peopleofthedas | Apostates of Amaranthine: Chapter 97 and new art!

Title: Apostates of Amaranthine: Chapter 97
Characters: Anders/f!Amell (Maggie)
Rating: M/AO (this chapter T)
Word Count: around 5500
Summary: Unlikely hero Maggie Amell attempts to rebuild the Grey Wardens and deal with continuing threats from the darkspawn, while trying to fit into a world that's a far cry from the tower. All this while the Chantry seems to wait around every corner, eager to remind her and Anders just what they think of mages who manage to escape Circle control.
In this chapter: Irving and Greagoir were never as dumb as Maggie thought.

Also below the cut... new Maggie and Anders art by

cave_fatuam , since I wanted some drawings of them rocking the old age look.

Anders stopped us in the hall. "A minute," he said to Irving, leading me away by the arm into an empty storeroom. "Are you mad?"

"Because you called Irving?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, because the way you were screaming 'don't stop don't stop' last night was enough to make me… well, stop."

I snickered. "Well, yeah, I was a bit annoyed about that. But you made it up to me this morning." Anders smiled, folding his arm with a pleased look on his face. "No, I'm not mad," I said. Looping my arms around his waist, I looked up at him. "Thank you. Really."

"You think he can help?"

I grinned as he uncrossed his arms, shifting them from between us to hold me against him. "I think he can't make things any worse," I said. "But… you thought he could help. And asked him to come, for me. So… thank you."

Anders kissed my forehead. "I miss you," he said. "Sure, for a while it was fun not having to piece my wife back together… but I did always enjoy the chance to show off."

"But you hate Irving!"

"I know he was always your favorite of your old teachers."

I laughed. "Well, he's still treating me like I'm one of his apprentices. I've already gotten a lecture."

"Oh?" Anders looked amused. "On what?"

"Apparently I need to stop trying to be something I'm not and start remembering how to act like a mage," I said, chuckling.

He pulled back, looking me up and down. "That explains the robes and staff," he said. Covering his mouth with a hand, I could see the skin around his eyes crinkle.

"What?"

"Nothing," Anders said. I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing bad," he insisted. "I've missed seeing you in robes."

"So you think I've been acting like something I'm not?"

"No," Anders laughed, shaking his head. "I just think you look good in robes. Is that a crime?" With a smirk he grabbed me, pulling me closer to him. I could hear someone clearing their throat behind us as we kissed. "Figures," Anders muttered quietly. He shifted his grip from my behind to my hips as I untangled my legs from around him. Setting me back on the ground I turned, blushing as Irving stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"I suppose some things never change," he said.

"Sorry," I mumbled, feeling for all the world like it was twenty years ago. Squeezing Anders' hand, I followed Irving back into the hall. When I glanced over at him, he looked amused.

Greagoir, apparently, would be dedicated to making sure any spells I did manage to cast didn't bring the Keep down around our ears. As if I could manage such a thing anymore. The mage training spaces were warded, but a large primal spell could still cause damage if it wasn't dispelled quickly. Irving explained how he had mostly retired, and was deciding if he would go to Val Royeaux or not.

"He is still himself," Irving said. "His skills are there, and… usually his mind is there. On occasion things may become a little, well, fuzzy." He sounded very sad. "It was too late for him, to quit. He had been a templar so many years…"

"I suspected as much," I said quietly. "I wish someone could think of some way to help him," I added a moment later, surprised by how much I meant it.

"Don't act as though he is dying," Irving said. "He hates that. It is still Greagoir, after all. Just… if he calls you by the wrong name or briefly forgets we are no longer vassals of Orlais… pretend not to notice. It's easier that way." I didn't say anything, wondering if I'd really be able to keep my expression level enough that he wouldn't notice. "It isn't as bad as it seems," Irving said, not sounding very believable. "It happens no more than once a day. If even that. And it passes quickly. I just didn't want you to be startled." He dropped his voice. "He thinks that he is here to keep an eye on me, since I'm still a mage of the Circle. Really, it's more the opposite. He and I have known each other long enough that, even if he forgets what year it may be, I don't seem out of place to him."

