Chapter Text
She thought of it, the first night back, but it just wasn't the right moment. They'd returned from Drake's Fall and despite everything, despite how awful it had been, there was an air of festivity. After all, they'd stopped the Architect. They'd stopped the Mother. They'd saved Ferelden. Maybe all of Thedas.
They knew the Blights were only temporarily halted. They knew Amaranthine had been destroyed. And for all of their efforts, there were still only eight Grey Wardens in Ferelden, one of whom was the King (so he didn't count). But by unspoken agreement, they spent that evening getting slowly and uproariously drunk, laughing about the silly situations they'd gotten into over the past few months. Oghren told ridiculous stories of his previous lives as a warrior and companion to the hero of Ferelden (and indulged Sigrun's requests for more tales about Natia Brosca, the only duster to actually make it); Anders told amusing tales of his many escapes from the Circle (and did some magic displays for Sigrun). Nathaniel loosened up and told a few stories of his own. Velanna, still sore from the loss of her sister, just watched, but Sigrun talked about Dust Town, making it sound more amusing than it was. Justice mainly seemed confused by it all but lightened up when they indulged his curiosity about the living.
Evelien just laughed and watched quietly. But that was OK. She was the Commander. She had to be dignified.
Despite her usual stoicism, she still turned out to be a rather giggly drunk, and Sigrun rather liked that about her.
But the next day, she couldn't escape it.
She was dead. She was supposed to be in the Deep Roads, fighting until she was overwhelmed. She'd done her part and saved Ferelden, but now it was time to do her duty.
(Mischa had been in Amaranthine. The Commander had given her twenty gold sovereigns, and now Amaranthine was in ruins, and Mischa was probably dead.)
She packed her bag. She wouldn't need much. The Deep Roads could be accessed from nearby, and she only needed to last as long as it took to reach darkspawn. If she could get to Kal'Hirol, to return her friends to the Stone, even better but she knew her limits. Still, she couldn't help taking her spyglass. Her toy chariot, her snowglobe. Varlan's ring on her finger. It would remind her of her friends here.
(She'd let Amaranthine burn. She'd let the Commander talk her out of saving it. How many innocent people had died that day?)
She pulled on her armor. Grabbed her swords. Checked her-
"Up already? Good."
She spun, feeling like a guilty child. Evelien stood in the doorway, looking none the worse for wear. Sigrun hadn't heard her coming, but that wasn't a surprise. The Commander stepped so softly, it was almost impossible to hear her until she was right behind you. Sigrun had always wondered if Orlais had sent a young-looking elven Grey Warden whose primary skills were theft, lockpicking and backstabbing, as some kind of weird insult. The strange auburn flame-like tattoos, accenting her pointed cheekbones, only seemed to add insult to injury; as did the one earring she always wore.
"Yes," Sigrun said, trying to sound normal. "My head aches though."
Evelien's lips quirked. "I am not surprised." Her accent was lightly Orlesian. She claimed she'd travelled a lot and that's why it wasn't stronger. "You looked like you were trying to keep up with Oghren."
"Hey, dwarves know how to deal with the good stuff."
"He downed the whole goblet of blood at his Joining. You can't keep up with that."
Sigrun smiled. "I know that now." She tried not to look at her packed bag. "Do you need anything, Commander?"
"Yes, actually," the elf said. Her tone became serious again. "I'm sorry to ask this so soon, but we must scout the Knotwood Hills, in case any darkspawn linger there. Would you mind going? Take Velanna. I think she needs some time away from people and … me."
A flash of sadness. Velanna had shouted at Evelien when it was revealed that they didn't know what had happened to Seranni. Evelien had absorbed that anger stoically, compassion in her blue eyes as she'd apologized. It didn't fool any of them. They all knew how much Evelien cared.
"She'll forgive you, Commander."
"Maybe. And it is Evelien, Sigrun. You know that." When Sigrun opened her mouth, she said, "After all the times you have saved my life in the past few months, it's Evelien. So. Can I count on you to go?"
Sigrun hesitated. "Comman- Evelien…" She summoned her courage. "I … my Calling…"
"You have been a Grey Warden for less than half a year."
"I know but … I can't delay this any longer."
"I know, Sigrun. But this is urgent and I need the others elsewhere. Please. It's just one thing. I'm sure after that, we will be in a better state and if you still want to go…" Her gaze was level as she inspected the dwarf. "I would much rather you stayed but as a Grey Warden, how can I deny someone who wants to fight the darkspawn?"
A sense of calm flooded over her. "Thanks, Co- Evelien."
"So…"
She sighed. Her head actually was starting to pound. "I'll get Velanna."
The Knotwood Hills mission took about a week. Velanna started with her usual seething anger, but calmed when surrounded by her precious nature, and even engaged in some form of pleasant conversation. Sigrun didn't mind Velanna. Velanna would tell her about plants and animals, and that fascinated her.
