Apostates of Amaranthine chapter 104... and 105!

[amhran_comhrac]

So I realized there was a serious flaw with my computer set up with regards to being able to write. See, I'm abnormal. I can't just write. I can't *focus.* Never could. I need distractions. I need noise, movies, video games, television, something. I have the attention span of a fruit fly. I used to use my laptop to write and do other stuff on my desktop, but my new desk didn't fit both.
Can you believe it took me six months to figure out why, every time I sat in front of Word, nothing happened? And so I drop off the face of the earth since, well, not being able to write is kind of depressing as hell.

Low and behold, I add a second monitor and I can write again. Wish I'd figured that out months ago.
And here we have not one but two chapters, about seven thousand words, all churned out in the last week. I feel like I should be making the Morrigan character selection screen motion while shouting "I'M BACK!"




Title: Apostates of Amaranthine: Chapter 104 "You take that back!"
Characters: Anders/f!Amell (Maggie)
Rating: M/AO (this chapter T)
Word Count: around 2500
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: Thedas has no Geneva Conventions. Fortunately for Maggie.

"You're not going to die," Anders said.

"Really?" I replied, moving my horse closer to his. "That's news to me. Last I checked, everyone died eventually."

"That's not what I mean," he said, glowering at me. "I mean now. You're acting like this is the end. It's not." I raised my eyebrow, glancing over at him. He shrugged as much as possible while riding. "Well, it doesn't have to be."

"I know that," I said. "But I want to be prepared for the worst." I paused. "I wanted them to be prepared for the worst. I mean, even if I don't die now, I will eventually. Sooner rather than later, when you think about it."

"I prefer not to think about it," Anders said.

We were headed to the Circle of Magi. I had decided it would be an excellent first stop. That was, of course, before I decided to stop in every town and village we passed to wave my 'Hero of Ferelden' flag and do my best to recruit for the army.

"It never gets any easier," Anders mused as we stood on the shore looking at the tower as the boat approached.

"No," I agreed. Several mages were milling about on the shore. One was painting a picture of the tower, a young couple were walking hand in hand, another pair seemed to be returning from a dinner in Kinloch Hold. "It's certainly different, though," I admitted. I could see numerous figures on the island outside the tower as well, bright blue robes visible from a distance. Once on the boat I realized they were all not only apprentices, but children. One bored templar sat leaning against a wall, book in his hands.

"You should be watching them," Anders chastised him as soon as we were off the boat.

He raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, and why did you disguise yourself as Anders?" the templar asked drily. "Besides, I can only think of one idiot who tried to swim for shore and, oh, wait… that was you."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Not to keep them from escaping, idiot. You should watch them since you've got four year olds running like lunatics on a rocky shoreline near a very deep lake. One of them might get hurt!"

The templar glanced over just in time to see a couple children attempting to climb a moss covered rock at the shoreline. One stumbled, nearly slipping back into the water. "Right," he said, climbing to his feet. "You may have a point." Walking off, we could hear him warning the kids away from the rocks as Anders and I went inside.

"You would be such a good father," I mused as we walked inside.

"Not really," Anders said. I glanced up at him, confused. "I saw a couple of teenagers skinny dipping not far from there. Figured they'd appreciate getting the kids away from the shore."

"I stand corrected," I said with a laugh. "You're a bad man."

"Oh, I am," he said, grabbing my backside, causing me to yelp in surprise as the door opened.

A templar waved us in, looking vaguely annoyed. I saw Greagoir sitting not far away, reading a book on a bench. He was pointing something in it out to a young mage not far away. Glancing up at the noise, he smiled warmly, rushing over to us. "It's so good to see you," he said, pausing. I shifted, trying to hide my discomfort as I realized he had no idea what my name was. "You two," he finally said, looking pleased with himself for finishing the sentence.

"And you, Greagoir," I said, giving him a hug. It seemed strange to hug the man who was the focus of almost all my frustrations in life for so long, but seeing him with his hair grey, wearing faded old-man clothes instead of armor, it was difficult to stay angry. Especially when he seemed so completely thrilled to see us.

"I thought you were in Amaranthine," Anders said.

"Too hot there," he said, sounding annoyed. "Far too hot. I'll go back when it gets cold." He shook his head. "I don't know how you can stand the heat."

Anders and I glanced at each other, not sure how to respond. "We spend most of our time underground," I finally said. It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't a complete lie, either.

"Right, right," he said, nodding and shuffling off, with a gesture for us to follow. "Our famous Grey Wardens."