I nodded. Greagoir was sitting in the main hall, looking thinner than I remembered him, and older, but otherwise healthy. He was laughing with Ronan, but stood when he saw us, clapping the former templar on the shoulder before walking towards Irving and I.

"Fourteen months, Margaret?" he said, eyebrow raised. "Anders tells us you have been moping for fourteen months?"

"It didn't feel like that long…" I said, biting my lip.

"Well it was," he said flatly. "The girl I knew would probably slap you across the face for this."

"Probably," I said. "She had a full hand to slap with."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't even start that nonsense with me." Greagoir reached out, grabbing my wrist and examining my hand. "I knew a man who lost more than this in the war with Orlais," he mused. "Still managed to hold a sword until his dying day." He rolled his eyes, adding "and before you ask, no, it wasn't that same day. It was… oh, last month, I think?" He looked over at Irving. "You remember him, don't you? What was it we used to call him…."

"I believe he died just before the blight," Irving said. "I… I can't remember his nickname, though."

"It was funny, I recall that much," Greagoir said, lost in thought. "Oh well… there's too much I can't remember these days, that's the least of it." We walked towards the practice room. "Ah, yes," Greagoir muttered, more to himself. "Of course… The Claw…. That was what we called him!"

I froze mid-step, looking at my hands. Irving sighed next to me and glared at Greagoir.

"It's all right," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

As we approached the training room I became more nervous. Having the two authority figures of my childhood marching alongside me didn't help, either. Not everyone could tell a blood mage from any other mage, but there was a difference. Alistair had noticed my spells felt "changed" as he put it, even normal spells, when I became a blood mage. Fiona had commented on the same thing about Anders, well before even I found out he was a blood mage. While in neither case they knew what caused the change, I couldn't expect the same level of inexperience from the former First Enchanter and Knight Commander. Especially when both had been intimately acquainted with blood mages from the time of Uldred's uprising.

Had they put two and two together with the feeling of Uldred's spells and those of his accomplices, and blood magic? I didn't know, but it wouldn't surprise me. Neither would have risen so far in life if they were stupid, after all. Despite what I might have thought about them years ago.

"We… should talk first," I said, closing the door of the practice room. Glancing at the enormous griffin tapestry on the wall I took a breath. I crossed my arms in front of me, and then uncrossed them as I tried to think of what to say. "Um… Grey Wardens know spells that are, um… really different from what I learned in the Circle."

"Is that so?" Greagoir asked.

"Yes," I said, nodding emphatically.

"Your skills must be varied indeed," he said. "I assume this would be in addition to the blood magic you learned a decade ago?"

I started coughing. "W-what? I'm no blood mage!"

"Do you think me a fool?" he said, sitting on a bench. "Wynne told us both after you stopped Uldred. 'Grey Warden magic'?" He shook his head. "Really, not your finest lie. I was far more impressed when you claimed Brennan was teaching you diagnostic healing spells for lung conditions. Irving and I were laughing over that for weeks." With a tired sound he set his sword and shield aside, leaning back against the wall. "You're no more believable now than you were then."

"But I'm not," I protested, doing my best to sound convincing and stepping further back.

"Oh, calm down," he said. "If I didn't kill you then I certainly won't now. Everyone knows the Grey Wardens pride themselves on using any means necessary. It is… difficult to criticize when, for all I know, that is the only reason all of Ferelden wasn't overrun by darkspawn." Greagoir looked tired, and old. He also looked disappointed.

"I admit," Irving said, "I made up something about Wardens having access to their own books... You certainly didn't seem to be able to think of a decent excuse, and your fellow Warden was no help. Wynne would have insisted on having you locked up," he explained. "Or worse. It was a blight! There were no other Grey Wardens. I didn't know just how necessary they were then, but everyone had always said they were the only ones who could end a blight. Even if it wasn't for that, I had no doubt your fellows would have jumped to your defense. What were we to do? Kill the last Grey Wardens? Or let the last of the Ferelden mages die trying?"

