage who might be a Warden . . . not sure how many left alive . . . horrible . . . go to the main road and see if I can flag down any patrols.” He scrambled to his feet and ran off.

 

“I do not like this, my Ali. I do not like this at all,” Jannasilane frowned after the running guard.

 

“Nor do I, my love, nor do I. I guess we’ll find out soon enough what’s happened,” he ran his hand over his jaw and then turned to Mhairi. “That was some excellent fighting. You’re not just an escort, are you?”

 

“No Commander. I asked to come to Amaranthine so I could join the Wardens. I wasn’t expecting this . . . Seneschal Varel is in charge in your absence. Maybe he’ll have some answers for you, if he’s still alive.”

 

“Perhaps. Let’s go chop off some darkspawn heads, shall we?” he readied his shield and strode forward.

 

They were able to rescue a few more people while fighting their way into Vigil’s Keep. Even inside the walls the darkspawn were everywhere. The first survivor they found was the previously mentioned mage. He finished burning some of the creatures to a crispy black and turned to them with a smile, “Well, it’s nice to see people of the non-darkspawn variety.” He eyed the women appreciatively, “It’s even better to see such abundant loveliness gracing this formerly austere room. I am Anders, dear ladies, mage and, sadly, wanted apostate.” He ignored Alistair’s eye roll and explained that the templars had captured him and were staying for the night when the darkspawn attacked.

 

Jannasilane smiled at the slender blond mage with sun-streaked hair gathered in a ponytail, “Anders?” She tilted her head, “The healer? Brody spoke of you while we were in Denerim. My name is Jannasilane. You’ve probably already guessed this is Alistair, the new Warden-Commander. Mhairi accompanied us.”

 

“While it’s a pleasure to meet a survivor who can fight perhaps we should continue exploring the Keep for others,” Alistair said drily. A touch of jealousy went through him at the way the mage was looking at Jannasilane but he put it aside. “I’d appreciate your help. I won’t stop you though if you want to leave.”

 

Anders jerked in surprise, “You won’t?” He studied the larger man carefully. He saw a handsome, well-built warrior with sunny blond hair and indications of a ready smile. “If he’s the new Warden-Commander then he’s also the Hero of Ferelden, I heard that much. He’s young, but I suppose fighting a nasty old dragon can age you as much as running away from the templars as often as I have. Is he really that tolerant or just good at hiding his true intentions?” He held out his hand, “I probably would just run into more darkspawn so I’ll tag along with you for now. Anybody need healing?”

 

The workers who managed to hide from the darkspawn were grateful to be rescued. “Anders, can you sense the emissary on the other side of this door?” Anders shook his head. “Do you have any area of effect spells? I estimate the emissary is 40-45 feet straight ahead. If you can get something going at that range I’ll smite him before opening the door. There are a lot of darkspawn in there with him. Jannalove, if you have any extra earrings give them to Mhairi and Anders. I think we’re going to need your battle song.”

 

“You’re a templar!” Anders accused. He felt betrayed.

 

Alistair shook his head impatiently, “No, I was in training before I became a Grey Warden but not by choice. We can discuss that later if we survive but for now either run or help. I just wanted to give you warning. Mhairi, protect him. A mage, especially a healer, is invaluable.”

 

The lanky mage didn’t say anything but he did glare at the templar out of hot brown eyes before conjuring up an electrical storm. They fought in silence. Alistair felt Anders’ resentment but at least the mage continued fighting at their side. They raced forward when they heard sounds of a commotion and Alistair grinned when a familiar figure waved at them before swinging his battle-axe. Once the darkspawn lay dead around them Oghren spoke, “Heard the noise and figured it might be you. I told these darkspawn to watch out now that the Warden-Commander and his Cherryplum were here. Thought I’d try my hand at being a Warden. Looks like you can use all the help you can get.”

 

The Warden-Commander couldn’t help grinning, “Oghren, good to see you. It’ll be nice to fight with a beer-swilling dwarf again.”

 

“Really? I find that hard to believe,” Mhairi muttered dubiously.

 

“Cherryplum?” Anders had sidled over to Jannasilane’s side and whispered to her. He gave her one of his more charming crooked grins, “It suits you but I think I prefer Poppet. Or Sweeting if we get close.”

 

Jannasilane smirked but otherwise ignored his suggestion, “Oghren fought with us against the Archdemon.”

 

Oghren leered at Mhairi and let out a loud belch, “Well, let’s go chasing down the rest of these critters then. Can’t say I approve of them messing up your house.”

 

They found Mhairi’s friend Rowland dying in the hallway. His eyes lit briefly when he saw Alistair, “Commander, there were too many and they came too quickly to stop them.” He stopped to catch his breath.

 

Alistair held his hand between his own, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Rowland. Tell me what you can, friend.”

 

Alistair’s expression and the gentle manner he used with the wounded soldier impressed Anders. Perhaps he wasn’t just another ruddy templar. He listened carefully to Rowland’s report.

 

“Talking darkspawn? The lad must be delirious,” Oghren exclaimed.

 

Alistair exchanged a look with Jannasilane, “Maybe not.” Carefully he closed Rowland’s eyes, “May you find peace at the Maker’s side, Rowland. We will return to honor you and the others who have fallen this day.” He stood and faced Mhairi, “There is nothing you can do for him now, Ser Mhairi, except help me to cut down the fiends who did this. I will not let the deaths of my people go unanswered. Let’s go find the Seneschal.”

 

More darkspawn died at their hands before they found Varel on the tower walls in the hands of more creatures. Their leader was speaking, just as Rowland said. “It has ended, just as he foretold. Take the Warden and kill these others, they are not necessary.”

 

“It shouldn’t have said that,” Oghren muttered as Jannasilane sprang forward shouting her defiance at the talking beast. Nobody was going to take her Ali.

 

“No! This cannot be,” the creature howled in dismay as it was defeated.

 

Alistair helped the older man to his feet, “Seneschal Varel?” He received a nod in reply. Anders sent some healing magic his way so he could talk more comfortably.

 

“Commander, I -” he got no further before he was distracted by the sound of approaching troops. “More visitors, it seems. Let us hope they are friendlier than the last.” The tired group descended and waited at the gates.

 

“I thought I would see how you were settling in but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” a familiar voice hailed them from the darkness.

 

“We wanted to make sure you remembered what excitement is, now that you’re a dull married man,” Alistair said lightly while taking a knee to greet the former Warden.

 

“Your Majesty,” Mhairi half-gasped half-squeaked and quickly knelt before her king.

 

“My sister and the Hero of Ferelden are two people who do not need to kneel before me. Speaking of Package, where is she?”

 

Jannasilane stood and glared at her king and ‘brother.’ Arms akimbo she stamped her foot, “I am not little.”

 

“This is true, Your Majesty,” another familiar voice purred. Zevran stepped forward and bowed to the scowling woman, “No one with claims to the most magnificent bosom in Thedas can possibly be called ‘little.’ I am very pleased to see that you are not injured, Pocket Goddess,” he took her hand and kissed it in the best courtly manner.

 

“I too am very happy that neither of you are injured. What happened here, Commander?” Blake was serious now. He became positively grim when Alistair and the Seneschal related the day’s events. He shook his head, “Kidnapping, talking darkspawn . . . I wish there was something I could do but right now I have issues among the Bannorn which must be dealt with. You and Package are on your own for the moment although -”

 

“Hey! What about me? I didn’t come here to eat teacakes. Where’s the cup? I’m ready to gargle and spit,” Oghren jutted his beard forward pugnaciously.

 

“You’re not allowed to spit,” Alistair replied and immediately regretted it.

 

“Heh heh, that’s what I always say,” the dwarf leered at Mhairi.

 

“Your Majesty, that man is a criminal!” The leader of a small group of templars who were temporarily traveling with the king’s men finally spoke. Ser Rylock’s zealotry burned out of her eyes and she wasn’t going to wait any longer for her goal.

 

“I admit the dwarf is a bit of an ass,” Alistair began, just to rile her.

 

“She means me,” Anders said with a sigh.

 

“I will see you hanged, murderer,” the templar spit out venomously.

 

“I didn’t kill – oh, never mind. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

 

Jannasilane had been watching Ser Rylock and didn’t like the woman, “Anders speaks the truth. The darkspawn killed the templars.”

 

Blake hadn’t liked the templar leader when she requested permission to travel with them as long as they were going the same way. Unfortunately as king he wasn’t allowed the freedom to show his distaste, not if he wanted to avoid complications. He and Alistair traded glances, “Does the Warden-Commander have anything to say?”

 

“Anders has already proven to be a great help when he didn’t need to. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription and take him as a Grey Warden,” he said quickly. “Well, this is not the way I wanted to start my time in Amaranthine.”

 

The templar lieutenant was incensed and started to argue but Blake stopped her, reminding her that Grey Wardens had that right and he wasn’t going to interfere. He moved off to the side and motioned Alistair to join him. He waited while Alistair gave instructions to his people, “Seneschal Varel, Anders is a gifted healer so I’d like the two of you to tend the wounded. That’s our first priority. Oghren, Mhairi, work with the remaining guards and soldiers to restore some semblance of order. Oghren knows what to do with the darkspawn bodies so I want you working together. We’ll join you soon.” He knew Jannasilane wasn’t going to let him out of her sight, not with that Rylock woman boring holes into his back. He could feel his shoulder blades itching.

 

“Alistair, I really am sorry I can’t do much. Do you want me to send word to Riordan? There is one thing I can do, with your permission. I can have my soldiers conduct their training exercises along the main roads, at least as far as Vigil’s Keep. Small squads only,” now that they were alone Blake showed his concern for his friend.

 

“That’ll work. Perhaps they can escort the recruits I left in Denerim. Soris will know which ones. I want Riordan to stay at Soldier’s Peak with the new Wardens. If Wardens are being targeted and kidnapped then they’re at a disadvantage until they get a handle on their new abilities. This definitely makes things difficult,” Alistair concluded.

 

“That woman is not happy with your warrior, beauteous Pocket Goddess,” Zevran commented as the angry templar took her men and departed. “I would be sure to watch your back and that of the handsome Alistair, if I were you.”

 

“Nobody is going to hurt my Ali,” Jannasilane swore. “She won’t give up, will she?” she asked rhetorically.

 

Zevran snorted, “Fanatics rarely do, in my experience. Unfortunately, she seems to be of that persuasion. A shame really, she would be quite attractive otherwise. Perhaps she has a tendresse for the lanky, attractive mage and he made the mistake of encouraging her so he could use her.”

 

“He does like to flirt,” she recalled some of his comments and mannerisms. “He reminds me of you in some ways.”

 

“Then he is truly of sterling character and the Warden-Commander did well to recruit him,” the Antivan jested. “And you have Oghren with you again. Another warrior skilled in fighting darkspawn is good though you may wish to make sure he remains downwind of everybody else.”

 

Blake and Alistair joined them. “We have to go now, take care of yourself, Package,” Blake leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead. He signaled his troops and they were off.

 

Alistair and Jannasilane watched them until the last man passed and then they entered the Keep together.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 81:  A Troubling Situation

Mhairi was upset but she tried not to show her feelings. The Warden-Commander refused to put her through the Joining yet the apostate and that oaf, Oghren, were going to Join first thing in the morning. “It’s not fair. The Warden-Commander says I’m one of the best soldiers he’s seen, which is why he wants me to work with Captain Garevel to build up the guard and the ranks of the Arl’s army. I understand his reasoning but . . . it’s not fair.” She was a good soldier so she strolled the perimeter, becoming more puzzled as she did so. There were no signs that the darkspawn invaded from outside the Vigil. “So where did they come from?”

 

Jannasilane directed the cleanup inside. “I am glad that it is the soldier’s section only which received the darkspawn’s attentions. I am getting weary of cleaning up castles.”

 

“Pardon?” Mhairi wasn’t sure she heard correctly.

 

The smaller woman turned around, “Howe left Highever a mess.” She didn’t elaborate further but thought the knight understood judging by her moue of distaste. She studied the warrior, wondering what she was thinking. She knew Mhairi was not going to undergo the Joining as she hoped. “Did you notice anything while you were outside? My Ali will welcome any observations you have; he is most impressed with your abilities.” Mhairi stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything about her disappointment. Jannasilane approved of her restraint.

 

 “We’ll need to look again during the day but I did not see any signs of the walls being breached. Your friend, Oghren, is still by the burning darkspawn corpses. He says he wants to make sure every bit gets burnt to a crisp so there’s no chance of contamination,” Mhairi looked a bit sick.

 

“He can also drink without any bothering him,” Jannasilane remarked with a twinkle in her eyes. “Oghren is one of the best fighters of darkspawn you will meet but his style is unusual. Do not let yourself get drawn into a drinking contest with him; my Ali learned that the hard way.” She shook her head at the memory. “I believe the Commander is conferring with Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel in the study if you wish to share your observations,” She turned back to the cleaning operation when Mhairi left. “I wish I had some lemonweed,” she muttered. She was tired, as was everybody else, but the mess would be much harder to clean if left to the next day.

 

Alistair, Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel were alone in what would become the Warden-Commander’s office. A large and detailed map of the Arling was spread across the desk, “His Majesty can’t actually send us troops, which is probably just as well, but he is going to arrange for any training exercises to be conducted on the main roads between Denerim and a few miles shy of Vigil’s Keep. One group of his soldiers will escort the seven Warden candidates currently in the city. Though maybe I should start calling them cousins, since they’ve all sworn oaths to serve the Grey Wardens but won’t go through the Joining yet,” he explained.

 

“That will certainly help. We were already spread thin and we lost a number of men in tonight’s attack.” At Alistair’s direction Captain Garevel began placing map pins: red where darkspawn were sighted, yellow where his men patrolled and blue where the Orlesian Wardens investigated.

 

“There is one Grey Warden who was not here. Kristoff was investigating some rumors and might still be in Amaranthine,” Seneschal Varel reminded them.

 

“Right, tomorrow morning the Joining and trying to figure out how the darkspawn got here. They certainly didn’t fall out of the sky. Then I suppose a quick trip to Amaranthine is in order,” Alistair rubbed his temple, trying to balance everything that needed to be done. “Captain, if you can recall the order of the darkspawn sightings that might reveal a pattern.”

 

“Yes, Commander. While you’re in Amaranthine you might want to look up a couple of hunters who claim to know about a darkspawn nest; Colbert and . . . I don’t remember the other one’s name. They’ll probably be among the refugees outside the city walls. It may just be a hunter’s tale-”

 

“But we don’t want to discount any leads,” Alistair sighed. “If I’m going to Amaranthine anyway it’s not as if I’ll be wasting my time. Any idea where I might find this Kristoff?”

 

“Amaranthine only has so many taverns and inns; the most likely ones to find him are between the market and the Chantry,” Varel offered. “Also, Mistress Woolsey needs to speak to you. The First sent her here to be your treasurer. Shall I arrange that for right after the Joining? We also need to set a time for the banns to swear their oaths of loyalty to you; you shouldn’t delay that for too long. Perhaps we should move this map to the adjacent room so we don’t disturb you when you’re in your office. That door behind you leads directly to your private quarters and can be locked on either side.”

 

“Zev, our friend has a few problems,” Blake commented to his lover. To his men’s dismay he was leading his troops, saying that since he was the only one who could sense the darkspawn in an area still suffering from attacks it was a necessary defensive measure. Zevran was the only who knew it gave his Warden a little bit of freedom and them the space to talk privately. Nobody denied that the Antivan was the best guard against other dangers.

 

Zevran kept his sharp eyes on the surrounding darkness, “You mean other than suddenly having no experienced Grey Wardens in the new Warden stronghold, talking darkspawn, and darkspawn seemingly intent on kidnapping him? It is not the welcome our handsome warrior was expecting, I am sure,” he replied wryly. “Is this why you chose not to tell him that most of the trouble in the Bannorn you spoke of is in his Arling?”

 

“If it’s just general discontent because of the darkspawn attacks or the presence of Orlesians, well, he’ll know soon enough. He’s more clever and intelligent than the man he pretended to be when I met him. If not . . .”

 

“If not you need to provide him with specific information instead of speculation, which is where my fine, handsome and devious self comes in,” Zevran smiled wickedly.

 

Blake’s eyes heated, “Very fine, very handsome and wonderfully devious self, yes. The crown can’t afford to be seen coddling or interfering with the new Arl. The Arling has to see Alistair standing on his own. You and I know he’s capable but he’ll have to prove it to everybody else, which is one reason I didn’t ask you to remain behind to help at the Vigil as we discussed earlier. I want you to leave and discreetly enter Amaranthine on your own. Find out what people are saying; if there are people acting against him go to Vigil’s Keep, if none I’ll see you back in Denerim. For now I’ll continue on to West Hill.”

 

The elf sighed deeply, “Alas, the work you make me do, Your Majesty. I will be sure to ask for appropriate compensation.”

 

“I’ll be sure to think of something,” Blake growled.

 

Alistair was tired. Mhairi’s report confirmed his suspicions that the darkspawn didn’t gain entry through the front gates. The Wardens would surely have sensed them. Mistress Woolsey didn’t wait for morning and waylaid him to talk about the state of the treasury, to Varel’s annoyance. “Something else to do when I’m in Amaranthine, talk to that merchant. Maker, what a night.” The door from his office opened onto a narrow stairway that he followed to an opulent bedroom. “At least the bed is big enough. Howe didn’t deny himself any luxuries here . . . or maybe this is his wife’s doing. I wonder where Janna is.” He opened one door and saw a large bathing chamber, another door connected to another bedroom, and the third opened onto the hallway and more rooms. The door at the other end had a lock so he assumed these were all part of his private quarters. “At least the Vigil is big enough. Varel said it’s been here for a thousand years or more. If I remember my history correctly that means it was probably built by the Alamarri, the Avvars I think.”

 

He finally found Jannasilane. She and the remaining servants were just finishing the cleanup. “You’ve done a terrific job cleaning up after the darkspawn. I want to thank you all for your efforts,” he smiled when they all looked up. “I know you must be eager to get to bed so I won’t keep you with formal introductions.” To the accompaniment of tired smiles and mumbled thanks he held out his hand, “Come, my love.”

 

“You look tired, my Ali,” Jannasilane said softly as she took his hand.

 

“Tired? I am a manly Warden, we don’t get ‘tired,’” he jested.

 

She snorted, “Since I am neither manly nor a Warden you can carry me.” She jumped into his arms.

 

Alistair pretended to stagger, “Oof, I suppose I can manage this great feat. It will surely be one of the most difficult things I have done.”

 

“I hate you,” she glared at him.

 

“Nonsense,” he answered with a grin and walked away with her still in his arms. “You adore me almost as much as I adore you.” He pretended to drop her, “Hmmm, I think you’ve put on a pound or two.”

 

The last thing the servants heard was his “ouch!” after she twisted his ear. They looked at each other. One of them started to chuckle and then another. Soon they were all laughing. Some of it may have had an edge of hysteria but it felt good nonetheless. 

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 82:  Howe About That

Alistair shook his head in wonder, “Oghren survived the Joining better than any I’ve seen. It must be all those years of drinking whatever he drinks; he even smacked his lips and said ‘not bad.’”

 

“Remember, he accepted Teagan’s challenge to drink a barrelful of pickle juice,” Jannasilane giggled.

 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Time to put on my stern Commander face and see this prisoner they caught before the attack,” Alistair quipped and then sighed. They entered the small jail and Alistair dismissed the guard so he could talk to the prisoner. The man inside was a few years older, sullen and dark. He glared at Alistair and Alistair felt a strange sense of recognition but he knew he’d never met him before. Certainly, the man couldn’t have any reason to hate him.

 

Jannasilane didn’t like the way the prisoner was staring at her Ali but she kept quiet and watched. "If it isn't the great hero, my father's murderer. Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

 

Alistair raised an eyebrow but only said mildly, “Only during the third week of the month if it’s not snowing. Unfortunately for you we have some time to go yet. I’ve killed a lot of darkspawn but I suppose that’s not who you mean.”

 

The veins in the prisoner’s neck started to pulse. “My name is Nathaniel Howe, my father was Arl Renden Howe and the Grey Wardens killed him.”

 

“What do you know of your father’s actions?” Alistair demanded.

 

Nathaniel hesitated but finally answered, “Not a lot. He was Loghain’s ally and the Wardens killed him in his own home. I’ve been in the Free Marches for the past few years. I just came back to Ferelden and made my way straight to Amaranthine and the news that my family’s estate now belonged to the Wardens,” he sneered. He breathed deeply and exhaled wearily, “Look, I know you're a hero. You fought a war and you won. But what my father did shouldn't harm my entire family. I planned to . . . when they found me I wasn’t stealing; I decided to get a few things that belonged to my family.” He studied the blond warrior watching him. The Commander was younger than he expected and obviously, the rumors he was Maric’s bastard were true. Now that he’d confronted one of the Wardens, he felt calmer and only mildly curious about Alistair’s decision. Even so, he wasn’t prepared for the Commander's response.

 

“If I let you go what would you do?”

 

The Commander’s words echoed in Nathaniel’s mind. He jutted his chin forward and snarled, “I came here to kill you. If you let me go, you might not catch me next time."

 

Alistair called to the guard, “I’ve made my decision.”

 

“I’ll get the Seneschal, he’ll want to know.” The guard left and the two men stared at each other.

 

When Varel arrived Alistair spoke, “Did you know this is Nathaniel Howe?” He kept his eyes on Howe while Varel spoke about long memories and grudges. “Give him his things and let him go.”

 

“Commander, I must protest!”

 

“You’re letting me go?”

 

Jannasilane was amused by the Seneschal’s and prisoner’s matching expressions of incredulity. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with Alistair’s decision but it was his to make. Nathaniel was angry, bitter, and a little bit lost but she didn’t sense any deceit or malice; which didn’t mean he wasn’t possibly still a danger to her Ali so she kept her eyes on him.

 

Nathaniel briefly stopped to glare at her, “Does your pet mouse ever speak?” The guards hustled him away before she could answer.

 

“Shall I bring him back and beat him up for you, Jannalove?” Alistair asked once they were alone.

 

She scowled at him, “Why did you let him go, my Ali? I worry that his anger may build again and cause him to lash out at you.”

 

“He’s not his father, my love. Blake never liked Renden Howe but he and Fergus were both friends with Nathaniel. I’m hoping he’ll take the opportunity to find out the truth. I owe it to Blake to give his friend a chance,” he explained. “And I hope neither Blake nor Fergus are so mad at his father that . . . well, it’s done now.” He ran his hands over her arms, “I love you. Thank you for not saying anything, my little pet mouse.” He laughed when she growled at him, “Come on, while Anders is still sleeping let’s see if we can figure out where the darkspawn came from.”

 

The day promised to be clear but the sun proved that the walls weren’t breached from the outside. “Damn,” Alistair kicked a stone, “I was really hoping to find something out here. Since they can’t fly the darkspawn must have come from underneath. Let’s hope we don’t have to evacuate the place.” The Vigil’s courtyard was bustling with activity when they entered. An unfamiliar dwarf was scowling at the walls and shaking his head. He looked up and hailed Alistair, “Greetings, Commander.”

 

After a brief word Jannasilane left to check on the different buildings where the soldiers lived and Alistair strolled over to the dwarf. “Hi and welcome to Vigil’s Keep; I don’t think we’ve met, you’re not from Orzammar are you? You don’t have the same air as many of the new-to-the-surface dwarves I’ve seen.”

 

“Voldrik Glavonak is my name. King Harrowmont remembers those who helped him and thought you could use my services and that of my brother Dworkin. You’re quite observant; we left Orzammar years ago. My brother is an inventor or technician of sorts and I’m a master stonemason. Commander, these walls are in terrible condition. Your Seneschal gave me a piece of paper authorizing some money for men but it’s not enough. If you want Vigil’s Keep to be practically impregnable I need properly skilled men, not the mere laborers I can hire with this,” Voldrik explained.

 

“First I need to find out how the darkspawn got in, any ideas?” Alistair asked resignedly. This was turning out to be a long day and he hadn’t had a full breakfast yet.

 

Voldrik answered, “I’ve been thinking about that. I’d check the cellars. This place is old, old enough to have sections built over that the darkspawn may have exploited. Maybe even a connection to the Deep Roads.”

 

“Wonderful,” Alistair muttered. He nodded to Voldrik, “I’ll check it out, thanks.” He heard familiar voices at the smithy and was glad he was wearing his green dragonbone armor. Wade was complaining about the cold and Herren was remonstrating with him, “It’s like being in Denerim again. I’m happy to see you but what are you doing here?”

 

“Freezing,” Wade sniffed. Herren explained they heard about the troubles and thought they could help. He also admitted the Crown paid them a good sum to be here.

 

“My men will need good armor,” Alistair said thoughtfully.

 

“Though they will never look as sexy as my Ali does in the dragon armor you made for him,” Jannasilane said mischievously as she joined them.

 

“The Commander doesn’t need my armor to accomplish that, though it certainly accentuates the positive,” Wade gushed. Then he bristled, “however the materials I have to work with are primitive, primitive I tell you. You might as well use stone clubs.”

 

Alistair blushed, “Maker’s breath.”

 

“I apologize,” the long-suffering Herren said, “but Master Wade does have a point. If you find any decent ore we could do much better for you.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Alistair smiled and walked away. He looked down at Jannasilane, “I feel like he’s watching me, is he watching me? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

 

Jannasilane snickered and then sobered up, “None of the soldier’s quarters show signs of infestation or disturbance, except from fighting on the outside.”

 

“Voldrik thinks we should check out the cellars; that they may have found and exploited a weakness. There’s only a couple more buildings out here to check and then we’ll have to examine the main building. Maker, I hope they didn’t come from under our own beds,” he pretended to shudder. “We’ll head to Amaranthine as soon as we finish.”

 

“A lot of scared people in Amaranthine,” Oghren observed. “And we’re doing all sorts of errands again, just like before the Archdemon.”

 

Alistair shrugged, “It won’t hurt to build up some good will, and we need money quickly for repairs and so on. We can’t wait until the noble’s tithes come in for the Wardens and I doubt there’s going to be a fast influx of money to the Arling from the banns while darkspawn are ravaging the area. I admit it’s not exactly the way I wanted to explore the lands.”

 

“You mean the great Hero delivered letters and ran errands all over Ferelden?” Anders smirked. He was still annoyed that he’d escaped one templar’s grasp only to be in the hands of another.

 

“My wardens fought in the Provings, cleared out bandits, ended the werewolves’ curse, fought undead and demons,” she took a breath to continue but Anders stopped her.

 

“You win, Poppet, you win.” He smiled winningly, “Perhaps you can tell me about your adventures in detail. If we’re lucky the darkspawn didn’t destroy the wine cellar. How many men fell at your feet, a victim of your many charms?” Anders could feel Alistair glaring at him and knew his flirtation was successfully annoying him. “Not that I wouldn’t mind showing her certain playful advantages a mage has over non-mages,” he admitted to himself. “It’s been awhile since I could just have fun with a woman without looking over my shoulder.”

 

“I hope Nugflutter can help that poor mabari,” she ignored his overtures just as she ignored Zevran’s.

 

“Your dog’s name is bigger than he is. Where on Thedas did you find such a bossy little creature?” Anders shook his head. He could still picture the little dog arriving with the cart from Denerim and, after a quick word from its mistress, running into the dungeon only to come out again a short time later ordering the large dog into the sunshine.

 

“Just like its owner,” Oghren belched.

 

Jannasilane smiled up at Alistair, “My Ali gave him to me.”

 

Anders snorted, “That must have been some argument to qualify for such a makeup gift. Wouldn’t flowers have done?” He quickly realized he touched a nerve. Alistair brushed his hand over hair in comfort while she leaned into him. He didn’t need Oghren’s elbow and when he would have huffed he stopped at the look of sadness in the dwarf’s eyes. Quickly he changed the subject, “I wonder how the mighty Nugflutter would fare against a cat. He’s smaller than the cat in the Circle tower, Mr. Wiggums. I was in solitary confinement for over a year because of my escape attempts and that cat was the only one who would talk to me. So to speak,” he hastily added when Oghren opened his mouth to say something.

 

The dwarf spoke anyway, “Mr. Wiggums? First, there was Leliana’s nug Schmooples, then Nugflutter and now Mr. Wiggums. You Fereldans are batty as Branka on a good day.”

 

“What happened to Mr. Wiggums?” Alistair was grateful for a different topic.

 

“Poor Mr. Wiggums, he got possessed by a rage demon. Took out three templars before he was put down, I was never so proud,” he sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear.

 

Alistair raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t have a choice, you know. I spent many, many hours washing dishes for my ‘irreverence.’ It was never my desire to be a templar and fortunately I was conscripted before I was forced to take my vows,” he replied mildly.

 

That stopped Anders in his tracks. “I know orphans and the children of mages are given to the Chantry. I just assumed they became Sisters and Brothers even if they never took vows.”

 

“Travel with the Wardens and learn something new,” Alistair retorted. He smiled to hear Oghren snickering behind him. “I think you’ll find that Grey Wardens appreciate all the talents a mage can offer. Maybe you didn’t choose to be a Warden but you’ll have a lot more freedom than you ever did hiding from templars.” The mage looked doubtful but didn’t say anything.

 

The rogue watched them approach from a small group of abandoned houses near the Vigil. When they would have passed by he stepped out from the shadows, “Stop! You let me go and I want to know why.”

 

He ignored the comments from the other two men but didn’t notice Jannasilane until it was too late. Fast as anything he’d ever seen she tackled him to the ground and had one of her blades at his throat before he even finished speaking, “You will not harm my Ali.”

 

“Ah, Mouse squeaks at last,” he couldn’t resist taunting her and was rewarded with a low growl from her and a quick grin from the Commander. He looked directly into her swirling eyes and was momentarily distracted. He blinked and kept his attention on her, “I have no desire, wish, inclination or mission to hurt your Commander. Whatever my father did, I was not a part of it. You have my personal oath, if that carries any weight with you.” He shifted his gaze to Alistair, “Why did you let me go? You could have executed me.” He felt the force of four pairs of staring eyes but didn’t move.