Most of the darkspawn were, in fact, gone. When they were near the entrance to the Deep Roads, Sigrun looked towards the doors and wondered if she should send Velanna back alone.
"My sister might be in there," Velanna said.
Panic seized her. "I don't think she would be here," she said. "She would have been by Drake's Fall."
The mage looked like she wanted to argue but Sigrun had a hand on her arm. After freezing for a second, Velanna sagged. Tentatively, Sigrun hugged her. And Velanna, who was always so angry, so confident and sure, cried.
Sigrun couldn't exactly leave her after that.
("She's out there somewhere."
"Velanna-"
"The Architect was not offering anything terrible. The Commander-"
"He wanted our blood. The Commander had to make a quick decision. I don't think … we didn't see your sister. I don't even know if…"
"…Sigrun?"
"Yes?"
"Nothing.")
It was late afternoon when they returned. Neither of them had talked about Velanna crying, and Sigrun knew they never would. Velanna barely contributed to their report. But that was OK. Evelien still smiled warmly at them both and thanked them.
Velanna just shrugged and left. Sigrun said, "I think it reminded her of her sister."
The Commander nodded. "I see. I should think more carefully about where I send her." She studied Sigrun. "Thank you. You did a good job."
That evening, Sigrun sat with Justice. He told her of the Fade. She could see why humans and elves were so attached to the place. It sounded peaceful.
It wasn't for her though. Down in the Deep Roads, by the Stone, that was where she would end.
The next morning, the Commander came in just as she was waking up.
"Good morning."
"Morning," Sigrun said, yawning. "Is this goodbye?"
"No. Well. I hope not. I wanted to catch you before you left, to ask for another favour."
"Commander?"
"Evelien." Evelien shook her head. "The King is arriving in a couple of days. After everything that has happened, he wishes to see the Grey Wardens for himself."
"Commander-"
"I know, Sigrun. I'm sorry." She looked surprisingly contrite. "I had one job, which was to keep this arling in one piece. Instead, I ordered the destruction of our one major city." There was a slump in her shoulders. "The least I can do is demonstrate that I have some functioning Grey Wardens. And given one of them is a corpse…"
Sigrun had rarely seen the Commander like this. The Commander listened to their problems. She sympathised, thought of solutions, bolstered them. She didn't talk about herself or her concerns.
Which meant…
"I'll stay for this." She tried to smile. "It might even be worse than death. I'm not very good with, er, nobles. They don't tend to like me."
A smile appeared on Evelien's face, lighting up blue eyes. "It's fine. You do not need to speak. Just turn up and be yourself." She thought for a minute. "Just don't steal anything from him."
"I always give it back!"
"I know, but I am not sure he'll see it that way."
A few days later, they lined up in front of the human king. He looked younger than Evelien and, despite his sombre uniform, had a kind twinkle in his eyes. They'd all tried to get hints from Oghren about how to deal with him, but Oghren had just laughed before tripping over something, and Nathaniel had disgustedly suggested they stop asking him for help. Sigrun regretted that now. Oghren was the only one at ease.
The King inspected them carefully. He paused when he saw her tattoos.
"Legion of the Dead?"
"Yes. Er, your Majesty."
He shook his head. "Alistair. I'm a Warden, like you." He kept looking at her, and she got the intense urge to remind Evelien that she'd promised Sigrun wouldn't need to speak. "I was sorry to hear about the Legion. They fought with us in Denerim. I don't suppose you were there?"
She shook her head. "I stayed behind to keep our strongholds defensible."
The King nodded. "That's a shame. We could have used decent fighters like you. Natia would have been pleased to see another casteless dwarf in the Wardens. Just … don't go the same way she did, alright?" A grimace. Then he looked at Nathaniel. "And who are … you look familiar."
They all tried not to trade looks.
"I'm Nathaniel, your Majesty."
"Nathaniel…"
"My cousin," Oghren interjected breezily. "Odd lad, but he cleans up well."
The King paused. "Your … cousin?"
"Aye. On my mother's side."
Out of the corner of her eye, Sigrun saw Evelien's hands twitch, as though she wanted to put her head in them.
"You're half dwarf," the King said to Nathaniel in a flat tone of voice.
"That's right," Anders said quickly. "He doesn't like to talk about it." He lowered his voice. "Would you want to admit to being related to…"
"Oi!"
Sigrun snickered. Evelien looked a little like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Nathaniel, meanwhile, rolled his eyes. "They are trying to … I'm Nathaniel Howe, your Majesty. Son of Rendon Howe."
"I see." The King turned to Evelien, the smile gone from his eyes. "You have an interesting array of Wardens here, Commander."
She bowed. "Nathaniel dealt the final blow to the Mother. I am honoured to call him brother, Majesty."
One of Nathaniel's pleased smiles slipped onto his face. The King still didn't look convinced.
Sigrun said, "I'm kind of surprised you've not commented on the corpse yet."