"Indeed," Greagoir said. "I suspected it was a matter of time once you became a Warden." He paused. "No, in truth I long since wondered if you already were. Jowan, Brennan, Bridget… all your closest friends..."

"I wasn't," I said quietly. "I didn't know about them, not until…"

Irving looked saddened. "I always thought I taught you better than that… but there have been whispers of the Grey Wardens for as long as anyone can remember." Irving put a hand on my shoulder. "I would not have expected it of him, but did Duncan pressure you to…?"

"No," I said. "Absolutely not. Although it was… strongly implied it would be welcomed."

"And that's why? He strongly implied and you took it as an order."

"No," I said. "He was dead. Everyone was dead. Everyone was dead and we were alone, and I was sick of getting hurt. Getting hurt, getting addled and stumbling over my own damned feet, watching my friends get hurt and being helpless to do anything because I was too drained to cast a single bolt of lightning. Do you know what happens in the middle of a battle when a normal mage runs out of lyrium?" My voice was growing louder, as if under its own power. "They die, that's what." When neither of them said anything the fight went out of me. "I was scared," I said, sitting on the floor.

"Scared?" Greagoir looked at me, eyebrow raised.

"It happens," I said defensively. "What, because I never let you see it you think it just doesn't happen?"

"I never said that," he replied. "I just didn't expect 'I was scared' as an excuse."

"It's true," I said. "Scared I'd die, scared we'd fail… mostly scared someone else would die because I was too worn out to help them. But, give me some time and I'll think of something suitably impressive, to go with my image." I widened my eyes before turning to face him, hand over my heart. "Our holy lady came to me in a vision! She told me to! I had no choice but to obey, who could refuse the bride of the Maker?"

"Charming as always."

"I do try."

He grumbled. "It isn't something I wish to discuss," Greagoir said. "Make no mistake, I don't approve. But I would also like to think that I've known you long enough to know you committed a horrible sin for the right reasons, if such a thing could be possible."

"All these years… you honestly thought we didn't know?" Irving looked surprised.

"No," I admitted.

"So… Is it true?" he looked intrigued. "The Grey Warden spellbooks? I imagined I had made the entire thing up. I'd certainly love to see them."

"There are," I said. "I suspect every single one is forbidden by the Circle, though."

"I suppose it's a good thing I've retired," he said, looking pleased. Standing up he walked over to me. "Now, time to work. Let me see that staff of yours." I handed it over. "What is this?"

"Volcanic aurum," I said. "Tinted blue. The globe is Rivani crystal."

"Why blue?"

"I like blue," I said. "And the person who gave it to me knew that. It was a wedding present."

"It would be like Anders to find a way to make gold more flamboyant," Greagoir said.

"It would," I agreed. "But this was a gift from the King and Queen." I laughed. "Anders? Really? A custom made staff imported from Tevinter? One of these would cost more than both of us made in a year, and we have a matched set!" I couldn't figure out why he thought Anders of all people would have given me a wedding present. It was his wedding, too, after all. And it wasn't as though we had planned it far enough in advance to shop.

"And it works?"

"Give it a try," I offered, gesturing to a portion of the wall that had been reinforced with several inches of solid steel for targeted spells. Irving did, gasping as a dent was left in the metal.

"That will do," he said, handing it back to me. I could hear him mutter something to Greagoir about how he knew the Circle equipment was substandard and couldn't resist snickering. It was substandard, true… but a staff bought by a king was hardly a fair basis for comparison. Any of the dozens I had bought or found since becoming a Warden would be much more appropriate.

Satisfied I had proper equipment, Irving couldn't resist a crack about my robes. I put aside my favorite daggers, but that I wouldn't budge on.
"Irving, my Circle robes didn't even make it to Ostagar without ripping. Ever try to walk a mile in a tight ankle-length skirt? Two? Twenty?" I made a face. "I cut slits past my knees in them myself just so I could move my damn legs. Really, after the second day I suspected they were designed specifically to make running impossible so we'd be easier to catch."