 

“Jannalove,” Alistair said quietly. She looked at him and Nathaniel could have sworn he could see the unspoken communication between them. He envied that connection to another. The moment she relaxed the big blond helped her to her feet. Softly he brushed her hair back from her face, “It will be alright, my love.” He batted his eyelashes at her, “My hero.” She crossed her arms and tried to scowl but found it hard. Alistair looked at the bemused rogue on the ground. He held out his hand and waited for Howe to take it, “You’re not your father. What you do, how others judge you, that’s up to you now.”

 

“Make me a Warden.”

 

Alistair studied him carefully. This was no eager youth with hero worship in his eyes. Here was a man a few years older who wasn’t satisfied to live a soft life, as evidenced by his scars and muscles. Grey eyes still held traces of anger and wariness but not the bile of his late father. He made his decision, “We’ll see how you do in the Joining.” Oghren snorted and made some comment about Zevran and Anders just shook his head.

 

Nathaniel trailed silently behind them the rest of the way to the Vigil. 

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 83:  Fealty and Treachery

A slender figure prowled the shadows of Vigil’s Keep. Tonight the Banns were to swear their fealty to the new Warden-Commander but some of them would speak falsely. The prowler smiled cynically to himself; Maric’s bastard had much to prove to these nobles and some were determined he not have the chance. The City of Amaranthine abounded with rumors of discontent about the Grey Warden’s control of the Arling and Vigil’s Keep. Somebody was stirring a large pot of nastiness.

 

He heard a low moan and retreating footsteps. “A servant’s tryst, perhaps,” he raised an eyebrow. “But those do not sound like the footsteps of an embarrassed interloper.” He tracked down where he thought the moan came from and opened a door. A small woman wearing a blue and silver gown was lying on the floor. “Braska!” Zevran snarled quietly and moved to her side. He examined her head with a soft touch. She had a large bump on her skull from contact with something but no bleeding he could find. Carefully he picked her up, “Come, my Pocket Goddess. Let Papa Zev get you safely to your room and then you can tell me what occurred to your beauteous self.”

 

“Mistress!” “My lady . . .” Two servants carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres stared at him with buggy eyes. One of them dropped her tray and turned to fetch a guard while the other advanced upon the elf, forgetting he had no weapons with him.

 

“I’ll stay with ‘im,” the male servant declared. “Get the healer, but be discreet, mind you. On your way find one of the guards and send ‘em along. I’ll keep an eye on this one to make sure he don’t do no funny business.” He glared at Zevran, “And if you’re the one what hurt her you may not last long enough for the Commander to get his hands on you.”

 

Zevran appreciated the sentiment, “I expect no less but I am most fond of Pocket Goddess, I promise you this. One thing perplexes me, the ceremony is well under way yet she was nearer the kitchens than the throne room.”

 

Benny snorted even as he opened the door to the family quarters. Nugflutter and Poorfella, the mabari found in the cellars, greeted them. The mabari growled at the Antivan until the little dog barked acceptance. Gently Zevran laid Jannasilane on the bed and scooped up the small bundle of fur to sit by his mistress.

 

“Zev?” she moaned and tried to sit up. She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes against the pain.

 

The elf stroked her hair soothingly, “You have a nasty bump on your head, bellissima. Anders is on his way and you shall feel better in no time. What were you doing there instead of at your handsome warrior’s side?”

 

Jannasilane flushed. She looked from him to Benny before finally admitting, “I made a wrong turn.”

 

“My lady does that quite a bit. She still doesn’t have her head wrapped ‘round the Vigil’s layout, bless her. Seeing as she knows you I’ll take my leave and ask cook to send up a pot o’ tea to calm her nerves, like. That healer fella will be here soon,” he stepped out, relieved that she would be okay. The staff were all quite fond of the little mistress and happy to have a fair and good-humored Arl for a change.

 

Anders finished examining her head and doublechecked for other injuries. She moved her fingers restlessly across the cover. “I’m afraid,” she finally admitted. “I, I don’t know what happened after I was hit on the head. What if -” Both men shook their heads.

 

“Your clothing was not so disarranged,” Zevran assured her.

 

“And I would have detected something,” Anders spoke as soothingly as he knew how. After his accidental faux pas when they were returning from Amaranthine Oghren quietly informed him about her stay in Fort Drakon. Rape was not uncommon in the Circle but the level of brutality she suffered went beyond anything he knew.

 

Zevran held her hand, “So, tell me what you do remember, oh Pocket Goddess. Truly it is a crime of the first magnitude for any to so treat the most magnificent bosom in Thedas.” Anders snickered his agreement and Jannasilane huffed.

 

“My Ali had to go down but I wanted to examine my appearance once again. This is a most important occasion and I do not wish to shame him,” she replied earnestly. Zevran tsked at her doubts but didn’t comment further. “I told him to go and that I would join with him soon,” she blushed, remembering the kiss he gave her before he left. Zevran and Anders grinned knowingly. The Commander made no secret of the passion he felt for the small curvy woman. “Once I was satisfied I left, but as you know I made a wrong turn. I heard voices and started in that direction. I did not know if they were guests or servants,” she tilted her head thoughtfully. “I had no reason to be sneaky like some assassins I know.” Zevran just grinned at her and kissed her fingers. “When I got closer I could make out some of their words. They do not like my Ali and I think they are plotting against him. I tried to hear more. There was movement behind me but I was hit on the head before I could turn around. That is the last thing I remember.”

 

Anders shook his head, “He killed the Archdemon, you’d think they’d give him a chance to screw things up before plotting against him.”

 

Zevran snorted, “Many nobles have extremely short memories, my magical friend. I have gathered that some were closely involved with the late and mostly unlamented Renden Howe. I suggest you return and quietly mingle, keep your ears and eyes open. I will help Pocket Goddess repair her delectable appearance and make sure she gets to the throne room without further incident.” He looked sternly at his young friend, “You must go. Alistair will not wait much longer and the nobles may not forgive his abandoning the ceremony of loyalty. I doubt your attackers remain but if they do your appearance may lull them into thinking you do not remember and cannot identify them.”

 

The mage left them and Zevran helped her off the bed. They were both pleased that she could stand on her own two feet without any assitance. Expertly he helped her with her hair and makeup. “I think you are even better than Leliana,” she teased.

 

“I have disguised myself as a woman on more than occasion. I admit I was quite fetching,” he teased. Then he sobered, “My dear Pocket Goddess, I have been in Amaranthine investigating at the behest of our mutual friend. The darkspawn activity only accounts for a small portion of the dissatisfied. Someone, more likely several someones, is actively working against the Grey Wardens’ success in Amaranthine. I used the fealty ceremony to enter the Vigil so I could learn more about your guests and later warn you and Alistair. I will stay the night and test your security but I must return to the city tomorrow. The ‘Dark Wolf’ will contact you when I have more information.”

 

Jannasilane smiled at that. “Before you go, talk to our latest recruit. Nathaniel Howe might know who is more likely to resent my Ali and the Grey Wardens.” Whatever Zevran thought about that revelation he kept to himself.

 

“There she is,” Alistair’s eyes glowed warmly when he saw her enter. “Lord Eddelbrek, this lovely lady is Jannasilane Alenahaella. Janna, my love, Lord Eddelbrek owns many of the farms in Amaranthine.”

 

“Good evening, my lord. I grew up on a small farm in southern Ferelden,” she smiled at him.

 

“A pleasure, my lady,” the older gentleman bowed gallantly. “One of your Wardens informed us that you were seeing to the welfare of an injured servant and that is why you were delayed. Most commendable; I wish more were so inclined. If you don’t mind an old man saying so, it is a breath of fresh air to have a young and attractive Arl and Arlessa. But I shouldn’t monopolize all your time,” he politely took his leave.

 

Before introducing her to anyone else Alistair spoke to her quietly, “I was getting worried. I’m glad you’re here. Lord Eddelbrek is concerned about his farmers. They are particularly vulnerable and he’s asked me to reassign the soldiers from the city so they have more protection. Bann Esmerelle is the Bann for the City of Amaranthine. I don’t need to tell you she’s against that action. I’ll introduce you.” He walked over to where the Bann in question was talking to some of the other nobles, “Janna, I’d like you to meet Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine.”

 

Jannasilane didn’t trust her, “She wears much deceit. Whether she conspires against my Ali I do not know but she does not like him, her simpering words to the contrary.” She was much better at hiding her feelings than she used to be and used that skill now as she listened to the pinched-face Bann extolling the beauty and culture of Amaranthine. “Much of the city was built by the Orlesians, was it not? I noticed the architecture is not as severe as in other parts of Ferelden. A friend of mine tried to describe how beautiful the Chantry is in Val Royeaux. I think I can better picture it now I have seen Amaranthine. I look forward to seeing more of it in time. It is most fortunate that Fereldan practicality did not see fit to tear down such a reminder of the occupation. You must be most pleased.”

 

Bann Esmerelle’s nostrils flared but she maintained a pleasant façade in spite of the little upstart’s words. She couldn’t tell if the undersized woman was being deliberately provocative or was too naïve to understand the insult implied in her statement. She smiled thinly, “Then perhaps you can explain to our new Arl how important it is to protect our fair city.”

 

“I’ll take your concerns under advisement and post the guards where it will do the most good for the Arling. If you’ll excuse me I want Janna to meet some of the other nobles still here,” Alistair replied.

 

The strain of trying to recognize the voices she heard before she was attacked began to tell on Jannasilane. Alistair could tell she was tired and, since they’d met everybody in the room, indicated to Varel that it was time to shut things down. Anders took him aside to tell him of her injuries. The transition from genial giant to ice cold fury was swift and made the mage glad the templar wasn’t angry with him. “Varel,” Alistair barked through gritted teeth, “I want you, Captain Garevel and Ser Mhairi in my office now. Anders, get Oghren and Nathaniel.” He looked down at Jannasilane, “I know you’re tired, my love, but I want them to hear what happened first hand from you. Thank the Maker you weren’t more seriously hurt.”

 

Alistair stared out the window at the night sky to calm himself, “I guess I don’t need Ser Tamra’s papers to know the conspiracy is real. They attack Janna and conspire under my own roof, thumbing their collective noses at me. Bastards!” Varel’s discreet cough interrupted his angry musings, he turned around and saw they were all present. “I was warned tonight there is a conspiracy against me. I hoped to wait for more details or confirmation before saying anything but I don’t need to. Jannalove, tell them what happened earlier.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Nobody doubted he was very angry.

 

“They are either bold or stupid to attack Mouse in her own hole,” Nathaniel was the first to speak. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the little woman but he didn’t like the idea of anybody being attacked in their own home; it reminded him uncomfortably of his father’s attack against the Couslands.

 

“It sounds like a defensive measure to allow them to get away without being seen rather than a planned campaign,” the seneschal observed. “Many of the nobles in Amaranthine were not privy to and would not have approved of Howe’s actions but a few suffered significant losses, both in material goods and power, with his and Loghain’s defeat. Some of them are just as capable of holding a grudge.”

 

Mhairi was aghast; she and Captain Garevel had been making sure the guests could arrive and depart safely they hadn’t thought it necessary to patrol inside the Vigil. Garevel was equally troubled. As a result of what he saw as their negligence the Hero’s lady was hurt by those seeking to oust him. “I’m sorry Commander, we had a guard posted to prevent trespass into your private quarters; many brought their own servants with them. We thought it best to keep watch outside,” Garevel was troubled.

 

“Before tonight I would have agreed with you,” Alistair conceded. “We are stretched rather thin at the moment.”

 

Zevran entered the room, “You will be most pleased, oh handsome and sexy templar, that none of the servants were involved. In fact they are quite outraged that any would dare lift a finger against the ‘little mistress.’ However they were too busy to observe the comings and goings of others. It would have been quite easy for your guests or those with them to slip away undetected.”

 

“Nathaniel, I know you haven’t been here for a long time but you and Varel know your father’s friends and enemies best. I want you to work together and combine what knowledge you have to identify those most likely to be upset that he’s been replaced.” Young Howe’s nostrils flared at the reminder but he nodded his acquiescense and they left to begin working. Alistair turned to his old friend, “Zevran, how long will you be here?”

 

“Alas, I must leave tomorrow, stalwart warrior,” Zevran smiled lazily. “I would be most happy to point out the weaknesses in your security before I go.”

 

“You always do,” Alistair muttered. Then he spoke up, “I’d appreciate that, Zev. Why don’t you take Ser Mhairi and Captain Garevel with you now to discuss your observations. They’ll need to know.”

 

“I knew you liked me. I shall most enjoy working with two such attractive soldiers,” the Antivan purred. Garevel looked even more uncomfortable when he added, “I always find lovely men and women in uniform to be almost irresistable. Shall we climb your ramparts?”

 

Oghren belched, “Wonder which of ‘em will end up in the elf’s bed. Commander, I don’t like that somebody smashed Cherryplum’s head. I wanna help find the sodding nughumpers and I won’t take no for an answer from some pike-twirler even if you are my boss.” He tilted his chin belligerently, his beard practically quivering in anger.

 

Alistair grinned for the first time in hours, “I wouldn’t dream of it my friend. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy your job. I want you to drink with the men, pick up any gossip. I don’t think they were working with the conspirators but they may have seen or heard something without realizing its importance. When we’re in Amaranthine I want you to visit the taverns. Drink and listen, people underestimate you when they think you’re in your cups. They don’t know your capacity.”

 

“Ha! I can do that. What a great job, being paid to kill darkspawn and to drink.” His expression softened when he looked at Jannasilane, “Glad you’re okay, Cherryplum.” He wandered off to find some drinking buddies.

 

Finally Alistair sat down behind his desk and pulled Jannasilane into his lap. He hugged her and buried his face in her hair for a moment before looking up to see Anders quietly making his way to the door, “Sit down, Anders.” While the mage sat down on the other side of the desk Alistair opened the bottom drawer and pulled out some brandy and glasses. He poured for each of them and pushed the fullest towards the lanky blond. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

 

Surprised by the gesture Anders took a sip before responding, “I’m a healer, Commander. You don’t need to thank me for doing what I do.”

 

“Maybe not,” Alistair shrugged. “I wanted to say it anyway. And I have a favor to ask, you can say no if you don’t want to,” he hastily added when the mage frowned. “Would you spend the night in the room next to us?” both Anders and Jannasilane looked at him in surprise. “I know he healed you, my love,” tenderly he traced her cheekbone, “but I’ll feel better if he’s close by. Getting hit on the head is a tricky thing, that’s one thing I learned traveling with Wynne all those months.”

 

Anders envied the templar in that moment. Not because, or just because, he was holding a desirable woman in his arms and was free to do so, but because they had such a strong connection and understanding. It was something he never had in the Circle, though he supposed his friendship with Karl Thekla came the closest. Alistair was unlike any templar he had ever met. The Commander had given him more than he’d ever had since being taken to the Circle. He had his own bedroom with a door he could lock against intruders and a building he could use as a clinic. He smiled, “I’ll be happy to sleep next to you tonight.”

 

“What? Sexy magic times and I am not invited? This is a travesty and must be addressed,” Zevran grinned wickedly when Alistair and Jannasilane blushed. Anders just smirked. The Commander got another glass while Jannasilane stammered and explained. He nodded his head and sighed, “I understand your concerns. I too would rest easier knowing my favorite bosom is unharmed. But should you wish to reconsider our mage friend here is most attractive with his dark brown eyes, sun-streaked hair and crooked grin; if he is amenable . . . did I ever tell you about this mage I encountered on one of my missions? She had certain little tricks,” he would have continued but Alistair cut him off.

 

“If I wanted to ask him I would do so privately, not in front of an assassin who would then tease me to death,” Alistair grumbled.

 

“You are both very attractive,” Anders drawled, “and I wouldn’t mind confirming that Poppet has the most magnificent bosom in Thedas. I have a lot of good memories involving fantastic bosoms.”

 

“Sexy times with my Ali are always magical,” Jannasilane snickered.

 

“Maker,” Alistair put his hand over her mouth before she could say anything else. “Traveling with Zevran and Blake has definitely corrupted you.” He kissed the top of her head. Zevran and Anders were looking quite pleased with themselves. “Unless you’ve made other arrangements,” he lifted an eyebrow, “help yourself to any of the other rooms in the family quarters. I suppose Mhairi and Garevel are busy plugging all the holes you found.”

 

“Perhaps not all,” the elf leered. Anders burst out laughing, the Commander and Poppet were twin flames. “But yes, I made some suggestions.” He outlined all the changes he thought should be made to tighten security. They finished their brandy in silence before retiring for what was left of the night.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 84:  Back from the Wending Wood

Alistair was beginning to think it would be a miracle if they got back to Vigil’s Keep without Velanna and Jannasilane going at each other’s throats. The love of his life didn’t say anything but she wasn’t happy with his decision to make the Dalish mage a Grey Warden. The two women took an immediate dislike to each other. “I’m not even sure I want her to survive. She has to atone for her actions and that’s with either her death or serving the Wardens. She’ll never stay as a cousin so she has to undergo the Joining. But Maker, Morrigan is all sweetness and light in comparison.”

 

“So, Commander, whaddaya think about this Architect creature?” Oghren frowned. “Sure is strange for a darkspawn; why jail us instead killing us? Not that I’m complaining about being alive,” he muttered and took a swig.

 

“He seemed to want to conduct experiments on us, didn’t he? I remember waking up briefly and I was strapped to a table. He talked to me and said he would explain later . . . I suppose I could have dreamed that part but it doesn’t feel like a dream,” Alistair mused. “I gathered up all the notes and journals I could find; hopefully they’ll give us more information. At least the merchants don’t need to worry anymore and Mistress Woolsey should be glad we got a trader to come to the Keep. I’ll tell you one thing; I’m not sure all the darkspawn attacks are from him.”

 

“Huh, maybe the others are just normal ones,” the dwarf did not sound convinced. Alistair just shrugged.

 

“You’re just prejudiced against the Dalish,” Velanna was arguing, or taunting, Jannasilane.

 

Jannasilane sneered, “No. I do not like small-minded, petty, vindictive and selfish people. I have met Dalish before and they were observant and intelligent.  You act like a . . . a shem.”

 

“Take that back!” Velanna screeched.

 

Jannasilane just walked away, tired of the woman and annoyed with herself for bothering to argue with her. She ended up alongside Nathaniel Howe, his silence a welcome balm after the irritable elf.

 

Nathaniel looked down at her in surprise; he knew she didn’t fully trust him yet because of what he said about killing Alistair. In fact, he suspected one reason she didn’t like the pretty, blonde elf was that she attacked the Commander. He’d come to respect her and Alistair over the last several days. The Warden-Commander had a difficult task but he never forgot to be kind when he could, such as promising to help him find his sister when they were in Amaranthine and offering a sympathetic ear when he found out about Adria. There was certainly no doubt that the staff adored her; he couldn’t remember ever hearing friendly banter and laughter in the halls of his father. “How old are you?” he asked abruptly.

 

She blinked, startled, “I am eighteen as of two months ago. Why do you ask?”

 

“I did not realize she is so very young. At that age I was arguing with my father about squiring me out of Ferelden, teasing Delilah and doing my share of carousing with Fergus. That was such a long time ago,” he thought wistfully. He shrugged, “I was wondering where you got your skills fighting dragons. They weren’t the largest dragons but there were two of them controlled by the Architect.”

 

“That reminds me, Commander, can we expect to see dragons working with the darkspawn?” Anders was worried.

 

Alistair smiled ruefully, “Not as a rule but I’m not sure how much of what we’re going to encounter is by the proverbial book. We encountered more than one dragon before the Archdemon but the only ones in thrall to an emissary were at or near Fort Drakon. I think it must take intelligence and a great deal of willpower to hold a dragon; the Archdemon can share that or at least give the smarter ones enough focus.”

 

“Then it is good we have an excellent fighter of dragons with us but I repeat, where do you come by your skills, Mouse? Ferelden certainly doesn’t have a long history of hunting dragons and you are definitely not from Nevarra.”

 

She shrugged, “I do not know, this is truth. The first time we met a high dragon I just knew that I was meant to fight the beast. Fighting dragons is most exciting and for some reason makes me feel powerful and sexy.”

 

Anders smiled lazily, “You always look powerful and sexy to me, Poppet.”

 

“You got that right, Sparklefingers,” Oghren leered.

 

Velanna was impressed but determined not to show it, “The first time you encountered a high dragon? Just how many high dragons did you meet?” she asked skeptically.

 

“Three,” Alistair answered. “Though technically speaking I don’t know if you can count two of them. One was the Archdemon and the other was . . . something else.”

 

“You’re talking about Flemeth, the old witch in the Korcari Wilds, aren’t ya?” Oghren grunted. “Zevran said she was a powerful something, that’s for sure. Sorry I missed it,” he belched.

 

“My clan knows of the Witch of the Wilds; we call her Asha'belannar, the woman of many years,” Velanna said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if they’ve heard of this Flemeth.”

 

“I think they’re the same,” Alistair was glad the elf wasn’t raging against humans and generally acting like a viper towards the rest of them. “According to Morrigan she’s lived for centuries.”

 

The Dalish frowned, “You are lucky to be alive. The tales of people who encountered her do not end well . . . for them.”

 

“Apparently she had her reasons,” Alistair said darkly.

 

“She thought my Ali was too pretty,” Jannasilane’s smile was pure innocence but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

 

Alistair visibly shuddered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

“Do not worry, my Ali, I shall protect you.”

 

He scowled at her before picking her up and spinning around with her over his shoulder, “But who’s going to protect me from you, miserable minx.” Her screams mixed with laughter until he finally stopped. He slid her down so they were face to face. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward until their lips met.

 

“Ugh, you humans and your irrepressible impulses,” Velanna complained. “Are they always like that? I thought Grey Wardens were supposed to be serious and grim, consumed by their duty.”

 

Oghren began snickering, “The stories I could tell, *bu-u-urp*, there was one night . . .” Even the prickly elf had to laugh at some of his stories, though she didn’t believe them all.

 

When they reached Vigil’s Keep Seneschal Varel cornered Alistair, “Commander, I’ve held it off as long as I could but we must convene the court. As our Arl you are the one who dispenses justice on several matters.” Alistair sighed but knew it must be done. He rather thought this would be one of the things he would like the least about his new status. At least he’d get a chance to bathe, eat and sleep first.

 

“You need to stop arguing with Velanna, my love,” Alistair told her later that night. “I agreed to help find her sister in return for her becoming a Grey Warden. It was either that or execute her for her crimes. And she understands if she doesn’t cooperate, I will do just that. ”

 

Jannasilane’s eyes flashed, “She lashed out like an angry child and people are dead. She didn’t bother to think about the evidence placed under her nose or she would have known something was not right. It was too easy to blame humans and ignore any inconsistencies. She does not even appear to be sorry.” She stopped and took a deep breath, “but if I am to be honest I am not sure that she is truthful when she claims not to care. She also attacked you when you did not leave as she commanded,” she finished angrily.

 

Alistair smiled, “You’ll keep her in line, my powerful, sexy dragon slayer. Feel better now?”

 

“One more thing,” she jumped into his arms. “If I am to protect you then I think I should stay very close to you tonight.”

 

“What a good idea,” he murmured before claiming those full lips with his. He laid her down and caressed her with his gaze while he ever so slowly undressed her. “When I saw you in Nate’s shirt it reminded me of that first night in camp after we met. You looked so adorable and so sexy in one of my old shirts I had trouble sleeping. I envied that stupid shirt because it was where I longed to be, next to your skin, holding your breasts, cupping your glorious rear.” He quickly finished disrobing and began kissing her breasts before wrapping his lips around one rosy nipple and worshipping until it was a hard peak of desire.

 

“Ali . . . oh . . . before we got together I sometimes p-pretended it was you,” she gasped.

 

Love, lust, tenderness – they were all in his gaze when he looked at her, “I love you, Jannasilane Alenahaella. You are fierce,” he traced one of her scars with his finger, “and sweet,” he lightly kissed the small freckles dotting her cheeks, “and the only woman I will ever love. Marry me,” he asked.

 

She pushed him back and gained control long enough to frame his face, “I love you, Warden-Commander Alistair Theirin, my Ali. Always,” pain and regret made her eyes dark. “You know I will not. I want, with all my heart, to be with you as long as we both draw breath but I will not make promises I cannot keep. I am sorry,” she ended on a whisper.

 

He was disappointed but not surprised; it wasn’t the first time he’d asked and she said no. He kissed her, “One day you’ll change your mind.” She could feel him smiling against her lips. “But now you’re going to have to catch me if you want to feel me inside you.”

 

She gaped when he got off the bed and stood there in all his naked glory, taunting her. She narrowed her eyes at him and then smiled a smile of pure feline wickedness. She lightly rubbed her fingers across her causing him to hiss and his manhood strain to attention, “If that is what you want my Ali. I shall hunt and ride your dragon,” she pounced.

 

He quickly moved away and the chase was on. With his long legs he could easily bound onto and across the bed. The room was filled with the sounds of taunting, cursing and laughing; so much so they didn’t hear the strident voice in the hall or the pounding of footsteps. “Commander,” the door opened at the same time Jannasilane leapt. She and Alistair crashed onto the floor of the hall.

 

“Ow,” Alistair muttered and looked up into the faces of Anders, Oghren, Nathaniel, Mhairi, Seneschal Varel and Captain Garevel. Some of them were grinning. “There better be a damn good reason for this,” he demanded. He felt somebody moving underneath him and debated letting him or her smother but his better nature took over. He stood and helped his love to her feet.

 

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Seneschal Varel spoke first, “we tried to stop her.” One good thing about working under Renden Howe was he had learned how to conceal his emotions, a talent he needed now. He was irritated with the elf, embarrassed that she intruded on their Commander in a private moment, and amused at the stupefied look on her face as she stared up at the justifiably annoyed warrior.

 

Mhairi and Garevel were trying not to look at the Commander and his lady but were finding it difficult. At a nod from Varel they quietly eased away, relieved not to be party to whatever was going to happen. Once they were out of earshot, she finally spoke, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I could use a drink.” Garevel agreed.

 

Alistair crossed his arms and refused to help the elf to her feet despite his ingrained chivalry. “Is anyone dying?” They all shook their head. “Is the Vigil under attack?” Once again, everybody shook their head. “Then what in Andraste’s name are you doing barging into my bedroom?” he thundered. Everybody looked at Velanna.

 

Velanna continued to stare at Alistair with wide eyes, “He’s so big, and naked. I thought the armor was a lot of it, I didn’t know any Shem could be so huge. And naked. And she’s naked . . . they were . . . Creators help me,” she was mortified. She had a hard time gathering her thoughts. She started to speak but could only stutter, “I, that is . . . I was . . .  and he keeps . . .”

 

Under other circumstances Alistair would have flushed from head to toe at being naked in front of all these people but he was still too angry, “In other words you have no good reason. Varel, would you escort her to her room and make sure she stays there until morning?”

 

“Certainly, Commander,” he gently took the Dalish elf by the arm.

 

She made no move to leave until Jannasilane stepped forward. She was grateful her hair was long enough to cover her private bits. Jealous at the effect her Ali had on the elf she wanted the other woman gone. She was further irritated at having to look up at her. She jabbed Velanna on the shoulder, “Go,” she hissed. “Now.” Finally, Velanna began to come to her senses and she blushed a vivid red and stumbled away with Varel.

 

Anders didn’t bother hiding his amusement or his appreciation of the well-apportioned flesh in front of him but now that the disruptance called Velanna was gone, his healing instincts came to the fore. “Commander, your head took a hard knock on the stone floor. Let me make sure you’re alright and then I’ll get out of your way.” He winked at Jannasilane.

 

Until the healer spoke the words, Alistair was too angry to feel bruised. He felt the back of his skull and winced a little at the bump forming. “Very well,” he sighed in resignation. “Wardens,” he nodded politely and shut the door.

 

“Wonder if Sparklefingers will try to seduce one of ‘em; Cherryplum is looking good enough to eat,” Oghren waggled his beard suggestively. Unfortunately, it had the effect of fanning his brand of hygiene.

 

Nathaniel coughed. He wasn’t about to enter into speculations about somebody else’s intimate activities, especially with the dwarf. He couldn’t help wondering; even he had to admit Alistair was as fine an example of masculine attractiveness as Jannasilane was of the feminine. “I wonder if Blake was able to restrain himself,” he couldn’t help thinking. “Oghren may be right about Anders; he reminds me a little of Blake. But it’s none of my business,” he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’ve never felt puny before,” Nathaniel finally remarked. “Alistair must be one of the few people who look bigger without clothes than with.” He hoped the warrior wasn’t one to hold a grudge. He didn’t know if he liked the Dalish girl but he didn’t want her to suffer unduly.

 

Oghren let out one large belch and snickered, “The Antivan told me something once. Thought for sure he was making it up but now I’m not so sure.” He regaled Howe with Zevran’s version of Alistair and Cherryplum’s experiment with dwarven ale. He even got the sullen rogue to laugh aloud, something Nathaniel hadn’t done in far too long.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 85:  Different Types of Justice

Velanna knew she wouldn’t be able to look at either Alistair or Jannasilane without blushing. She wanted to blame Oghren but she’d had all night to think. Oghren was foul smelling, uncouth, irritating, inappropriate and unhygienic. The truth, she finally admitted to herself, was that she’d really been hoping to find a way out: a way out of becoming a Grey Warden, a way out this stone fortress that made her feel closed in, a way out of the company of all these shemlen. She had one desire; find Seranni. “I panicked. That’s exactly what I did. All these shem, these soldiers . . . I find it hard to breathe in here. The flat ears aren’t any better; they actually seem to like the Warden-Commander and that, that female. Martiello is envious that he’s not to undergo this Joining ritual but he doesn’t resent the Commander for holding him back. I don’t understand. Ilshae used to tell me I was too temperamental and didn’t think before I acted. Was the Keeper right? And if she was . . .”

 

When Nathaniel came to get her for the Joining, he noticed large circles under her eyes. She didn’t seem inclined to talk so he said nothing beyond a simple, “Good morning.” He was glad she didn’t ask any questions because he knew he couldn’t tell her anything. She was so prickly she’d be bound to think any secrecy was some sort of plot against her.