We followed him to the stairs where, to my surprise, he led us straight to Irving's office.

Not Irving, I reminded myself. Torrin. Irving had retired. He was still in the office, but now on the opposite side of the desk, sipping tea.

"Is it that time of year again?" the new First Enchanter asked, looking up. "How many this time?"

"All of them," I said after a moment. "Ferelden's going to war." They looked at me in shock. "I'm on a leave of absence from the Grey Wardens. Right now I'm here as Supreme General of the Ferelden army."

Torrin sighed. "When I told you that you should get working if you wanted to change the world… I wasn't being serious, Margaret."

"And yet, here we are," I replied, dropping into a chair. "No one ever warned you about how literally I took everything?" He didn't reply and I figured it was best to get to the point. "Well?" I asked.

"Is this a royal order?" he asked, carefully weighing each word.

"Nope," I said. Considering the war was, more than anything, because of all the rights mages had been given, I assumed it wouldn't have to be a royal order. I was starting to wonder if I should have taken the paperwork Alistair offered, though.

He nodded and, an hour later, I found myself on stage in the main assembly hall being asked the very same thing again.

"So… do we have to?" one mage asked. He was young, probably not long from his apprenticeship. I didn't recognize him.

"You don't have to," I said, feeling more annoyed. "It is strongly encouraged that you do, though."

"By who?"

I narrowed my eyes. "By me," I said. "And if I don't get enough volunteers I will start conscripting people. And those people will be answerable directly to me instead of tossed into the army with everyone else since I'll probably be pretty annoyed at that point. I've spent the last fifteen years commanding the most elite fighting force in the nation… you probably don't want to be answerable directly to me. My standards? Really high."

I could see Anders sitting with a group of mages our age, I recognized most of them. He had put his hand to his face, shaking his head. I couldn't exactly react to that, though, since dozens of people were yelling at me.

I listened for a moment, trying to pick out individual complaints. A few people saying that they weren't really freed, they were just made slaves of the army, a few people refusing to go… most just yelling to yell, from what I could gather. And even then, it was just a small, but extremely loud, minority.

"Quiet!" I shouted, lightning arcing above their heads to get the crowd's attention. The voices stopped and everyone watched me warily. "The next person to interrupt me gets frozen. And don't think you'll resist my spell. I've killed tougher mages than all of you." I folded my arms and glared at the loudest complainers. "This war is because of you, of us. Every one of us knows that. The Chantry wants to take control of Ferelden because mages have been freed. Period. End of story. Every other detail is just an offshoot of that. So tell me what happens when the rest of the nation sees their sons and daughters die? When fathers don't come home? And all while mages stay safe in their island fortress? Want to think about that one for a bit?" No one said anything, I saw a few people shift in their seats. "Or, what happens if we lose?"

There were more complaints and I shrugged, my hands held out. "What? Want me to lie? Promise a glorious victory? I don't know that any more than you. But I do know we don't stand a chance in the black city without mages. You stay here? We lose. We lose, the Chantry wins. And then… what will they do to you?" More shifting. I tried not to smirk, knowing I'd won.

We left with far more volunteers than I had estimated possible.

"I really can't believe you did that," Anders said once we were on the road again.

"Did what?"

"You bullied those people into helping," he said. His voice was strained and I could see him clenching and unclenching one fist.

"You're mad at me?" I looked over at him on his horse. Griffon balked slightly, wanting to edge away from my angry husband.

"Damn right I'm mad!" he snapped. "What, you fight to free the mages just so you can start controlling their lives? They're not your personal army!"

"Don't give me that!" I snapped back. "If they want to be free they can fight for it, like we have. It's their damned lives, they can do something to improve them. Maker's breath, what, should I do everything for every mage in Ferelden while they sit home and knit?"

"This isn't them fighting because they want to," he countered. "It's them fighting because you gave everyone no other choice." He made a face at me. "You terrified everyone into doing just what you want."

"Bullshit!" I snapped, pulling back on the reins and stopping in the road. "Bull. Shit." I glared at him, angry that Anders would think so little of me. "I terrified them into saving their own damned lives!"

He snorted. "Really? Will you be telling that to the casualties?"

"Will you say they're safe when the templars overrun us?" I countered. "We need mages. We need mages or we fail. We fail, the templars come in, and you know what they'll do…" I snarled, yanking at the reins to keep my horse in check. "If they need a bit of bullying to keep them from being beaten and raped later, fine. I really didn't feel like telling an auditorium of almost everyone I grew up with just how much I know about Chantry justice."