"Not everything is a conspiracy, Margaret," Greagoir said.

"Even so, I won't wear long robes. Dying because of a poor clothing choice would be really pathetic."

"Fine," he said. "Let's just get to work. If you really want to dress like a handmaid of the Black Divine I'm not going to stop you."

Irving spent the rest of the day putting me through one drill after another. And not just drills, but apprentice drills. No, not just apprentice drills… children's drills. He made me cast all of the lowest level primal spells, one after another, until my arms ached and throat was sore.
It went on like that for what felt like ages. I dragged myself to bed night after night so tired I could barely light the fireplace. I woke up feeling no less exhausted, and only seemed to actually rest when I was sitting at my desk in the early morning hours doing paperwork.
More than a month passed before I was allowed to try any of the spells I'd learned by my fifth year in the Circle. It was nearly six more months beyond that before he told me to try and cast any larger storm spells.

It took three months of failed attempts for any of them to actually work.

The first time I stood in the practice room with snow swirling around my legs and settling onto my hair I could only look around in amazement. Irving handed me a handkerchief and I realized with surprise that I had been crying.

Of course, that wasn't enough for Irving. The snow was soon melted, and even the water gone, with a fire spell. After that he ordered lightning, with the old mage casting a shield to guard himself and Greagoir. "Earthquake," he ordered next.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No earthquake spells inside the Keep." Irving gave me his best teacher glare and I glared right back. "Hey, that's a longstanding rule. Do you know how many tens of thousands of sovereigns it cost to rebuild this place? I'm not about to start putting cracks in the plaster myself."

"Fine," he said. "You know if you had proper stone walls—"

"It would have cost hundreds of thousands of sovereigns to fix," I said. "And I'm not damaging my home," I repeated. "It isn't even mine, this building and everything in it is Grey Warden property."

"Fine," he said. "Outside."

I nodded and we began to head through the keep. I saw Anders in the main hall and gestured him over. "Come with?" I asked. "We'll need light, I think." It was already after dinner.

He walked on my right, linking his fingers with mine. "How is it going? Why outside?"

"Because I won't cast an earthquake inside the Keep," I said.

"Of course not," he replied. "You're the one who painted 'no earthquake spells!' on the wall!"

"And that's what I told them!"

"But otherwise…"

I glanced over at him, grinning. "I was standing in six inches of snow and apparently the cold aggravates Irving's arthritis."

Anders stopped and looked at me. "Really?"

"Really," I nodded.

He grabbed me by the waist, spinning me around. Setting me back on the ground he said "I knew you would figure it out eventually."
I nodded. "I don't know how, though."

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I mean, I don't know how it worked. It just… did."

He looked thoughtful as we continued on, Irving and Greagoir not too far behind us, lost in their own conversation. "Do you think it could be a fluke?" he asked. "I don't mean to say…"

"No," I said. "I thought the same, but it's Irving. He made me cast that spell so many times I got frostbite. After the first two or three… it worked every time."

"So… back to work soon?"

"Definitely," I said emphatically. Anders had gone on shorter missions with some of the others since Irving had arrived, but I could tell he was getting antsy spending so much time in the Keep.

"Fantastic," he said. After a pause while we walked into an empty field he started laughing. "Who would have guessed I'd miss killing darkspawn."

"I have."

"You would," he laughed. We stopped in an empty field. "This would work," Anders said. "Far enough not to damage anything."

I nodded and stepped away from them. Anders raised his staff, casting a wide circle of light. My first attempt failed. "Try again," Irving demanded. So I did. Again, and again, and again. Finally, I could hear a yelp of surprise, followed by cursing. Turning, I saw Anders and Greagoir attempting to help the old mage back to his feet while the ground rolled beneath us. He took a breath once the spell was cut off by Greagoir. "I don't remember you having an affinity for earth spells."

"I don't," I said. "It's just that there's no wards outside, I guess."