 

“Velanna,” Alistair nodded.

 

His voice was so cool she almost shivered, but she couldn’t really blame him after the previous night. She blushed just as she predicted and knew she had to say something but she hated having to apologize to a shem. “Commander,” she couldn’t look him in the eye so stared into the space over his shoulder. “I apologize for my intrusion last night. I was . . . disturbed and didn’t think. It won’t happen again unless there’s a real emergency. I,” she snapped her mouth closed. “I’ve said I was sorry. I’m not going to say anymore, he can take it or leave it.”

 

“Well, that certainly won’t go down in history as the most gracious apology in the world,” Alistair snickered inwardly. Outwardly he maintained his sober expression, “Now we begin . . .” After it was over he sighed and stared at the unconscious elf. “Nathaniel, would you take her to her room and stay with her? Varel will send you some food. I need to eat breakfast and then get ready to dispense justice. Should be fun,” he left the room. Nathaniel almost smiled at the Commander’s distinctly unenthusiastic tone of voice.

 

Jannasilane agreed that, since he’d worn his dress Grey Warden armor for the fealty ceremony he should wear clothes suitable to his role as Arl for presiding over the court. “You look most commanding and in-charge as well as handsome, my Ali,” Jannasilane smiled in approval. “Those colors are most attractive on you.” She liked the dark green pants and cream shirt with a thin green vine stripe. Over it, he wore the raw gold leather tunic and sash patterned in Amaranthine colors.

 

He turned to face her, “Do I really look like somebody with the authority to make decisions? I tried to remember what Fergus told me but I feel silly.”

 

She hugged him, “You are just nervous. I know you will do just fine, my most wonderful Ali. You are fair, smart, and know right from wrong; these must surely be the most important qualities for a good judge. Captain Garevel and Seneschal Varel will be by your side to offer you any advice or explanations you require.”

 

Alistair bent to kiss her, “At least I’ll be able to look at you among the guards. If I get bored, I’ll just imagine taking that robe off you. I love how it highlights the sway of your hips.”

 

“How did I get involved with such a wicked man?” she snickered with a smile.

 

“We both got lucky,” he said and, sighing, straightened, “but now I must do my duty.”

 

The throne room was crowded when Alistair walked in flanked by Captain Garevel and Seneschal Varel. Many were farmers, peasants or merchants who hadn’t seen their new Arl before. Alistair smiled at the crowd and murmured a question, “Is it normal to have this many cases? Just how often did Howe convene court?”

 

Varel coughed slightly, “There are more cases than usual but some of these people are here to see the Hero of Ferelden, not as involved parties.” Mistress Woolsey was also watching the proceedings, though for the life of him Varel couldn’t think of a reason. She made no secret of the fact that she wasn’t sure about Alistair’s fitness to command and she definitely didn’t approve of his relationship with Jannasilane.

 

“Good thing I don’t have drool on my chin,” the Hero muttered. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

 

The Seneschal announced the first case, beginning a long and steady stream of cases interrupted only by short, scheduled breaks so Alistair could eat and review any new reports or other arling business. Varel deliberately called the simplest cases first, not to allow the Commander to get comfortable in his role but so he could get a sense of the arbiter. If he ever had to preside in Alistair’s stead, he wanted to know how the other man would most likely rule. One thing impressed him immediately; Alistair paid close attention to what every involved party had to say. Even the lowest thief whose guilt was undeniable had his full attention.  Varel called the most sensitive case last, “Commander, Lady Liza Packton -”

 

A smartly dressed woman glided forward, “I prefer to speak for myself.” She spoke softly but firmly, “The late Arl Renden Howe made certain  . . . promises to me, some of which he put down in writing. Here are his papers conferring ownership of the lands around and including the southern bridge to me.” While a guard brought the papers to Alistair for review a man came striding to the front, angrily claiming they were his lands and had been in his family for generations.

 

Alistair supposed some would find the woman attractive but he thought she looked brittle and, “smarmy,” he decided. “She looks smarmy. Obviously my Janna is not impressed with her.” He studied the documents now in his hands.

 

“Commander,” Captain Garevel urgently whispered, “Ser Derren is one of the few who wholeheartedly supported your appointment. We can’t afford to alienate him.”

 

Varel was just as adamant, “If you want the nobles on your side they need to see that you’ll be fair. The documents are legal.”

 

“They’re legal, as far as they go,” Alistair whispered back, silencing both men. “Lady Packton, it is clear that these are valuable properties. Why did Howe want to transfer them to you?”

 

She widened her eyes in feigned innocence, “His Lordship and I had many business transactions over the years. This was simply the latest one.” She was sure she won when Alistair smiled at her. “He is certainly more attractive than my late friend I wonder if I can . . . entice him with the experience of a mature woman.”

 

“Then you can show me the contract,” Alistair bit his cheek not to start laughing at her umbrage. “If this is simply payment for services rendered or part of a business transaction then I need to see the rest. Do you have it with you? If not my men will gladly escort you to your home and wait while you retrieve it . . . it shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes after you arrive, right?” he smiled as charmingly as he knew how without feeling like a fool.

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” she felt like spitting out the words but restrained herself. “It was a verbal contract. He documented the transfer for my protection.”

 

“Hmm,” Alistair frowned. “Arl Howe was a traitor; a written contract whose legality could be ascertained would be convenient. For your protection, of course, I’d hate to see a lovely lady plagued by rumors of possible treason. However, it may not matter.” He turned his attention to the current owner of the properties, “Ser Derren, were you behind on any of your tithes to your Arl?”

 

“No, my lord,” the Bann stated firmly. “Frankly, it was difficult but I didn’t dare ask for relief or even a small delay.”

 

“Did Arl Howe ever charge you with any sort of crime? Sedition, cheating, disturbing the peace, trespass against your neighbors, violating the terms of any contracts or business dealings, anything at all. Seneschal Varel will be able to verify your answer,” Alistair stared closely at the man, examining him for any sign of deceit.

 

Ser Derren bridled at the question, “Commander, I have always been honest in my dealings. I made no secret of my support of King Cailan and the Grey Wardens or that I considered Loghain’s actions to be an affront to all decent Fereldans and even his own history. Arl Howe didn’t like my opinions but I never failed to do my duty.”

 

“He speaks truly, Commander,” Varel affirmed. “Arl Howe never charged him with any crime and Ser Derren was never late in any of the duties owed.”

 

“Lady Packton, I regret to inform you that you have been cheated. Arl Howe had no rights to these properties therefore cannot legally transfer them to you. Whether he did so willfully or in ignorance of the law, the fact remains that I cannot use these papers to enforce a change of property rights. If there had been some sort of formal proceeding against Ser Derren and his properties seized as a result then Arl Howe would have had the right to give them to whomever he chose. Since the two of you are before me today, in a formal act of arbitration, I legally have the power to take them for myself. It’s an ancient precedent and one not commonly used. The overriding principle of justice is that property cannot be arbitrarily taken from one person and given to another – not even by a king. This has been the case since Calenhad first forged the warring tribes into one nation of free men. We are Fereldans; Ser Derren, the properties in question remain yours. Lady Packton, I am sorry for your inconvenience and mistreatment by the late Arl.”

 

“I shall speak to Bann Esmerelle of this,” Liza Packton said angrily.

 

“You are disappointed, so I won’t take offense. But remember this, I do not answer to Bann Esmerelle,” Alistair hoped the woman understood his warning. “Captain Garevel, Lady Packton is overwrought, please see that she gets home safely.” “And give her time to calm down,” he thought.

 

“We’re done,” Varel said. “Maker, I hope we don’t have another day like this for a long time. I was unaware that an Arl needs to impose some sort of sanction before taking control of a Bann’s property.”

 

“Admittedly it’s a grey area,” Alistair replied. “In times of war property can be, and has been, seized but it’s not a common practice and not always a wise one, in my opinion. Nor does it quite fit the case here. That sort of high-handedness just breeds revolt. When I was at Highever, I learned a lot from Fergus and the remnants of his library. I’ve always enjoyed history and it certainly came in handy today.” Alistair was glad to see a hot meal and wine on the table.

 

 “Commander, Danella should have been executed for desertion,” Garevel protested upon his return. Alistair motioned for him to sit down and eat. The weary captain did so but he was determined to voice his opinion, “I worry that it will lead to more leaving their posts.”

 

“Danella was too popular with the other soldiers,” Varel argued. “And her reasons . . . she’s not the only one with family, as you pointed out yourself. These men, they weren’t trained to handle monsters but your basic thieves and brutes.”

 

Alistair listened to them debate his decisions about Danella and the shepherd Alec while he ate. Garevel was glad to have another soldier but was a bit concerned about the man’s dedication once gratitude wore off. Varel thought showing mercy proved the Commander was not another Renden Howe. Once the first edge of his hunger was sated, he relaxed a bit, “Alec will do fine. He’s young, strong and motivated by the desire to provide for his family. The crown will receive payment for the lost grain, which is why he won’t receive full pay until he’s been in service a year. That’s enough to pay for the grain plus a hefty fine. He and his family may have to scrape the first year but they will survive and we have another soldier to fill our depleted ranks. Too bad he didn’t try to join earlier,” he mused.

 

“Renden Howe would never have accepted a simple farmer into his army,” Varel informed him in a tone dry as dust.

 

“He’s right,” Nathaniel remarked. He’d been watching to see how Alistair ruled. Even when he was young, he'd never wanted to be a subject of his father’s judgment. Mercy was not a virtue Renden Howe held close. “My father believed the only soldiers worth having were those trained from an early age.” Alistair slid a platter down the table and the rogue deftly stopped it and helped himself. “Velanna is sleeping normally, Commander.” Alistair nodded.

 

Jannasilane joined the discussion, “Captain, there was much tension among your men when this Danella’s case was brought forward. I could feel it down my back like a wolf’s howl. When my Ali stripped her of her rank and sent her to the dungeon instead of executing her it popped, just disappeared.”

 

“Garevel, I appreciate your concerns. Desertion is a crime I take seriously. Did she truly desert? Or leave without permission? She didn’t leave during battle. If she’s as good a scout as you say I’m not sure we would have found her if she really deserted. I opted to go with the lesser crime.” Alistair frowned a little as he cut more cheese and bread, “Actually, her situation brings up something I think we should address. At Ostagar King Cailan,” he paused, “King Cailan spent a lot of time with the soldiers, just talking or playing cards. He listened to them. I noticed that they seemed more dedicated, or more self-confident afterwards. I didn’t really think much of it at the time but since then I’ve thought about it a lot. According to Danella, your predecessor refused to listen to her repeated requests to check on her family. Based on your knowledge, is that probably true?”

 

Reluctantly Garevel agreed, “I believe so, Commander. He was a firm follower of Howe’s dictate not to coddle the troops and Danella’s request would come under this category.”

 

“I am not Renden Howe and the people of Amaranthine need to see this,” Alistair replied mildly. “My point about Danella is that others are likely to have similar concerns. I don’t want any more desertions or absences because our men think we see them as nothing more than pincushions for enemy swords. I want to instill in them the same sense of pride Cailan did in the men at Ostagar. Even if I wasn’t going to be traveling a lot on Warden business . . . I’m not Cailan.” He rubbed his hand down the back of his head, “I don’t have his ability to talk to people. Maybe we can, I don’t know, change how we do some things so the men know they’re valued.”

 

“Yes, Commander, I’ll think on it. Ser Mhairi has a good rapport with them; maybe she will have some ideas.”

 

Nathaniel leaned down to whisper in Jannasilane’s ear, “Mouse, does Alistair really not see how the men react to him? It’s just how he described the soldiers at Ostagar.”

 

Jannasilane studied the taciturn rogue. He seemed genuinely perplexed; perhaps Alistair was right about him. “You and Cailan were born and raised with the self-confidence of those who know they have a place in the world. My Ali was not,” she whispered back and waited to see if he understood what she meant but she wasn’t going to explain further. He was considering her words but otherwise kept his thoughts hidden.

 

“We should tell Alistair of our suspicions, my lady,” he stated. Nathaniel grit his teeth just thinking about it, “Commander, there is another matter we need to discuss. It involves Ser Temmerly.” The man was in a cell until the investigation into Ser Tamra’s murder was complete.

 

Alistair curled his lip in distaste. He had quickly recognized the type of man standing before the court. Arrogance oozed out of his skin, that and a disdain for so-called ‘lesser’ beings. He was one of Amaranthine’s minor nobles and a large man as well, perhaps larger than Alistair himself. The Commander had no doubt he used his size and strength to intimidate those who couldn’t or didn’t dare stand up to him. “Ser Temmerly isn’t a friend of yours, is he? If so my opinion of you is going to go down.”

 

“No, my Ali,” Jannasilane shook her head. “While you investigate his involvement in Ser Tamra’s murder you should also look into his other activities. I cannot say for sure but he sounded like one of the conspirators against you.”

 

Alistair stopped eating and stared at her. “You mean one of the bastards who hit you?” he growled. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

 

“That was my doing, Commander,” Nathaniel spoke up. “I didn’t want to risk alerting any others who might have been around. We still don’t know who they are.”

 

“Probably wise,” Alistair admitted reluctantly. “Captain, we should increase the guard around the Vigil. If he is part of the conspiracy I don’t want his fellows trying to break him out of his cell.” When Garevel started to get up Alistair waved him back down, “You have time to finish eating, my friend. I doubt the word has spread that fast.” The intense young captain flushed at the good-natured chuckles aimed at him but smiled sheepishly and sat back down.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 86:  On to the Blackmarsh

“Are you sure this ‘Dark Wolf’ is on our side, Commander? He hasn’t told us anything useful, just confirmed what we already suspected,” Nathaniel was dubious. In his experience, self-styled spies were too often rank opportunists and just as likely to stab you in the back if the pay was good enough. Although he couldn’t shake the feeling this one was different. There was something familiar about him . . .

 

“Well, we know at least one of them has money. They hired Antivan Crows, after all, and that doesn’t come cheap. He also said he has a pretty good idea where they meet and he’ll tell us as soon as he confirms the information. We also know that at least half a dozen of the local nobles are involved. Which is rather more than I hoped was the case,” Alistair frowned.

 

“All you need is one leader with influence. Favors, past allegiances, family or business ties . . . your surface nobles aren’t so different from the deshyrs in Orzammar. Not everyone who supported Bhelen did so because they believed he was right for the job, you know,” Oghren burped and stopped leering at Velanna long enough to provide his opinion. “Once you take care of the leader you’ll find the others backing down.” He pointed his finger at the former templar, “But there will always be somebody looking to profit off ya, or feel you’ve offended their delicate sensibilities, or think they could do better. So get used to watching your back.”

 

Alistair sighed, “You sound like Zevran. And you’re both right; certainly, the year Blake and I spent building up an army while dodging assassins and bounty hunters gives me some experience. I just wish,” his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders.

 

Velanna muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath and Jannasilane whirled on her, “You are no better, elf girl. You betrayed your Keeper.”

 

“I did no such thing!” Velanna puffed up in outrage, “I spoke my mind. I still say we shouldn’t let the shem walk all over us.”

 

Jannasilane eyed her without mercy, “But you did not stop there. You left. I bet your Keeper felt betrayed; more so when others joined you and so weakened the clan with your absence.”

 

Velanna glared but didn’t say anything. She had the unfortunate feeling that Ilshae did indeed feel betrayed when she and the others left. It was never good for a clan to lose several of its hunters; humans would find it easier to attack her clan until they could rebuild. It wasn't just humans, the woods and forests held plenty of dangers for travelers.

 

Anders was uncharacteristically quiet. He was reflecting on an offer and an explanation. A few days earlier Poppet was helping him to set up his clinic. It was the first time he’d been alone with the small exotic woman so he took advantage of the opportunity to flirt with her a bit. “And that was really all I meant to do, just have a little fun,” he thought.

 

She was sitting on top of the table looking around at the results of their labors; labors that mussed her blue robe and streaked it with dust. The bottles sparkled prettily on their shelves, waiting to be filled with potions. Some of the herbs were carefully packed away in drawers and others were hanging from the ceiling to dry. Clean sheets and blankets covered two narrow beds behind a curtain. He’d use some of the lemonweed they found in the Wending Wood to clean the newly swept floor. “I never thought to use lemonweed for cleaning,” he smiled.

 

“I did not know it could be used with elfroot to remove poison from a wound,” she retorted with a grin.

 

 “Thank you, milady, for your assistance and bounty. I am most appreciative,” he took her hand and bent to kiss it. Just before doing so, he looked at her mischievously, “If you ever decide to sample the delights a mage can offer . . .” and the moment he touched the back of her hand with his lips he tickled her palm with his fingertips, fingers that were sending little sparks of electricity. Neither of them was prepared for her reaction. Mild pleasure, giggling, or possibly nothing at all but instead she went into a state he could only call high arousal: her nipples were hard peaks, her breathing was shallow and she vibrated from the small tremors traveling across her skin. He was so close he could smell her desire. “I’m sorry, Poppet,” he started to apologize and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. They were swirling with heat and he was mesmerized. She licked her lips and that was it, he had to claim them, even against his better judgment. He sank into her warmth, caging her with his arms. Her fingers curled into the front of his robe, pulling him closer. He wasn’t even aware that he was pushing her clothes off her shoulders until he bared her beautiful full breasts to his gaze. The urge to taste consumed him.

 

Jannasilane arched her back to grant him better access even as she struggled to contain the Beast unleashed by his little trick. She whimpered as his skilled mouth and fingers played her breasts and sent a continual stream of sensation through her core. That whimper caused Anders to pause, which gave her the opening to push him away. She slid off the table and crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach. She looked at the appalled mage. She couldn’t stop the tears of pain and shame, “Get, get my Ali,” she gasped. She lowered her head so she could hide her face behind her hair. She cringed when he reached for her.

 

“I’m sorry, Sweeting. I just want to help you to one of the cots. Let me help you pull your robe back on and get you settled then I’ll find Alistair. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he didn’t understand what happened and he knew he had to do something before he left the building so nobody could see his erection. Being near her wasn’t helping but he wasn’t going to leave her on the floor like that.

 

He didn’t think he would ever forget the expression on Alistair’s face when he walked into the clinic and saw Poppet; it was such a mix of anger, tenderness, disappointment but most of all love. The big man knelt and softly brushed her hair back from her face, “The Beast?” She nodded. He sighed, “What happened? It’s certainly not because we haven’t been . . .

 

“It wasn’t your fault; you couldn’t know what I did not know myself,” Jannasilane’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t realize he had dropped so far behind the others. He looked at her unhappily and she shook her head at him, “No, my Anders. Neither my Ali nor I blame you. If anyone is at fault, it is me. I think my Ali is correct, you are now a Warden and a spirit healer, a magic I find most pleasant. If I did not also think you an attractive man, though not as handsome as my Ali, I do not know if I would have been quite so sensitive to your little ‘sparklefingers’ trick. If Oghren only knew,” she giggled at the thought.

 

He couldn’t help smiling at her, “You, Poppet, are an amazing woman. I’ve never heard of such magic as you described but it’s hardly something they would teach at the Circle even if they knew of it. It’s dangerous knowledge indeed. I’m appalled that any mage would use it against your mother like that. And that you suffer from the effects,” he sighed heavily.

 

“I wish . . .” she began and then changed her mind. She was glad Anders seemed to accept their alternative version of her family history as devised by Blake and Zevran. They replaced centuries of Griffonsong with a proud blood mage rejected by her mother in favor of the young Grey Warden, Duncan. In retaliation he cursed her with an enhanced lust for Grey Wardens, not caring that she was pregnant. It sounded like one of the novels Wynne liked to read but Zevran assured her that nobody would quiz her on such an intimate subject, especially since the actual events happened before she was born. “Well, we try to make the best of it. We will not force you, Anders. If you do not wish to,” Jannasilane blushed. She sometimes wished she could speak of such things as lightly as Zevran did. “The only thing we ask is your discretion. I will not shame my Ali,” her eyes sparked with temper.

 

“Well,” he drawled, “I can’t think of any more pleasant way to be of service. Perhaps we should explore the limits of your sensitivity to magic. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”

 

She snickered, “You are as bad as Zevran, I think.”

 

“What are you and Sparklefingers jabbering about,” Oghren joined them. He was tired of the loud silence between Velanna and the Howe cub.

 

“I was about to explain why ‘Sparklefingers’ is such an apt nickname. I was at the Pearl . . .” Oghren grinned appreciatively and then guffawed when Jannasilane blushed fiercely and scurried to join Alistair at the front of their little group. When the Commander looked back at them with raised eyebrow Anders smiled crookedly and tilted his head slightly.

 

“Yer don’t have a nug’s chance in the middle of a gaggle of darkspawn, Sparklefingers,” the dwarf warned the mage. “She’ll never leave the Commander.”

 

Anders looked down at the dwarf and grinned, “I know that. There’s nothing wrong with admiring the view, especially such a spectacular one. Flirting and making her blush is just a bonus.”

 

“Hah! Can’t argue with that. Had a lot to look at while traveling with the Wardens, even if one of ‘em was on the prickly side.” The rest of the way to the Blackmarsh they entertained each other and those within hearing of their adventures on the road and on the run.

 

The environment changed drastically once they were close to the Blackmarsh. Away from the coast Amaranthine was mostly farm and woodlands with a scattering of drier, sandier areas. The Blackmarsh was different. The Wardens stopped talking and looked around warily, fighting to adjust to the heavy, damp air that seemed to be telling them to go back. “My father used to tell me stories of the Blackmarsh. There used to be an entire village here but it disappeared overnight. Nobody ever found out what happened and the Blackmarsh has been deserted ever since. At least of people,” Nathaniel said in a hushed voice.

 

“The Veil is thin here,” Velanna warned.

 

“On a creepiness scale this is definitely a 10, maybe even an 11,” Anders tried to quip. Oghren just grunted and looked around with wide, slightly crazed eyes.

 

“I used to dream of coming here and making things right. Little boy dreams,” Nathaniel smiled slightly.

 

Jannasilane looked up at him and fully smiled at him for the first time, “You wanted to be a hero? That’s cute.”

 

“Don’t all little boys?” the rogue answered.

 

“Well, you’re doing that now, in a way, aren’t you?” Alistair was happy to see that Jannasilane finally seemed to accept Nathaniel. He was convinced the man had a strong core of honor and would be an excellent Warden in the years to come. He heard wolves howling in the night and sincerely hoped they would be the worst thing he and his companions faced. “Actually, this reminds me of parts of the Korcari Wilds. What do you think, Jannalove? You’ve been there a few times.”

 

She nodded her head, “Yes, some pockets of the Wilds are as dark and heavy as this Blackmarsh. There are probably many lost secrets in the rotting mud.”

 

“Rotting mud? That’s disgusting,” the Dalish mage exclaimed. “You’re probably right, though. Be careful of things reaching for you out of the muck.” She was utterly perplexed when the Commander and Hair Girl burst out laughing while the others were searching the wet ground for signs of movement.

 

“Remember when we took Zevran and Leliana to the Korcari Wilds? They thought the same thing and you told them . . . you told them the creatures only came out at night,” Alistair gasped.

 

Jannasilane giggled, “Leliana was checking every pond and mud puddle for days.”

 

Oghren glared at the two of them, “You and the elf have a strange sense of humor, Cherryplum.” His dour mood didn’t lighten when they both scowled back at him.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 87:  Not Exactly a Recruit, No 

They were tired, dirty, and frankly still creeped out by their experience in the Fade and their newest member. Justice/Kristoff trudged along in the rear, constantly looking around him at the new world he now inhabited, thanks to the Baroness.

 

“Dwarves don’t belong in the Fade,” Oghren kept muttering over and over. He also stroked the dragon skull they picked up as if to remind himself he was back in the real world. Anders and Nathaniel were teasing Jannasilane about how much she enjoyed fighting the spirit dragon in an effort not to think about what happened with the darkspawn. “With you around I’m surprised Alistair had a chance to hit the Archdemon,” Nathaniel said drily.

 

“Well, I couldn’t let her have all the fun, now could I? How manly would that be?” Alistair retorted and took her aside so he could perform another mana cleanse. One benefit to being forced into the Fade was the equipment they found to repair the tears in the Veil; the drawback was they were all guarded by desire demons.

 

“Commander,” Velanna scowled, “in the short time since we met you’ve walked into three,” she counted them off on her fingers, “three traps. Is this a Grey Warden thing or a you thing?”

 

“You know,” Oghren stopped reassuring himself all his parts returned and were in working order long enough to join in the conversation, “that’s a good question. Sexy-but-Scrawny here doesn’t even know about all the traps you and the Warden tripped over. I thought it might be him, His sodding Majesty, but he’s not here.”

 

“Sometimes you can really get to know your enemy that way,” Alistair deadpanned. He winked at Janna and she snickered.

 

“I know I am new to this world but doesn’t that seem unwise?” Justice frowned in confusion.

 

Anders laughed, “Justice, one thing you need to know about this side of the Veil is that a lot of things don’t make sense.”

 

“If you know it’s a trap then you may have the opportunity to turn it against your enemy,” Nathaniel offered. “Or you could just like fighting against the odds, which does seem like a Grey Warden trait now that I think about it.”

 

A few miles further on they defeated another band of assassins and others were looting the bodies when Justice finally decided to ask the Commander’s lady a question. “You disapprove of me being here, of the Commander’s decision to let me fight darkspawn alongside you? Is it because Kristoff’s body is decaying?”

 

Jannasilane sighed, “I know it is not your fault but it is not right that you are here. Perhaps my Ali is correct, that since you are here and cannot be tainted, re-tainted, you might as well fight along with us. You are very skilled; this is truth. I have a certain sensitivity to magic and the Fade, you have noticed this, and I admit being this close to you makes my skin itch. I sense the Fade inside you.”

 

“I am sorry; I did not realize I was causing you actual discomfort. I do not know what I can do,” Justice frowned.

 

She smiled then, a bit ruefully, “We are not often so close together so it is not an issue. Perhaps in time we will find a way to get you back to the Fade. We have some friends in the Circle who can quietly do some research on the subject. I am sure they will be most fascinated. Usually they are worried about spirits getting out, not in.”

 

He nodded his head gravely, “I will remember, thank you.”

 

“I will enjoy being home again; even having a place to call home is nice.” She joined Alistair as they moved off. Like tired horses the closer they were to hearth and home the faster their pace. Jannasilane was first to see the Vigil courtyard, “My Ali, something must be wrong. There are many people inside the gates.”

 

“Huh, I don’t think anything was scheduled. Better find Varel and . . .” he turned to look at Justice. “Anders, why don’t you show Justice around the outbuildings while I talk to Varel.” Anders nodded in understanding. A walking corpse would be hard to explain without causing rumors of blood magic.

 

“Commander, I am glad you’ve returned when you did. We have a situation,” the seneschal kept his eyes on the mob of peasants while speaking in a low tone. “You better say something or this could turn into a bloodbath. If they’re here without any outside instigation I’ll eat your boots.”

 

“Bloody feed your people!” one man, the apparent leader, cried out to the accompaniment of more yelling and jeers.

 

“Enough!” Alistair bellowed, his warrior’s cry silencing the crowd. “If you came here to die then form a line over there. See this blood?” He pointed to the darker stains on his right arm, “This is from the darkspawn threatening all of us. And this?” he indicated his shield, “this is from the latest group of assassins to attack since I stepped foot in the Arling. That makes seven attempts. Somebody decided before I even got here that they didn’t want me for your Arl and now I find you threatening me in front of my home? Do you think to accomplish what they could not? I promise you, your blood will run as freely. I’d rather not kill you so I suggest you leave and be thankful that my soldiers are stretched thin guarding your farms and homes.” He shifted his stance to battle readiness. Captain Garevel signaled the guards.

 

One older woman scowled, “We’re not assassins!” She looked around at her angry fellows and scowled even more, “Are you sayin’ some fool wants to kill the Hero of Ferelden while darkspawn attack?” She turned to their leader, “Basil, you stupid lout, and that goes for all of us, some toffee-nosed prat is tryin’ to use us and not get his bleedin’ hands dirty. I’m going home; I want no part in some noble’s filthy games.” She shoved her way through the crowd and out the gates, many following her.

 

Alistair stared grimly at Basil and the few remaining peasants. They looked around at their reduced numbers, their pitchforks and dull swords. They eyed the guards with well-maintained weapons, hands hovering over their hilts. To a man, they shook their heads and left.

 

“Guards, stand down,” Garevel eyed Alistair with renewed respect, “Commander, I don’t know how you did it. I’m just glad you were able to defuse the situation.”

 

“For now anyway,” Alistair muttered when the captain left. “Varel, if there’s nothing pressing I need food and a hot bath.”

 

“Just one, Commander; a special messenger is waiting in your office. I’m sure the staff is already seeing to your request,” Varel answered. Alistair and Jannasilane were so popular with the servants in the Vigil that the moment they saw their Arl and Arlessa returning from the field they hurried to prepare the bathing chamber. Hot water with soothing oils and trays of bread and cheese greeted them when they went upstairs. To their credit, neither Alistair nor Jannasilane failed to acknowledge the courtesies shown them.

 

Alistair brushed his hand over her hair before leaning down to give her a kiss, “Go on up, my love. I’ll see what this messenger has to say and join you soon.” He watched her leave and turned away, muttering, “Hope this person has some good news.” He opened the door to his office and saw a slight figure in the shadows leaning indolently against the wall. “I suppose this means you’ve finished your investigations, Zevran.”

 

“‘If you came here to die, form a line?’ What a marvelously Fereldan way of defusing a situation, which I am sure you guessed was instigated by your enemies,” the Antivan sauntered to a chair and made himself comfortable. “Would you feel better knowing that it would not matter who was Warden-Commander? The mere fact that the Grey Wardens are in charge makes some of the fine folk in Amaranthine uneasy. Sketchily balanced, highly profitable, apple carts are threatened. A noble could be got around, you see.”

 

“Not one Anora chose,” Alistair retorted.

