Hi y'all! I hope everyone is doing well!

Well, here we go, the jump into that tricky little plot twist I have planned from publication but feared wouldn't fly post Dragon Age: Inquisition. I sure hope this works! Don't worry, everyone will be accounted for soon, I promise!

Introducing some new characters to the story as well, two of which some of you may have read before, Juliette Cousland and Nathaniel Howe, from my first fic, Full Circle. (Boy, lots of changes to my writing style since then! Maker! Thank goodness for a beta/writing coach like Lisa! Thank you, Lisa!)

Anyway, here we go! Thank you for reading and following!

ACT II

Twenty Months Later
9:39 Dragon, Cloudreach, Amaranthine, Ferelden

Warden-Commander Juliette Cousland-Howe sleepily rolled over in her bed, her eyes half-opened. A flicker of light caught her attention and she sighed, a soft smile on her lips. Sitting up, she looked across the room to her husband, naked and seated at a desk, a stack of papers spread out before him.

"I'm sorry, Jules, I didn't mean to wake you," Nathaniel said, not looking back at her.

Her smile widened and she pushed her tousled hair from her eyes. "How do you do that?" she asked with a giggle before climbing from the bed. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his wide and muscled shoulders, kissing his neck. "I didn't make any noise," she added, nuzzling him as she stood behind him.

He turned his head and kissed her quickly. "Obviously, my love, you always have my undivided attention."

Her grin widened when he immediately turned back to his reports. "Obviously," she teased, moving to lean against the desk, and picking up a sheet.

Tomorrow they would leave for the Vinmark Mountains of the Free Marches. Their orders, issued by Weisshaupt, to investigate an occurrence at an ancient warden-held prison. Their superiors had been vague in the details of their mission, but specific in their urgency to dispatch the two senior Wardens there.

The lack of information regarding their forthcoming mission had set Juliette's husband of seven years on edge. This, combined with certain particulars his network of informants had gathered recently, meant he'd spent the last week trying to piece together something his gut told him he needed to see but was still missing.

"You've read these each a hundred times already, Nate," she said quietly. "There's nothing new to find. Come back to bed."

His brow furrowed. "This prison they're sending us to is a two day walk from anything even remotely considered civilization. It's in the middle of the Vinmarks. Those Tevinters were hardly there on a lark, Jules, there's more to this mess."

"And Weisshaupt agrees, hence our having to leave so very early tomorrow morning." She sighed. "It's our last night of real privacy for who knows how long. Let's not waste it on this."

"Love, Weisshaupt isn't aware of everything I am."

"No, of course not, which, again, is why we're leaving far too early tomorrow morning."

"The description of the survivors from the attack and the particulars sent by Weisshaupt match a group my informants had noted on four other occasions – once in the Frostbacks and another three times here in Ferelden."

"Those Venorini, Venortini, whatever they are? You mean you suspect those that attacked the prison are the same people?"

"Venatori, they're apparently calling themselves, and yes, I do. Their dress sounds similar, or specifically, their helms. They're quite unique," he explained, leaning forward past her to pick up a map of southern Thedas, placing a quick kiss to her side as he did.

"Sounds like we won't know anything further until we get underway tomorrow. In the meanwhile," she paused, her voice dropping to a sultry tone, "we're losing very valuable time."

He ran his hand around her naked hip, his thumb caressing the small peak of her hip bone. "Juliette, I have never been careless with your safety and I won't start now. Now, I've marked the locations the Venatori have been sighted," he continued. He held up the map and tried not to smile at her huff of annoyance. "I've also written to Stroud, I'm curious if they're seeing any of these people in Orlais."

"When did he leave Kirkwall?" she asked, though still didn't look at his map. "Bed, Nate," she whispered against his lips. "It's right over there."

"Look at the map, woman, if you aim to have me. And Stroud sent word he was returning to Val Royeaux last month."

"Spoil sport." She snorted but took the map, studying it as his large hands pulled her down into his lap. She immediately pulled a face. "Wait...no, that can't be."

"Stroud? I'm positive, Jules, he left for Orlais weeks ago."

"No, not Stroud," she said distractedly, wiggling from his grasp and hurrying to a sideboard where she began digging through a neatly stacked pile of scrolls. Two rolled off onto the floor. "Oops," she muttered, still searching through the rest. "Here! Found it!"

He stood from his chair, moving to her. "What?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. He kissed the top of her head. "Bollocks, that's your map of – "

"Those red lyrium growths we keep hearing about," she interrupted. She laid her map side-by-side her husband's. They matched, with the exception that a few more locations were noted on hers. "Damn your never-wrong instincts," she muttered. "Any chance it's just a coincidence?"

"Not with our luck."