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Mags," Anders began, voice softer than usual, "what happened to us won't necessarily happen to them."

"It won't," I agreed. "Most would just be killed. They're not famous or important enough to make a good hostage or impressive public execution." Anders didn't respond, so I went on. "And if we do win without them, they can probably expect an uprising against mages in the very near future by the common people. Knowing they didn't fight when the army suffered massive casualties would be… bad. And without them there will be massive casualties since most healers happen to be mages. Bad in the 'normal people doing their damndest to kill mages everywhere' sort of way."

He was silent for a long time as we rode on, darkness gathering over us. "You're right," Anders finally agreed. "I don't like what you did… but I can understand why. Maybe some day they will, too."

"Maybe," I said. "If not… well, they're better equipped to survive this than the normal troops. Mages can heal themselves." He glanced over at me, already snickering. "Don't even—"

"But Maggie…" Anders began.

"Shut up."

"Heal themselves?"

"Shut up," I repeated, knowing he would ignore me.

"I don't think it's fair to assume all of them can heal themselves," he said, far too cheerful. "Or are you finally admitting that you are, in fact, the worst healer in all of Thedas?"

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He laughed and galloped ahead before I could hit him.

By the time we arrived at the northern border a massive force had gathered. Anders pointed out that people might feel better if they saw me looking confident, so we took a walk through the general camp. "You know," I whispered, "you do make a fairly convincing Nathaniel when you have no other option."

"You take that back or the only thing sharing your bunk will be your dog."

"The dog is smelling a lot fresher these days," I mused before tugging on his less than clean beard. I snickered, trying to look serious when a few of the soldiers glanced our way. "Fine," I whispered, "you remain utterly incompetent. Just like me. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." He glanced around. "So much so that I think I'll accost those young men and confiscate their rum. Or ask for a glass."

"You have fun," I said, waving as I continued on to our camp. It would, at some point, become the King's Camp, but Alistair was still on his way. Apparently until he arrived everyone would keep on calling it "The Commander's Camp."

"Well?" I said, walking in to the command tent that had already been prepared. I was late- we had decided to stop in a few more towns to try and drum up recruits.

"My lady," one man said, jumping to his feet before kneeling. Two other armored men looked just as nervous, glancing from him to me. After a brief pause they dropped as well. The only one to remain seated was the First Enchanter, who rolled his eyes at them.

I couldn't stop myself from sighing. "Up," I muttered, gesturing. "Bloody Andraste, how will we get anything done if you're already starting that garbage?"

"But you're—"

"Hungry," I said, cutting him off. "And really good at killing things. Other than that, I'm no one special. Just ask the only one here who knows me. He's also the only one still in his chair."

They nervously stood up and returned to the table. "They know we're waiting for them," one man began. He was wearing the laurels of Highever. "Ships off the northern coast." I nodded.

"And our defenses?"

"Highever ships, Amaranthine ships," he said. "Your own ships…" he shrugged. "Theirs are better. If they engage us…" The man wrung his hands, not needing to finish the sentence.

I wasn't surprised. Ferelden had never been what one could call a naval power. Really, we weren't even a military power. Or a power of any sort at all. "Well," I said, considering my words carefully, "we'll have to make sure they don't get a chance to engage us. I like my boats. My people like my boats. And the damned cannons cost a small fortune. I'm sure Fergus would say the same of his boats- his are much nicer than mine, after all. I'd rather not see them destroyed." I glanced to Torrin. "I want primal mages sent to the Ferelden ships. Fire and ice people. Mostly fire. Ones who are good at distances."

"Most of our primal mages are young," he began.

"Of course they are," I said. "Up until recently people like me were just seen as a risky waste of resources. You think I don't know what would have happened to me if I'd been anything less than the best primal mage?" I raised an eyebrow. "Accusations of blood magic, escape attempt, I know someone would have found a reason to get rid of a mage as dangerous as me. I didn't then, of course. Anders always understood the politics more than I did, though. He pointed it out years later." He shifted, not arguing. "Are they old enough to decide for themselves?" I asked. "Old enough to be made tranquil at their own request?" He nodded.

"We wouldn't have brought anyone that young," Torrin said. "There are apprentices among them, though."

"There were apprentices who fought at the Battle of Denerim," I reminded him. "I know… I recruited one who ran away after." I sighed. "They'll be safer than we will be here." He nodded. "So… have them start burning. Burn the ships, freeze the water around them so it's too cold for them to swim to shore. Crush the hulls with ice if they can. Destroy their fleet, to the last man. No survivors. One templar running free can leave every mage around them powerless." They didn't look particularly concerned. I sighed. "That includes healers, you know."