 

“Ah, but they understand what actions a noble would likely take and so circumvent them. At the very least buy time to dismantle their operations before they were discovered. Grey Wardens? An unpredictable entity, as I well know. An abandoned farm to the west is their meeting place. They do not meet regularly; they decide at the end of one meeting the date for the next. I have ascertained they will next gather three days hence, after the noon meal. Your annoying persistence in defeating all their attempts to kill you is making them nervous. If the leader wasn’t so intent on your demise, I believe they would desist. It is remarkable but Renden Howe was able to inspire devotion in one of his more influential nobles. You killed him and now you should die. It matters not that our ever-so-handsome friend actually struck the blow. You were there, you are profiting by his death, you need to die.” Zevran raised one eyebrow in disdain at the foolishness of this person. He would never tell Alistair, but he’d been quite impressed with the way the large warrior sent the peasants on their way without spilling a single drop of blood.

 

Alistair sighed, “Bann Esmerelle?” He doubted Lady Packton realized what she’d let slip in her ire. If Esmerelle wasn’t directly responsible for the assassins in Amaranthine, she was most likely a supporter. With her sense of self-importance, he doubted she was anything but the leader against him. “Janna doesn’t like her at all.”

 

Zevran grinned, “The delectable Pocket Goddess is a most discerning judge of character, especially when it relates to those around you. Moreover, she has reason; all my investigations conclude that the lady is indeed the head and heart of the conspiracy against you. Do not underestimate her, my friend; she is wily and bold. Before I leave, I wish to speak to the most magnificent bosom in Thedas. Take care of yourself; His Majesty will be most displeased if you should die.”

 

“Zev, there are things you should tell Blake when you return to Denerim. The darkspawn situation is complicated. I’m meeting with my top men after dinner and I’d like you there. Save me having to write a report and you may have some insights into what seems like a political situation among the darkspawn.”

 

“Sounds most intriguing, oh handsome templar, and will give me an opportunity to make the acquaintance of that pretty elven lass. She is Dalish, is she not?” the assassin smiled.

 

The Commander scowled, “Please don’t make her any pricklier than she already is.” He was not reassured by Zevran’s expression.

 

Before he left, Zevran had a question, “Just who was that mysterious figure the sexy magic man directed away from the crowd? Another recruit, perhaps?”

 

“A recruit? No, I wouldn’t exactly say that. He, well, you’ll understand better after tonight’s meeting,” Alistair couldn’t help grinning at being able to keep a mystery from the shrewd Antivan for a little while. He wasn’t at all fooled by the nonchalant shrug and knew that the elf would have to decide whether to pursue Velanna or the mystery. He knew exactly what he was going to do next and it involved a hot bath and a temperamental woman with glorious hair. And food, definitely food.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 88:  More Wardens at Vigil’s Keep

“The men are relieved to know that your new Wardens will be going on patrol with them, sir. I didn’t think you were expecting them so soon,” Captain Garevel was standing next to Alistair on the ramparts. The captain greatly admired the younger Commander. Nobody anticipated that taking control of Amaranthine would be so complicated yet the Hero of Ferelden strived to do his duties as Arl and Warden-Commander.

 

“Yes, eight more Wardens will help a great deal, even if they don’t have all their senses yet. He wrote after we left for the Blackmarsh so they will probably arrive before I leave again. Riordan says he has done as much as he can without venturing against the darkspawn and they might as well finish their training here as the Deep Roads. He’ll stay until we take care of these darkspawn . . . factions.” Alistair shook his head, “The recent civil war, a strong conspiracy against me, I almost wonder if they are learning from us.”

 

Captain Garevel looked startled until he realized the Warden-Commander was indulging in a rare bit of dark humor. Still, he felt compelled to argue, “There wouldn’t be a conspiracy against you if you weren’t an honorable man and good at what you do, sir, if you want my opinion. You don’t know how bad it was to work for Renden Howe, especially in the last few years. The female servants no longer fear walking across the grounds where a soldier or ‘special guest’ might feel free to accost them. Nor do any of the servants have to worry about the lash because of a dropped plate. They know you expect them to do their best but understand nobody is perfect. You and Lady Jannasilane treat them with courtesy and respect, something they’ve never experienced before now. They work hard to please you and make you comfortable because of what you’ve given them. The same goes for all the men at arms. The changes you’ve made, including checking on their families and giving them the option of bringing their families here, it all makes them proud to wear your colors. No one in the taverns dares to speak against you because your men will force the words back down their throats. I don’t condone brawling,” he hastened to add, “but the word’s getting around and hopefully is giving some people a reason to reconsider the rumors against you.” He stopped speaking abruptly and flushed, realizing he got a bit carried away.

 

Alistair looked startled, then he smiled, “Thank you, Captain. You, Janna, Seneschal Varel and Ser Mhairi deserve a lot of the credit. I certainly couldn’t do this alone. I wonder if Janna will take a walk in the moonlight with me?” With a casual salute, a lighter step, and a merry whistle he went in search of his ladylove.

 

Captain Garevel stayed on the ramparts a while longer, observing his guards as much as the surrounding area. He was pleased to see them alert and observant. He smiled to himself when he saw Alistair leading his lady outside. Images of the first girl he ever kissed hovered in his mind. The pretty, laughing blonde was the reason he joined Howe’s army rather than going further afield. Foolishly, he thought he would rise through the ranks based on his ability and be able to support her and a family. He soon realized that promotions went to men who didn’t mind doing the unsavory. “I think she married a traveling merchant and I consoled myself in the arms of that redheaded widow,” he shook his head a little at the memories from a dozen years ago. A giggle on the breeze brought his attention to the grounds. “Obviously the Commander doesn’t think anyone can see . . . well, he’s a very lucky man. Note to self, make sure discreet men are posted on the ramparts in the evening.” He went inside.

 

Jannasilane was sparring with some of the soldiers and the Cousins while Alistair spoke to the patrol leaders. “Men, I know you will welcome having a Warden to give you some warning of when you’re going to walk into darkspawn. I want you to remember that these are still new Grey Wardens and it will take time for them to hone and develop their senses. Compared to Riordan I’m a babe in the woods.”

 

“Big baby,” one of them muttered and then flushed when he realized he spoke aloud. “Sorry, sir.”

 

“While that may be true let’s try to keep some discipline,” Alistair said mildly, trying not to smile. “That’s something I would have said when I was in the Chantry. No wonder they became exasperated.” He pointed to where the Cousins were sparring, “Don’t expect the Wardens to fight in the disciplined manner you may be accustomed to. It’s very important that we adapt to the circumstances or risk being overrun. That said you are the leaders of your patrol. It will be your decision whether to engage or avoid, who should scout, etc. As always, your primary concern is the safety or our people and the citizens of Amaranthine. Don’t be impatient with the green Wardens; I remember when I first became a Warden I was sure I sensed a darkspawn under every rock. Sometimes it was even true,” he smiled a little. “Some of it was because I was eager to prove myself, sure, but a number of false alarms were just because I didn’t have a handle yet. Your biggest danger may be to avoid the temptation not to take them seriously when they’ve had half a dozen false alarms in a row. Darkspawn are fast, just because they’re not there when you arrive doesn’t mean they weren’t there.” He waited a few beats to see if they understood the difference.

 

“I insisted on archery practice for a reason, to avoid becoming tainted try to take them out from a distance. If the Grey Warden in your party is a mage, protect them. You’ve seen what Anders can do and he’s primarily a healer. If the darkspawn outnumber your men, do not engage unless necessary. Listen to your Warden. For the past several weeks he’s been immersed in darkspawn training. When you get to a village or farm on your patrols, introduce the Warden and let him check the defenses. You have all done a wonderful job in helping our farmers and small holders, now is the time to expand on that. Different eyes may see different possibilities or vulnerabilities. I want our people to know we are doing the best we can to keep them safe.”

 

“They know that, Warden-Commander, sir, we all do,” one of the Sergeants spoke up. “But having a Warden take an interest won’t hurt none. Commander, I have a que-” he was interrupted by a growly bellow.

 

“YOU SODDING LIMP-EARED NUG-HUMPER, WHY AREN’T YOU DEAD IN THE DEEP ROADS?” Oghren came hurrying forward, his expression a ferocious scowl.

 

Saykor nodded his head, “It is good to see you alive, Cousin.” His words were pleasant but his expression remained grave.

 

Alistair’s eyebrows were nearly up to his hairline but he managed to keep his voice even, “It seems the Wardens have arrived. Oghren, why don’t you show your cousin where he can bunk and then take him to the dining hall.” He beckoned to the Cousins while keeping an eye on the departing dwarves. “At least they don’t seem ready to kill each other,” he muttered sotto voce to Riordan.

 

“Yes,” Riordan’s reply was equally quiet, “getting between the two of them would be like trying to separate two angry bulls.” He looked around the courtyard, “You have done well here, Alistair. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect considering the circumstances of your arrival.”

 

“I don’t think I could have done it without my Janna. The servants all adore her and she put her experience at Highever to good use,” Alistair replied, typically downplaying his own role.

 

Mhairi spoke up; she wasn’t going to let the Commander get by with that. “Yes you could, sir. I’m not saying your lady didn’t make it easier but you are the one who inspires the men just by being who you are.” The other Cousins nodded their heads in vigorous agreement.

 

“Um, thank you,” the large templar still had trouble taking compliments. “Riordan, this is Ser Mhairi. Ser Mhairi, Riordan transferred here from Jader to set up a training program for new recruits. He has a couple of decades experience being a Warden and can help us all.”

 

Riordan bowed slightly, “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Ser Mhairi. Alistair wrote of your exceptional skill and how helpful you have been in these trying times.” Mhairi flushed slightly. She and the Cousins escorted the rest of the Wardens to their new home. Riordan turned to Jannasilane, “no greetings for me, little one?”

 

As if she'd been waiting for his signal she flew into his embrace and hugged him fiercely, “I am glad you arrived safely, my Rio. These darkspawn are being most annoying, even more than some of Amaranthine’s finest.”

 

He and Alistair could hear the sneer in her voice and grinned at each other over the top of her head. Riordan kissed her hair and then loosened his hold so she could step back. He bowed over her hand and kissed it in his most courtly manner, “My dear little one, I pity those who attack your warrior for you are a fierce opponent. I am most happy to see you looking well and lovelier than ever. And before you ask, we did encounter some darkspawn.” He straightened and spoke directly to Alistair, “Commander, you will be glad to know your new Wardens acquitted themselves well. There were some expected ‘false sensings’ but they did not get discouraged and not once did I have to correct their sense of direction.”

 

Alistair smiled, “Good. Even better that they’ve had a chance to use their senses. Before showing you to your room which, by the way, is in the family quarters, let me introduce you to the troop leaders. After returning from Kal’Hirol a Warden will be traveling with each patrol.” He explained his plans while they walked. Riordan listened and made a few suggestions.

 

“I thought you went with Branka,” he eyed Saykor, not realizing the hurt she inflicted showed. They were in his room where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

 

“I’m sorry, Oghren,” Saykor was pleased his cousin was alive and well but didn’t look forward to telling him what happened. “Branka told us you had some obligations to finish before you could follow us but it shouldn’t take long. She lied of course, but we were too far into the Deep Roads. Do you remember Hespith?” Oghren grunted and took a swig. “After a couple of weeks Branka made no secret of their relationship,” Saykor couldn’t hide his discomfort. “She was already showing signs of mania regarding Caridin’s research. Some of our people wanted to return to Orzammar, most of them weren’t experienced fighters, but she wouldn’t let them. She said she couldn’t trust them to keep her secrets. Secrets? Oghren, we were in Caridin’s Cross and hadn’t found the way to Ortan Thaig yet. There were no secrets to be betrayed.”

 

He looked up at the ceiling rather than face his cousin with the next bit of news, “I did try to reason with her. Nervous dwarves jumping at every shadow aren’t good in the Deep Roads but she ignored me. A handful tried to leave while they knew the way home and could hope to meet a patrol. She sent some men to bring them back and executed them in front of us all. ‘Nobody leaves,’ she said and left them to rot. She wouldn’t even let us return them to the Stone. Branka was watching me after that. Honestly, I think she was planning to kill me when she had the chance. I didn’t give it to her. She was fierce and a good fighter but no smith knows the Deep Roads like a warrior who patrolled them as often as I did. When we got near Ortan Thaig I saw my chance. While she was distracted by finding the lost thaig, I left. I started to make my way back to Orzammar and realized I couldn’t go back. Branka was a sodding Paragon and I’d be lucky to be exiled to the surface. There were a few small outlets to the surface, created by the darkspawn, I’m sure, which I knew about so I followed one. I guarded merchant caravans and other work of that type. I was in Denerim when the Archdemon showed up. After that I knew I was going to join the Wardens.”

 

“Good thing you left when you did or she would have fed you to the darkspawn, the crazy dewlicker,” Oghren told Saykor everything that happened after his escape.

 

The other dwarf looked sick but not surprised by Branka’s actions. He gladly took the mug of Oghren’s brew offered and downed it in one swallow. Saykor wiped his lips, “I’ve missed that. None of this surface ale has the same kick. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Branka left you because of Hespith. I think she left without you because you were the one person who could stop her. She was a Paragon but you were one of the most decorated warriors in a long time, many of our people would have listened to you. And now we’re both Grey Wardens.” He shook his head and smiled a little, “I met this Antivan and he would say ‘Fate -’”

 

“. . . is a tricky ******,” Oghren finished with a grin. “Zevran was with the Wardens when I started traveling with ‘em.” The two of them refilled their mugs. By the time they entered the dining room they were singing bawdy songs popular in Tapster’s.

 

Velanna was working with Justice on a way to minimize some of the decomposition affects of his borrowed body. She finally stopped because she was hungry and she needed to clear her mind and senses before going into the dining room. She was surprised to see all the new Wardens, including a fellow Dalish. “Andaran atish’an, I did not realize another of the Elvhen was here. How do you fare?”     

 

Harami leaned back in his chair, “I fare well, cousin, although I am not sure we are of the people any more. Do not Grey Wardens leave their old lives behind them?” he teased.

 

Velanna completely missed the mischief quietly lurking in the back of his eyes, “We do not stop being elves just because we are Grey Wardens. It is still our duty to remember and preserve our heritage as much as possible,” she frowned slightly.

 

“I’ll leave you to concentrate on the past. I prefer to worry about preserving the present and future, hence my joining the Grey Wardens,” he filled his plate again. “The food here compares favorably with that of Soldier’s Peak. Funny how it didn’t seem that important before, do you have any favorites?”

 

“The grilled vegetables are very good; just don’t eat the last of the cheese. At least not until the Commander has had plenty or you will find yourself being punished in small ways.” She sniffed at his look of surprise, “Not by him, by the servants. Even the flat-ears will find a way to reprimand you, they all practically worship him.”

 

“Do not ever use that word around me, Velanna,” now Harami was angry. “It is no more their fault they were born among humans than yours that you were born in one of the clans. You’re so fond of the past you should remember that Garahel, the elf who ended the Fourth Blight, was from one of the human cities. If you hate it here so much why are you even a Warden?”

 

“My sister was taken by those creatures and I have to save her,” Velanna was miserable at so quickly antagonizing the one possible kindred spirit she’d encountered.

 

Harami’s anger never lasted long and he was truly sorry for her pain, “Emma abelas[1], lethallan. I did not mean to bring up your sorrow. Why don’t you tell me something of the people in Vigil’s Keep . . . who was that dwarf yelling at Saykor?”

 

Velanna rolled her eyes, glad to have another topic of discussion, “Oghren. You know the stories of dwarves drinking lots of ale?” Harami smiled a little, “Oghren drinks more. I don’t know how he manages to fight at all but he can cleave through a crowd of darkspawn like few others.”

 

“You escaped seven times?” Zeke was incredulous. “Why didn’t they just kill you?” he and Anders were sitting apart from the others. Zeke welcomed the opportunity to talk about his craft with one who understood. Most of the new Wardens were sitting at a large table with the Cousins, Nathaniel Howe, and some of the guards.

 

“Even templars have some rules,” Anders responded with a quirky grin. “I passed my Harrowing easily enough so unless I become a maleficar they’re not supposed to execute me. They probably would have decided that eventually, true or not.” He studied the other mage, Zeke was slender, like himself, “You rarely see fat mages, I wonder why.” What intrigued Anders was that Zeke had never been in a Circle. “How did you manage never to end up in one of the Circles?”

 

“Smugglers aren’t known for staying in one place for very long,” he answered drily. "The leader of our crew back then was quick to see the advantages of having his own mage to hand, so he didn’t make my parents drop me off at the nearest Chantry. A small number of our contacts were apostates, mostly escapees like you, and he negotiated some training. The first things they taught me were control and hiding. Turns out, I’m very good at causing damage, practiced in a lot of empty caves here and there. We were stuck in Ferelden during the Blight and had to fight more and more darkspawn. I knew it was a matter of time before the templars realized a ‘dangerous mage’ was running around uncontrolled and decided to join the Wardens. I like fighting darkspawn more than smuggling. Better benefits,” his eyes traveled from the abundance of food to Ser Mhairi and ending on Jannasilane.

 

Anders snorted, “Please remember that the Commander is a templar,” he warned.

 

Zeke grinned at him, “Oh, I don’t poach. But a man can enjoy the view, can’t he?” they clinked their glasses in a toast to delectable derrieres and bounteous bosoms.

 

Riordan was sitting with Alistair, Jannasilane, Captain Garevel and Seneschal Varel. Mistress Woolsey preferred to sit apart and observe the proceedings. “So we are faced with two intelligent darkspawn with different agendas? One wants to experiment on Grey Wardens and the other knows how to trap them in the Fade,” the older Warden shook his head at the difficulties. “It is a shame we can’t let them whittle down each other’s forces but Amaranthine could be destroyed in the process. At least this conspiracy against you should soon be done. You say we are heading out to this farm tomorrow before proceeding to Kal’Hirol?”

 

“Yep. I hope that the leader, or strong evidence pointing to the leader, will be there. If not, she and I will sit down for a ‘come to the Maker’ meeting. I will not have my arling torn apart.” Alistair’s eyes flashed.

 

Riordan looked at Mistress Woolsey, “Do you think you need to look closer to home for strife?” Garevel and Varel kept their eyes on their plates, neither one of them cared for the treasurer. She continually rebuffed requests to join them for meals or debate, questions about her comfort were met with a sniff and a ‘satisfactory.’ She said that as treasurer she needed to keep a certain distance in order not to show favoritism when dispensing funds but neither man believed her. Jannasilane sneered; she tried to avoid the older woman in order not to hear any more lectures about ‘distracting the Grey Wardens from their duty.’

 

Alistair sighed, “I hope not. She hasn’t done anything to make me think she is anything but dedicated to her job. She certainly has made no secret that she disapproves of me, believes I am too young for such a responsible position and that I do not put the Wardens’ interests forward enough. If she had her way she would be in charge of both the Warden and the arling monies but I quickly squashed that. Money due me as the Arl of Amaranthine goes into one pot that Varel manages and tithes to the Grey Wardens go into the pot managed by her. I make a point of examining both sets of books, which, of course, insults her integrity. I also split the costs of running Vigil’s Keep between both instead of paying them all out of the arling pot. I am ‘too flighty’ because of my relationship with Janna. It will take time and no monumental mistakes by me before she’ll accept me,” he shrugged and scooped up another forkful of food.

 

“I hope you are right, my young friend,” Riordan smiled at the sounds of laughter around the room. The soldiers of the arling and the young Wardens seemed to be finding common ground with none of the racism sometimes found in other gatherings. Alistair’s influence, no doubt.

 

A loud noise warned them Oghren and Saykor were coming to dine, “. . . pickled Cherryplum is tasty as can be; I’m sure the Warden-Commander would agree . . .” they staggered in with their version of an ‘Ode to Dwarven Womanhood.’

 

Oghren looked at Saykor, “What’s the rest of it again?”

 

Saykor blinked, “I thought you knew . . . umm . . . to Cherryplum!”

 

“To Cherryplum!” Oghren chorused and both dwarves plopped down in chairs while servants hastily filled their plates, hoping there wouldn’t be any more ‘singing.’

 

“Maker’s breath, we will never live that down,” Alistair muttered. He just knew his face was bright red. He looked at Janna; she was also blushing fiercely. Riordan smiled slightly, he knew the story. Meanwhile the rest of the dining room was staring at the two dwarves. The recruits from Denerim were stupefied to see the normally serious and taciturn Saykor in a condition of drunken bawdiness.

 

“No, you will not,” Riordan chuckled. “However, I doubt most of them know there is a story behind their rendition of a popular bar song. Even if Oghren says anything later, well, he does have a tendency to exaggerate.”

[1]Roughly speaking, “My apologies” or “I have sorrow”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 89:  Conspiracy Thwarted, Kal'Hirol Discovered

Alistair stared down at the letter in his hand, fighting the desire to crumple it into a ball. Lady Packton still had it when the treacherous group was surprised at Old Stark’s farm. “Looks like we have the evidence we need,” he said to no one in particular. Once again, he read the first part of the letter; the rest was in code.

 

“Dearest Liza,” it began. The Warden-Commander sneered at the smarminess he imagined oozing from the writer’s pen. “I regret that I am unable to attend today’s gathering even though I made the arrangements. At the last minute . . . well I shall not bore you with the details. I have every confidence that you will relay these instructions clearly and accurately to the others. It is time for direct action since our previous efforts have only succeeded in depleting our coin. Soon we will not have to deal with that slack-jawed simpleton and the situation will be corrected.

 

Be careful, my dear. My thoughts are with you even though I am not, your friend.” The letter was signed ‘Es--,’ everything after the ‘s’ nearly drowned in a flurry of loops and curlicues.

 

“Commander, the men await your orders,” Captain Garevel waited respectfully. He didn’t think the Arling would suffer greatly with the loss of a few nobles loyal to the memory of Renden Howe. “How could anybody still be loyal to that man? I suppose I understand doing business with him, and not wanting to offend your Arl, but I didn’t think he had enough charisma to inspire such loyalty.”

 

“Take the bodies to the abandoned outpost near the Vigil and hide them. Handle them with respect; I don’t want anybody getting crazy ideas about what we do. Post a guard and make sure your men stay hidden. Tell Varel I want two of the Cousins, Alan, I sometimes think he’s had bardic training, and Heather, to work secretly with him on deciphering this code. I’m sure he can make up some excuse,” he handed the letter to Garevel. “After the bodies are on their way I want every trace of our presence erased. If the lady or another cohort gets nervous and decides to investigate the farm I don’t want them to find anything to alarm them.”

 

The captain saluted, “We will do as you command, sir. If I may make a suggestion, Commander, I can leave one or two men in hiding to see if anyone does appear.”

 

Alistair clapped the man on his shoulders, “Good thinking. As long as there is no chance of them being detected, do it. They can fall in with the Wardens returning to the Vigil and report back to you.” Garevel swelled with pride and hurried to make sure his men did exactly as the Commander wanted.

 

“I would like to see her in chains, my Ali,” Jannasilane grumbled after they were well away from the farm. Some of the other Wardens nodded their agreement.

 

“You want more than that, my love,” Alistair replied with a grin. He enjoyed the heat of battle lighting her eyes on his behalf. “However, if Kal’Hirol is a nest of broodmothers we must destroy them first. The Mother and the Architect don’t need any more soldiers than they already have. Besides, if the code in that letter can be deciphered it may give us more and better evidence. A few days won’t hurt.”

 

“My friend, I sense we are getting closer,” Riordan advised before the chasm was visible.

 

“You don’t need to be a Warden to know a whole mess of darkspawn has been through here,” Oghren grunted his observation.

 

Before some of the others could question him, Saykor spoke up, “Oghren fought in the Deep Roads for almost two decades. You can’t do that without developing your own instinct or darkspawn sense. He’s one of the most decorated warriors Orzammar this generation. I looked up to him when I was little.”

 

“Was a decorated warrior,” Oghren mumbled under his breath. Then he bellowed, “Hey! I’m not your sodding grandpa, you miserable nug-humper.”

 

Alistair’s eyes twinkled, it was fun seeing this side to Saykor, but he kept his voice stern, “Let’s keep the noise level down, shall we? We don’t need to alert all the darkspawn in the arling.” Oghren may have grumbled something about ‘oversized pike-twirlers’ but he ignored it.

 

“Did an earthquake cause this?” Alistair asked rhetorically. “This is not the result of darkspawn digging to the surface. We should be careful; the ground may not be completely stable at the bottom.” They crossed a rickety looking bridge, to Anders’ dismay, and down some roughly crafted steps.

 

“Ugh,” Velanna grimaced, “I can already feel the difference. And you say it will get worse further in?”

 

“Never thought I’d be glad for all that training in meditation and building resistance,” Terry remarked. Riordan bowed slightly in her direction.

 

“Darkspawn ahead and around the corner,” Alistair warned.

 

Riordan concurred, “I agree, my friend. There are approximately one dozen, fortunately only hurlocks and genlocks.”

 

The Wardens quietly rushed forward at the Commander’s signal and saw that the darkspawn were not alone. Struggling in their midst was a young dwarva. The appearance of the Grey Wardens provided enough distraction for her to break away and pick up a discarded axe so she could join the fray, the very brief fray. Once the darkspawn were corpses on the ground, she turned to them with a game smile, “Thank you, strangers, for coming when you did. Sorry I can’t stay to chat but,” she stopped speaking when she noticed the older Wardens’ armor. Her smile grew broad, “Grey Wardens?! I don’t know what brought you here but it was certainly lucky for me. Our platoon was investigating word of a broodmother nest somewhere in Kal’Hirol but the darkspawn proved too tough. I’m the last. Well,” she turned to head down, “mustn’t keep the broodmothers waiting.”

 

“Wait,” Alistair commanded. He realized from her armor she was from the Legion of the Dead. The dwarf turned around almost hopefully, “Apparently we’re on the same business. I suggest we combine our efforts and perhaps avenge your fallen comrades in the process.”

 

“You got a deal, Commander,” the young dwarva smiled broadly. “The name’s Sigrun, so if we’re going to move, let’s move. Darkspawn don’t kill themselves, you know.”

 

“I appreciate your eagerness,” he replied drily, “but first we’ll let Anders heal all our injuries, including yours.”

 

“Step into my office,” Anders quipped. Soon they were descending below ground.

 

Oghren grunted once they reached the bottom of the ladder, “Kind of nice not to see the sodding bright sky overhead, for a change.” He and Saykor ambled ahead of the others until they reached a ledge overlooking the valley leading to the old dwarven fortress. “Branka would have given her eyeteeth to be here, looking for lost secrets. Before she became consumed by the Anvil, of course.”

 

“The greatest center of learning and development the smith caste ever had . . . the noble houses in Orzammar will be tripping over each other trying to be the first to reclaim it,” Saykor added cynically. Oghren agreed with an expression of sad disgust. He consoled himself by flirting salaciously with Sigrun while they descended to the valley floor. To her credit, Sigrun had no trouble handling him. The only thing to disturb her perky equanimity was a fellow Legionnaire. They found him dying in a corner of the ruins; he seemed glad to see Sigrun alive and whole. His death strengthened her resolve to move forward quickly.

 

“A completely new type of darkspawn that even the other darkspawn fear? We will need to send a report to Weisshaupt; other than minor differences, the darkspawn have been consistent in their variety for centuries. To the best of my knowledge there have been no new species,” Riordan frowned at the implications.

 

“We met a few of these grub type darkspawn in the Blackmarsh, working with one of the talkers. They can spit poison like a spider and are faster than they appear. They are not easy to kill with their thick shells, this is truth,” Jannasilane warned the others. They didn’t have long to wait for a demonstration of the Children’s viciousness. Genlocks didn’t run from much but a small group appeared to be running away from something. They were. Two grubs were quickly gaining on them. They showed no mercy and no hesitation in attacking one of their own kind, or what should have been one of their own kind.

 

“Maker,” the Wardens watched with wide eyes. Alistair adjusted their tactics, “I’ll concentrate on any emissaries, mages and archers I want you to focus your efforts on . . . what did he call them? the Children while the rest of you stay close and take out anything that comes near.” His strategy worked well for them as they fought their way to the entrance.

 

Sigrun stopped him from going forward, “Commander, the darkspawn control Kal’Hirol, including all its defenses. If you go in the front door like the Legion did you’ll be walking into a death trap. There should be another way inside, if we can find it.”

 

“The dwarves, Anders, Nathaniel, Justice, and Janna will come with me. Riordan, take everybody else back to the Vigil, making sure to go through Stark’s farm. Better inform Weisshaupt and the other Warden-Commanders about these new darkspawn. If they haven’t seen them yet, they should at least be warned.” He pulled the senior Warden to the side, “Please tell Varel to wait 24 hours and then, whether I’ve returned or not, go to plan B. He’ll know what you mean.”

 

Velanna scowled at him, “I detect a bias against elves, Commander. And to think I was beginning to think you were different.” Some of the other elves looked concerned.

 

Alistair sighed, “I’m being practical. I can’t take everybody and we don’t have enough earrings to go around yet. I hope that by the time we return the First Enchanter’s delivery will be waiting, When Jannasilane sings her battle song it is going to bounce off the walls, stunning you into easy targets. Dwarves are less susceptible; elves are more sensitive. I am not going to risk half the Wardens in Ferelden to satisfy your need for me to play nice. You and the other new recruits have been down here long enough; some of you are showing signs of distress. You’ll know what I mean once you aren’t surrounded by layers of taint. Don’t question me anymore, Velanna,” he warned when she didn’t look satisfied.

 

“Come; let us depart quickly before more of these children make their appearance. I, for one, will be most glad to be on the surface once again. Take care of yourself, little one, Commander,” Riordan shepherded his flock of Wardens to the surface.

 

“For such a little duster you are sure full of surprises. Can you really do that?” Sigrun asked.

 

“I. Am. Not. Little,” Jannasilane spoke through gritted teeth. The others just laughed at her.

 

“Of course you’re not little, Mouse,” Nathaniel spoke. “In answer to your question, Sigrun, yes, she can do that. The mighty Mouse can stun a group of darkspawn, and others, with her voice better than anything I can think of, except maybe some spells. And she doesn’t need lyrium to do it.”