"I'm sorry, I should have listened more to your concerns." She turned around to face him, his arm still holding her to him. "Alright, let's add this up, shall we? Red lyrium, which is not something to be trifled with, plus this group from Tevinter – who we know nothing about except they're likely responsible for attacking an ancient warden prison – equals what?"

He tossed a lock of her blonde hair over her shoulder. "An excellent question."

"If this group's goal has something to do with the lyrium, then why go to a warden-held prison in the middle of the Vinmarks? Clearly there are other deposits closer to where they've already traveled."

"Perhaps red lyrium has varying levels of quality? And you're assuming there isn't any red lyrium in the prison. There may well be. Weisshaupt has hardly been forthcoming. Maker. Who knows what we're walking into?"

She looked thoughtful, her eyes slowly meeting his. "Well, actually," she began with hesitation, as she wasn't certain if he would be pleased with her idea, "someone does. Someone we know has been there before. He may be able to fill in the blanks."

He held her gaze, something in her tone making him very uneasy. "Who?"

"Anders."

His features hardened. "Anders."

"Yes," she said slowly, watching her husband's stony face. "He's in South Reach."

"The Anders who blew up half of Kirkwall? Who is both a fugitive and a deserter?"

She blinked. "One and the same. Weisshaupt sent reports about previous fighting, they said Anders was thought to have been at the prison. You've read these papers so many times, I'm sure you must have seen it mentioned?"

"I did, though I chose to ignore his name. Exactly why do you know where he is?"

"I had a letter, from a woman claiming to be his cousin. I'm not entirely sure it's legitimate, so I haven't mentioned it."

He crossed his arms, his nostrils flaring. "Go on then."

"She said he'd stayed with her a few months ago, that he'd helped her family bring in their harvest. She asked me to invite him back, she worried he had nowhere else to go."

"And whose bloody fault would that be?" he spat. His eyes narrowed as he observed how quiet she'd become. "Juliette Cousland, by the Maker, tell me you didn't invite him here to Amaranthine!"

"No, of course I didn't! I only thought that if he's truly in Ferelden, then perhaps we have a way to know what's actually at the prison – "

"Beyond the fact that I will never allow him within a hundred leagues of you again, do you not remember how our superiors railed at you for not killing him before he fled?" he barked. "It nearly ruined your reputation and almost cost you your command!"

"I'm aware! You don't need to tell – "

"He's a lunatic, a madman! He slaughtered hundreds, nearly launched a war! You will have nothing to do with him, Juliette, and I will not discuss it further!"

Her mouth gaped, his vitriolic response to her suggestion shocking her.

Nathaniel rarely lost his temper. Her husband was a loving and kind man who chose every word and action with care, yet his deliberateness was a learned thing. Being the eldest son of a man like Rendon Howe, whose cruel and sadistic temper was well known, Nathaniel's serious countenance had allowed him to navigate the worst of his father's moods. That he grew too somber was an unintended habit, but one that once she'd understood it, had long ago helped her fall deeply in love with him.

She knew Nathaniel been livid with their former friend, hurt by Anders's impulsive joining with Justice and revolted by the mage's actions in Kirkwall, but clearly she'd underestimated how strongly he now felt about Anders.

Still holding her husband's gaze, she nodded, turned back to the sideboard and replaced the maps, listening as he drew several steadying breaths.

"Forgive me," he rasped. "I should not have raised my voice at you."

"No, but clearly… I didn't know how angry you were with Anders or I wouldn't have suggested it," she replied sincerely. She reached out to snuff one of the candelabras. "I'm sorry. I won't bring him up again."

"Thank you." He sighed, embarrassed at his outburst. "The idea is sound, Jules, just not the individual you wish to question."

She shrugged before looking at him. "You're right. And thinking on it, he wasn't the only person whose name was all over those original reports."

"The Champion?" he asked in surprise, reaching for her and taking her into his arms. "She was there with Anders, yes?"

"She's in Starkhaven now."

"Which is remarkably out of the way from the prison. Weisshaupt may wonder if we've got lost."

"Let them wonder," she answered. "If you're right, if there is a connection, then the situation is too unstable for going directly to the prison. Orders or no, I will not be laissez-faire with our lives. We need more answers."

"And if we're wrong? If I'm misreading the signs?"

"Then it would be the first time."

He sighed, kissing her brow before leading her back to their bed. "I never did get to see Starkhaven during my travels in the Marches. I understand its wealth is remarkable."

"I understand they eat sheep's stomach. Mercy, why would one do such a thing?"

He chuckled and kissed her again. "To bed, Wife, we've an early start tomorrow." Climbing into the feather bed, he pulled her against his large frame. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. I detest doing so, especially with you."

"I know, it's alright," she soothed, gently kissing his shoulder. "Anders is – "

"Never coming near you again. Or this keep." He turned his head and looked down his shoulder, meeting her eyes. "Promiseme that, Juliette."

