Pull of the Abyss - Chapter 2

[miri1984]

Title: You could perform for children
Words: 1400
Characters: Anders, Nate, Sigrun, Oghren, Leonie Caron
Summary: Anders doesn't like being Warden Commander.
Title art by the astonishing Nazgullow

"If you're not Orlesian and taking over, go away."

"I love you too, Commander."

"Sigrun." Anders sighed and rubbed his face. "I thought you and Oghren were training."

"He's gone to the gate to meet the Orlesians you're so keen on," the casteless Legionnaire was leaning against the doorframe. "Nate's with him, you know, to look poncy. He does that very well doesn't he?"

"I think it's the nose," Anders said, getting up from behind the desk that had never felt right.

Sigrun grinned. "And the legs. They go on forever don't they?"

"It's a human thing."

Sigrun eyed him curiously. "Do yours do the same then? I never get to see under those robes."

Anders blinked. "Sigrun you're either being extremely dirty, which gets my approval by the way, or deliciously naive."

"Pick whichever one makes you like me more." Her eyes were twinkling and he laughed for a second. Sigrun turned to the door.

"Wait a moment," he said. "Are there any mages?"

"With the Orlesians? No. Sorry boss."

Damn. "Templars?"

"Also a no, unless they've started with the stealthy types. No, they're just Orlesians. A lot of them. And there's a kid too — cute little tyke."

At least that's something. They weren't planning on shipping him to the circle straight away then. "Oh well. Time to hand over power." He made his way to the door, but Sigrun's small, strong hand stopped him.

"Be careful ok? I didn't like the look of them."

He grinned and ruffled her hair, which earned him a swat on the wrist that stung. "Of course you didn't. They're Orlesian."

Privately, as he made his way through the courtyard to see the contingent who were currently talking with Nathaniel, he had to agree with Sigrun's assessment. The Orlesian wardens were a grim lot, not surprising considering they'd lost a good deal of their brethren with the architect's attack on the Vigil. The woman — Leonie Caron, he'd been told her name was — looked at the damaged walls and remaining rubble disdainfully, arms crossed over her chestplate, severe, lined face disapproving and cold. There was a man next to her with a truly magnificent mustache, and clinging to his leg was a boy of about six. Anders frowned down at the child — it was hardly the place for them, but then he wasn't one to judge. His experiences with children were confined to attempting to control a class of seven year olds in the Tower, a task he'd only achieved by making lightning animals and having them periodically shock the students.

Irving hadn't been too pleased with him for that one.

"Commander Caron," Anders said, holding out a hand for her to shake, which she did so, nearly breaking his bones with the firmness of her grip. "It's truly a pleasure to have you here."

She nodded. "Anders, I presume?"

"Acting Commander, yes," Anders said, twisting his lips.

"It was my understanding that Commander Surana gave you full command of the garrison here," Caron said. Her accent was thick, but not impossible to understand. Anders briefly considered switching to Orlesian to make things easier for her, but changed his mind. No need to give away all his talents at their first meeting.

"He tried, yes," Anders said. "But I think he wasn't fully aware of the implications of leaving a former apostate in charge of an Arling," or just delighted in making my life unpleasant. "Hence my letter to you and the first warden."

"You show remarkable restraint," Caron said. "Most mages would have taken advantage of their freedom by now."

Most mages, he noted. This could be a problem.

He didn't point out that being a warden wasn't exactly freedom. And that being in command was pretty much his worst nightmare ever.

"I also understand that Commander Surana had some… interesting recruits."

Anders nodded and indicated that they should follow him back into the main hall. "Indeed. Justice is… ah… waiting for us in the main hall. Sigrun, Oghren and Nathaniel you've already met. There was a Dalish Elf, but she disappeared in the attack on the Vigil — she never managed to take the joining, although I know that Alim promised it to her should she want to. I doubt she'll be back, however, she had… other things on her mind before the battle."

"Justice is a possessed corpse?" Caron said.

"Ah… yes. Fade spirit, though. Not a demon. It wasn't his fault he was pulled through the veil after the battle with the…"

Caron waved a hand. "I read the reports, warden."

"He's a good warden. A good man."

"I don't doubt you think so. But I must question the judgement of a mage Commander consorting with fade spirits. We do not forbid blood magic in the order…"

"There was no blood magic involved!" Anders said quickly. "Well, no blood magic from us any way. The Baroness…"

"As I already said," Caron stopped just before the entrance to the hall. "We do not forbid blood magic. But it does not mean we approve of it. I wish to speak with this fade spirit. If it seems he is a threat I am afraid he will have to be…"

"Justice is a friend," Anders was surprised to hear Nathaniel's voice. "And he saved Amaranthine from the threat of the Mother. You know that if you have read the reports, Commander Caron."

"You are new to the wardens," Caron said. "All of you are. The situation in Ferelden is unique, and unprecedented. You have all done the best with what you were given, and your efforts are appreciated. But you must acknowledge that power needs to be handled by those of us with experience."

Anders gave Nathaniel a look. "That's why we asked you to come, Commander," he said. She nodded, a small smile gracing her face. It was a nice enough face, really, Anders thought, but she was easily in her forties, and probably close to her Calling. Experience was what they needed here, no matter that some of Loghain's stalwart supporters, Anora included, were aghast at having an Orlesian in command.

They didn't understand. Wardens first. It was always wardens first to these people, something that was making Anders increasingly uncomfortable.

He didn't feel like that. There were so many other things he had to be before he was a warden. Anders, naturally. A mage. A man.

If only I could be free as well.

"This way, Commander," Nathaniel steered the woman into the hall, the other Orlesians following and Anders shared a glance with Oghren.

"You sure about this, sparklefingers?" the dwarf asked him.

Anders took a deep breath and shook his head. "I've never been sure of anything much, Oghren," he said. "So obviously I'm not the best person to be in charge here."

"I don't know, at least you're Ferelden."

"Says the former warrior caste from Orzammar."

"Hey, Orzammar is in Ferelden, you know."

"Underneath you mean. I don't think it counts."

"I think Alim knew what he was doing when he passed the wardens to you, Anders," Oghren said, suddenly serious. "I think he wanted to protect you. And I think you might have made that a lot more difficult by handing them over to that woman."

Anders swallowed. "Well, I can always run away again if things get bad. My specialty, you know."

"Justice wouldn't like that."

"Maybe Justice can come too."

"Ha! You and the zombie. Like a traveling circus. You could perform for children."

"Frighten them, you mean."

"That too," Oghren sighed and tugged on his beard. "You're all right, for a skirt wearing freak. I don't want to see you dragged off to the templars again."

"Oh, it won't come to that, stink bag. I promise."

The dwarf threw back his head and laughed. "Oghren's got your back, Anders. Just remember that."

"That's surprisingly reassuring. Come on, let's go and explain away our corpse."