 

Sigrun studied the small human woman, “Well, that’s convenient.” She went back to examining and tapping the walls, as the others were doing, trying to find a mechanism or clue to the hidden entrance.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 90:  The Thorn in His Side

Jannasilane limped along at Alistair’s side. She stumbled and Alistair caught her before she fell. “Stop,” Alistair commanded. “We’re far enough away; let’s rest here for a few minutes. Maker, those adult Children are fast, almost as fast as you are, my love. You had me worried once or twice,” he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. He didn’t know which of them needed the contact more.

 

“Yes, my Ali, they are fast. And strong. But they are not clever, or if they are it is overwhelmed by a lust for viciousness,” she sighed and relaxed as he gently massaged her shoulders. Their struggles against these new darkspawn tired her more than she cared to admit.

 

“My mana is restored,” Anders looked around their group. “I’ll take another look for small injuries, now. Who’s first?”

 

Oghren spoke first, “Better check Cherryplum, Sparklefingers. It’s not natural for her to be so quiet.”

 

“She has a right to be tired, but I’ll make sure that’s all it is,” Anders said cheerfully. Alistair shot the dwarf a look of gratitude. He was also getting concerned about her fatigue. Anders moved over and, with a flourish of his robe, sat down next to the warrior so he could examine the curvy little woman sleeping in his arms. “This may be the first time I’ve ever willingly sat down next to a templar,” he quipped. He brushed back Jannasilane’s hair and turned her face towards him. He trailed the back of his hand across her forehead and down the side of her face. He grinned when Alistair started to move protectively, “So far, so good. Her complexion is good and she isn’t cold or feverish.”

 

“Couldn’t you have figured that out without touching her?” Alistair grumbled.

 

The healer chuckled, “What, and miss the chance to caress Sexy Sweetie, here? I was on the run for a long time, Commander.” Oghren snorted his appreciation and even Nathaniel smiled slightly. “Besides,” he added, “we apostates on the run have to learn to conserve our mana. Finding black market connections with lyrium is tricky. What some of these smugglers ask,” he shook his head in mock dismay. He gently opened one of her eyes, “She has the most mesmerizing eyes I’ve ever seen; the colors just swirl in a dance of light and emotion.” He watched, briefly entranced by the lazy circles, slower than normal. “I bet you were lost the first time you gazed into them.”

 

“I was,” Alistair smiled, remembering. “We found her fighting darkspawn by herself on the road to Lothering. She didn’t have any armor, just a torn dress and some daggers. We ran to help, though I’m not sure she needed it. When the skirmish was over, I knelt down to see if she was hurt. She looked at me and my life changed forever.”

 

“Wow,” Sigrun said softly. She was sitting next to Nathaniel while the healer examined Little D. “In Dust Town we were too busy trying to survive to form a connection with anyone. The pretty ones tried to attract a noble’s attention and the rest of us were scheming to avoid the Carta or rise in it . . .” She shook her head, remembering what it was like, “I hear it’s a little different now. The Carta isn’t what it was before I joined the Legion. It’s pretty disorganized now.”

 

“Ha! The Wardens didn’t like it when the Carta kidnapped Cherryplum. Ran right through their hole,” Oghren took a swig.

 

Anders straightened; he had a small frown on his face. “She’s been poisoned,” he stated.

 

“P-poisoned?” Alistair paled.

 

“Not the deadly kind,” the mage hastened to reassure the big warrior. “It’s something sapping her energy. Now to find its source . . .” he called on his mana and held his hands just above her head. Slowly he moved them down until, “Aha,” he picked up her leg and began closely examining her calf. “There’s something just under the skin here, I just need to find it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. With one hand, he began fumbling in his pack for the tools of his trade. He made a small cut and carefully removed the barb, “Well, look at that. Quick, somebody hand me an empty vial or something. If I can study it I might be able to create an antidote.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“It looks like a coarse hair from one of the Children,” Anders answered. “It has barbs and each barb has a small sac of the venom. Let me fix this cut. She can sleep just a little bit longer. Walking will then help her shake off the remaining affects.”

 

Nathaniel frowned, “So you move more slowly while it tears into you. Some spiders and other creatures do the same thing.”

 

“Doesn’t that add a new level of nasty to the darkspawn,” Sigrun grimaced. “Maybe Little Duster should start wearing boots. Commander, it looked like there are two groups of darkspawn fighting each other.”

 

“The Architect and the Mother,” Alistair explained what they knew so far.

 

When they reached Vigil’s Keep Seneschal Varel was waiting for them. “Warden-Commander, we were starting to worry.” He waited until they were alone before continuing, “Bann Esmerelle was arrested per your orders, along with her five children. They are being held in the Amaranthine jail and have no contact with each other or anybody else. Heather and Alan cracked the code she was using quite easily. We searched the houses of all the conspirators and put the evidence in your conference room.”

 

“Anything I should know?” Alistair asked quietly.

 

The Seneschal shook his head, “I think it best if you come to your own conclusions, first, Commander. I’ll be in the throne room if you need me.”

 

Alistair saw to his men, wrote a follow up report about the Children to the First, and took care of some general administration matters before settling down to review the documents stacked in the conference room. “Shall we get started Jannalove? We can ask Varel to join us later. I want to make sure I don’t miss anything or misunderstand something, not on a matter this serious -” The door opened and an angry Mistress Woolsey entered.

 

“Commander, you cannot go around arresting nobles. You threaten the right of Grey Wardens even to be in Ferelden with your actions; you of all people should remember the results of Sophia Dryden’s actions. Youth is no excuse. If you or the little tart,” she stopped abruptly when Alistair stood up so fast he knocked his chair over.

 

“Do not ever refer to anyone under my roof, especially the person with whom I share my life, in such derogatory terms. Not ever.” He was so incensed that his throat tightened and the words came out in a menacing whisper. “I am Commander of the Grey for Ferelden and the Arl of Amaranthine. I will act accordingly. I will protect my people. Moreover, when some noble seeks to oust me by sabotage or assassination I will respond with the authority of my office, including the right of High Justice if I deem it appropriate. Do not doubt me on this, madam.”

 

Woolsey, flushed with ire when she came in, was now pale. She stood upright, however, and didn’t bow before him. Eyes glittering with emotion she responded stiffly, “My duty is, as always, to the Grey Wardens. I would be remiss not to point out your folly but I should have been more appropriate in my demeanor. For that, I apologize. Do not let your anger with me blind you to the consequences of your actions.” She left, shutting the door sharply behind her. Alistair gripped the table until his knuckles turned white to keep himself from going after her.

 

Jannasilane got up slowly, shocked that the old woman would act so spitefully. She wasn’t surprised by her opinions; Woolsey was completely loyal to and protective of the Grey Wardens and it was no secret she thought Alistair too young for the position. It was also no secret that she thought Alistair’s lover was not a proper lady and completely unsuitable to be Arlessa. “She is not totally mistaken about that,” Jannasilane thought. “Perhaps a proper lady is not what the Arling needs after Renden Howe. Seneschal Varel has been most helpful and does not seem to think I should not be here. Indeed, he seems to be quite pleased with the state of the Vigil since we arrived. The Woolsey will need watching, I think.” She climbed on the table and walked around the piles of paper until she was standing directly in front of and looking down on her beloved. “I think I prefer ‘Warden’s toy’ to ‘Warden’s tart’ but if I am a tart I am most probably cherryplum flavored.” She gently kneaded his shoulders.

 

“That, that old biddy,” Alistair snarled to himself, “I don’t care if she’s the First’s sainted mother or Andraste herself come to Thedas, she has no right to talk to anyone like that. Maybe I’m young and maybe Janna and I aren’t conventional but that is not her business. As soon as I find someone to replace her, someone I trust, she’s gone. I don’t care where she goes.” Slowly he noticed that a magnificent bosom was standing in front of him and his beloved Janna was speaking to him. “You are not a toy and most definitely not a tart.” He straightened and looked up into her beautiful eyes, “Well, you are small enough to be a toy, now that I think about it.” She scowled and punched him in the shoulder. He smiled wickedly, “Assaulting your Arl? You are going to pay for that, wench. I have all this angry energy built up and it needs an outlet. Guess what? You’re it,” he wrapped his arms around her and began gently nibbling her ear.

 

“No, my Ali, not gentle,” she murmured with a hitch in her breath.

 

He continued nibbling her ear and lightly stroking her curves until his hands were on her breasts. “It won’t be gentle. I promise you that,” he ripped open her dress and left the rags lying around her waist. “I’ll buy you another,” he growled and bit the sensitive skin where her neck and shoulder met before roughly latching on to one of her nipples. He let her feel his teeth as he suckled and was rewarded with her moan of pleasure. “I know exactly where I want to take you.” He picked her up, his fingers digging into the rich curves of her derriere. He knew she would bear his bruises the next day and took a fierce joy in the knowledge. Judging by the way her nails were grasping his shoulders he would have a few marks of his own. “I want you in my office, on my desk with the moonlight shining on your face as I possess you. You’re going to scream before I’m done with you, woman,” he growled and bit and licked her other nipple even as he was walking to the door.

 

“Thank the Maker,” she gasped and dug her nails deeper. There were no guards in the hallway. They only patrolled once the Arl retired for the night or was away from the Vigil. At that moment, she wouldn’t have cared. “I want you, my Ali, my Arl. I want you inside me; I want you to own me.” His shudder rippled through her and she whimpered.

 

He marched them into his office and booted the door shut then locked it behind him. Habits ingrained in him during his templar training meant he always left his desk neat and the surface nearly empty, a habit that was very useful now. He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her head down until their lips met. He bit, he sucked, he nibbled and he dominated. Alistair laid her down on the desk and moved her hands to her sides, where they could only grip the edge of the desk. He stood and looked down at her, the way the moonlight played on her face and breasts, “You are so beautiful, my love.” He stepped back to remove his shirt and she tightened her legs around him. The warrior reveled at the feel of her heat pressed so tightly against his groin. He loosened his trousers and eased his hand inside so he could lightly stroke himself.

 

Jannasilane thought she would burst when she felt his knuckles through the fabric. She didn’t want to feel him caressing himself; she wanted to feel him caressing her. “Ali, please,” she whispered. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight. He moved his hands to her legs and lifted them over his shoulder. He began feasting, tonguing her nub and nibbling her inner thighs. His beard rasped against her flesh and she began breathing faster than before.

 

Alistair loved the scent of her arousal, the desire that was all for him and not part of the Beast. He was proud that he could make her beg for his touch; and conversely humbled that she did so. He rubbed his beard against her, “Zevran, during one of his many attempts to educate me, mentioned the Pleasure Plain. Let’s see if he was lying,” he shifted her so he could dart little licks of his tongue against her skin, then slowly gave her one long lick, ending just shy of her nub.

 

“Al-i-i-i,” she practically screamed and felt him smiling against her. He continued to pleasure her while she could only grasp the edge of the desk and ride.

 

When he couldn’t stand holding off any longer, he kicked off his trousers and positioned her against his straining member. She drummed her feet against his back and he entered her in one long, hard thrust as far as he could go. He held himself there, savoring the tight heat and her cries begging him to move. She twisted her hips and he growled. Alistair let go of her rear and grabbed her hands, pulling them above her head and holding them against the desk’s surface. He kissed her, “You are mine.”

 

“Always,” she answered huskily, “and you are mine.”

 

“Always,” he rumbled.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 91:  Court is Convened

Cleaned, refreshed and redressed Alistair and Jannasilane examined all the evidence assembled for them. Finally, Alistair leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Most of it is pretty conclusive to me. Let’s get Riordan and Varel in here.”

 

“It is late,” Jannasilane reminded him.

 

“They may be napping in the library but they are as . . . I was going to say eager, but perhaps determined is a better word . . . as determined to get this done with quickly as I am.”

 

She walked over to his chair and cupped the side of his face, “You are right, my Ali.” She kissed his brow, “You will only brood until it is done. It is not good for you to carry such a weight. I shall go get them.”

 

Alistair smiled gratefully, “I love you, Janna. You make it so much easier for me to do what I need to.”

 

“You are my Ali,” she shrugged her shoulders as if that was all the answer necessary. She smiled and left to find the two men who were her Ali’s closest and most senior advisors. One of the guards told her they were both in the Seneschal’s suite. She only got lost once and was quite proud of herself for realizing her mistake before having to ask for help. When Jannasilane found them, the two men were discussing literature and sipping brandy.

 

They stood when she entered, “Little one, am I right in thinking your presence means Alistair wishes us to join you in the conference room?”

 

She nodded gravely, “It is a good thing my Ali has such broad shoulders for they have had to carry much weight since we came to Amaranthine.”

 

“Fortunately he has you to help him and ease his burdens, my lady,” the Seneschal bowed slightly. “Hopefully we will soon see one of those burdens lifted from him.” Without further words, they joined Arl Warden-Commander, another designation created by the Not-nows. For the most part, they agreed on the interpretation of the evidence before them; where they disagreed, or agreed there were still questions, was the extent to which each of the Bann’s children was involved. Varel shook his head, “The daughters are younger versions of their mother. The three women have always been close. I do not doubt that, if you weren’t so obviously involved with my lady, Bann Esmerelle would have told them to try to attract your personal attention. If you had succumbed you would have been stabbed in your sleep.”

 

Jannasilane scowled at the thought and Alistair kissed her fingers, “See what your mere existence has saved me from? I am a lucky man.” He grinned at her and teased a slight smile out of her. “What about the three boys?”

 

Varel considered, “Hardly boys. The youngest is 16. Bann Esmerelle has always favored her daughters, so I am unsure to what extent she involved her sons. The middle son is single-mindedly, even fanatically, devoted to his mother and would do whatever she asked of him without hesitation or question. He is not particularly clever and nobody can persuade him from an idea or course of action. If he decides you are his mother’s enemy he will be yours for the rest of his life with no thought of self-preservation. The other two, I just don’t know. They are intelligent and are surely aware of her feelings towards you. They are loyal, but not, I think, beyond reason. Because they are more likely to have argued with her she may not have involved them to any great degree. On the other hand, if they agreed with her . . . I just don’t know.”

 

“We need to interview each of them, get a sense of where they stand,” Alistair decided.

 

“I do not think it wise for you to do the questioning, Alistair,” Riordan interjected.

 

“No,” Alistair answered slowly, “No, I think you’re right. Perhaps Captain Garevel and Constable Aidan of the city guard could question each of them while Janna and I secretly observe? I want to gain some impression of their character before I make any final decisions and my Janna is good at sensing deceit.”

 

After further discussion they decided to go with Alistair’s suggestion with one addition; they would invite a respected lord not biased towards either Alistair or Bann Esmerelle to observe the questioning. “It’s not normal but acting in such a transparent manner may sway more of the nobility in your favor. At the very least, it will give them pause to reconsider the rumors that have been circulating. I will send out the notices that you are convening a special court of High Justice. I will, with your permission, add their presence is welcomed, not required, and that you understand duty may prevent them from joining. ”

 

It was done. Constable Aidan was flattered the Warden-Commander thought so well of him and questioned the subjects thoroughly and without undue emotion, even though some of their actions disgusted him. At the end of the day, the prisoners were transported to Vigil’s Keep and housed overnight, still separated from each other.

 

Alistair stood at the entrance and watched the nobles arrive, “It really shouldn’t be so bright and sunny. You’d think the Maker could have provided some storm clouds to reflect the occasion.”

 

Seneschal Varel raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t put it on my list, sir.” He was starting to get used to the young man’s inclination to use humor to hide his nervousness or emotions. Jannasilane snorted in amusement. “Riordan has all the Wardens and the Cousins patrolling the perimeter, out of sight of our ‘guests.’ You did say you don’t want this to be seen as a Grey Warden affair,” he reminded Alistair. He approved of the Arl’s wardrobe, the dark trousers paired with Amaranthine colors. Only his steel armbands reminded his audience that he was also the Warden-Commander of Amaranthine. “Mistress Woolsey is most displeased that she is not allowed to openly be present.”

 

“Mistress Woolsey is simply displeased and would be displeased whether she was present or not. I am beginning to think ‘Displeased’ is her first name. She should be thankful I’m allowing her to observe the proceedings at all, but I know that’s too much to ask. The last thing I need is her obvious disapproval glaring at me and everyone else. This day is going to be difficult enough without that,” Alistair said sourly. Jannasilane and the Seneschal agreed. They followed him back to the main hall and stood on either side of the Arl’s seat. The Arl Warden-Commander watched the various nobles enter and take their places, their moods as serious as his own. Once he was satisfied that no more were coming, indeed, he wasn’t sure if there were any more in the entire Arling, he signaled the Seneschal.

 

“This session of Court will now begin,” Varel declared loudly. “Those present will come to order. Captain Garevel, bring forward the first prisoner.” The captain left through a doorway leading into a small parlor where all the prisoners waited.

 

Even though most knew of her arrest, the lords and ladies were still shocked to see Bann Esmerelle in chains. If it weren’t for the chains and the guards escorting her they wouldn’t have guessed she was a prisoner. She was as haughty and well dressed as ever as she stood looking down her nose at the young man in the seat of power. She completely ignored Varel while he read the charges against her.

 

“Bann Esmerelle, your blatant disregard for the safety and welfare of your people is a disgrace to all those with authority, be they king or shopkeeper. As a boy, I watched Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan care for their lands. I traveled with Blake Cousland for over a year and he never shirked his duties, even though he was thrust into a life he didn’t want because of the selfish, cold, grasping actions of another.” Some of the crowd stirred uneasily at the reminder of his predecessor. “Teyrn Fergus Cousland has the difficult and heart-wrenching task of rebuilding Highever amidst the memories of his dead family, yet he never once flinched from the responsibilities that come with the title. He gave me full run of the remnants of his library and answered all my questions about running a teyrnir with probably more patience than a Revered Mother while I tried to learn as much as I could. These people are the examples of what nobles should be and how I hope my term as Arl is remembered. You are a prime example of what a noble should not be. With title and power comes responsibility to the people under your auspice. Her Majesty granted the Arling to the Grey Wardens and they in turn entrusted it to me. I endeavor to live up to their trust and expectations on a daily basis. This is my promise to those here and all the citizens of Amaranthine.”

 

Alistair paused to take a breath and let his words fill the room. They weren’t for Bann Esmerelle’s benefit; he wanted to make sure all those present, and the waiting prisoners, heard him and understood. “Maybe this is what I should have said during the fealty ceremony,” he thought. He’d practiced his speech several times with Janna, who turned out to be quite a good critic. “While investigating a possible source of the darkspawn plaguing our lands we traveled through Old Stark’s farm and were surprised to see a group of people since we understood the place was long deserted. We approached cautiously; an abandoned holding would make a convenient hideout for bandits or other miscreants. One of them spied us and identified us to his confederates and immediately they attacked us. Ser Timothy, Lord Guy, Lady Liza Packton and assorted confederates lay dead in the field when we finished fighting. Among Liza Packton’s possessions was a letter from you, Bann Esmerelle. I can only presume she needed to show the others she was acting on your behalf. Most of the letter’s content was in code. We were able to decipher it without any difficulty.” The woman before him stiffened slightly, stung by his words and perhaps finally concerned.

 

“My men and I quietly took possession of the properties belonging to the conspirators and searched for evidence. Evidence we found quite easily after your code was broken,” Captain Garevel added. “Even now one guard remains at each holding, guarding against trespass instead of patrolling the arling. We found enough information against you to warrant your arrest and that of your children. We uncovered more after going through each room of your home with a fine tooth comb.” He raised his hand to signal the guards to bring in the remaining prisoners, Bann Esmerelle’s children and Temmerly the ‘Ox.’

 

“You had no right to search my belongings,” the Bann exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not some low, common thug or peasant.”

 

“I had every right to authorize such a search,” Alistair answered sharply. “I am the Arl of Amaranthine and when criminal activity is brought to my notice I can and will act upon it. We did not arrest you on suspicion or rumor, but hard evidence. Your crimes go beyond those against my person and so against the arling. You swore an oath of loyalty, which was false. When you stood in this same hall and made your pledge you were lying. You had already confirmed a contract with the Antivan Crows to kill the new Arl, a contract made before I was named Warden-Commander and about which preliminary negotiations were initiated before Queen Anora announced that Amaranthine was to be given to the Grey Wardens!”

 

“What?” “That’s outrageous.” “We have darkspawn running around and you add assassins?” “For shame, Esmerelle, for shame,” the onlookers cried out. Any sympathy or concern about one of their own being arrested was fast diminishing.

 

“Only the Maker knows what lives might have been saved or property salvaged without the . . . impediment of hired assassins on our heels. I have forwarded evidence of your collusion with Renden Howe in matters of a possibly treasonous nature to Denerim. It will be up to Their Majesties to decide on any action. Today the most heinous of the crimes charged against you, your children, and Ser Temmerly are murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and attempted murder.”

 

“Ser Temmerly, you received a note from Bann Esmerelle stating that Ser Tamra had evidence against you and the others. It suggested you ‘take care of the matter.’ She was dead less than 24 hours later and guards found you near her still warm body, blood spattering your armor. You stated, when first charged, that your presence was ‘coincidence,’ ‘the streets aren’t safe at night.’ Even if we assume Ser Tamra’s murder was merely fortuitous for you and your fellows, the evidence against you regarding the conspiracy against your Arl is damning and you will share Bann Esmerelle’s fate. Your holding was also searched,” Alistair added.

 

“I should have poked your woman while she was helpless at my feet and left my handprints all over her curvy corpse,” the ‘Ox’ snarled to the horrified gasps of the crowd behind him. Even Bann Esmerelle made a moue of distaste.

 

Alistair had to call upon all his templar discipline not to kill the bastard where he stood, “Thank you for your admission of guilt.” His smile was frightening; it was so at odds with the death in his eyes. Nathaniel once stated he thought lightning bolts were supposed to shoot out from his gaze. If he were present he would surely believe those rumors true.

 

“Bann Esmerelle, I find one aspect of this case particularly disgusting, that you involved your children in your crimes, to varying degrees. That you showed no regard for their welfare or future is baffling to me. Before I pronounce sentence, do either you or your sons and daughters have anything to say?”

 

“Arl Renden Howe was good to us, good to me,” she sneered haughtily. “The least I could do was seek vengeance for his death.”

 

“How can you still be loyal to that man?” Varel was incredulous. She didn’t answer him and he just shook his head in disbelief.

 

Alistair looked at each of her offspring in turn. The daughters just glared at him with venom, the middle son stared stoically, only the youngest son said anything, “She’s our mother. What else could we do?” The oldest son looked down at the ground, his shoulders sagging. He put his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

 

“Loyalty is an admirable virtue that is not always simple, especially when it becomes blind,” Alistair replied quietly, thinking of Ser Cauthrien.

 

He stood to pronounce sentence, “Bann Esmerelle, your title and all property is hereby remanded to the Arling until such time as more permanent dispensation is determined. A steward will be appointed until that time. For crimes against your Arl and Amaranthine, you will forfeit your life. In deference to your former position I will give you the choice of rope or blade. What say you?”

 

“I’ll take the blade, thank you.”

 

“So be it. Amanda and Grace, next time you leave your cells it will be your last view of Amaranthine. If the Chantry, not the same one for both of you, somewhere outside Ferelden wishes to take you in their service for the rest of your natural lives under those conditions and with full knowledge of your crimes then you will do so. If not, arrangements will be made to accommodate you in Fort Drakon. I hope, for your sakes, that the Chantry will take you in. Perhaps in time you will come to live a more productive life.” The two sisters started howling and cursing him, “Or perhaps not,” he thought.

 

“Targ,” he turned his attention to the middle son, “you have been at your mother’s side during all her activities, blindly following her dictates. You will share her fate.” The young man blinked slowly, once, but otherwise showed no reaction. Alistair sighed, “Another lost cause, damn the woman.” “Robert, you are the oldest and should have been more aware of and made more determined efforts to stop your mother’s actions.”

 

The man looked up at his Arl then and nodded in agreement, “You are right, my lord. I should have done better.”

 

“I understand that you have family in Nevarra and the Free Marches?” Alistair asked.

 

“Yes, my lord,” Robert and his youngest brother looked confused.

 

“You were not involved in the more egregious actions therefore your punishment is exile. A ship is due to leave for Nevarra next week. You will be on it with a small chest of personal possessions and 100 sovereigns to start a new life. You are not to return to Amaranthine for fifteen years, at which point you can petition the current Arl. Jonas will similarly go to the Free Marches but his banishment, due to his youth, is seven years. You do not need to stay with your family; your final destination is up to each of you as is the choice for how you start your new life. You will never have a claim to what should have been your birthright, so I suggest you think carefully before making any decisions. You will remain in your cells until your ships sail. Do you both understand?”

 

The two brothers looked at each other, neither quite believing they weren’t to be jailed or executed. They looked at their Arl and realized it was true. In unison the stuttered, “Y-yes, thank you, my lord.”

 

Finally, Alistair pronounced sentence on the last prisoner, his demeanor significantly colder, “Temmerly, I have already stated that you will share the fate of Bann Esmerelle. However, you have a wife and a young child so the disposition of your small holding is different. Is Lady Temmerly present?” Alistair noticed the large man sneering at his wife when a thin woman hesitantly stepped forward. He also noticed traces of old bruises on the side of her face and made sure he spoke gently, “My lady, you shall retain the property unless reasonable evidence suggests you share your husband’s guilt. A steward shall be appointed to make sure you have the knowledge and abilities to run the holding without outside assistance. This steward will be compensated with a small percentage of any income. I do not hold the sins of the father against the son, so do not wish to strip you and your child of your home. If you are proven another in the conspiracy, I will be forced to reconsider. For your sakes I hope not.” The poor woman sank to the ground in a curtsey, sobbing her gratitude.

 

“Miserable bastard,” Temmerly shouted.

 

Alistair ignored him. “Guards, take the prisoners to the courtyard. We will have this done.”

 

“You do not have to be the one to wield the blade, my lord,” Varel said quietly.

 

His Arl shook his head, “I need to demonstrate that I will carry out my own orders. If there is a next time, Maker forbid, I won’t need to do so, but today . . .” He’d already arranged for a Chantry sister to be on hand for the prisoners. He gave each of the condemned the opportunity to talk to her. The guards escorted the former bann to the executioner’s block where Alistair waited. She disdained to look at him and delicately knelt to the ground and laid down her head.

 

Not one noble could later report they saw any joy on the young Warden’s face. Alistair muttered a silent prayer, swung the axe in a swift arc, and severed her head quickly and cleanly. He left the axe on the block while his men carefully removed the body. He turned swiftly when he heard a commotion behind him; Targ escaped the hold of his guards and charged Alistair while yelling unintelligibly.

 

He was surprisingly fast and grabbed the axe that killed his mother before Alistair could reach it. The Warden-Commander had to dodge and roll before he could pull out his sword to meet Targ’s fury and grief. Targ was no trained soldier so the advantage of emotion and surprise quickly dissipated and he died in combat. Alistair looked down at him in sorrow and pity.

 

“You had no choice, my boy, I mean my lord,” Lord Eddelbrek said quietly behind him. “Her crimes warranted such a response. Targ, well, I’ve known Targ since he was a little baby. If he lived he would have continually come after you.”

 

“I know,” Alistair said just as quietly. “This death, defending her, it’s at least cleaner than the executioner’s blade. I think.”

 

The older man looked startled at first, and then nodded thoughtfully, “I suppose -”

 

He was interrupted by a breathless, disheveled lass, “The darkspawn are attacking Amaranthine, they’re attacking the city!” she gasped.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 92:  Saving Amaranthine

“Darkspawn in the city, what shall we do?” The alarmed nobles turned to their Arl.

 

“Guards!” Alistair bellowed, silencing the concerned rumbling in the crowd. “Take the prisoners and secure them in the dungeon cells and then report to Captain Garevel.” He was already marching back into the Vigil to retrieve his armor. “Varel, get as many details as you can from the girl and have somebody recall the Wardens and Cousins. I’ll meet you in the main hall. My lords and ladies, you are welcome to stay in the Keep but it is quite possible that the darkspawn also plan to attack here, as they have before. If you stay, you are subject to the Seneschal’s orders. We can’t spare any soldiers to accompany you if you decide to go. The decision is yours. Wade, I want you and Herren working double time to finish repairs. If they attack please keep your forge going as long as you can. I can’t order you, I’m asking you.”

 

For once Wade didn’t indulge his inclination for histrionics, “Commander, we will do everything we can to help your soldiers. Take this armor. I made it from the golem shell; I’m not thrilled with it but it is stronger than anything else you have. I prefer you come back alive, even if it is abysmally cold in your turnip keep.” Wade couldn’t help himself.

 

Alistair grinned. He shook the smith’s hand, “Thank you, Master Wade, with this armor and the sword you crafted the darkspawn should tremble in fear.”

 

“My lord, I am going home. My people need to know and prepare for any problems. If anything happens, I want to be with my son. I don’t live far from here, I’m sure I’ll get there long before any darkspawn make an appearance. Thank you for your mercy,” Lady Temmerly curtsied and quickly scurried away.

 

“Hmm, looks like Temmerly didn’t completely beat the backbone out of her. I have a hunch she’ll do just fine . . . if she survives,” Alistair thought as he hurried to his quarters.

 

“Master Wade is most ingenious, my Ali,” Jannasilane spoke admiringly of the new armor as she helped him put it on. The armor was similar to a sleeveless tunic, as Alistair had come to prefer, but Wade created bands, set with a variety of runes, to wrap around his upper arms. The chestpiece was long enough to reach the top of the boots and much more flexible than his heavy plate, small overlapping plates that would allow him to move easily. Wade had even engraved several of them with griffons.

 

“If we survive this, remind me to send a letter thanking Blake for sending Wade to us,” Alistair grabbed Vigilance, the sword created out of dragonbone, and kissed her hard before they returned to the main hall.

 

“Huh, if we survive this, I’ll kiss Anora,” she muttered.

 

Alistair snorted, “Both Blake and I would like to see that.” The last of his Wardens and Cousins were just entering the hall, expressions grim. They pushed through the milling nobles who remained.

 

“Our forces will never reach Amaranthine in time, but perhaps a small group can move more quickly,” Captain Garevel suggested. Varel and Riordan concurred with his assessment.