Evelien glared at her, but the King stopped looking at Nathaniel so it was worth it.
"The corpse?" he said. "The dwarf smells a bit but I wouldn't-" He paused as he took Justice in properly. "Wait. You really are a corpse." He turned back to Evelien, one eyebrow raised. "Should I ask?"
"You are the King?" Justice said. "I wish to-"
"Later, Justice," Evelien hissed as Anders and Sigrun sniggered. "You can write to him."
"Justice cannot be left too long."
"Is he talking about himself in the third person?" The King shook his head. "Never mind. And you are?"
Velanna glowered at him. "I don't see why I should answer to you after everything you allowed-"
Sigrun stepped back to quickly nudge Velanna. "Sorry about her. Velanna's, er, a bit sensitive about … humans."
"About anyone, really," added Anders. "Mostly humans though."
"She has some legitimate concerns," Nathaniel said.
The King glanced at Oghren, an amused smile now playing on his face. "Natia would have liked this."
Oghren grunted. "Maybe it's a Warden thing. Collecting assassins and murderers and all."
The King chuckled. "True. Do you think they'll come back for…"
"Who knows?" Oghren scratched his arm. "The mage will. Wynne, not the other one. Maybe the assassin too. I'll eat my own arm if Sten comes back."
"And Leliana?"
Oghren sighed. "Ah, boy. Don't go hoping for something like that. Duster being made Paragon is miracle enough for one lifetime."
The King sighed too. Sigrun watched the exchange with some confusion, but neither of them seemed to want to elaborate.
The King clapped his hands. "Well. That's done. Shall we eat?"
"Thank you," Evelien said to her as they headed to eat. "That would have been worse if you weren't there."
"That wasn't so bad," Sigrun said cheerfully. "Nobody died. I knew someone in Dust Town. He said the wrong thing and Beraht gutted him in front of everyone."
Evelien blinked. "I suppose, compared to that, this did go well."
"It's a minimum standard. You should try using them, they really help."
Now, the elf's lips quirked. "Maybe I should. This is why I like having you around. You always find a bright side to everything."
"There usually is one."
"That's true." Her gaze softened. "But if you ever wanted to talk…"
"I know," Sigrun said. "I will."
The King told them he wanted them at the anniversary of the Archdemon's defeat in Denerim. Sigrun didn't even wait for Evelien to ask before agreeing to come: after the inspection, she thought the Commander might have a fit if anything else went wrong. Though as far as she could tell, the King had thought the whole thing was amusing.
Besides, it was just a couple more weeks. After that…
The anniversary celebrations were formal. Her armour was hot and the humans stared at her tattoos. Oghren started the whole thing drunk and had to be propped up by a resigned Nathaniel. Justice kept trying to break ranks to stop pickpockets, stopped only by Anders and, occasionally, Velanna. It was all very boring and all she really wanted to do was explore the city because it was so big and it smelled so weird.
The Fereldens booed Evelien when the King introduced her: the combination of being Orlesian, elven, and ordering the destruction of Amaranthine apparently did not make her popular. The Commander remained expressionless, but Sigrun saw her hands clench. Afterwards, even Velanna talked about how ungrateful shemlens were, while Anders came up with all sorts of pranks they could pull.
After they retrieved Oghren from his reunion with some of his former companions, a dwarf woman came up to them. She looked vaguely familiar, but Sigrun couldn't place her.
"I just wanted to tell you that you'll always have the dwarves' support," she said.
Evelien was quiet. Then she said, "Should I ask what your sister would have done?"
Sigrun got it before most of the others did. Rica Brosca. The sister of Natia Brosca; now wife of King Bhelen, and ambassador of Orzammar.
Rica looked down. "Natia had different strengths and weaknesses to you."
"I see."
"But she would have understood," she said, looking up. "She would have said the important thing was getting rid of the darkspawn. She gave her life for that." She saw Sigrun and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know Legionnaires could become Wardens."
"Oh, I'm unique," Sigrun said. "I'm still not sure if this is a promotion." She hesitated. "Er. Your Majesty."
It occurred to her that she should probably be apologising for fleeing her duty. She opened her mouth but Rica smiled. "And a duster too. That would … Natia would love it."
"I … Yeah. That's what the King said."
"You show them," Rica said seriously. "You show them Natia wasn't a one-off. We are worth something. You prove it."
Her throat felt tight because she wasn't a duster, not anymore. She was dead. And in no way was she worthy to live up to Natia Brosca's name. But all she said was, "I will."
They made their way back to Vigil's Keep. Oghren sang bawdy songs with Sigrun. Justice mused about the state of Denerim. Anders and Nathaniel tried to convince Velanna to lighten up. Evelien, of course, was quiet and focused.
On their return, the Commander went to her office and locked the door. She had to write reports, she said, but Sigrun saw the way her fists clenched and unclenched, and wondered if there was something more to it.