One of the men, in Highever heraldry, made a face. "Really, if we win we should be taking prisoners."

I stood up so fast my chair flew back behind me, falling into the dirt. "No prisoners!" I shouted. "Is that understood?" They shared a glance and I narrowed my eye. "I will not have prisoners who can overpower one of dozen troops with a gesture. They. All. Die." Crossing my arms I looked at each man, holding their gaze until they looked away first. "If any of you have a problem with that, leave now."

The soldiers shifted in their chairs, but made no move to leave the tent. I caught Torrin's glance. He locked eyes with me and nodded, face grim.

"Good," I said finally, righting my chair and sitting down again. "Now, bring me maps of Gherlen's Pass."

Title: Apostates of Amaranthine: Chapter 105 "I think I managed to offend myself"
Characters: Anders/f!Amell (Maggie), Alistair
Rating: M/AO (this chapter T)
Word Count: around 5000
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: The argument they managed to avoid for almost twenty years finally explodes.

It was with no small amount of relief that I greeted Alistair. "Thank the Maker," I muttered, bowing since we were in full view of hundreds of people.

"You're… bowing at me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Welcome to my world," I said. "People have been doing it to me since I got here. Hopefully with someone more important around that will stop."

"Ugh," was all he said in response.

Once we were in the command tent Alistair gave me a hug, picking me up so my feet dangled several inches above the ground. "You know, you're the only person I would ever let do that to me," I said once he'd set me down again. "Well, that I'm not married to, at least."

"Lucky me," he said, rubbing his knuckles into the top of my head.

"Indeed," I agreed, lightly punching him in the stomach.

"Are… you two done?" Torrin asked, sounding horrified.

"Done with what?" we both asked, speaking at once and then bursting into laughter.

He sat with a sigh and, after a moment, Alistair and I joined him. I went over everything that we had been doing. "Mags," Alistair begain, "One of the commanders was… concerned with your, ah, no prisoners policy."

"Concerned?"

"He called it barbaric," Alistair admitted.

"Fire him," I replied.

Alistair looked shocked. "Wait…. what?"

"Fire him," I repeated. "I want him gone. If he doesn't understand why that's important when one out of ever dozen people here is a mage, he is too stupid to be in charge of anything."

Sitting down, Alistair picked up a glass, taking a drink of water. "Well, it's already done," he admitted. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for Alistair to finish. He had trailed off, looking away and putting a hand to his mouth. Sighing, he put his hands out in apology. "He questioned your, um, mental stability. I figured once that happened we probably needed someone else in charge. Before he started talking to anyone else."

"What, you don't want anyone to know you put the army in the hands of a crazy woman?" I said, chuckling. Knowing he was gone, I already felt relieved.

"Mags, you're not crazy," Alistair said, his voice reassuring.

"I know that," I said. "Why do you sound like you're trying to convince me? I'm perfectly fine."

"No reason," he said quickly. "So… should we be looking at maps or something?"

I nodded, gesturing to the young member of the Silver Order who had been acting as my steward. He brought a large rolled sheath of papers over, setting them on the table before returning to silence against the wall. Alistair glanced at him and then looked at me, raising his brows.

"Colum," I called to him, "how long has your family served at Vigil's Keep?"

"Since before the occupation, Commander," he replied. "I'm the second since the Wardens took charge."

"Maker's breath," I laughed. "Am I that old?"

"Yes," Alistair replied without pause. Reassured of the trustworthiness of my staff, he unrolled the maps. "Now, let's get to work."

For hours we poured over every square inch of the coasts and borders, searching out even the most minuscule of weaknesses. Leaning back in my chair, I gratefully accepted a glass of ale before dismissing my steward for the night.

Anders poked his head in not long after. "I just saw the kid fall asleep into a glass of rum. Any reason your staff gets rest and you don't?" He paused. "Well, some rest."

"Still working," I said, gesturing to the maps.

Anders looked from me to Alistair and smirked.

"What?" Alistair asked.

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Well, nothing you would find funny. Maggie might."

"Oh?" I said.

"You know that painting in the library at home?" he asked. "The one we got from the Queen?"

"My wife gave you a painting?" Alistair asked.