 

“Jannalove, we’re going to battle once again. Nathaniel, Oghren, Anders . . . you’re with me. Warden-Constable Riordan, you’re in charge of the remaining Wardens and the Cousins. This might be another trick and we must defend Vigil’s Keep at all costs. We can’t allow the darkspawn armies to win. Captain Garevel, select a small group of men and follow us to Amaranthine. The rest will remain here under Varel’s command.”

 

“We will keep the home of you and the little one, my friend.”

 

“These walls will stand, Commander, don’t you worry,” Voldrik called out.

 

Dworkin was already talking to Riordan, “I have a bunch of new explosions for the beasties.” He cackled and rubbed his hands in a kind of manic glee.

 

Alistair didn’t wait for Garevel. He and his Wardens could travel faster and every minute was valuable. Mentally he reviewed the city’s layout. While they marched he thought and then talked, “If I was leading the darkspawn I’d attack the east gate; with all the refugees camped outside I could cause a lot more damage more quickly.”

 

“Yeah,” Oghren grunted and belched, “and the sodding darkspawn don’t care if they hurt their own kind. Be a lot of confusion for those guards.”

 

“We’re going to go in hard, fast and loud. I want to make it impossible for them to ignore us. If they turn around to attack us, it might give Amaranthine’s guards enough time to regroup and if we’re really lucky contain the darkspawn. Jannalove, I want them to hear your song in the Deep Roads. Nate, aim for the ones farther away, herd them back. Oghren, Anders, do what you do. When the captain and his men arrive they can clean up behind us, deal with any that get past us.” Alistair didn’t speak again until they reached the city and saw darkspawn still ravaging the encampments outside the gates. The warrior snarled, “Let’s show these bastards what it means to mess with Grey Wardens.” He raised his arm, “Wardens, attack!”

 

Maybe the darkspawn were expecting them, maybe not. They certainly didn’t expect them so soon and the Wardens quickly cut down those outside the gates. Captain Garevel and his men arrived in time for the end of the initial skirmish and helped the Wardens press forward until the darkspawn incursion was defeated. They cleared out the vermin and rested in the Revered Mother’s office while waiting for the next wave reportedly coming. “Commander, shouldn’t we try to get to Vigil’s Keep? If that darkspawn messenger is correct then the Vigil is under attack; indeed it sounds like the Vigil is the main target.” Nathaniel questioned.

 

“Huh, who is this ‘Father’ and why would he warn us? Sounds like strange behavior for a darkspawn to me,” Oghren snorted. “Course, this whole business is mighty strange.”

 

Jannasilane shifted her position where she was resting on Alistair’s chest, “Oh, I think he was speaking truth,” she said, thoughtfully. “It is harder for me to understand these talking darkspawn, this is also truth.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving these people unprotected. There are more Grey Wardens with Riordan than here in Amaranthine; and the Vigil’s walls are stronger than ever, thanks to Voldrik. If the Messenger was telling the truth, well, I trust the Vigil to stand. If he was lying to trick us into leaving then he failed. Captain Garevel sent a scout to try and verify his information,” Alistair ended the speculation. “If I’m wrong there’s nothing I can do. I made a decision and I must stick to it. One thing I learned from the Couslands, you must not appear to second-guess yourself, especially when it’s too late to change your mind. Doing that only makes you look weak and hurt you in the long run. Maker, I wonder how many times Blake just wanted to bang his head on the wall to stop the doubts. He couldn’t always have been as sure of himself as he seemed.”

 

Anders stood and stretched, “I’m going to check on some of the injured. I can’t believe a merchant is peddling his wares in the hall,” he shook his head and walked out.

 

“They will be here soon, my Ali,” Jannasilane said softly before kissing him lovingly.

 

He wrapped his arms around and sat up with her locked in his embrace. They didn’t speak until he kissed the top of her hair, “I know; I can almost feel them.” They quickly put on the rest of their armor and strode out of the office. Alistair had a quick word with the Revered Mother while Jannasilane spoke to various survivors and reassured them as much as she could. Some were still in a glazed kind of shock but most were simply calm now that their initial fear was over and they were alive. The mere presence of their Arl, the Hero of Ferelden, and Arlessa helped.

 

The temporary peace was shattered when a soldier rushed in, “They’re coming from the Inn, the darkspawn are attacking from the Inn!”

 

“Somebody should tell them there aren’t any vacancies,” Alistair muttered to himself. He spoke more loudly, “Calm yourself, soldier. We will stop them. Wardens, to me.” He opened the Chantry doors, strode outside, “Now it rains,” he grumbled, and slew a hurlock alpha that made its way to the top of the steps.

 

Many of the enemy's forces were the new darkspawn, the Children; so many that even the Wardens were breathless once they slew all the ones in the streets. They converged on the doorstep of the Crown and Lion, popped shoulders and rolled stiff necks, braced themselves and went inside. Jannasilane’s battle song rang through the tavern and shortly stilled the creatures. “They’re coming from upstairs,” Oghren warned.

 

“Damn the owners; I warned them that the smuggler’s entrance needed to be closed down. I bet they thought they could start up again,” Alistair shouted over the fighting. He smashed his sword into one of the grubs. They fought their way up the stairs and down the not-so-secret entrance to the cove, through the underground docks and out the small house outside the city proper only to come face-to-face with an emissary and armored golem. His ears still ringing from some of the blows he stared down at the inert golem, “You know . . . it’s an unfair advantage to put armor on a golem.” He looked around when the sound of cheering penetrated. A few guards and other citizens were looking sadly at their dead but most were happy to be alive and no longer under threat.

 

“Warden-Commander, sir, the darkspawn are all gone. The disease did not spread nearly as much as we initially thought. I doubt more than a quarter of the city was affected. Amaranthine owes you much,” Constable Aidan reported.

 

“My scout has not returned, Commander, and there has been no other word from the Vigil,” Garevel was concerned.

 

Alistair rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought a moment, “I don’t think there’s any more need to keep these people out of the city, do you Constable? Captain, you and your men stay and help the city guard establish some order before returning to the Vigil. Make sure there’s enough ale for Oghren,” he said in an attempt at humor.

 

“Hey! . . . Huh, good to know you’re thinkin’ of old Oghren’s welfare,” the dwarf interjected with a discreet, for him, belch. “What are we gonna be doin’ while Garevel here makes sure my cousin doesn’t find my stash?”

 

Alistair stared at him, “You have a stash? Of course you do, I shouldn’t have asked. Where’s the Messenger?”

 

“It is that I am here,” the darkspawn lisped. “Ready are you to protect Vigil’s Keep?”

 

Alistair shook his head and smiled mirthlessly, “Oh no, we’re taking the fight directly to the Mother ******. And I think you can tell me where to find her.”

 

“Her home, it is here,” he drew a rough map in the dirt, “in a place where dragons came to die and a city was once built on their bones.”

 

“He’s referring to the Dragonbone Wastes, out west,” Nathaniel noted with interest. “There are many stories and legends; I went there once with Fergus on a dare. It’s an eerie, spooky place.”

 

“So was the Blackmarsh, let’s hope we do better in the dragons’ graveyard,” Anders remarked sourly.

 

Alistair let the Messenger go as promised and the Wardens headed west after getting some supplies. He hated taking anything when Amaranthine was suffering but the Wastes were on the other side of the arling and he didn’t know what he might find. “Riordan and his class of new Wardens may have passed right by here; it’s not that far from Soldier’s Peak,” he frowned slightly. “I wonder why he didn’t sense the Mother.”

 

“It’s not that close to the road, Commander,” Nathaniel observed. “It is more remote than you might think and only one way in or out, as I recall.”

 

“The bones of the dragon in the Blackmarsh had a certain power many decades later,” Jannasilane observed. “Perhaps the bones of many dragons help mask the presence of darkspawn?”

 

“Huh, maybe. If that’s the case, we’re going to need to patrol the area regularly after we defeat the Mother. Can broodmothers travel? I mean, there’s nothing that roots them to the ground, as far as I know. They’re big, and must be heavy . . . but with all those tentacles, arms, or whatever they should be able to shift. They have tentacles that are kind of like roots and can come up behind you . . . I just wonder if this Mother was always there or if she moved because of the dragon bones.” Just as he had on the road to Lothering Alistair speculated in order not to think of the losses behind him.

 

“By the Ancestors, look at all those bones. Some of those skulls are even bigger than you, you oversized human,” Oghren observed in awe.

 

“I can feel the power, the old magic . . . it saturates the air,” Anders marveled. He could understand why the Tevinters built a city here. He felt energized and knew his magic would be stronger and come to him easier.

 

Alistair nodded, “I feel it too. It reminds me of something,” he turned to Jannasilane in alarm. It reminded him of the Gauntlet. “Janna! Are you alright?”

 

“Give me a moment, my Ali,” she called, shuddering against the power of dragons. The old bones called to her, challenged her, and buffeted her. She wanted to soar into the air and rule the sky. She wanted . . . Jannasilane slowly opened her eyes. Nathaniel was kneeling on one knee in front of her, concerned.

 

“Mouse, is something wrong? Can I help?” he put his hand on her arm to steady her.

 

His voice reached her as if from a great distance and Jannasilane looked at him, she stared into his eyes, her own whirling rapidly. She leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips. She framed his face with her hands and spoke, “You are a good man, Nathaniel Howe. This is truth. Remember it.” When she moved away, he felt bereft at first, and then warmed by her acceptance.

 

Anders sat beside him while staring at the small woman making her way to their Warden-Commander. The sight should have been ridiculous; a small curvy woman with bare feet and tousled hair approaching the large blond warrior with his arms crossed but somehow she reminded the mage of a priestess or goddess offering a boon to her favored one. He shook his head to clear it of the fanciful images.

 

“You are my Ali.” As she approached, he began to feel the power swirling through and around her. “All that I am is yours, always, this is truth,” she pronounced. Her voice, normally husky, had a new resonance or echo that vibrated through him. Everything about her was more, that’s the only way he could describe it.

 

Alistair claimed her; he crushed her to him and devoured her lips with his. “You are mine as much as I am yours, always,” he growled. He shuddered when some of the energy in her passed to him but he didn’t stop. He continued to absorb as much of it, and her, as he could.

 

“You know,” he looked at her thoughtfully, “for a moment I almost felt their battle cries coming at me. That’s a lot of power to handle. I still feel it resonating in me and that’s second-hand. I see it in you, now. Your eyes are darker and brighter at the same time. The colors are swirling differently. Your skin is practically humming. Are you okay?”

 

“I, yes. It is like and unlike the Gauntlet. That overwhelmed me, this challenges the griffon inside me but is something I can, um, channel or learn to ride like strong winds so I can use their power. I feel stronger, more alert, and sexier. This is truth,” she admitted.

 

“So, what was it like?” Oghren asked gruffly, “tasting the Cherryplum?” He, Anders and Nathaniel were keeping their distance until Alistair and Jannasilane were ready. When Nate told them about the energy around her Anders nodded his head thoughtfully and then explained about her sensitivity to magic and lyrium. He decided not to say he could still feel a faint hum coming from the rogue. “Even Ser Pounce-a-lot feels it, don’t you kitty?”

 

Nathaniel passed his fingers over his lips, “She told me to remember that I’m a good man.” He looked sideways at the dwarf, “I will say the Commander is a very lucky man.”

 

Jannasilane and Alistair joined them where they were sitting and waiting. She kissed Oghren on the cheek, causing him to blush, and then Anders and Nathaniel. Her face pinkened a little when she kissed the archer’s cheek. “Thank you for putting up with my, my idiosyncrasies,” she said shyly. Her demeanor now was such an odd contrast to her earlier behavior. “I am better now.”

 

“There was never anything wrong with you, my lady,” Nathaniel bowed gallantly over her hand. “Commander, I am ready to move forward.” Anders and Oghren also stood.

 

Alistair appreciated Nathaniel’s tact. “I wonder why some of our other companions couldn’t have shown some of that same tact. Well, Leliana did. Could have used more of it from the others.” He nodded to the rogue and spoke to all of them, “Let’s go kill some darkspawn.”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 93:  A Dead Mother is the Best Broodmother

They moved forward carefully. The skeletons not only still vibrated with power; they made convenient hiding places for the darkspawn. “I’m probably going to have nightmares about darkspawn coming out of eye sockets,” Alistair yelled during one exchange. Janna’s battle song bounced off the bones and gained an eerie resonance in the night. They saw their goal, an ancient Tevinter tower, behind a giant dragonbone archway. “Wait; is that a dragon fighting darkspawn?” Alistair asked, incredulous.

 

“This will be much more fun than fighting the Children,” Jannasilane growled.

 

“Ha! You got that right, Cherryplum,” Oghren grinned maniacally.

 

Alistair scowled, “We’re going to wait; let them bang on each other a while longer. Maybe they’ll kill each other off.” The dwarf and the woman pouted like two recalcitrant children but stayed put. Finally, the darkspawn lay in cinders at the dragon’s feet. “I want Nathaniel and Anders to concentrate on wings and feet, immobilize the beast. And try not to hit Janna. Attack!” Jannasilane was off.

 

“Look at Cherryplum go,” Oghren chortled, running behind her and next to the templar. “This is even better than that spirit dragon.”

 

“My Lady Mouse, you are indeed a most magnificent fighter of dragons,” Nathaniel congratulated her afterwards. “I thought I witnessed your skill in the Blackmarsh but I see now they were but a portion of your talents.”

 

Oghren startled to chuckle, causing the others to stare. “The way I heard it,” he began, “the Wardens were none too pleased when these skills first appeared. Commander Pike-twirler was a might upset.”

 

“Now is not the time,” Alistair tried to stop the dwarf; he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

 

“Yeah, it’ll keep till we have ale and a cozy fire. Gotta do it justice,” he leered.

 

“Judging by Poppet’s blushes I’m sure it will be quite entertaining,” Anders’ eyes danced in amusement.

 

Nathaniel was studying the door for traps or other devices. He also wondered what story had Mouse’s face turning red but he wasn’t going to encourage Oghren, at least, not now. “This door seems safe enough, Commander. Be careful stepping through, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were traps on the other side.”

 

There was a surprise, but no traps when they entered the old structure. “I hoped Velanna would be with you,” a soft voice said from the shadows. Seranni stepped forward, “Wardens, the Architect means you know harm. He wants a home for the darkspawn, not all this fighting.”

 

“They are monsters, Seranni,” Alistair said gently.

 

“Only because they don’t know better,” she answered earnestly. “They are like children who don’t understand right from wrong. They just need to be taught, to be lead in the right direction. They aren’t mindless beasts, Commander.”

 

“Maybe not mindless, but their actions don’t inspire confidence. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come back with us, back to your sister?” Alistair wasn’t surprised by her answer. 

 

Seranni shook her head, “No, I need to help them learn. Tell Velanna I love her but she needs to stop looking for me. She needs to live her life.” She disappeared back into the shadows.

 

“She speaks truth, my Ali.”

 

The Warden-Commander shook his head, “She may believe it’s the truth. Clever of the Architect to echo the Dalish’ desire for a homeland to get her cooperation. I wonder why she’s so valuable to him . . .”

 

“Velanna will not like this, Commander,” Nathaniel observed quietly. Oghren snorted and muttered something about the prickly elf.

 

“No, but that will have to wait. This place is much bigger than I thought from the outside; it goes deep. Makes sense for the Mother to be here. If she’s as clever as the Architect then we should keep an eye out for traps,” Alistair warned.

 

“Commander, look at this,” Anders held up a strange crystal. “I can feel the power inside; it’s definitely not lyrium. It reminds me of something. Here Poppet, what do you think?”

 

Jannasilane blinked, “It, it feels warm but not hot.” She handed it back to Anders who tucked it into his pack. The Wardens moved forward carefully but quickly, picking up any more of the strange crystals they found. They fought and maneuvered their way across a bridge and down a spiral staircase, Children popping out of pods behind them and ogres blocking them in front.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, they rested briefly. Anders first healed their injuries and then walked in circles, studying the markings and sockets on the floor. He stopped and pulled one of the crystals out of his pack and began to smile, “I remember,” he said and placed it in one socket. It fit perfectly. Quickly he filled the others, completing an energy arc. He looked towards the Commander, “It’s a power circle, and if I remember correctly whoever completes the arc can call on that particular ability one time. This one is like my mind blast but bigger and more powerful. We can’t use it in the Tower structure proper, but if the Mother’s nest is outside of it-”

 

“-we’ll have an extra weapon in our arsenal. Good to know,” Alistair grinned. “It’s about time something went our way. Let’s go.” They crossed more bridges and descended more stairs. Alistair stopped them when they came across a darkspawn corpse, one not of their making, “Be wary, something powerful is ahead.” He stepped down cautiously, “It feels like . . . You.” He stopped and glared at the Architect.

 

“Commander,” the twisted creature floated towards them, “we were unable to continue our previous discussions.”

 

Alistair sneered, “I escaped, you mean. Being tied down and then caged is generally a sign you’re not invited for tea and crumpets.”

 

“I apologize; I was trying to avoid a misunderstanding such as the one at Vigil’s Keep. Alas, I am not very good at determining how your kind will act.” The unusual emissary explained that he wanted the Commander’s help to end the Blights.

 

“Duncan didn’t believe you over 20 years ago. Meeting you made him more determined than ever to defeat the darkspawn,” Alistair replied. He noticed Utha stiffen slightly and quickly glance up at the emissary, “I see you remember him. He was a good man and a good Warden; I see no reason to doubt his judgment now. In case you don’t understand me, the answer is no. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Whatever you are doing stops here.”

 

“Most unfortunate. I’m sorry, Utha, I won’t be able to keep my promise after all,” he gracefully conjured a firestorm around him while Utha ran down the stairs and faced off against an angry Jannasilane.

 

“Ouch, I hate fighting in fire. I can’t help wondering if some of my hair got singed, making me look stupid,” Alistair complained when the battle was over. “At least this new armor protected me from the worst of the damage.”

 

“You are still most handsome, my Ali,” Jannasilane reassured him. “Perhaps you should risk helmet hair if you are concerned.” Anders grinned at the exchange. He had questions but they could wait until they were back at the Vigil.

 

Alistair glared at his love, “You know wearing a helmet makes me feel muffled, like I can’t hear everything. What I need is a hat, something dashing and romantic and enchanted.”

 

“I don’t think that would look right with your armor, your fine clothes yes,” Anders ventured his opinion with a twinkle in his eye. “A band to wear on your head, metal of course but lined with leather or cloth, something simple and not at all royal looking. Maybe something to match your griffon armbands.”

 

“Yeah, well, Commander,” Oghren rolled his eyes, “you and Sparklefingers can discuss fashion later. We still have a broodmother to find.”

 

“I know that,” Alistair huffed. “I just wanted to make sure none of us had any embers which might burst into flame. Our ashes are not going to defeat any darkspawn, you know.”

 

“Yes, they would probably just use them for snuff,” Nathaniel suggested quietly.

 

The others stared at him until Oghren guffawed and slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. Anders shook his head in bemusement, “Nate, you made a joke. It’s a disgusting thought but you actually made a joke.”

 

Alistair chuckled and picked up his shield, “I’m glad we avoided that fate. It’s a most undignified end for a Grey Warden. All embers stamped out? Good.”

 

“You haven’t said anything. I hope I didn’t disgust you, Mouse,” the rogue remarked.

 

Jannasilane looked up at him and smiled, “I was just wondering whether the darkspawn would prefer gold or silver snuffboxes.” Nathaniel grinned at her.

 

“We can’t go any lower and there are no more bridges. The only thing I see is this tunnel; if the broodmother is here she must be through there,” the Warden-Commander looked around carefully while Anders placed the last of the crystals. “Do you know what they all are?”

 

“We have one giant stun, some sort of revive and heal, and two fire spells at our disposal. I don’t know about you but I’m ready to finish this ****** off and go home.”

 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself. The tunnel’s not wide enough for two of us. Nathaniel, you’re in front in case there are any traps, I’ll be right behind you. Oghren, bring up the rear,” Alistair ordered and started to duck inside after the rogue. He stopped and scowled, “Oghren, you’ll have to go next. I’m too tall to move easily in case of trouble.” He waited for all of his companions to enter and gave them and him some space before he entered. Mercifully, the tunnel was very short.

 

“This place is most unpleasant, my Ali,” Jannasilane grimaced. “That foul creature in the distance must be the ‘Mother.’ I see no other. She almost looks like she is on a throne.”

 

Alistair looked around. Most of the ground was marshy and insubstantial, gas bubbles occasionally rose to the surface and burst, emitting a noxious odor that mixed with the already fetid atmosphere. One long thin strip of land led to an island. His love was correct; the way the ground rose and seemed to surround the creature it did look like she was on a throne. “I think we better knock her off of it, don’t you? Move forward slowly, I don’t like the looks of those lumps in the ground. They look like they might be pods to me.”

 

“That figures,” Oghren scowled. “Man, look at all those nipples,” he murmured in a fascinated disgust when they got closer to the broodmother.

 

“They just get uglier and uglier don’t they?” Anders commented.

 

The Mother didn’t look the same as the other broodmothers. She had arms like the Children and a psychotic intelligence gleaming out of her beady eyes. “So, the Warden has killed the Father and now comes to me. Ha ha ha, the Father took the song away, will the Grey Warden bring it back?” she asked in a coy singsong.

 

Her voice grated on his ears, the coyness wrapped around malevolence and delivered with a raspy tone. Alistair gritted his teeth, “Who is the Father? We killed the Architect.”

 

“They are the same,” she snapped. “He claimed he wished the darkspawn to be free. What he truly wanted was to CORRECT them![1] He was the one who started the last Blight, trying to perform his ritual on Urthemiel. But I know the Wardens’ wicked ways . . . it wants to kill the Mother.”

 

“Got it on the first try, you win the prize. That prize is a date with my blade,” Alistair roared.

 

The Mother shrieked; a sound that rivaled any of Jannasilane’s battle songs, and Children erupted from their pods at the same time tentacles popped up from the ground and attacked any nearby Wardens. Already tired from their battles with the dragon and the Architect the group was grateful Anders gathered up the crystals and knew how to arrange them. The first firestorm decimated the Children. The Mother only called for more. Anders exhausted the power of the crystals before the Mother was left alone and vulnerable. With a battle cry that rang in the stillness, Alistair rushed forward and buried a sword in the creature’s throat. Later he would swear she had a smile on her face.

 

It was over. The Children and their Mother lay dead on the ground. Anders was weaving from exhaustion and began to laugh, “A date with your blade, Commander? I thought you reserved your ‘blade’ for Poppet.” Oghren began to snicker and even Nathaniel had to chuckle at the look of horror on their Commander’s face.

 

“Should I be jealous, Alistair?” Jannasilane stood in front of him with her arms akimbo and tried to maintain a straight face.

 

“That is so not what I meant and you know it. I hate you all,” Alistair stalked off and nearly hit his head on the top of the tunnel before remembering. He smiled to hear the laughter behind him even if it was at his expense. They needed the laughter after the battles they fought.

 

They picked their way past the bodies and breathed deeply once they were outside again. “I want a bath,” Jannasilane looked at herself in disgust. “The first stream we pass on the way home we shall all bathe. It may not be perfect but it will be better than this,” she pointed to each of them.

 

“We need to see how the Vigil is faring. They are under attack,” Nathaniel reminded her.

 

“Jannasilane is right. If we don’t rest for even an hour or two we will be no good to them. Anders can hardly walk straight and even I can see how pale Oghren is under his beard. We bathe and take a short break,” Alistair decided.

 

“If I remember correctly there is a very pleasant spring not far away,” Nathaniel acquiesced. Secretly he was glad they would have a chance to relax, even for such a brief time. His arms felt like they’d been firing arrows for a month with no respite.

 

Renewed they made better time. “After the Archdemon was slain, the darkspawn in Denerim quickly became a disorganized mob and ran away. They didn’t have a purpose driving them anymore. I suspect the same is happening again. I bet we find mostly the intelligent darkspawn still attacking the walls,” Alistair postulated. “I wonder how loyal they are to her now that she’s dead.”

 

“If they are retreating I don’t want to get in their way. The faster those creatures are away from my stash the better,” Oghren growled.

 

Alistair coughed, “Good . . . point. We’ll approach from the side and see what’s going on. If we have to, we’ll draw them off. Frankly, if they’re retreating I say let them. We know they’ll go back to the Deep Roads and we’ll have a chance to assess the damage and reorganize.”

 

“Look at her,” Alistair stared proudly at his home. “I knew she’d stand. Ugh, that’s a lot of bodies we’ll have to burn,” he observed.

 

“You were right, Commander,” Nathaniel eyed the scene in front of them, “there aren’t nearly as many darkspawn still attacking as there should be. Even the number of darkspawn corpses isn’t enough to make up the army that attacked. If the Messenger told the truth.”

 

The darkspawn howled in frustration when the Warden-Commander attacked them from behind. Some escaped to follow their brethren and the rest joined the dead. Cheers sounded from the walls as the soldiers saw their Arl, their Warden-Commander safely home.

 

------------------------------------------------------------

[1] A paraphrase of a quote I found in the Dragon Age wiki, http://dragonage.wik...wiki/The_Mother.

 

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 94:  Amaranthine and the Vigil Recover

“Water’s getting cold,” Alistair remarked lazily. He rubbed his chin against Jannasilane’s wet hair. He was tired. Between chasing down the last of the darkspawn, examining the damage, rebuilding the Vigil and the city of Amaranthine, and dealing with the administrative resulting from Bann Esmerelle’s unsuccessful conspiracy he’d had little time to eat or sleep. He winced whenever he thought of the strain on his resources. Whatever romantic notions he had when he and his Janna entered the bathing chamber disappeared the moment he stepped into the steaming bath.

 

Jannasilane was no more inclined to move than he was. Letting her aches and stress melt away in the welcome heat were much more important. She stirred slightly, “If one of us was a mage we could reheat the water with a twist of our finger.”

 

“I’d ask Anders if he were here but then he’d probably insist on joining us,” Alistair yawned. “I think we fell asleep.”

 

“I think you are correct,” she remarked. Slowly they stood up and leaned against each other for support. Jannasilane snickered when she felt his manhood stirring against her, “One of us isn’t completely dead.”

 

 “Not completely alive, either,” he murmured. “Maker, I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired. I think it was dealing with all those nobles. I just wanted to get about my business, not chit chat at every holding or listen to their ‘advice.’”

 

“You were wonderful, my Ali. I think they only wanted to make sure you knew how much they appreciated you; at the very least, it would be rude to ignore the Arl checking up on their holdings for damage. They do not know you are not concerned with such observances. I know our people much appreciated your taking time to see to their welfare in spite of your fatigue. I am proud of you, this is truth.”

 

“Listen to you, the little Arlessa, ‘our people,’” he chuckled when she sniffed and glared at him. “They worked hard; it was the least we could do. I’m glad you stayed by my side,” he stroked her hair and held her for a moment longer. They finally dressed and stepped into the hallway where Nugflutter and Poorfella waited. Poorfella woofed to see them and Nugflutter pranced around them.

 

“They take their guard duties seriously, Warden-Commander,” Varel emerged from the shadows, smiling. “Robert and Jonas arrived in Cumberland and Tantervale, respectively. A letter from Robert waits on your desk. Arl Commander, I have good news.”

 

The big man looked skeptical, “Good news? Are you sure? Not that we aren’t overdue for some.”

 

Varel chuckled, “Word of your heroic exploits and the damage to Amaranthine, damage which would have been much worse without your efforts, has spread across Ferelden and beyond. Money is beginning to pour in, money to help rebuild.”

 

“Pinch me to see if I’m dreaming,” Alistair replied in a daze. “Ouch!” he jumped when Jannasilane did just that to his rear. Varel coughed to cover his laughter. Alistair glared at the woman beside him.

 

“Your wish is my command, my Ali,” she said meekly.

 

“Really? You may regret saying that,” he growled. Remembering their audience, he turned his attention back to the Seneschal, “Thank you, Varel. That is good news; I was beginning to wonder how we were going to pay for all this.”

 

Jannasilane cocked her head thoughtfully, “Perhaps we can hire Soris to help start the rebuilding; he has experience after Denerim. Will workers in the city listen to an elf?”

 

Varel looked startled, “I don’t know . . . perhaps if you personally introduce him and some of the Cousins work with him, at least to start . . . I just don’t know.”

 

“Well, we’ll give it a try. He has some interesting ideas and knows how to squeeze a silver out of a copper,” Alistair decided. “Mistress Woolsey should approve of that.” Mistress Woolsey did not approve. Nor did she approve of the fact that Alistair had no intention of appropriating the bulk of incoming money for the Wardens or that he was not going to share any of his unexpected largesse with the First. Her reactions only made Alistair more determined to find a replacement for the woman.

 

Once the first edge of his appetite was sated, Alistair looked around the dining hall. Soldiers and Wardens ate, laughed, and argued with each other. A normal scene. Alistair smiled. “Why are you smiling, my Ali?” Jannasilane wanted to know.

 

“All this,” he waved his hand to encompass the entire room, “it’s all so, I don’t know, it’s like we’re finding our rhythm again.”

 

“Yes, I see what you mean, Commander,” Captain Garevel was thoughtful.  “I know my men are relieved to be returning to their usual duties. I’ve worked out a rotation so they can regularly check on their families during their patrols. No one said anything but they all relaxed a little.”

 

Riordan nodded his head, “The healing has begun. When I was in Amaranthine the other day I passed two men arguing whether it was better to be in the city guard or your, the Arl’s, army. One said the pay and benefits was better with you; the other agreed but pointed out it was a lot of walking and as a city guard he could ‘put the pissheads in jail.’ They then stopped arguing to list all the pissheads they wanted to see behind bars. You will be pleased to know that your name was not mentioned, at least not while I was still in earshot.” The others chuckled.

 

Before retiring for the evening, Alistair decided to sort through his correspondence so he could more quickly deal with it on the morrow. “It’s nice of some of the nobles to send letters thanking me for what I’ve done but I wish most of them didn’t come with a ‘small request,’” he shrugged his shoulders and continued sorting. He took three letters upstairs to share with Jannasilane before locking up. He stood in the doorway for a moment just watching her brush her hair. “Let me,” she allowed him to take the hairbrush from her and followed him to their bed. He sat behind her and began stroking the wild silk, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your hair; luxurious doesn’t even begin to describe it. You might want to read these,” he dropped the letters in her lap.