Anders, watching as well, said, "Do you think Natia Brosca was really all that?"
"She was a hero," Sigrun said.
"So is the Commander."
"I know," she said.
"I guess," Anders said thoughtfully, "that people prefer their heroes dead. That's why I never want to be one."
"Mmm," Sigrun agreed and thought of the bags at the foot of her bed. She would never be a hero. That much was certain. But she didn't need to be one. She just needed to fulfil her duty.
The next day, Evelien asked her to go to the ruins of Amaranthine, to investigate rumours of darkspawn. She was stretched thin, she said, and this was urgent. She still looked pale. So, Sigrun went with Justice and Nathaniel.
There were no darkspawn.
It was awful.
She didn't find Mischa's corpse, but she found plenty of others, despite the best efforts of soldiers sent in previously to clean up the city. Justice cursed the darkspawn, and swore vengeance. Nathaniel, who'd argued for this destruction, wrapped an arm around her and let her sob into his chest.
"No wonder they hate us," he said.
She couldn't disagree.
"I know you have just returned," Evelien said that evening, "but I would be grateful if you would investigate the bandits by the old farms. They're preying on refugee families and I can't spare the troops."
Faced with that, what could Sigrun say but yes? Maybe it would redeem her, after what they'd done.
They saved seven families and four merchants.
"Makes you feel like a hero, doesn't it?" Oghren said. "Almost like a decent ride, if you know what I mean."
"Sure," Sigrun said, wiping her blade clean. "I'm just glad we could help."
"You not planning on doing a runner then?"
She frowned. "What makes you say that?"
He shrugged, scratching his cheek. "You Legion types are always going on about dying. Surprised you're still around."
Guilt hit her. "I'm not very good at it."
Before she could continue, Oghren offered her a drink of whatever he'd been swigging. "No sense throwing yourself at death, is there? Last thing we need is more dead duster Wardens."
She didn't want to offend him, so she nodded and took the drink. It was so strong that she coughed, and let Oghren hit her back.
She somehow wasn't surprised to find that by the time they returned to the Keep, Evelien had found another set of bandits that needed eradicating.
"I am sorry," Evelien said. "I just trust you to do a good job."
Sigrun shrugged. Velanna had offered to read some books with her, and, selfish as it was, she was looking forward to having some time to do that before going to the Deep Roads.
"I'll just have to throw myself at the bandits extra hard," she said. "If I squint, they might look like darkspawn." She hesitated. "Just don't make me go back to…"
Evelien's expression softened. "I'm sorry. Was Amaranthine hard?"
"All those people," Sigrun said. "And Mischa. Mischa's there, somewhere. I know she is."
A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sigrun. I take responsibility."
Her expression was calm and serious, and her gaze was resolute.
Sigrun shook her head, fingers twisting Varlan's ring. "You weren't responsible for her being sent here. I was. I … failed. I always fail."
Evelien kneeled so that they were eye to eye. "Sigrun, you are one of my most capable fighters, a good friend, and a valuable member of the Wardens," she said. "You got us through Kal'Hirol. You saved Ferelden from the Architect and the Mother. It doesn't bring Mischa back but … you can make things better for many other people. Trust me. I know."
"I-"
She stood. "In any event, Amaranthine was my decision. Mischa's death is on me. Don't burden yourself with fault where none lies."
Sigrun looked at her, gentle, stoic and serious, and remembered how she had clenched her fists when they returned from Denerim. The quietness of her question to Rica Brosca. "Maybe I should just blame the darkspawn," she said. "They were the ones who attacked Amaranthine."
"I suppose that is sensible," Evelien said.
But, Sigrun knew that deep down, they were still both blaming themselves.
Of course, she survived the bandits, but returned to find a riot. The Fereldens' anger at the destruction of Amaranthine had apparently reached boiling point. Sigrun helped the soldiers quell the mob but she felt dirty. She could understand their anger, after what she'd seen.
Evelien showed mercy, just as she had the last time there had been a riot. She made a public promise to rebuild the city as the rioters left, nursing their bloody wounds. Still, they muttered about Orlesian plots and elves not knowing their place. Justice's loud suggestions that rioters fighting a just leader should be executed did not help.
That evening, everyone was quiet. Oghren got drunker and drunker until Velanna snapped at him to go to sleep. Anders tried to tell jokes; Nathaniel told him to be quiet. Evelien's lips were thin. She barely spoke, other than to offer words of comfort to them all.
They'd put down the mob, but it didn't feel like a victory.