Nodding once, she snuggled closer, her mind too occupied for sleep.

xXx

Lorelai bit her lower lip as she slowly drew back the taut sinew of a longbow. She squinted, attempting to keep her focus on her target, but her pulse quickened as her husband shifted his stance slightly, his large hands over each of her own and his solid frame plastered against hers.

Shortly after her daughter had been born, Lorelai had returned to her training. While she'd slowly come to accept she would likely never see battle again, she still enjoyed the exercises and the calm the repetitious routines gave her. Lately, though, without anything to challenge her, she'd felt the desire to expand her knowledge and had asked her husband to tutor her in the use of a bow.

Sebastian had readily agreed to do so. He'd always enjoyed training with her and the opportunity to share his passion and skill with the weapon was something he'd seemed eager to do. That honoring her request would mean a few uninterrupted hours alone together during an otherwise hectic week was no small influence on his willingness either. His secretary had made sure his schedule made room and they now had the afternoon to themselves.

They were in a secluded archery lane, surrounded by tall elm trees and out of sight of the many prying eyes that would typically have surrounded them.

"Draw it slowly," he whispered, his cheek pressed against her temple as he helped her draw the length of sinew past her chest. "Slow and steady, lass."

She smiled softly at his brogue, the roll of his words so close to her ear. In the three years since they'd first married, she never tired of the sound of his voice.

"I'm being as steady as I can, this is harder than I'd thought," she replied, her eyes narrowed on her target. "And considering how distracted I am, I think I'm doing rather well."

Their knuckles brushed her right breast as they continued to draw. She held steady, not drawing any further.

He chuckled, the sound low in his chest. "Distracted? Aye, you do seem a wee bit distracted," he replied, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. He moved his head, the tip of his nose rubbing against her earlobe where he then placed a small kiss. She shuddered and leaned further into him. "But by what, I wonder?"

She sighed in pleasure as they relaxed the draw, the nocked arrow dropping into the grass. His left arm wound around her waist as his right hand cupped her breast, her hand still beneath his.

"Just, ah," she breathed, fighting back a moan, "little things, you know. Birds, and um, well, it's a very lovely day out here."

"Aye, all alone, out here." He kissed her neck, his hot lips suckling gently. "Maker, Darlin', you drive me mad."

She pressed her hips back, feeling him harden. "Now who's distracted? And I thought you were teaching me archery," she laughed softly, grinding herself against him, "not seducing me in a field."

He grunted and stepped forward, pushing her slightly off balance as the bow was lost in the grass and his hand clamped around hers. Steadying her, he hurried them towards a tightly knit copse of saplings.

Laughing, she held his hand tightly as they rushed to the privacy of the lush baby trees. Entering the small ring, he stopped short and pulled her hard against him, his lips on hers.

"We'll get caught!" she squealed against his kisses, laughing still but meeting each kiss. "Seb, surely someone is watching us! Sebastian Vael! You cannot make love to me in a field!"

"I'm not, I'm making love to ye in the woods," he argued, a wicked grin on his handsome face. "And no, there's no' a soul around, Darlin', I gave very specific orders to that affect." His fingers were tugging on the lacings of her jerkin.

"You are seducing me in a field!" she exclaimed, her senses swimming as he began to touch her. "This seems very un-princely."

"Och, my love, this is very princely of me, I promise," he argued, his fingers now freeing her from her breast band. "And we're in the woods, Darlin'. Pay attention."

"Right," she moaned as he licked her right nipple. She jerked at his belt. She needed to touch him. "Woods… we're in the woods," she panted. "You're shagging me in the woods."

"Seducing," he corrected. "Princes don't shag."

"Oh Maker, who cares, just don't stop!" she rasped, pulling them down onto the leaf-covered ground.

xXx

Kirkwall, Lowtown, Bloomingtide, 9:39

Nathaniel sat quietly in a corner of the large main room of the Hanged Man, watching the growing evening crowd with feigned boredom.

He and Juliette had arrived in the still battle-torn city nearly a month ago, agreeing that before travelling onto Starkhaven they would wait for Stroud's reply to Nathaniel's letter. It was possible he would be able to explain more about the earlier events at the prison, making questioning the princess unnecessary.

It had been frustrating, not being able to resume their travels, but the interval in Kirkwall had afforded them the opportunity to learn more about the red lyrium there. The bizarre mineral had been discovered in the Gallows and was believed to have been the cause of Knight-Commander Meredith's antagonizing treatment of the mages who'd eventually rebelled. In the nearly three years since the events there, the stuff had sprouted up in nearly a dozen other locations in the city.

While he'd not been able to gain direct access to the lyrium himself, the stories of its power and Meredith's madness had been extremely valuable. If these agents of Tevinter, the Venatori, were pursuing its collection as they suspected, then Southern Thedas could be in very real danger.