I thought back and tried not to chuckle, looking at us. Alistair was leaning over elbow on the table and his head on his hand. I was leaning back in my chair, one arm slung backwards with an ale in my hand. The painting had been an old one, Elissa couldn't stand the idea of it being destroyed because of the significance, and she knew Alistair would order just that. In it, Maric had been leaning over the table, head on his elbow as he looked at maps. Loghain sat across from him, chair leaning against a wall with a glass of wine in his hand as he gestured, mid statement. Without realizing it, Alistair and I had nearly mirrored the exact positions some long-forgotten artist had depicted Maric and his own general sitting in years ago.

When I laughed Alistair demanded an explanation. Knowing he wouldn't relent, I tried to explain it as best I could without mentioning Loghain much. It, of course, wasn't enough.

"What, should I be warning my sons to watch out for you in a couple decades?" he asked drily.

"Not unless you think I have some plan to haunt them," I said, making a face at him.

"She shouldn't have given you that painting," he muttered. "Too many paintings of him as it is. And you actually hung it up?"

"I did," I said. "It's a piece of history. They accomplished great things together. I hope we can be half as successful."

He snorted. "What he did then doesn't excuse what happened later. As much as you wanted it to when you pardoned the bastard." He looked disgusted.

Before I could stop myself, words slipped out. "That isn't why I did it."

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked quickly.

"Nothing," I replied, waving my hands like it could clear the slip of my tongue away. "Forget I said anything."

"You know damn well I can't do that," Alistair replied, leaning forward and staring at me. "For what, almost twenty years I've thought you let Loghain get away with what he did because he was your childhood hero. If there was some other reason I think I deserve to know."

"We shouldn't be talking about this," I said, knowing there was no way out of it but hoping to stall the inevitable. Alistair was like a mabari with a rabbit in this mood, though. Nothing short of lightning at his head would stop him.

"I think we should," came the reply. "You pardoned him for killing the king, killing our brothers, killing Duncan. I want to know why."

"None of those things were his fault," I said quietly, not meeting his gaze.

"What?"

"They weren't his fault," I repeated, looking at him this time. He was waiting for more of an answer. I sighed, pushing my hair back. "Alistair, I spent… a lot of time thinking about this when we were on the road. At Ostagar, back then… well, we were more than three hours late with that stupid beacon. By the time it was lit… they were already damned. Nothing Loghain could have done would have saved them. The darkspawn had already won the battle. If he joined it would have just killed the other half of the army, too." I sighed, feeling no relief now that the secret I'd held to my chest for so many years was out. "I thought so then. Now that I know so much more about war, about being in command, about fighting… I've become more sure of it."

"So you're saying this was our fault?" His voice was cold, cold and calm.

"No!" I replied quickly. "It wasn't anyone's fault. Not everything in life can be blamed on someone. Sometimes bad things just… happen."

"And him chasing us from one end of the country to the other, that just happened, I suppose?"

"He didn't know the tower was overrun!" I argued. "He didn't set foot in that tower again until he went with me. All Loghain knew was that we were supposed to jog up some stairs and light a fire, and what should have taken fifteen minutes took us three and a half hours. And then we vanished, thanks to Flemeth. For all he knew it was intentional sabotage! From his point of view it certainly looked like that." He was glaring at me. "The Wardens take thieves, murderers, maleficar. The worst of the worst. Nothing Loghain did was any worse than what half my people did before I found them."

"Get out," Alistair said quietly. I stared at him, not sure how to respond. "Get out," he repeated. "Go back to your killers and maleficar that you love so much. I have nothing more to say to you."

"Alis—"

"I said GO!"he exclaimed, face red with anger as he jumped to his feet. "I don't even want to look at you."

Nodding, I turned and walked out. Anders was next to me seconds later. "Mags," he said quietly.

"Get me to our tent," I whispered, grabbing his sleeve. "I can't have this camp see me cry."

It was a very close call.

Anders tried to reason with me. "Maggie," he said the next morning, "you dropped a lot on him. He'll come around, it's just a shock. His whole… whole view of, well, everything just got changed. And not for the better!"

"I don't know," I said. "Alistair holds a grudge."

"He's not unreasonable, though," Anders argued. "Well, mostly… sometimes…" he sighed, "unless it involves Duncan and Loghain." I stared at him and he shrugged, offering a small smile. "You'll always have me?"

"Well I'd hope so," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Would it help if I promised to punch you in the kidneys every once in a while, to fill the void? I could even make up bizarre stories about the blight and pretend they're not utter fabrications."

I raised my eyebrow. "Our blight stories were never made up. Where did you get that idea?"