Irving and Greagoir stayed on only a few more days. "What will happen to him?" I whispered to Irving over dinner one night, nodding my head slightly in Greagoir's direction. His lapses into memory had been getting worse and worse. For several days he had called me Mary, with no explanation. Before that, he kept telling me I needed to work harder if I ever wanted to be prepared for my Harrowing. Today he had known who I was, but seemed horrified to see Anders there, actually pulling me aside by the arm to warn me that he would only run away.

"I don't know," Irving said. "He decided to retire in Ferelden, though. He wants nothing to do with Orlais." Pausing to sip his wine, he shook his head. "His family… suffered horribly during the occupation."

I nodded, not surprised. The same could be said of anyone his age.

"We may take up at the Circle of Amaranthine. I'd like to keep an eye on him, and the lack of stairs would be good for me. The climate is more hospitable than the tower, as well." He shrugged. "I think he would be all right there. It's all children, Greagoir always did like children."

"That would be nice," I said. "Amaranthine is a good city."

"It's your city," he said with a chuckle. "Of course you say that."

"Still true," I said before taking a bit out of a dinner roll. "Anders," I said. "Best city in Thedas?"

"Minrathous," he replied quickly.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you serious? You've never even been there!"

"Doesn't matter," he said sounding certain. "And didn't you once promise we'd go there?"

"Did I?"

"You did," he said. "Granted, we thought we would die the next day… but I was being honest. I didn't realize you were just telling me what I want to hear." He sighed. "I feel so used. "

I elbowed him. "You are such a liar," I said. "I mean, used? The things I could say to that…"

"Hey now," Anders said quickly. "I was kidding. No need to bring… that up." I made a face at him and he laughed. "I still want to go to Minrathous, though."

"We still can," I said. "We've got time." He made a face, I could almost see the numbers flashing behind his eyes. "Please don't do the math," I said. "I know how long."

"Sorry," Anders said.

The next morning we went with Irving and Greagoir to the city. I thanked Irving for all the time he had spent helping me almost the entire way there. "Margaret, enough," he said. "It was nice just to be useful again. Since retiring all I do is sit and reread the same old books."

He gave me a hug when we split up at the city gates. Greagoir shook both our hands, although he called me Mary again. I just smiled and pretended nothing was strange about that.

"I wonder who Mary is," Anders mused as we walked.

"No idea," I admitted. "Girl he knew once?"

"Could be," he said. "Didn't seem like it, though. Sister, maybe."

"Maybe," I said. "I don't suppose we'll ever know."

We finally came to the reason for our trip to the city. This early in the day, in the middle of the week, the Chantry was deserted. A brother I didn't recognize looked up briefly when we entered before returning his attention to tending the brazier.

Anders took a seat when I went over to one of the small shrines. I dropped several coins into the box and lit a candle before kneeling. After saying my thanks to Andraste and the Maker I walked back over to where Anders had fallen asleep.

"Huh?" he said when I shook his shoulder.

"Ready to go?"

"I was ready to go more than an hour ago. Now I'm just hungry." He stood up, stretching. "How many prayers could you possibly have had to say?"

I shrugged. "All of them?"

"That explains it."

"You didn't have to wait," I said.

"Maybe I wanted to say thanks that you're back to normal, too," he said. "Not as much as you, clearly…" He laughed as we walked. "Admit it," Anders finally demanded. "This is partly because you're thankful no one will ever ask you to try and learn to heal again."

"Don't be silly." He poked me in the side, making a face. "Well, all right, maybe a little."

I probably spent no more than a week at a stretch at the keep for the next few months. We went to investigate sightings near Gherlen's pass, put down a confirmed large incursion near the Dalish lands, and even recruiting trips. In truth, I was happy just to feel like a Grey Warden once again. Signing my name on piles of documents really didn't do much to make me feel useful.

It was on one of our brief stops home when Aidan knocked on my door. "Someone here to see you," he said. Anders and I had both been sitting around, reading quietly by the fire.

"Who?" I asked. "And since when do you announce visitors? Did all our staff up and quit?"

"Dunno who," he shrugged. "And I'm telling you since I'd like to find that out myself. She's pretty."