 

The first was from Robert Brotuss.

 

“Arl and Commander,

 

My lord, thank you for the mercy you showed my brother and me. I’ve done a lot of thinking since I was in your cell and on the boat to Cumberland. You were right; I should have been more aware and done something to prevent Mother’s mad machinations against you. At the very least, I could've warned you to be wary. I promise not to waste the second chance you gave me. You included our small contributions against the darkspawn in your letters to our family and the captains of the guard; a most unaccepted boon that has made my life in Cumberland easier.

 

I will not let you down; I swear by Andraste. I will explore the opportunities in Cumberland and then go to Tantervale to see Jonas. I hope, and believe, he came to the same conclusions as I have during his journey. Is that why you separated us? I always wondered. Jonas will fare better with me and it’s time we took responsibility for our lives whether we end up in Cumberland, Tantervale, or some other place to give us the best start. I don’t know if I ever want to return to Amaranthine, I find the idea of making a completely fresh start quite appealing.

 

Yours with gratitude,

Robert Brotuss, plain citizen of Thedas”

 

Jannasilane snickered, “I have a good feeling about this young man, my Ali. I think ‘plain citizen’ Brotuss will succeed.”

 

“Young man? He’s older than I am, though not by much.”

 

She picked up the second letter.

 

“Commander of the Grey of Ferelden, Alistair Theirin,

 

We have received and reviewed your accounts of the Archdemon and this Architect creature. We now request your presence in Weisshaupt to discuss these matters further. Please let us know the details of your arrival.

 

Chamberlain of the Grey, Weisshaupt Fortress,

On behalf of the First Warden”

 

“This is not a request at all, but an order. What will you do?” she turned to him, eyes swirling with distress. She hated the very thought of Weisshaupt.

 

He kissed her and turned her back around so he could continue brushing her hair, “Let me think, this is the same person who didn’t bother trying to send us any help during the Blight after the Orlesians were blocked and only sent Mistress Woolsey to ‘assist’ us here in Amaranthine after the Vigil was attacked. The same person who knows I am also the Arl of Amaranthine and we have a lot of work to repair the damage caused by the Architect’s and Mother’s feud. Does he think I’m just some stupid bastard? Oh . . . wait, I am a bastard . . . oof,” he grunted good-naturedly when she elbowed him. “Seriously though, I don’t have time to go all the way to the Anderfels and I plan on telling him so. Actually, this may fall in with an idea I have to better train our young Wardens. I thought I would reach out to Ansburg, Jader and Montsimmard about a temporary exchange: two of our newest Wardens for them and two of their senior Wardens for us. Our Wardens will need to interact with other Grey Wardens anyway and they may learn things I don’t even know to teach them. Certainly going on patrols with experienced Wardens won’t hurt them. We’ll get the benefit of senior Wardens for, say, two or three months. I want to build relations with the different outposts and these are the closest of any size that I know of.”

 

“I can see this being good for our Wardens, but how does this fit with the First Warden’s ‘request?’”

 

“First I’ll offer to host him and his advisors here for as long as they need, though I doubt they’ll come. You remember that I have to go to Highever and Orzammar? I’ll suggest that I am willing to compromise with a meeting in Montsimmard if they can’t come to Amaranthine. They don’t have to know I’m tacking them on. If Jader and Montsimmard are willing then I’ll accompany our new Wardens before meeting the First or his people. I’ve always wanted to see other parts of Thedas. I wish you could come with me but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he kissed the top of her head.

 

She shook her head slightly and picked up the third letter.

 

“Alistair,

 

What are you and Package trying to do? Upstage the Blight? Somebody started writing a serial titled ‘Amorous Adventures in Amaranthine’ that sells out before the ink is dry. Don’t be surprised if you’re mobbed the next time you’re in Denerim. I’m tempted to get a few special editions and give them to our friends.

 

Anora and I are quite pleased at how well you’ve handled the unusual circumstances that hit you on your arrival. Our security advisors are going over the information you sent us and should have a report ready by the time you come to Denerim. We have some questions we feel better discussing in person. You can stay in the Cousland estate since I don’t think the Warden compound is finished yet. Package too, you can carry her in your pocket.

 

Your brother (and king),

Blake Cousland”

 

“I suppose he refers to the information about Bann Esmerelle,” Jannasilane tapped Blake’s letter with her finger.

 

Alistair nuzzled her hair, “He also is basically ordering us to Denerim. Not that I mind,” he quickly added, “I was going to go anyway. I think he understood there are some things I just don’t want to put into a report and the only cipher I know is the Grey Warden one. If we’re going to try and keep Warden and Arl business separate I don’t think sending the king of Ferelden messages with Grey Warden encryption is a good idea.” He put the brush and letters on the bedside table and pulled her into his arms, “I do think we should explore these ‘amorous adventures in Amaranthine’ more closely.”

 

“That, my Ali, is a most wonderful idea,” she smiled against his lips. Then she pushed him back against the pillows.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 95:  Departures and Arrivals 

Riordan knocked lightly before entering the Commander’s office. Now that the crisis was over, he was leaving soon for Soldier’s Peak and wanted to discuss a few things first. He planned to take Nathaniel, Sigrun, and Oghren with him for some additional training. “Is there any chance Velanna will come?” The Dalish elf had been quieter and broodier ever since Alistair told her about her sister. She reluctantly accepted that her sister felt she had a mission, even more reluctantly agreed with him that Seranni had probably been duped, but that didn’t stop her from going out on every patrol hoping to find either her sister or her sister’s trail.

 

“Oghren and Velanna in close and unrelieved proximity for a few weeks? Even if I thought she could be convinced I wouldn’t do that to you, especially since you’re a friend,” Alistair snorted.

 

“I am relieved to hear it,” the older Warden replied with a slight smile. “We need to discuss who will take my place at Soldier’s Peak. In a few short months I think I must answer my Calling,” he reminded his young friend. “Since we don’t have any truly senior Wardens at our disposal I was thinking Nathaniel or possibly Saykor would be a good choice. They are both more mature than the other new Wardens are and are generally of a steady disposition. Since young Howe was once his father’s heir he should have some training upon which to build.”

 

“Janna doesn’t like to think of you leaving us, but you’re right. I wish there was a more experienced Warden available but Nathaniel is a good choice. I think he might like the challenge, though he needs more Deep Roads experience. Which reminds me,” he explained his idea of a Warden Exchange program, at least until he had enough experienced Wardens to make it unnecessary. Riordan made some suggestions based on his knowledge of Orlais and the Free Marches. Alistair then showed him the letter from the First and his reply, “What do you think?”

 

“This does not come as a surprise. I must warn you; not going to the Anderfels isn’t going to endear you to the Grey Warden leadership. Your reasoning is sound; it is too soon after the devastation caused by these new darkspawn for the Arl of Amaranthine to leave for an extended period. Possibly even for a Commander of the Grey. I do not think you will have a problem making an arrangement with Warden-Commander Clarel de Chanson to accommodate you. She will be most interested in hearing about these new darkspawn firsthand rather than through official channels. It will not hurt her status in Orlais if the most senior Wardens visit her post.”

 

“Politics. I suppose I have to get used to that,” Alistair replied glumly. They spoke of many things, including a replacement for Woolsey. Both agreed that Ser Mhairi might be a good choice, if she had the ability.

 

The quiet stranger was glad to get off the ship when it docked in Amaranthine. The Waking Sea was particularly unfriendly during his voyage and he was an indifferent sailor under the best conditions. For a short time he wandered the streets, taking note of the rebuilding going on and listening to locals gossiping. He didn’t talk much himself but his years growing up in Orlais taught him how to listen without seeming to eavesdrop. What he heard made him curious about the young Arl of Amaranthine. Rather than going to Vigil’s Keep immediately he decided he would do better to find a room for the night. He entered the Crown and Lion. After getting the key to his room, he surveyed the crowded tavern. The only available seats were at a small table where a young redheaded elf was sitting by himself. He walked over, “Do you mind company, friend?”

 

Surprised at being so addressed, Soris looked up and stammered, “N-no. P-please sit down. My n-name is Soris.”

 

The man quietly pulled out a chair and sat down, “You may call me Stroud. What do you recommend? I am unfamiliar with Amaranthine.”

 

“It’s all good, though I prefer their lamb stew. I think it has real lamb.” Stroud listened gravely and raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention. She came over promptly. Soris tried to be resentful at the quick service but knew it was because the owners didn’t want elves staying at their establishment rather than her preference. She was as helpful to him as she could get away with. “I wish Amaranthine had an Alienage I could stay in,” he thought wistfully. He never thought he’d miss the one in Denerim. “I bet I’d be in the streets if Alistair didn’t personally arrange for me to stay here. I guess this is what it means to have friends in high places.”

 

“So, um, Stroud, what brings you to Amaranthine? I don’t mean to pry,” the elf hurriedly added. The last thing he wanted to do was drive away one of the few people to be even remotely friendly.

 

“I thought to explore the city this afternoon before heading to Vigil’s Keep tomorrow morning.”

 

“You’re going to see Al-, I mean Arl Warden-Commander? He and Blake, er, His Majesty, helped us a lot. They got rid of the slavers plundering the Alienage and later, during that last battle . . . well, a lot of us would be dead who aren’t because of them,” Soris’ eyes lit up as he talked about the Wardens who helped him and gave him unprecedented opportunities. Some of the locals, overhearing, chimed in with their own opinions and stories. Stroud remained silent and expressionless, except for occasionally nodding his head, absorbing the flood of information.

 

Trey and Alan entered the inn and headed straight to Soris, “Hey Soris, we’re ready to get to work but instead we find the boss having a long lunch.” The elf’s flush contrasted horribly with his hair. He introduced the two Cousins to the new arrival.

 

Two pairs of eyes studied him. “We have to return to the Keep in the morning, we’ll accompany you,” Alan lied smoothly. After the Esmerelle conspiracy, the Wardens and Cousins were very protective of their Commander. “The Wending Wood can be tricky if you are new to the area.”

 

His lie might have gone undetected if Soris hadn’t looked startled but Stroud didn’t say anything. Instead, he replied politely, “I appreciate the offer. I shall be ready to leave immediately after breakfast.” The two Cousins smiled sunnily and escorted Soris away before he could give voice to their lie.

 

By the time they arrived at Vigil’s Keep late the next afternoon Trey and Alan were a bit disgruntled by their failure to elicit any more information from Stroud. The guards seemed to ignore him after the Cousins said he was there to see the Commander but Stroud knew they observed his every movement. He approved their vigilance. “Hey, Sigrun,” Alan called out to a young dwarva in the courtyard, “is the big guy in his office? He’s got a visitor.”

 

“Hi Cuz. He was sparring but I think he’s in the stables with Little Duster,” she called back. “Oh wait, here he comes now. Commander, somebody here to see you. Little D, you ready to spar with me now? I’ve got my earrings in.” She flicked her ear lobes.

 

Stroud watched the large warrior with interest. Stories about the Hero of Ferelden were very popular in the Free Marches. The handsome young Warden and his lady facing down the Archdemon together beside the future king was material too tempting for any minstrel or player to ignore. Stroud wasn’t the only Warden to wonder why the large warrior didn’t die on that rooftop and many thought there was something fishy involved. He would keep his eyes and ears open but that is not why he was in Ferelden.

 

“Hi,” Alistair flicked his glance from the stranger in front of him to the two Cousins and back.

 

“We found him in Amaranthine and thought we should accompany him since he was a stranger to the area. His name is Stroud,” Trey volunteered.

 

“Good idea,” the large man smiled while appraising the older man before him. He stuck out his hand, “I’m Alistair, as you must have figured out already. Jannasilane says you’re a Warden. I did wonder . . . well, if you’re a Warden then you’re probably hungry. Or would you like to freshen up first? After a year of tents and roughing it I really appreciate the small pleasures such as being able to wash before a meal.” Alistair led Stroud into the Keep, “Varel, this is Warden Stroud. Varel is our seneschal and can show you to a guest room and the dining hall. I’ll meet you there shortly.” He strode away with a smile while his mind raced with possibilities.

 

“This way, sir,” Varel directed. He decided this unexpected guest could stay in the most remote of the guest rooms. He also planned to talk to Garevel about having a guard stroll that area at night just in case.

 

Jannasilane joined Alistair in their room. “Others were already sparring; Sigrun and I will do so later,” she answered his unspoken query. “Besides, I am most curious about this Warden. It is too soon for him to be here in response to your letters.”

 

When they entered the dining hall, Stroud was already sitting at the table with Riordan and, they had to blink to be sure, Mistress Woolsey. “This can’t be good,” Alistair muttered under his breath. He plastered on a smile and approached, “I see you had no trouble finding your way. Mistress Woolsey, I am pleased to see you joining us. Stroud, I’d like to present Jannasilane Alenahaella, without whom I’d probably be insane.”

 

“Really, Commander,” Woolsey sniffed disapprovingly.

 

Stroud stood and bowed slightly to the small woman, “Jean-Marc Stroud, senior Warden of the Free Marches, at your service, my lady.” He couldn’t help thinking that next to the young giant she looked like a little girl, at least until you noticed her well-placed curves or looked into her eyes.

 

“Welcome to Vigil’s Keep, Warden Stroud,” she spoke softly, her husky voice delighting his ears until he realized what she said. His eyes narrowed slightly, remembering Alistair’s previous comments but he said nothing. “It is a pleasure to meet another experienced Warden.” Jannasilane sat down and Stroud followed suit.

 

“Warden Stroud is one of the most successful recruiters and trainers in the Order,” Woolsey commented. “Perhaps while he is here you can learn something, Commander.”

 

“Oh, ouch,” Alistair inwardly winced. At least this Stroud appeared to be a good sort and certainly didn’t seem happy with the old harpy’s phrasing. He hoped none of his thoughts showed on his face, “I’m always up for learning more about the Grey Wardens and ways to improve. I sent a letter to the Commander in Ansburg but it’s a bit soon for you to be his reply.”

 

“Since word of your success has spread, recruiting has been much easier. With our ranks full, the Commander thought it worthwhile for me to come and find out more about these new ‘Children.’ While I am here I thought I would explore some of their nesting grounds so we would know what to look for,” Stroud explained soberly. Then he smiled slightly, “I also admit to wanting to travel somewhere new. After years of recruiting I believe I know where every rock in the Free Marches is located.”

 

Alistair nodded his head, “Makes sense. Come to my office after lunch and I’ll show you what we have. Kal’Hirol was the biggest nest, as far as we know. I’ll arrange for a couple of our Wardens to go with you.”

 

“That is not necessary, Commander. I am used to traveling alone,” Stroud protested politely.

 

The Warden-Commander was adamant, “Not on my watch. Nobody patrols or explores alone, no matter how experienced. It’s an unnecessary risk now that we have more than two Wardens in Ferelden. I certainly don’t want to write another letter to your Commander explaining how you died because I didn’t take reasonable precautions. Saykor and Zeke can go with you. The Children are fast, faster than any darkspawn I’ve seen. I hope you know how to use a bow or a crossbow because it’s best to take these suckers down from a distance, if they are still there.” He sighed, “I suppose it’s too much to hope we got every last one.”

 

Riordan explained with a smile, “The Commander wishes to be optimistic but he is quite realistic.” The rest of their meal was spent discussing the differences between Orlais, Ferelden and the Free Marches.

 

Later, Stroud and Riordan were watching Sigrun and Jannasilane spar. “She is very fast, the little girl, and has an unusual style. Why do most of the Wardens here wear earrings?” he was thinking of Sigrun’s earlier comment.

 

“Our little one is most unusual. You are, of course, familiar with the shrieks’ vocal capabilities,” Stroud grimaced and nodded. He always had a headache after a battle with the creatures. “She has a battle song which stuns the shrieks and other darkspawn. The earrings are enchanted to protect the Wardens fighting with her. Her voice came in quite handy during the battle in Denerim,” Riordan’s smile faded, as it always did when he thought of those days afterward when she and Alistair lay near death. “You don’t believe me? Perhaps you should join her in the ring.” He didn’t wait for a response, “Sigrun, our guest wishes to test the little one’s battle song. Would you be so kind as to change places with him? This should be quite a test for you, little one. Stroud is one of the finest swordsmen I have seen.”

 

“Go to it, Little D,” Sigrun shouted encouragement.

 

The two faced each other. As much as the young Commander made him feel small, the girl in front of him made him feel large. “Come, little girl, let us see what you are made of,” he began circling.

 

“I am not little,” she growled and sidestepped his sword. Her nostrils flared when he laughed and the battle was on. He was almost as fast as she was, if not quite as flexible. A concerted gasp sounded from the growing crowd of onlookers when his sword sliced through her armor along the shoulder seam. If she weren’t so quick and capable, it would have gone through the flesh. That is when she decided it was time to end the match and her voice rang out, stunning him long enough for her to knock him down and place her daggers at his throat. She waited for him to come to his senses, “I believe, Ser Stroud, this match goes to me.”

 

He looked up at the exotic face staring down at him, surrounded by a wild mass of hair, and agreed. “It seems your skills are not exaggerated, little girl. It has been a long time since I have been bested like this, well done.” He blinked when she grinned and removed her blade from his throat. She hopped up and held out her hand to him, “I’m not little,” she reminded him. Then she glanced at the tear in her armor, “Master Wade is going to be most upset with me. We do not have but so much dragon leather.”

 

“Allow me to speak to him. If he is to scold anyone he should scold me, since it was my blade which did the damage,” he offered gallantly.

 

Jannasilane scoffed, “Master Wade does not scold attractive men. He is much more likely to compare mustaches to see which one is finer and then be most upset at the outcome.” She shrugged good-naturedly, “I shall go take my medicine.”

 

Alistair grinned at Stroud and Riordan before joining her, “That was quite a match. I rather like seeing your bare shoulder,” he lightly caressed the skin. They teased each other all the way to the smith who, just as she predicted, began berating her.

 

“You are not placed in a typical Warden outfit, my friend,” Stroud was struggling with the notion that she called him attractive, especially since he knew otherwise. He was too serious, even dour, and his features were square and regular.

 

“Yes, but these have been unusual times and unusual circumstances. Alistair is a fine young man and a good Warden. They are unconventional but the Arling is thriving and the young Wardens under his command well-trained,” Riordan responded. He watched Nugflutter and Poorfella scrutinize Stroud. They apparently decided he passed muster, which gave him an idea.

 

Riordan left and Stroud stayed. When he wasn’t out exploring the countryside, he frequently trained the guards and Wardens in different types of swordsmanship. He was still there when Sigrun and Oghren returned from Soldier’s Peak.

 

“You like him,” Alistair commented, toying with her hair. She cuddled against him in front of the fire in the library while they enjoyed a quiet moment. Brandy, bread and cheese were near if they desired but he was happy at the moment to watch the firelight play against her hair and skin.

 

“He is a good man, a bit strait-laced. He does not show his emotions, so I am not always sure when he disapproves,” she said thoughtfully.

 

“Nice change from certain other parties,” he muttered. She snickered softly in agreement. “She doesn’t seem to sniff at me nearly as much as she used to, I don’t know if I should be worried or relieved. Riordan thinks we should ask him to stay and take his place.” He moved her so she was facing him when he felt her stiffen, “You know his time is coming soon. He says he might have a few months but not a year before he has to leave for his Calling,” he reminded her. “Oh, love,” he hugged her to him and stroked her hair and back with soothing motions, “I know how much you care for him but this is part of being a Grey Warden. It’ll happen to me one day. I’ve accepted that.”

 

Jannasilane sniffed, “When Riordan goes, it will break a piece of my heart. This is truth. I dread the reminder of what will happen to you; it hurts. This is also truth.”

 

“I love you, Janna. We have several years together before that happens and I want to make the most of every day,” he placed light kisses on her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her lips. When he finally stopped they were both trembling, “Why don’t we finish this in our room?”

 

“Yes,” she said softly. Before they left the library she looked up at him, “I love you, my Ali. Always.”

 

“Always,” he echoed. “Even when I am gone I will always love you, Jannasilane Alenahaella.”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 96:  You are a Grey Warden

He tried to stifle the groan he felt like making.

 

“I apologize, Alistair, but we must take you to Weisshaupt to answer to the First,” a low voice said in the dark. “It doesn’t matter whether we think you’ve told us everything, you were ordered to Weisshaupt and to Weisshaupt you must go. You are a Grey Warden.” The High Constable struck a match and carefully lit the lantern.

 

“Apology . . . not accepted,” Alistair grunted and sat up. “I also have an arling to run, courtesy of Queen Anora. Now the First, whose help has been noticeably absent, has his knickers in a twist because I didn’t abandon my responsibilities as Warden-Commander and Arl when he sent his ‘invitation.’ Montsimmard was a reasonable compromise and any halfway intelligent person knows it,” he said heatedly and then snapped his mouth shut. “I answered questions for two days. I’m not answering anymore.”  He leaned against the wall of his cage and glared at the other man before closing his eyes. He assumed the six men who accompanied High Constable of the Grey Xavier were on guard outside. Two of them were mages; one he suspected was a blood mage. He thought of Cullen in the Circle Tower and began rebuilding his mental fortress, reciting the Litany of Adralla with each brick. He wanted to keep darkspawn and mages out of his head.

 

Xavier sighed. He’d warned the First this wasn’t a good idea but First Warden Amaz had done more than ‘get his knickers in a twist.’ He’d raged at the audacity of the young Warden-Commander in refusing to come when bid. He believed it hurt him politically to be rebuffed. His one good point was that there were still serious questions about what happened on that rooftop and Alistair’s fitness to lead. Mistress Woolsey was not complimentary. “It will be some days before we are in Weisshaupt. You will stay here until then. We will bring food and water to you shortly.” He left. “Bringing in the Hero of Ferelden as a prisoner will do wonders for the morale of our men. Humph, let the First reap what he has sown.”

 

Once he was alone Alistair opened his eyes. He was in a cage inside a wooden box. He could see his boots and gauntlets tied to a wall outside his bars. He suspected his prison was disguised as a supply cart or something else; a prison wagon drew too much attention. He couldn’t stand but at least he could stretch his legs out in front of him and sit up straight. Bandits would have to be pretty desperate to attack seven heavily armed men, so he guessed he was reasonably safe. “Assuming I’m not tortured or poisoned,” he smiled grimly. At least he still had his armor; they’d only taken his shield and weapons. He thought of Jannasilane and the tenderness with which they’d made love the night before he left. He built a wall around his love, locking her away as a secret talisman. If they sicced blood mages on him, he didn’t want them to get a whiff of her importance. He filled his mind with thoughts of Loghain, Riordan, Oghren, the Architect, the Mother and her Children.

 

He remained silent for the rest of his unwanted journey. Around the first wall, he built another, and another. Every day he checked his bars and shackles, hoping to find a weakness he could exploit. He exercised as much as he was able in the small space. He ate only what he felt was safest until Xavier was exasperated enough to ask, “Do you really think we would poison you?” Alistair raised an eyebrow and rattled his chains. After that, whoever brought him his food ate a third of it in front of him and stayed in the box with him so he would know it wasn’t poisoned.

 

More than a month after his capture the wagon stopped and Xavier untied his boots and gauntlets before unlocking the door to his prison. “We are here. Or will be after a short walk up the mountain. I am going to unlock your chains; do not make any sudden moves. Even if you got past the others outside there is nowhere for you to go.” He wasn’t surprised when Alistair made no sound. He backed out of the wagon and waited.

 

Alistair slowly removed his shackles. Behind his walls, he’d been thinking and planning. He realized that there was no way the First was going to allow him to return alive. Even if all the Wardens at Weisshaupt wanted to release him, their leader couldn’t afford for other Warden-Commanders to find out what happened. “The bastard wants answers; he’s not going to get them. I’ll ask questions instead. The longer I can prolong our ‘discussion’ the greater chance I have to find a way out. I have one talent at my disposal; I can be really good at annoying people.” He knew his plans had flaws; the First might get tired of his actions and kill him without getting answers but it was the only plan he had for now. He looked at his wrists; they were suitably raw for his purpose. He pulled on his boots before gingerly putting on his gauntlets.

 

He scooted until he was sitting in the doorway and looking outside. He had to blink rapidly for several minutes to get used to the brightness of the sun reflecting off snow and ice. Slowly he stood, “Got my balance, so far so good.”He took a few tentative steps; the path looked clean enough but he wasn’t taking any chances. He ignored his captors and looked around. He saw snow, ice, rocks, tall mountains and little else until he finally looked up the path. “There it is, my final destination. At least I should be able to stand up.”

 

Xavier stepped beside him, “Impressive, isn’t it? Whenever I return the sight of it takes my breath away.” He waited for Alistair to respond but instead the blond warrior turned his back on Weisshaupt and began doing stretches. Then squats. When Alistair began running in place the High Constable lost his temper, “Enough! I believe we have all received your message. Go.”

 

The slope was steep and the group’s mood tense. When they finally reached the top the gatekeeper had already opened the large door, “I thought it was you, High Constable. We knew you’d be here soon.” The garrulous man, a Free Marcher judging by his accent, turned his attention to the large blond warrior, “And you must be Warden-Commander Alistair; it’s an honor, sir.”

 

Alistair smiled for the first time, “That’s a pleasant greeting.” He made sure his wrists were visible to the onlookers as he casually removed his gauntlets and tucked them into his belt. “Are you this friendly to all your prisoners?” The gatekeeper opened his eyes wide and Alistair shook his head in consternation, “I’m sorry. I guess they didn’t tell you I was being brought here against my will. Yep, kidnapped me in Montsimmard after I answered their questions for days and kept me caged in a box all the way here. It might still be at the bottom of the path,” he was inwardly delighted when some of Wardens looked down the mountain. “Was I shanghaied or hijacked? I never remember the difference.”

 

“Now is not the time,” Xavier ground his teeth in frustration. He didn’t even know if he should be more annoyed at the First for not telling the truth or Alistair for deciding now was a good time to break his silence. The men he traveled with didn’t move; they didn’t know what to do. They all looked to him for directions; except for one.

 

The mage barely blinked but Alistair had one hand squeezing her throat and the other bending her arm behind her back until it was ready to break. “What? It’s not bad enough you kidnapped me,” he snarled, “but now your pet blood mage tries to pull one of her tricks? Not for the first time, either. Idiot, I’m a blasted templar!”

 

Nobody dared move. The slightest movement and the warrior could break either her arm or her neck. “What is it you want, Alistair?” Xavier asked quietly.

 

“You know what I want, but I suppose you’d rather kill us both than let me go,” Alistair looked down his nose at the High Constable. Xavier looked rather ill but nodded his head. “Well, for starters you can make sure everybody knows the truth about how I got here. Or I can just snap her neck and you can give yourself an excuse for treating me like a criminal.”

 

The two men stared at each other while the mage turned purple. Finally, Xavier nodded curtly, “Very well. You have spoken the truth. We came to Montsimmard to meet with you and ask questions about a variety of issues. You were courteous and cooperative and, I believe, honest. You refused to come back with us, citing your responsibilities in Amaranthine, but our orders were to bring you to the First regardless of your wishes. We did indeed incapacitate you and lock you up until we arrived at the mountain. Good enough?”

 

Alistair studied the High Constable; that was more of an answer than he expected. “Alright, that’ll do. Just one more thing,” he shoved the gasping mage into the hands of one of the Wardens, “Lock that up where it can’t harm anyone. It’s too undisciplined.” “Or taking her orders from somebody else,” he thought quietly to himself.

 

“Yes, that is an excellent idea. Lock her in the red room and bring me the key,” he commanded. “Stop that caterwauling, you foolish woman or next time I’ll let you die.” The High Constable was used to people doing as he ordered and the young Warden-Commander was trying his composure. He believed Alistair’s claim that it wasn’t the first time he’d felt blood magic, which meant the First ordered it. Sheila didn’t have the imagination to go rogue. She was loyal to the First, however. He raised an eyebrow at Alistair, daring him to cause more trouble.

 

Alistair smirked slightly; he didn’t know if he had just helped or hurt his situation but Maker, it felt good to do something. “Take me to your First,” he said airily.

 

An older woman stood watching Alistair’s arrival and the commotion he caused. Thanks to somebody’s ingenuity generations before her she was also able to hear what everybody said at the gates far below her. “Well done, young man. It doesn’t make any difference; the First wanted you here and here you are, but at least you stood up for yourself. In fact, you probably just made things harder for you,” sighing sadly she stepped back. If Alistair had only come on his own . . . but she knew the First well enough to know Amaz couldn’t let Alistair leave alive now.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 97:  Before Montsimmard

He watched and listened but rarely spoke. He didn’t have a sparkling repartee or the patience to speak at length on trivial matters so he learned early on the best way for him to survive the Game was not to speak if he could avoid doing so. It was quite easy while he was at the Academie des Chevaliers since he could busy himself with studies and training. After his parents were murdered and he became a Grey Warden he preferred to focus on his duties rather than think about anything which would remind him of his loss. Today the sun shone on Amaranthine and he was watching the Wardens spar. “Watch the hips and shoulders, not the eyes,” he called out.

 

“Riordan and Mistress Woolsey approve of you,” Alistair leaned on the fence beside him. The Warden-Commander kept his eyes on the ring but his attention was on the older Warden next to him.

 

“I have crossed paths with Riordan many times over the years and Mistress Woolsey has spent much of her time in Orlais and the Free Marches. I daresay I am simply more familiar to her,” Stroud shrugged slightly.

 

“Maybe. I mention it because I want to propose something to you. Riordan spoke to me and I agreed with his judgment; I want you to think about staying on and replacing Riordan as our ‘Professor of Wardenology’ at Soldier’s Peak.” He sobered, “Janna doesn’t like to think of it but Riordan knows he will need to leave for his Calling in a few months and he wants his replacement ready to take over. At least stay until our younger Wardens come back from their stints with the other Grey Warden posts.”