Evelien was as good as her word and immediately put people to rebuilding Amaranthine. Sigrun decided that now was perhaps the time to follow the Calling but Evelien needed as much help as she could get, and constantly found work for her. Some tasks took weeks, some just days – patrols around the area, helping to find new recruits and train them, getting rid of bandits, fighting occasional errant darkspawn. Each time, it was urgent and important, and Evelien was sorry but would Sigrun mind…
She joked that she was a terrible member of the Legion of the Dead, or that whatever new task she had was surely worse than death, and Evelien would smile guiltily and say she was grateful. In the meantime, as life returned to something resembling normal, Sigrun read books with Velanna and helped her fill in the notebook the Commander had given her. She avoided Oghren's leers but found him to be a decent drinking companion and source of stories about Natia Brosca. Anders was good for playing pranks around the Keep; Nathaniel liked to learn about dwarven culture and taught her archery in return. Even Justice was fun to talk to, if one ignored his overly lawful attitude – especially given they were both new to the surface world, in a way.
And Evelien, of course, was always there with a sympathetic ear and quiet suggestions about things Sigrun might want to do. If she had her own concerns, she did not discuss them. Instead, she let Sigrun talk about growing up in Dust Town, about her uncle turning her away, her mother's death, the awful things she'd seen, how she felt killing that guard. She listened calmly and sympathetically, never excusing what Sigrun did but never blaming her either, before letting Sigrun tell some jokes, or distracting her with a book or item.
Around her, Sigrun watched a few more Wardens be recruited: most saved from trouble by Evelien, naturally. Many of those recruited died in the Joining and that never got easier to watch. But Evelien seemed to have a knack for picking people who would survive. Of course, the original companions were the highest ranked, and Evelien started giving them command of patrols. Sometimes, Sigrun wanted to query whether people should listen to a duster Legionnaire of the Dead, but it didn't seem to matter to these surfacers.
(She never did find out what happened to Mischa. She never talked of it again either, but on one trip to the city with Evelien, a slim elven hand squeezed her shoulder, followed by an I'm so sorry.)
After a while, as things quietened, Sigrun couldn't help but feel that the errands were getting slightly ridiculous.
"I'm not saying this is beneath my dignity," Sigrun said on one occasion, looking into the Commander's familiarly stoic face, "but do you actually want me to do this?"
"Yes," the Commander said, in her usual calm, sensible way. "Ser Pounce-a-lot is invaluable but he's not invulnerable. If we can harness his training and spread it out, our patrols will be much safer. He saved us when we fought the Mother after all."
"And we can't just buy new cats?"
"Cover your ears," Anders said to the cat on his shoulder. He gave Sigrun a look of injured horror. "Ser Pounce-a-lot deserves the very best."
"From the streets?"
"Aren't you from the streets?" Anders said with a winning smile. Nearby, she thought she saw Nathaniel chuckle.
"I … you're really going to make me do this, aren't you?"
"It is urgent, despite what you may think. We need to be well-protected. Things aren't back to normal yet."
She sighed. "OK. Fine. How hard can it be to catch cats for breeding anyway? They seem cute."
Evelien almost smiled as she said, "I think this will satisfy your lust for danger."
"Ooh. Save me from the claws of small creatures." Sigrun smirked. "I'll let this one slide."
"Ouch!"
"I don't think Ser Pounce-a-lot was ever this feisty."
"Can't you put a spell on them?"
"Why do you think magic can solve everything?"
"What's the point in being a mage if you can't snap your fingers and make things happen?"
"…Thank you for making my entire life seem so pointless."
"Aw, I'm sorry Anders. Maybe you could-"
"No. No bushes. Ouch."
"I was going to say read about animal taming but setting a bush on fire would work too. Stay still! Remind me, why can't we buy the cats? Some of them might have come from the streets. Don't humans sell cats?"
"The best cats live on the streets permanently. They're masters of escaping and fighting. Like me."
"You got caught seven times."
"Am I caught now?"
"Ow. No, but that's because the Commander saved your ass."
"Come here, you cute … got you. Aw. She's so soft and furry. She's purring!"
"Hard to believe people thought you were dangerous."
"Don't listen to her. We're very scary. Give her a pet, Sigrun."
"…Aw, she's happy. Are all cats as furry as her and Ser Pounce-a-lot? Can we find another one?"
"You see? Cats make everything better."
"Thank you."
Sigrun sighed as she took her bleeding hands out of the ice-cold water. "Was that one really important?"
"Yes." Evelien's eyes laughed. Sigrun liked that expression on her – it showcased the dry sense of humour she tried so hard to hide. After a second, they glanced at the new cats, all of whom were playing with Anders, save for one who seemed enamoured with a very confused Justice. Velanna was also sidling closer, trying to pretend she didn't care. Sigrun saw Evelien try not to look at her for too long. All this time and Velanna still hadn't quite forgiven the Commander. "We had a cat growing up," Evelien said absent-mindedly. "Well, a stray. He was quite the charmer."
"What happened to him?"
The elf's expression turned blank. She shook her head slightly. "He died. I'd better check on the new recruit."