"Maggie, you told me you were bit by a werewolf. And Alistair said the only reason you don't bark is because you killed a Dalish keeper that was hundreds of years old. That… well, not only is it unbelievable, it doesn't really have any sort of logic to it. What does one have to do with the other?"

"Yes it does!" I said. "There was a curse!"

"Of course there was," he said, patting my head. "Sure it does, honey," came the response.

Not responding, I dug through my bag. Finding a faded set of robes, I yanked them over my head and began buckling the belts. "I am just going to ignore you right now," I said.

"I'm used to it," came the response. "I should have married a nice housewife."

"Probably," I agreed. "I don't think housewives would kill templars for you, though. Or approve of your love of doing the same."

"They might," Anders said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm awfully good looking, after all." He laughed at the face I made. "So, what is the plan now?"

"Plan?"

"Maker, please tell me you have a plan. Or an idea. Or maybe a hunch. Something."

"The plan is to defeat the templars," I said. "It hasn't changed."

"We're staying?"

I nodded. I wouldn't lie, the thought of running home to curl up in my own bed and sob had occurred to me once or twice, but I couldn't do that. "Staying," I agreed. "We have a job to do."

"Good," he said. "I was worried you would want to run home for a bit there." He smiled, pushing my hair back. "It would have been really hard to talk you out of that."

"Why Anders," I said, laughing as I stood up, "watch out. Someone might get the idea that you're capable of being responsible."

"Don't make me accidentally set our tent on fire to prove that theory wrong."

Feeling slightly better, I was chuckling as we left the tent. "All right," I said loudly, gesturing to my steward. "I need the First Enchanter, and see if you can find anyone from Orzammar around. I've got an idea."

"What idea is this?" Anders asked as soon as we were alone.

"I came up with it last night," I admitted. "I was staring at the mountains and crying, and it hit me all the sudden…" He made a face. "What?"

"I just… there's this odd, twisty feeling deep in my guts. Came out of nowhere."

"Are you all right?" I asked, studying his face for some sign of illness I would never be qualified to identify.

"I think so," Anders said. "It's just odd. This must be how Nathaniel feels whenever you start talking. No wonder he went grey so young." He looked thoughtful. "I don't mind a bit more grey, since it makes me look rather distinguished. But I swear to the Maker, if my hair starts falling out I'm going home."

"Fair enough," I agreed, laughing.

"You do realize it is barely dawn," came a voice from behind me.

"Is that why it's still dark out?" I mused, putting a hand to my face in mock confusion. "What would I do without you to point these things out, First Enchanter?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," he responded drily, "but I know I would get a decent night's rest."

I rolled my eyes. Did he think we were on a picnic? "Quit whining," I said. "Be glad you're a mage and can take care of yourself, until your group arrived with the healers half the men in this camp couldn't keep off the latrines for more than an hour. I've got half a dozen serious injuries from sparring accidents, and I'm getting very concerned about how long the food will hold out. Your nap is the least of my worries. And I have a brilliant plan."

He made a face. Anders looked at him and nodded. "Squirmy sort of feeling in your stomach, isn't it?" he asked. "I had the same thing when she told me, too."

I couldn't respond, the Orzammar representative approached not moments later. "Ambassador?" I asked.

He grunted an agreement. "His Highness sends his regards, and apologizes that he can't openly assist you."

"I understand," I reassured him. Really, I was surprised they had bothered sending even an ambassador when I asked, but seeing as how we were planning on waging a war right over their heads, it was probably just so there would be a visual reminder of all the people living right below our battle.

Concern for those people was exactly the reason I had called him over.

"So…" I began, gesturing to the mountains that loomed over the pass, "just how far down is the city?"

"From there?" he asked, rubbing his beard. "No one really lives there. Old Thaig, mostly collapsed."

"Fantastic!" I said, clapping my hands. "Well, not the collapse. That's bad. But the no one there thing is fantastic for me. Right now." I couldn't help giggling, seeing my plan take form in my mind.

"Torrin," I said, pointing at the First Enchanter, "we're going to start some earthquakes."

He looked surprised and then, a moment later, nodded with a smile. "General, I think I see where you're going with this."

"Excellent," I said, and began laying out the maps.

Alistair wandered over while we were planning. I tried not to look over, afraid he was still angry and unsure if I could hold my composure. "I want mages here and here," I told Torrin, pointing to spots on the map. "Maybe three in each group? Make sure they bundle up, it's cold up there. I'll get them a nice escort. Maybe some of the Gwaren and Highever troops." He nodded and went to the mages' encampment to find people.