 

Stroud nearly blinked in surprise, “I am honored that you think I am suitable on such a short acquaintance; you should know that my style is perhaps more . . . traditional than yours.”

 

“There’s a difference between traditional and hide-bound, you know,” Alistair retorted. “And, please, when it’s just us you can call me Alistair instead of this Commander stuff. Every time somebody says ‘Commander’ I want to turn around to see who they are talking to. Look, Riordan goes to Soldier’s Peak tomorrow. Why don’t you go with him and the others? Nathaniel is going to stay behind to be his assistant and you can at least see what we’re doing.”

 

“Perhaps I will consider your generous offer. I will send a letter to Commander Kevain with your young Wardens informing him that I will be extending my sojourn if he has no need of me. I admit I am curious about Soldier’s Peak,” Stroud nodded slightly. He called out once again to the fighters, “If you wish to best the little girl you must watch her hips and shoulders.”

 

“You know she hates it when you call her little girl,” Alistair grinned.

 

“I am old enough to appreciate the joy of simple pleasures,” Stroud intoned without a smile. Alistair snickered.

 

That was several days ago. He was impressed with Soldier’s Peak and Riordan’s detailed training records. He wasn’t sure, when he first arrived, if he quite approved of Alistair’s unusual leadership style; but he was impressed with the amount of thought and planning the young man invested in his responsibilities. He might not agree with all his decisions but he could respect the man making them. Talking to Riordan at Soldier’s Peak gave him insight into Jannasilane as well as Alistair.

 

 The little girl was younger than he realized and very strong to have survived so much in such a short period of time. She was also an enticing, desirable woman and he sometimes watched her more than he should. Once he was more familiar with the citizens of Amaranthine he was sure he would find some uncomplicated companionship. Such arrangements worked well for him in the past and would no doubt do so again. Until then he would simply avoid her. He could understand why Mistress Woolsey disapproved of her; she seemed especially close to Anders, Nathaniel and Riordan. They stood that much closer to her than any of the others; in Orlais it would be fodder for many rumors in the Game. What he didn’t understand was Alistair’s apparent tolerance of her ‘friendships.’ He didn’t examine why something that was definitely not his business bothered him.

 

The first thing he saw when he returned to the Vigil was Jannasilane arguing with Velanna in front of Andraste’s statue. She smiled when she saw him, “Ser Stroud, welcome back. We were just discussing Andraste, sort of.”

 

“A worthy topic, little girl, sort of,” he replied gravely, delighted when she scowled. He never thought he would enjoy teasing anyone as much as he enjoyed teasing her.

 

“I am not little,” she sniffed. “And my hair is not wild,” she looked sideways at the elf.

 

Velanna rolled her eyes, “Uh-huh. What do you think, Stroud?” she demanded.

 

Stroud bowed, “I think that I shall return to my room, wash off this travel dust, and find the Commander.” He hadn’t survived as a Grey Warden this long by getting between two bickering women. Just because it wasn’t heated now didn’t mean it wouldn’t become so. And Stroud was a smart man. Nugflutter looked at him as if he thought that was a good idea but he was too loyal to his mistress to leave.

 

His room was beginning to feel like home, not just a place to stay. It was clean and smelled nice, but somebody had taken the trouble to brighten it up with a vase of flowers and a handful of knick-knacks. They also provided pen and paper, and a couple of interesting books from the library. He promised himself he would delve into them later. He found his way to Arl Warden-Commander’s office, “an apt title,” and knocked lightly on the open door. Alistair and Mistress Woolsey were discussing the Warden’s treasury.

 

“ . . . perhaps it is due to your efforts on behalf of the city of Amaranthine but I am pleased to report that all the nobles are current with their tithes to the Grey Wardens and to the Arl. You should, even without the work your Wardens are doing, have a comfortable margin for your plans. And, Commander, I know we disagree on many things but I do think your Warden exchange is a good idea. It should benefit all parties. Since Ser Stroud came here to learn about the Children perhaps it would be a courtesy to send detailed reports and drawings to the other Commanders with the new Wardens,” Woolsey stood to leave.

 

Alistair blinked, “Thank you Mistress Woolsey, that is an excellent suggestion. It is nice not feeling my purse strings pinching.” He looked at the older Warden standing in the doorway, “Welcome, I assume you had a safe trip back, have a seat.”

 

“Commander, Mistress Woolsey,” he nodded to each of them. Stroud courteously waited until the Warden’s treasurer left the office to go about her business before sitting down. “Soldier’s Peak is an interesting fortress. I met Avernus,” he added. “He is a rather disturbing old man. I do not wish to know how he has managed to live for so long.”

 

“I prefer not to think about it myself,” Alistair replied mildly. “When we first arrived . . . well, it was an experience.”

 

“So I understand. Commander, I am impressed with the training program you and Riordan started and I have much to consider. I will have an answer for you when you return from Montsimmard. And I will assist in any way I can during your exchange program.”

 

The warrior behind the desk grinned, “Excellent. All three Warden-Commanders agreed to the exchange, you may have gathered that already; Commander Kevain said he wouldn’t even count you as one of the exchanges. Apparently your last recruiting round was so successful he doesn’t anticipate needing you for some months. Commander Clarel said she would be most happy to act as host but I’m still waiting for the First to reply. I’ve never been out of Ferelden, unless you count Orzammar and the Deep Roads, which I don’t, so part of me hopes he agrees to the compromise instead of coming to Amaranthine,” Alistair said with boyish enthusiasm. “Have you been to that part of Orlais? Where is the Academie located? I could use something to eat,” he got up and the two men walked to the dining room.

 

The First agreed to Alistair’s compromise. Alistair winced a little at the obvious stiffness in his reply but wasn’t surprised. He hoped his gifts would ease his reception. While waiting, he and Jannasilane made another trip to the Dragonbone Wastes and picked up some bones. Master Wade made two sets of beautiful daggers. The smaller, more delicate set was a thank you to Commander Clarel for hosting the meeting. The silverite grips were engraved with a feather pattern and inlaid with runes helpful to any mage. Anders kept eying them covetously. The larger set was destined for First Warden Amaz. The daggers were strong and elegant with graceful hilts made from the remnants of the golem shell. Alistair also had a cloak, similar to his, made out of richer fabrics with more fur.

 

“Well, we’re off to see the First, or I am, anyway,” Alistair smiled at the group in the courtyard. Seneschal Varel and Ser Stroud flanked Jannasilane and in turn were loosely surrounded by the remaining Wardens, Captain Garevel and the Cousins. “First stop, Amaranthine for horses and the boat to Ansburg. Nathaniel should be here soon.” He held Janna’s chin in his hand and traced her lips with his thumb, they’d said their farewells the night before and into the morning, “Good-bye, my love. Don’t fight any dragons while I’m gone.” He looked at the men behind her, “Take care of my Janna.”

 

“You take care of my Ali,” she replied softly. “I will be most put out if something happens, this is truth.” When Alistair left she went up to the top of ‘her’ tower so she could watch them for as long as possible.

 

Stroud found her still there some hours later. “Little girl, you should come inside and get something to eat,” he looked around at her little aerie. She was the only one to come up here and she had furnished it with a small weather-proofed chest, table and chair, and a few blankets. Since it was only accessible from the family quarters and not necessary as a guard tower few people even knew she had claimed it as hers.

 

Jannasilane looked around and smiled at him, “You must think me foolish; already I miss him. This will be the first time we’ve been separated for more than a few days. I suppose it sounds silly to you, it's only a few weeks, not months.”

 

“Not at all,” he replied politely. “I wish to speak with you a moment, privately, before we go inside. Mistress Woolsey approached me; she does not think it wise for no one to be in charge before Nathaniel arrives. I am afraid she does not consider the seneschal qualified to provide sufficient leadership over the Grey Wardens in the unlikely event something should happen. She suggested I act as interim Commander until young Howe’s arrival.”

 

She rolled her eyes and then shrugged her shoulders, “I see no harm. If you won’t feel over-burdened with responsibility for a day or two,” she added mischievously.

 

“I shall endeavor to bear this great weight without fuss,” he intoned solemnly. She snorted and they descended to the main hall. Behind her back he frowned slightly; he didn’t like how easily he responded to her and resolved to be more careful.

 

Nathaniel didn’t arrive but letters did. All but one was from Alistair. “My love, I hope Terry and Harami prove to be better sailors than Stroud because the captain said the seas were a little rough. Anyway, when we arrived at Highever Fergus greeted us with a big smile and offered us a carriage for the rest of our travels. He seems delighted to show Ser Mhairi everything there is to see in Highever. You know, I think I even saw her blush. Fergus sends his love, as do I. I think of you every day and every night, it already seems too long since I’ve seen your beautiful eyes. Always, Alistair.”

 

“ . . . King Harrowmont sufficiently honored the casteless of Kal’Hirol when the Shaper added their names to the warrior caste. He looked a little bit like he was sucking on a lemon but he didn’t stint on the ceremony, I’ll give him that. Zeke was the most awed by Orzammar. I think he liked wandering the merchant stalls and the Shaperate best.

Warden-Commander Nalia is an interesting woman, no-nonsense but with plenty of imagination. I think you’d like her. She’s quite pleased that we’re using her methods in our training program and tickled at Riordan’s title, ‘Professor of Wardenology.’ I suspect he’ll be hearing from her soon. The two Wardens she sent us may have already arrived by the time you receive this letter. Tell Mistress Woolsey, and don’t roll your eyes at me, that her suggestion about the Children reports was a good one. Nalia and her top advisers are looking at them while I write to you from my lonely bedroom. Some of the younger Wardens are showing Samuel and Gabriel the local entertainment. I’d like to return here with you some day. Always, your Ali.”

 

“Jannalove, I can’t wait to get back to Amaranthine and you. It’s been too long. Master Wade’s skill made a big impression on Commander Clarel. Don’t be surprised if she tries to tempt him to come to Orlais. Both Commanders answered my questions at length. If either of them thought I am too young or inexperienced they were polite enough not to show it. I’ve learned a few things about making a difficult job easier, or smoother. Some of the things they do won’t work as well for us. Partly because we’re Fereldan and partly because of the whole Arl thing. Clarel deals with nobles more often than Nalia does and she explained some of the ways she deals with them. I might have to try one or two.

First Warden Amaz did not come; instead he sent a small retinue headed by High Constable Xavier. He seems reserved; I can’t tell if he’s upset about leaving the Anders or glad to get away. At least he doesn’t treat me like an idiot or an obnoxious child. Tomorrow we’ll begin the big question and answer session. Picture me sighing with resignation. I love you. Always, your lonely warrior.”

 

The exception was a letter from Howe to Stroud, “Ser Stroud, Mistress Woolsey let me know she suggested you act as interim Commander until I arrive. I am asking you to continue to do so for a while longer. Riordan is declining rapidly and it won’t be long before he leaves for his Calling. He wishes to finish as much of his work as possible to make things easier for Alistair; I have not told him the Warden-Commander already left for Montsimmard. I think my time, with you in charge at Amaranthine, can be better spent assisting him. If this does not suit, then I shall return as originally planned. Nathaniel Howe, Grey Warden of Ferelden.” Stroud found her in the garden she was creating and showed it her, “It appears, little girl, that you must suffer my leadership for a while longer. I will not deprive Riordan of his wish. I am sorry.”

 

“My poor Rio,” she answered sadly, “he did not expect the end to come so swiftly. I shall miss him terribly, this is truth.” She looked around at the dirt she’d been preparing, but she didn’t really see it. “He has been a very good friend and helped me during a difficult period. I know my Ali values his advice.” She smiled a little, “He told me many stories of the father I never knew, Duncan. Did you know him?”

 

Stroud wished he had, if only to lessen the sorrow in those expressive eyes, “No, little girl, I did not have that honor. I know only that he commanded great respect. I believe, however, the former Commander of the Grey of Fereldan would approve of what the current one has done.” He gestured to the land in front of her, “What, exactly are you doing here?” He hoped changing the subject would, if not ease her pain at least distract her from it. He told himself he would do as much for anybody.

 

“I believe there used to be a garden here. With a little effort we can have one again,” she explained. When she smiled at him her smile was tinged with mirth, “If you like I can give you all the details why I believe this is so.”

 

 “I am sure that would be most interesting,” he began politely, “but I fear I have other duties to which I must attend. Two more Grey Wardens have unexpectedly arrived from Cumberland. I shall leave you to your garden, little girl.” He bowed and retreated quickly now that his duty was done.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 98:  Say My Name

Oh, how she missed him. Alistair should have returned over two weeks ago and she feared her suspicions were correct. That Woolsey woman was involved, she was sure of it. She scratched her arms and trembled in the cool night air blowing in through the Warden-Commander’s window. Maybe it was a mistake to be wearing his shirt, soft from dozens of washings, but she wanted to wear something that smelled of him, though the fragrance might be just her imagination at this point. “It has been so long without him, I do not know how much more I can endure. Anders has not returned and Nathaniel is still at Soldier’s Peak. I am sure their continued absence is because of Woolsey. It is getting hard to think and plan, I need . . . the presence of all these Wardens is almost painful. Who can I trust? I don’t dare approach the ones on exchange. Does she know something? Or is she simply making sure I do not conspire with anyone? If I do not get some relief soon I will go mad. Even Oghren is beginning to be desirable but he has not a discreet bone in his body. I do not wish to bring shame to my Ali. Maybe I should leave, but if I leave I will not be able to return and I need to find out more.” She was so intent on her own whirling thoughts she did not hear the office door open, close and lock behind her as the interim Commander entered.

 

He entered quietly, surprised to see her. He liked Alistair and was ready to transfer and take on a new challenge. The young man handled his duties with humor and a keen regard for others. Rarely had Stroud encountered such a strong sense of responsibility or desire to protect those under his care. Alistair was a man worthy of respect but she . . . well, he had too many doubts about her character. He considered his desire for Alistair’s ‘little girl’ an unfortunate lapse of judgment and was determined to avoid her until he made other arrangements. But Fate seemed to have other ideas. Here she was, in his office (even if it was temporary) at night wearing almost nothing. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, she’d been acting strangely for the past few days though he might be the only one who noticed. He quietly strode towards her, “What are you doing here?”

 

Jannasilane whirled around, startled. Inwardly she cursed the fact that the clamoring beast among so many Wardens skewed her Warden-sense and so she had not realized he was in the room. He came closer, his face stern and unsmiling, and her eyes widened, “I, I c-c-couldn’t sleep.” She hoped he couldn’t see her blush in the dark or that her nipples were pointed with desire.

 

“Really,” he said skeptically. He thought to intimidate her into leaving so he moved even closer until her breasts were brushing against him. She couldn’t even distract herself with the pain of his usual leathers since he was attired simply in light linen pants and shirt. Anger fueled his unwanted attraction for her and burned in his blood when she didn’t move, “Perhaps, little girl, you were hoping to see me,” he traced her cheekbone and lips with the fingers of one hand and with the other carelessly caressed the side of her breast, moving his hand down until it was resting lightly but firmly on her rear, kneading it, stroking it. “Or perhaps you were spying.” Jannasilane shook her head in denial but she trembled at his touch, even unconsciously leaning into it. The Beast demanded it, this man, right now. “Liar,” his voice was gruff and harsh with his own rising need and loss of control. He grabbed her hair and bit her lower lip at the same time he smacked her bottom sharply, causing her to jump.

 

His hand found the hem of her shirt and reached under it, seeking tender flesh. He was surprised when he found out she wasn’t even wearing smalls. That was enough to break his restraints. She shivered when he caressed the twin globes of her warmed rear. “Naughty girl,” he whispered in her ear, “Do you know what happens to naughty girls?” He backed into the desk chair and sat down, still holding onto her. Without warning he pulled her down so she was over his knees. She struggled and he smacked her again, “Be still, naughty one,” he commanded. He pulled up her shirt, spanked her once and was able to see the imprint of his hand on her well-rounded cheeks. She squirmed and he spanked her again and this time he didn’t stop. He punished her for his desire as well hers. He slapped her left cheek then her right and back again. Sometimes quick rat-a-tats and sometimes more deliberate smacks.

 

When he began fingering her with his other hand Jannasilane gasped. He cleverly tweaked and stroked her until she was wet and panting. He didn’t stop spanking her even when he slipped his fingers into her, fondling the inside of her passage while she clenched around his fingers. Jannasilane was mortified that she, not just the Beast, responded to his actions. She could feel his erection through his trousers and craved it, and loathed herself for doing so. She cried out in frustration when he abruptly pushed her from him and onto her feet. She swayed, bereft, and didn’t protest when he tore her shirt from her, leaving her naked to his gaze. She never wanted to see that shirt again.

 

Hungrily he attacked her breasts with tongue and teeth. He suckled, hard, and followed up with gentle kisses. He wanted to leave his mark. He felt primitive satisfaction when she wrapped her arms around him, stroking him and hugging him against her. He picked her up and, with her still in his arms, swept the desk clear and laid her on it as if she was his to display. The cool surface was a welcome relief to her hot rear but he did not give her much time to enjoy it before his mouth was on hers. Greedily he opened her lips with his tongue and took command of the dance. His hands roughly and skillfully caressed her breasts, her sides, her legs. He trailed hard kisses down her neck, her breasts and torso. He circled her bellybutton with his tongue and sucked, causing her to buck against him. He threw her legs over his shoulders and grabbed her tender rear. She cried out when his silky mustache brushed the inside of her thighs as he teased her with his nimble tongue.

 

Jannasilane didn’t care that she was naked and completely vulnerable to his touch even as he remained fully clothed. All she cared about was that he not stop until the needs, hers and the Beast’s, were satisfied. She moaned as he feasted. She was near release when he stopped and effortlessly flipped her over. “P-please,” she heard herself beg as he lightly stroked her back. The delicate touch of his fingers caressing her sensitized rear was exquisite and she squirmed.

 

Just the sight of her trembling for his touch was nearly enough to send him to the brink but he resisted the urge to plunge into her. That her legs dangled above the floor and she pushed herself against the finger, slicked with her own juices, he had slowly inserted into her rear provided him with a perverse pleasure. He was glad to see that, though the spanking had thoroughly heated her luscious bottom it was only reddened and not bruised. He’d been a bit worried that he might have gotten carried away. He scritched his fingernails across her quivering globes and inserted another finger. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out while he undid the laces of his pants with his other hand. Her begging was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. “I want to hear you call my name,” he hooked his fingers slightly and smiled when she gasped.

 

“S-s-st-stroud,” she finally called out only to be rewarded with a hard slap instead of what she craved.

 

“My other name,” he said fiercely and smacked her bottom again.

 

She squirmed and trembled under his ministrations. She didn’t know if she wanted more or if she wanted him to stop; she only knew she was ready to go mad. She fought to think. “I d-don’t know it,” she cried out in frustration and tried to turn over.

 

Stroud stopped her. “Bring your arms under your shoulders and rise.” She didn’t even think until she did as he bade. She scowled even as she moaned when she felt his hands on her breasts. He fondled them, he squeezed them, and he caressed them. “You do know,” he pinched her nipples firmly, “Think to when I first came here.”

 

The linen of his shirt and trousers felt rough against her rear but was also oddly arousing. She was pleased that his breathing was as harsh as her own. She tried to think as he rubbed against her and continued playing with her breasts. Jannasilane resented that her body replied so readily to his own and hoped it was due to the Beast. He bit into the side of her neck and growled. She had a sudden flash of their first meeting; Stroud was with Riordan and she remembered thinking how gruff and aloof he seemed when being introduced. “J-jean!” she cried triumphantly.

 

He nuzzled her hair and kissed her neck where he bit her. He eased himself out of his trousers and laid the length of his manhood in the cleft of her rear. She tried to snuggle against him. “You are so close, little girl,” he whispered. He slid his erection against her and lifted her hips so he could reach her nub. He stroked, enjoying her trembling for his touch, but did not insert even a fingertip into her while he waited. He stepped back, pulling her with him so she had no leverage and was totally at his mercy once again. “Try harder,” and pushed against her.

 

“Aargh! Jean . . . Stroud . . . please, I can’t think,” Jannasilane was forced to admit. His answer was to spank her, an odd sensation with him still nestled between her cheeks. Then he returned his attentions to her nub. He pulled her to the brink repeatedly until she felt like screaming but still he refused to give her what they both wanted. Tears were streaming down her cheeks before she remembered the rest, “Jean-Marc!”

 

“Yes!” he buried himself deep inside her. “My name is Jean-Marc Stroud,” he cried hoarsely as he slammed into her again and again. She quickly found her release after being so close for so long. She found it again when he began pouring his seed into her. She clenched around him as he pumped himself dry; even then he continued slowly thrusting as they began to calm after the storm. “Good girl,” he said, as if to a dog, and pulled away. He patted her rear approvingly before picking up the torn shirt, cleaning himself, then tucking his manhood away. He dropped the shirt next to her on the desk and stepped back.

 

He watched her with his arms crossed as she took care of herself. He smiled with smug satisfaction when she wavered before standing straight. Jannasilane glared at him, “Do not patronize me, Jean-Marc.” It was a bit hard to stand tall with pride when she was naked and he was fully dressed.

 

Stroud smirked angrily and moved closer to her. “Little girl, I had you begging on this desk and over my knee. If I wanted I could have you again right now. You’re as eager for my touch as a cheap ****** for a pouch of coin,” he ran his hands down the sides of her breasts to prove his point and smiled when her nipples responded to his touch. He lightly rubbed his hands over her rear and held her against him so he could feel her racing heart before easing his hand between them and fondling her. When he slipped his fingers inside her he felt her thrust against him and only then stepped away, angry and pleased at her response. “Or would any man do?” He flicked her tight nipple contemptuously. He was mad at her for giving in; mad at himself for arguing with her and desiring another man’s woman, especially one who so easily came into his arms. He was angry that even now he wanted to take her to bed and make her beg for the rest of the night. And the next and the next after that.

 

Jannasilane slapped him, anger and self-disgust gave her arm plenty of force. She hated herself for wanting him, or rather that the Beast wanted him. She spoke quietly in the silence that followed, “Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I was weak, that does not give you the right to, to . . .” She gave up and turned away. She didn’t think he’d believe her even if she trusted him enough to explain. To be fair she could hardly blame him for thinking badly of her. She was ashamed of her own reactions. She flushed as she recalled how she had indeed begged him, Maker help her, and would do so again if he crooked his finger. “Whatever you think of me I would prefer that others not know of my shame, my failure.”

 

“Our failure. My apologies, my lady.” He gritted his teeth and watched her go through a door that led directly to the Warden-Commander’s bedroom. He realized he still didn’t know why she was in the study and followed her in time to see her throw the shirt she’d been wearing into the fire. He frowned then, realizing how upset she was over what happened between them. He waited until she pulled on a robe and wrapped it around her before he spoke, “You never answered my question.”

 

She started and stared at him. He was beginning to think she wasn’t going to answer when she spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear. “It is truth that I couldn’t sleep. I worry that he won’t r-return. For many nights I have found sleep to be difficult. I miss my Ali; I thought maybe I would feel less lonely if I spent some time in his office. It did not work. Instead I felt worse.” She could admit to feeling lonely, even if that was not the entire truth. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that the Beast was still riding her, that her body craved his touch even if it meant further contempt. Maybe that was part of the attraction.

 

Stroud damned himself for what he was about to suggest. Until tonight he had always thought he was an honorable man and now . . . He took her arm and led her through another door, into the room used by special guests such as the king and closed the door behind them. What he was going to say he was not going to say in the Warden-Commander’s own bedroom. A man had to have some pride. “I am used to long stretches without any intimacy but I have wanted you since the day of our first meeting,” he grimaced at the look of surprise on her face. “I tried to sate my unfortunate desire with some of your Amaranthine whores but was not completely successful. Even now I want you. I want to take you in every way possible to take a woman. I want my marks on your skin. I want you begging and screaming for my touch.” His breathing was ragged now but he was determined to finish, “I have great respect for Warden-Commander Alistair and have no wish to dishonor him but we have already crossed that line. Until we get word of his return perhaps we can burn out this unfortunate fire between us. Discreetly, of course.”

 

Jannasilane knew she was bright red. She couldn’t look him in the eyes and stared at his chest. She stumbled over her words, “Are, are y-you s-s-saying I . . . th-that I b-b-bec-c-come your s-secret m-m-mistress?” She was mortified that her voice squeaked on the last words.

 

Now that the words were out Stroud relaxed. He might be damned but he no longer felt so angry, “Yes. It should not be difficult. We currently have little contact with each other during the day; there is no reason for this to change. Outside of this room I am Stroud. At night I will come to you here, where I wish to find you naked and willing. In here I am not Stroud, I am Jean-Marc. Well?” he demanded.

 

“Maker help me and my Ali if I am wrong,” she thought before speaking. “And no one else will know?” She waited for him to reply in the affirmative. “Before I agree there is something you must know. I love my Ali with all my heart. But this loneliness I feel is tearing me apart, driving me mad. Anders is gone; Nathaniel is still at Soldier’s Peak with my Rio; Seneschal Varel always seems to be busy elsewhere when I wish to speak with him; even Sigrun and Oghren are constantly on patrols. I hardly know these older Wardens.”

 

Stroud frowned as he realized the extent of her isolation. Not only was the Warden-Commander gone but her closest friends and possible confidantes were glaringly absent as well. He thought about her fear that Alistair might not return. “You think there is a conspiracy?” he asked with some disbelief.

 

“I fear my Ali is unaware that there is no plan for him to return. Perhaps I am not thinking clearly and am turning a string of coincidences into a plot against him but this I doubt.”

 

“What if you are correct?” he watched her closely for her answer. He was disturbed at the possibility that the First, for who else would be behind such a scheme, would basically take prisoner any Warden-Commander much less one who killed the Archdemon. That was not a precedent he wished to see. The Order could potentially descend into chaos.

 

“Then I will rescue him even if it means my life.”

 

Stroud believed this. Whatever her failings he believed she would do just that. It hurt, but also made him want her even more, knowing it would only be temporary. “Very well, though I suggest we do not talk of your concerns outside this room. I will keep you informed of anything which appears to argue either for or against your theory even if you do not agree to continue this connection. Mistress Woolsey has hinted that perhaps I should take over the Warden-Commander’s quarters until his return, for my convenience. I shall allow her to convince me, in part, to do this. I shall insist that I will maintain my current quarters as well and that you be minimally inconvenienced by a move to the guestroom, if you agree.”

 

He watched her as carefully as she did him. “We will need to be careful. The Woolsey has rarely approved of Ali and never liked me. She sniffs whenever she sees me,” Jannasilane scowled. She took a deep breath; it was time to make a decision, “One man I respect is better than any or many, even if he hates me.” Her gaze was fixed to the floor when she stood and removed her robe, “you said naked and willing,” she muttered as she heard a distant roar in her head.

 

He tilted her head so she was forced to look at him, “Indeed I did.” His hands skimmed her body with caresses light as the wings of a butterfly. He seduced her with gentleness where before he dominated with ruthlessness. He breathed soft kisses down her throat, her breasts. He knelt to kiss her torso and ended at her mound. He nuzzled, requesting access. She shifted her feet and gave it, clutching his shoulders when she felt his tongue delicately tracing a path to her core. He stood and she caught a quick grin when she stumbled. He dropped his hands to his sides, “Undress me,” he commanded hoarsely.

 

Jannasilane looked at him, understanding he was testing her full cooperation. She hesitated briefly and then ran her hands up his chest, her touch scorching him through the linen. She eased his shirt from the waist of his trousers and caressed the skin underneath. He hissed when her fingers circled then tweaked his nipples. She slowly moved his shirt up and kissed the firm muscles she uncovered. His frame was stocky but strong. He allowed her to raise his arms so she could begin to remove his shirt. She teased him by trapping his head and arms so she could move around him, her tongue tracing intricate patterns and her breasts constantly brushing against him. He could feel the firm peaks of her nipples and groaned. She taunted him when she loosened his trousers and stroked his manhood. She didn’t stop until he was hard as stone and nearly bulging out of his pants. Only then did she return her attention to his shirt and carefully remove it. He watched her hungrily as she straightened it out and laid it over a chair. She sauntered to him and slid her fingers through his chest hair, up his neck and tangled them in his hair, bringing his head down so she could reach his lips. She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned, pressing herself against him.

 

Stroud brought his arms down then and held her. He felt different from her Alistair, he had more and curlier chest hair, she noticed as he held her close. He grabbed her rear and pushed her against him while their tongues mated. She rained kisses on his chest while her hands insinuated themselves under his waistband. Her tongue delved into his navel while she carefully moved his erection so she could pull down his trousers. Just as with his shirt she took the time to straighten them and place them in the chair. This time when she returned she knelt in front of him. He enjoyed the feel of her nimble hands exploring and caressing the length and muscles of his legs. When she cupped him and started licking him with little flicks of her tongue he shuddered. He braced himself when she took hold of his ass and began squeezing. At the same time she surrounded the tip of his member with soft lips. Ever so slowly she took him in further; the excruciating pace nearly had him begging for mercy.

 

“Enough,” he growled. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him. She nuzzled his earlobe with her teeth. He grasped her rear and positioned her. He teased her. He turned so her back was against the wall and pushed into her. He held still while she tried to bring him in further. Slowly he pulled almost all the way out and then rammed back in. He picked up the pace and she met him thrust for thrust. She scratched his back when he tongued her ear and began sucking the lobe in rhythm to his movements. They raced to bring the other over until they both found release. He sagged against the wall, pinning her and gripping her bottom tight enough to leave bruises.

 

When their hearts stopped racing and their breathing was more regular Stroud eased her down until she could stand. He retrieved her robe and gently placed it on her, “Here you go, little girl.” He dressed before escorting her back to her room. They looked to see that all was in order before closing the door.  “I shall ‘fall asleep in my office’ which should account for any mess should any think to ask. Lock the door behind me.” He turned and cupped her face, “Until tonight, little girl.”

 

Jannasilane stared at the closed door before locking it with trembling fingers. She raced to lock the other two and then threw herself onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillows so no one could hear the sobs tearing at her, especially the man who just left. She didn’t know which of them despised her more. “Forgive me, my Ali. Morrigan was right; I am the Wardens’ ******.”