"Commander… Er. Evelien." Evelien turned back. Sigrun looked at that awful blankness in her eyes. "You know you can talk to me. Or any of us. We … I know you're our commander but you always say, we're your friends and friends talk to each other, don't they? That's what Mischa said when we were in Orzammar. And that's what Nathaniel says sometimes too."
Now, a slight smile crept onto the elf's face. "That is very kind of you, Sigrun, but it's OK. This was a long time ago. It does no good to dwell."
"But even in general…"
"I know. Thanks, Sigrun. But don't worry. Nobody has cursed me for being Orlesian for weeks now. And the last time someone insulted me for being an elf was a whole four hours ago."
She took all of these things stoically, even as she leaped to the defence of any Warden who was ever slighted, and Sigrun loved that about her.
So, she said, "Do you ever get homesick?"
Evelien froze. It was only for a second but Sigrun saw it. Then the elf was back to being stoic. "Sometimes. The weather in Orlais is nicer and the people are … more elegant. But I am happy here. If I had not come here, I would not have known all of you." She smiled, started to reach for her, then stopped. "Get your hands healed. We'll talk later, OK?"
"Huh," Nathaniel said from behind her as Evelien walked off. "I thought she might hug you then."
It was strange. Sigrun had thought the same thing. But Evelien almost never hugged people.
She shrugged. "I wouldn't have minded a hug. Would you like to hug me instead, Nathaniel?"
He considered this. "Why not?" he said, and hugged her.
More bandits. More patrols. Some excursions into the Deep Roads, but always leading newish recruits so that she would feel compelled not to slip away. In the midst of it all was Evelien, as calm and organised as possible. Despite how busy she always was, she made time to sit and talk to each Warden, and even continued to find little gifts for them. Although she rarely talked about her own life, she had a knack for getting others to open up about theirs. The public hated them, hated her, but every Warden loved her with a fierce intensity – save, perhaps, for Velanna. But then, Velanna only appeared to tolerate most people.
Except Nathaniel. As time went by, Sigrun watched Nathaniel and Velanna slip closer together. She and Anders made bets on when they would become a couple, sometimes trying to push them together. Their problem, Anders said, was that he was too honourable and she was too prideful. Oghren, overhearing, suggested that Velanna just needed to sleep with a real man. Justice, overhearing that, said that from his memories of Kristoff-
"That's OK," Sigrun said. "Oghren is just being Oghren."
"Is that a crime?" Anders asked Justice. "It feels like it should be."
"You're jealous because all the ladies want a piece of Oghren."
Anders turned to her. "As the nearest lady to hand, is that true?"
"I'll show you a good time," Oghren said to her, leering.
She rolled her eyes. "If I had to pick between you and Anders, it would definitely be Anders." The mage raised an eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas. It's the best of a bad choice."
"Oh, you flatterer, you," he said, laughing. "I'll have you know a very lovely man made my acquaintance yesterday-"
"I'll leave you to it," she said and got up.
But a few weeks later, Velanna came up to her as she returned from a patrol around the Keep. In typical Velanna fashion, she didn't exchange any pleasantries, or even ask Sigrun if she wanted to talk. She said, "I need to know how to keep that shemlen away from me."
"Which shemlen?" Sigrun said, starting to take off her weapons.
"What do you mean which shemlen?"
She put her sword down. "You call all humans that."
"Nathaniel."
"Oh." She scratched her arm. "Why? What's he done?"
"I want to kiss him."
Sigrun looked at her. Something like satisfaction stirred in her belly. "Then why don't you?"
"How can I kiss a shemlen?"
"With your lips?" Velanna scowled. "I'm sorry," Sigrun said. "I don't see the problem. If you like him and he likes you, why not?"
"It's something about this taint that makes me feel this way. But you've beaten it. I never see you with anyone."
She flinched, satisfaction gone. "What?"
"Oh, please, Sigrun. I've seen Nathaniel look at women, and Anders doesn't seem to stop finding shemlens for dalliances with. As for the dwarf…" She made a disgusted noise. "But you seem unaffected. How do you do it?"
"I'm dead, Velanna. Dead dwarves don't-"
"Symbolically dead. Tattoos don't remove bodily functions. Unless you're claiming to be dead inside, in which case you would need to seek medical-"
A cough made them turn around. Evelien stood there, arms crossed. Her gaze was level as she looked at Velanna. "I thought you would know better than to question cultural traditions."
Velanna scowled. "I'm not questioning it. And what would you know of-"
"Enough." She didn't raise her voice but they both stood to attention anyway. "You're free to ask Sigrun for advice, but you are not to question her culture."
"Well, I can't speak to you since it's not as though you ever look at-"
"I said enough." They both winced. "If you are unhappy with your romantic life, you do not take it out on other people. Find Nathaniel and say whatever you want to him, but if you wish to end it with him, do so politely. You are both Wardens and I expect you to act like Wardens. Am I understood?"
Velanna scowled but nodded before walking off. Sigrun watched her leave. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
"I'm sorry for intervening," the elf said. "I know your feelings on the Legion of the Dead."