I laughed and followed him downstairs. Anders, obviously curious, tagged along. "Catherine!" I called, stepping into the main hall. Walking over, I gave her a hug. My cousin had come to visit us a few times since I got hurt, but apparently Aidan had never seen, or noticed, her. She normally wore simple commoner clothing, though. Today she was dressed in shiny black dragonwing light armor, curved daggers at her hips and a bow on her back.

"It's good to see you," she said, voice unusually sober. "But I'm actually here on behalf of a friend."

"Oh, that doesn't sound at all ominous," Anders said. She had been working for Leliana for several years. Here for a friend could mean anything from a message from her, to a message from Alistair himself.

"Top secret," she said, giving Aidan an apologetic glance. I led her upstairs, waiving him off when he tried to follow us. I couldn't help but notice her turning back to wink at him as we walked up the stairs.

"Yes," I said.

"Yes what?"

"Yes he's single," I replied. "I know that look. You think I've never given that look to anyone?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Maggie," she said. A moment later, as I closed the door of my sitting room she added "why? He say something about me?"

"He said you were cute," I replied. "Just… don't break him or anything. He's a good Warden."

"Got it," she laughed.

Anders looked at us in horror. "Maker's breath, I can't believe there's more than one of her out there. It's terrifying. Are all the women in your family like this?"

"Like what?" we said, nearly in unison, before bursting into laughter.

"Forget I asked. So… is this the sort of top secret I can hear, or should I run along and play with the boys?"

"You can stay," she said. Reaching into her armor, she removed a folded letter, handing it to me. I noted the king's seal and opened it quickly, making the mistake of reading it before sitting down.

"No," I said, sinking to the ground by the fireplace. "Oh no, oh no."

Anders jumped up, grabbing it from my hands. "Maker's breath," he said, helping me up after reading it. Turning to Catherine he asked "do you know what's in this?"

"Yeah," she said. "Alistair told Leli and Zev, she told me so I could deliver it to you. I was under orders to destroy the note if it looked like someone would get to it." She shook her head. "This is… bad, isn't it?"

"It is," I said.

"Oh, I don't know," Anders added. "Some people might enjoy another civil war."

"We don't know that's what would happen," Catherine replied quickly. Anders and I both stared at her and she shrugged. "But… it is the going theory."

"Right," I said. "I'm going to Denerim. Now. Are you expected back there?"

"Not if you're going," she said. "I was supposed to report back with your response, no point if you can tell him yourself."

"Good," I said, going over to the small writing desk in the corner. I quickly scrawled out a note in Warden encryption, keeping the detail as sparse as possible. "Can you deliver this for me?" I asked her.

"Sure," she said. "Where?"

"Senior Warden Fiona, at Soldier's Peak," I said. "It's maybe a two day ride. If that."

"Any maps?" she asked. "I've never even heard of the place."

"You can take a Warden with you," I said. "It'll be faster, it's not easy to find. And then Fiona will be more assured it came from me." She nodded, and looked ready to say something. "Maker's breath, fine," I said, reading her expression. "I'll ask Aidan if he wants to go."

Catherine beamed. "You're too good to me, cousin!"

"I am," I agreed. "And if I didn't ask him he'd never forgive me. Now… back to work?" She nodded. "Four people in Ferelden know what this letter could reveal. And it would be, well… almost as bad as the one you gave me." I sealed the letter, cooling the wax with a spell, and passed it off.

She slipped it into her armor. "Secrets are my job, remember? The job you got me."

"Right," I said. "So… if anything happens to the letter. Tell her…" I looked at Anders, he shrugged.

"It seems like it's more than time," he said. "Especially given…"

"Right," I said, biting my lip. "Tell her I said she should come to Denerim and talk to Alistair," I began. "And… remind her…" Sitting back down at the desk I sighed, face in my hands. "Oh Maker," I groaned, trying to force the image of the young princes from my mind and failing miserably. Wiping my eyes, I tried to focus. "Remind her that magic is hereditary."