"General, what are you planning?" Alistair was doing his best to sound serious.

"We're going to start an avalanche in the pass, your majesty," I explained, still not looking up.

He was quiet for a moment. "That's… not a bad idea," Alistair finally admitted. I nodded, pleased he agreed but still not feeling bold enough to look over. It felt like those first months after the Blight ended, when he wouldn't speak to me because of Loghain, all over again.

"Let's go for a walk," he finally said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "We should talk. In private." It seemed Alistair was used to being obeyed without question, since he set off before I could reply.

I looked over at Anders. He shooed me away with a shrug.

"Well, then," I mumbled. "I guess I'm off to get yelled at. Back soon. Unless he kills me. In which case, remember I've always loved you."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Go."

I would never get used to having people salute as I walked by. That was always the first habit I broke in the new Warden recruits. But this was the army, and the army couldn't be run on a first name basis. Or so they kept telling me.

I finally managed to catch up to Alistair. He slipped behind the last row of tents, which were nestled right into the foot of the mountain, and began to climb.

"All right," I grumbled, almost fifteen minutes later, breaking the silence. "If you're going to push me off a mountain, just do it from here. It'll be rocky enough for my head to split, and I don't want to climb another foot."

He ignored me, focusing on brushing the snow off a large rock before turning to sit down. "I'm not going to push you off a mountain, Maggie," Alistair finally said. He handed me a wrapped package and a small bottle. The package, it turned out, was breakfast. The bottle was lyrium. As soon as the smell of fried eggs hit me I couldn't stop myself from taking a bite. "I'm going to poison you, you pig," he said after a moment.

I spit the food out, wiping my tongue with my hands. "Ack! What?"

"Maker's breath," he said. "I was kidding. Trying to lighten the mood. You really think I would kill you?" Alistair looked offended. "Drink your lyrium, you're clearly hitting the 'strange and paranoid' stage of the morning." I did as he said, blasting a rock with fire a moment later to melt the snow and warm it before sitting. "You couldn't do that for me?" he said. "I think my backside may be frozen."

"Sorry," I replied.

"Ah, so you can still talk."

"Of course I can," I said. "I'm waiting for you. You're the one who's furious with me."

"Fair enough," Alistair said, rubbing his face. His cheeks were still dotted with stubble. "I… I didn't sleep much last night. Well, at all, really," he admitted. "I hate arguing with you. It's like the end of the Blight all over again."

"I was thinking the same thing," I said.

He nodded. "I can concede," Alistair began slowly, "that we were late with the beacon… through no fault of our own." I nodded. "And while I don't agree that the battle was unwinnable at that point, I will admit that it would have been a near thing. And believing it to be lost isn't... entirely unreasonable."

"All right," I said slowly.

"But," Alistair said, "I can't agree that recruiting Loghain was the right thing at the time. I can't. I mean, in hindsight sure, since he died and we didn't, and that was always my goal anyways. But at the time neither of us knew that."

"True," I said. Continuing carefully, I wrung my hands as I spoke. "But why wouldn't he have the same chance anyone else does, the chance I had?"

"You didn't kill Grey Wardens!" Alistair exclaimed. "You weren't even a mal—" cutting himself off, Alistair dropped his voice. "You weren't even a maleficar when you were conscripted," he finished in a near-whisper. "He killed Grey Wardens, intentional or not. There has to be a limit, you can't give everyone a second chance. Some things are unforgivable." He shook his head. "I know you won't take rapists. You've told me so yourself. How is what he did somehow less horrible?"

"It isn't the same thing at all!" I said, surprised he would even make the comparison. "A rapist… they're… they're broken in the head. They're always a danger. I take them and it puts every woman around them at risk. Loghain wasn't stalking and attacking Wardens in the street. It was a battle! And he didn't even raise a blade to a single one. Even if you disagree with me about the position he was in after the beacon was lit, you have to admit they died because of his inaction, he didn't directly kill anyone."

"He was still responsible for the deaths of Wardens," Alistair said. "That alone should make him… unwelcome in the ranks."

Sighing, I shook my head. "He's not the first to join after killing a member. I doubt he'll be the last."

Alistair raised a brow. "And you aren't telling me the big part of that statement. So spit it out before I make it an order."

"I don't have to follow your orders," I pointed out.

"Oh yes you do," he said. "You're on leave from the Wardens. You're my general. That means you follow my orders. So out with it."