Sigrun made herself shrug. "It's OK. Maybe it'll push her and Nathaniel together. I have money riding on this."
Evelien smiled. "I've heard. Anyway, I hope I have not made things awkward with you and Velanna. Though, for the record, if you did want to bring anyone back, that would, of course, be fine." She smiled. There was understanding and compassion in her gaze, like always. "Now, I had better meet the patrol captain like I promised."
Evelien knew so much about her. They spoke nearly every evening in the Keep. Evelien occasionally told her tales of other Wardens, knowing how much Sigrun liked stories, notwithstanding her reluctance to talk about herself. Sometimes, she'd discuss tactics with the dwarf, noting her ideas and bouncing some back off her. She treated her like-
"I lied."
The Commander paused mid-step. "Hmm?"
She couldn't look at Evelien. "About it being because I'm a Legionnaire. It's not banned. Lots of dwarves there did it. It beat sitting around, waiting to be killed." She took a breath. "Or so I was told. But … I never wanted to do it. Holding someone, being with them, maybe kissing, that was nice. But the rest, I could take or leave. I'm like Velanna said. Dead or broken that way." She fidgeted. "I'm sorry. I made you lie. I shouldn't have done that to you. You-"
A gentle hand nudged her head up. She looked into a compassionate expression. "Thank you for telling me that, Sigrun. But you're not dead or broken. Not even slightly."
"Th-Thanks, Commander."
"And I don't mind that you lied. That was something very personal to you. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. I am very happy to intervene, regardless of whether I know the real reason. I trust you."
Sigrun closed her eyes. "You do so much for all of us. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful."
Now, Evelien bent down so that her eyes were level with Sigrun's. "I have never had a reason to doubt you, Sigrun. None. We all have secrets. I never want you to think that you must tell me something if you would rather not, OK?" She paused. "Honestly, between Oghren and Anders, I sometimes think I would prefer it if you were all a bit less honest."
Sigrun smirked. "Do you actually believe what they say?"
"I try to believe all my Wardens." She paused. "Some maybe more than others." Sigrun laughed. Evelien looked pleased. Then she said, "Actually, I've just remembered. I have another task for you to do."
Sigrun bit back a grin. "Of course you do. Let's hear it."
Later, Velanna thrust a flower into Sigrun's hand.
"Because of earlier," the mage muttered as Sigrun blinked. "Your ways are important and you should keep to them."
Guilt flashed through her. "Thanks." She looked at the flower. "I love the colour. It's pretty."
"Of course. Nature is beautiful if you know where to look." Velanna glanced away. "Also, I took your advice and kissed Nathaniel."
"Ooh. How did it go?"
An odd mix of scowling and cheer appeared on the mage's face. "I improved his kissing. So, I'm willing to let him kiss me again."
Sigrun laughed.
She still thought about it, of course. Her dead friends (Varlan), their corpses strewn around Kal'Hirol. Mischa, burned to a crisp in Amaranthine. The dead guards. Her one chance at redemption, of returning to the Stone. She was supposed to fight in the Deep Roads until she succumbed. She was supposed to die.
Justice asked once why she sought death when she could not go to the Fade. Was the Stone like the Fade? He understood better when she put it in terms of needing to complete her duty, but he still cautioned her not to let that overwhelm her duties as a Grey Warden. Still, he came the closest to understanding. Velanna said she understood the need to uphold tradition but she was still unsure why she had to fight darkspawn underground and not as a Warden. Nathaniel, similarly, thought that if being a Warden was an honour for a dwarf, presumably it erased the wrongs done previously – of course, he didn't realise that Natia was the only casteless dwarf in centuries to make it. Anders flat out told her he didn't understand.
And Oghren, who had come from Orzammar, who knew their people and their lives, just shrugged and said, "Funny thing facing the Archdemon with Natia. Makes you think those damn traditions could do with re-writing. Bhelen's an ass but he's right about that."
It didn't matter. Every time she made up her mind to stop putting it off and leave, Evelien would find something she needed her to do, and sometimes one of the others asked a favour of her, and she owed them all so much that…
Soon. She would stop being a disgrace soon.
And then one evening, Anders said, "I'm leaving."
"Where are you going?" asked Nathaniel.
"No," Anders said. "I'm leaving. I've been asked to speak to the Circle about the Architect and once that's done, I'll move on. It's been lovely, really, it has. But I don't want to die without enjoying some of this new-found freedom." He looked around their dismayed faces. "I'll come back to visit. But can anyone really see me as a Warden forever? Five years has taught me that I don't look good in grey."
Velanna scowled. "Just like a shemlen to run out on duty."
Anders sighed. "Velanna…"
"Go, if that's what you want. We don't need cowardly-"
Nathaniel placed a hand on her shoulder. "We're brothers," he said to Anders. "You've done fine with us. And who will teach the mages now?"
"Are you saying I can't teach?" said Velanna.
Justice, meanwhile, said, "Your duty is with us. How can you consider this to be the right thing?"
But Oghren said, "If Sparklefingers wants to leave, let him. We don't need prissy little mages." He peered at the mage. "How'd the Commander take it?"
"Said it was my decision, and she understood. She said she'd been surprised I'd stayed as long as I have. So, she's OK, I think." He looked at Sigrun. "Any thoughts?"
She shrugged. "I suppose I can't call someone out on running away. But…" She scuffed the floor with her shoe. "I'll miss you."
Anders blinked. His cheeks turned pink, and he knelt on the floor with his arms wide open. "Come here, you irritating little dwarf."
She hugged him. "Idiot mage."
They laughed but she felt hollow. Because if Evelien allowed Anders to leave – Anders who was the first person she'd conscripted into the Wardens here, who'd been with her literally from the start – then maybe they would all leave. Maybe she should…
She stepped back as Oghren came to clap his back and insult him some more, and thought about the packed bags in her room.
There was a strange noise as she walked past the Commander's office, on her way to the pantry for a midnight snack. It was something like gasping, and high pitched and-
She opened the door. "Commander?"
"Don't-"
But it was too late: she'd already seen the tears streaming down Evelien's face. Immediately, she closed the door behind her and went to the elf. After a second, she put her arms around her, and was a little surprised when Evelien hugged back, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
Sigrun had never been good with crying people. She patted the Commander's back a few times, feeling somewhat useless. But eventually, Evelien sniffed and wiped her eyes, looking younger than usual. Not for the first time, Sigrun wondered how old Evelien actually was.
"I'm sorry," Evelien said. Her Orlesian accent, usually so mild, came out stronger than normal. "I had not realised anyone was still up."
"That's OK," Sigrun said. "Do you … want to talk about it?"
Evelien wiped her eyes again. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm being silly, really."
"Evelien?"
She sighed. "It's a lot of things. It will take so long for Amaranthine to be rebuilt, and all these Fereldens oppose me every step of the way, because I'm Orlesian and an elf and because I ordered Amaranthine's destruction to stop this blasted arling being overrun by darkspawn, and they act as though I enjoyed giving that order. I want to see my family again, even more than usual. And now Anders…"
"Ah," said Sigrun, realising what had triggered the tears. She. "He said you were fine with it."
"What was I supposed to say? I forced him to join us. I could have let him go after saving him from the templars. But I needed Wardens. And the King was there and…" She sighed. "To be a Grey Warden is to put defeating the darkspawn above all else. We cannot care about a few lives if more are at stake. We cannot be political. This is why we should not be put in charge of arlings." She bit her lip. Sigrun tried not to stare. She had never seen Evelien like this. "Anders stayed for so long, I thought… But no. I was just another captor to him. I suppose I am mainly surprised that he left before you, Velanna or Justice."
That stung but it wasn't undeserved. She thought back to Anders earlier that evening. "I don't think he thought of you as a captor," she said. "He seemed sad to be leaving us. He promised to visit." She hesitated. "You're a good commander," she said. "The best commander. We all know it."
"Natia Brosca would not have destroyed Amaranthine. Nor would you."
"We're both dusters, and criminals at that. Giving up-"
"I'm an alienage elf, recruited into the Wardens seconds before the noose around my neck could tighten. So."
Evelien blinked and looked away, so Sigrun did not question it. She had wondered, of course. A couple of years ago, a recruit who had spent time in Orlais had said that she'd thought Evelien had been a criminal, because her facial tattoos seemed to cover up what might have been a brand given to very dangerous Orlesian criminals. Velanna had confirmed her tattoos weren't vallaslin. But nobody had known how to ask, and so it had been a theory only.
"You had to make a hard decision," she said instead. "Maybe what me and Natia would have done would have been worse. But you're still a good commander. You keep a cool head, and you're good at sorting out all these problems people bring you. You never try to make other people make the hard decisions."
Evelien blushed. "Thanks, Sigrun. You are always so positive about things." She sighed. "I just … I want to do a good job but…"
"You don't have to be perfect," Sigrun said. "We trust you."
On impulse, Sigrun hugged her. The elf relaxed against her before sitting back. But Sigrun kept an arm around her, and, after a second, Evelien contorted herself so that her head lay on the dwarf's shoulder. It was another new thing – while Evelien would often place a friendly hand on someone's shoulder, or kiss their cheeks in greeting, she was careful to maintain a distance between herself and her subordinates. But looking at her now, Sigrun thought she needed friendly contact more than propriety. She had mentioned missing her family – Sigrun hadn't realised she had one – and maybe this would help.
If anyone came in now, she thought as Evelien's eyes closed, they would almost certainly get the wrong idea. But as the Commander's body relaxed, Sigrun decided she could live with the rumours, if any began.