"Duncan," I finally said with a sigh. "It was Duncan. He was conscripted… before he could be hung for killing a Warden. It… it was a robbery gone wrong." I sighed. If I could have managed, I would have kept that from Alistair for the rest of our lives.

"You're lying."

"I'm not," I said.

"If it was true, I'd know."

I shrugged. "It isn't the sort of thing we discuss, you know that. He only told me because… well, because of how I joined. I was worried people would look down on me since I was conscripted to save me from punishment."

He leaned back, looking relaxed. "Mags, he made it up!" I blinked in confusion. "It was to make you feel better," Alistair went on. "I bet that was just the only thing he could think of off the cuff that was worse than 'letting a maleficar free to roam the countryside.' Duncan just didn't want you to feel like a monster."

"No, Alistair," I said, shaking my head.

"You won't convince me Duncan was some kind of monster to make Loghain seem less horrible," Alistair said.

"He wasn't a monster, he was just a boy. A boy who made a horrible mistake," I said. "They gave him a second chance. He redeemed himself. More than redeemed himself. He gave his life fighting the Darkspawn." Alistair stared at me, sitting up once more. "I'm Warden Commander," I reminded him. "I have all the old records about the Ferelden Wardens. The paperwork on their recruitment… or conscriptions. Including Duncan." I looked down at my hands, sighing. "Loghain was no better or worse than any of us. He did his duty, and he gave his life in the process. At the Landsmeet I was only doing what Duncan would have wanted me to do."

"Maker…" Alistair said after a long silence. "You're not lying, are you?"

"You know me well enough that you would spot it if I was," I said.

"And all these years, you've been carrying that around, trying to keep it from me?" I nodded. "Why?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," I said quietly. "I've done enough of that in our lives."

He looked annoyed and stood up. "I'm the bloody king, Maggie! I was a Grey Warden. I was a Templar recruit. I'm not made of porcelain! You don't have to lie to me just to keep me from falling apart."

"I didn't lie to you," I said. "I just… didn't tell you. Different."

"Ah, like how Loghain didn't kill the Wardens, he just didn't save them, either?"

I gasped and Alistair shrugged, looking sheepish. "Yeah. Probably too soon for that joke. Sorry. I think I managed to offend myself with that one." He sat back down. "I still hate him," he said. "That'll never change."

"I wouldn't expect it to," I said. Tugging on my hair, I looked over at him. "So… do you hate me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Really? Do you automatically assume every argument means the other person now hates you? Wouldn't the rational thought be to assume they're, oh, I don't know, really really angry at you?"

"Maybe?" I admitted.

"Right," he said. "And right now? I'm not exactly feeling all too cheerful in your direction. But I don't hate you. Maker's breath, don't be absurd."

"All right," I said.

He stood up. "Come here," Alistair demanded, holding his arms out.

Relieved, I climbed to my feet and returned the hug. It was only seconds later that his arm shifted, grabbing me around the neck, grinding knuckles into my head with his other hand. "You deserve this!" Alistair laughed as I tried to pull away.

I stopped struggling away and, after a moment of going limp, tossed all my weight directly at him, knocking both of us into the snow. "Ha!" I laughed, sitting on his chest and pushing his head into the snow with both hands.

"Damn you, Maggie!" Alistair batted at me with both hands. "This is cold!"

"Truce!" I demanded.

He coughed, trying to pull free. It was a few seconds before he noticed half the snow burying him was pouring from my hands. "Fine!" he sputtered. "Truce!"

Nodding, I stood up and offered him a hand.

"Magic," Alistair said, brushing himself off as we returned to camp, "is cheating."

"Says the man that's got a foot and, what, a hundred pounds on me?"

"The Maker made you short, not me."

"Yeah, well, he made me a mage, too. So there."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, making a chattering gesture with one hand. Anders looked up at the sound of our arrival. Seeing us both covered in snow he raised an eyebrow, but looked relieved that we were speaking again.

"Torrin's been looking for you," he said.

"Well, here I am." I sent someone to find the First Enchanter.

"We're ready," he said, approaching with a substantial group of mages.

"For?"

"The earthquakes!" he said. "We're ready to block off the pass."

I paused, trying to figure out the disconnect. "No, no," I said. "We're not blocking the pass before they get here." He looked confused.

"Maggie?" Alistair said. "What are you talking about?"

"The earthquakes are for once they've made their move. I don't want to block them out. I want to bury them alive."

The sound of a dozen people gasping in horror at once is really quite unique. Only Anders met my eyes and nodded, a grim smile on his face.