Juliette had been unable to avoid the social obligations that being warden-commander as well as the sister of the Teyrn of Highever brought. However, she'd used this to their advantage by learning what she could about the mysterious lyrium while taking tea with the nobility of Kirkwall.

That she also heard the sordid history of the city-state's former champion was no surprise. Yet while the nobility were predictable, the tales they'd told of Lorelai Hawke were not.

From what Nathaniel and Juliette could understand, Hawke had once been seen favorably by nearly all of Kirkwall's citizens. She'd held significant influence, her opinion sought in matters of state and she was trusted to be sincere in her politics. She'd funded multiple charities and apprenticeship programs, deliberately seeking out the untapped and impoverished youth in Kirkwall, her generosity increasing further after the defeat of the Qunari and the murder of her own mother.

So much effort to do what was right, all for naught, Juliette had observed sadly.

It had taken Anders mere moments to destroy all the Champion's good works. Everything she'd done to help, nurture or enjoy her life in Kirkwall, every act of decency or kindness, gone. The good forgotten.

Nathaniel knew what it was to be reviled for something someone else had done. The only difference was his father had owned the name he'd destroyed, while Anders had borrowed Hawke's.

Pushing aside his disgust for Anders, he considered the new life Hawke now led.

The Prince of Starkhaven was a former lay brother, and a devout Andrastian. He'd suffered great personal loss during his life, having endured the murders of both his family and the Grand Cleric. It was well known that he had been personally devoted to Grand Cleric Elthina, a woman the prince had once likened to an adopted mother. He was now a formidable political force, his wealth, status and vocal beliefs routinely putting him at the center of events within the Free Marches.

When he'd assumed his throne just under three years ago, his new bride at his side, he'd quickly established himself a thoughtful but strict ruler, one who would tolerate none of the inner machinations previously associated with Starkhaven's court. His efforts soon restored the power and prestige his title had lost during the tenure of his now deceased cousin, Goran Vael.

Sebastian's reign thus far was considered a highly successful one. An heir in place, his Court well managed and his people and lands thriving: the future of Starkhaven was bright once more.

As Nathaniel himself had been reared to assume his own family's arling, he understood the general complexity and deliberate actions required to maintain a healthy holding and people. Accomplishing such in a large city-state would be significantly more difficult, the burden surely made worse by marrying someone as polarizing as the Champion had been at the time of their vows.

Yet despite every good reason not to, Vael had married the leftovers of the man who'd murdered the Grand Cleric.

So, why would Vael – who must have known that his future rule could very well been hanging in the balance – do such a thing?

Likely for the very same reason Nathaniel was now happily married to his own wife. Only love could allow a seed planted in wicked cruelty to blossom into something good and proper and real. Juliette's love for Nathaniel had made everything in his once-dark world bright again and had given him the courage to face the mark his father had made upon his life.

If the stories they'd learned of Hawke and her relationship with Anders held any truth, then in Nathaniel's estimation, Sebastian Vael was a man who must truly love his wife, and loved her enough to take on both his throne and her burdens. He found himself hoping that Hawke knew what she had in her husband.

None of that, however, had anything to do with why he was expecting to soon be meeting the happy couple.

Redirecting his thoughts, he reflected on his detective work, and their true reason for being in Kirkwall.

While his own bride was enduring the nobility of Kirkwall, Nathaniel had done all he could to learn more about red lyrium. No one he'd spoken to had new information regarding the sporadic-growing mineral, but one name seemed to fall from everyone's lips.

Varric Tethras.

Varric and his older brother, a man named Bartrand, had organized the expedition into the Deep Roads that yielded Hawke her fortune. What little Nathaniel knew of the trip included the demise of the partnership between the two brothers, and that not long after, the elder brother went insane. Rumors had always held that some sort of unique idol or religious symbol was discovered during the expedition, one forged from a rare and valuable metal or stone.

The gossip held that Bartrand had trapped his brother and Hawke somewhere in the Deep Roads, leaving them to a presumably slow and horrible death while he'd run off with a rare treasure. Hawke and Varric obviously found their own prosperous route home, but Bartrand was rumored to have soon lost his mind, his home in Hightown deemed haunted or even possessed.

While little was known about the full effects of exposure to red lyrium, it was understood that it could change a person's personality and mood, something made very clear by the destructive and chaotic actions taken by Knight-Commander Meredith.

It seemed that Bartrand had gone mad before the knight-commander, but it made Nathaniel wonder. Had the Tethras brothers brought red lyrium back from their expedition? Were they the source of the bizarre mineral? If so, had they understood what they'd unleashed? And was the lyrium somehow connected to the attack on the Warden prison in the Vinmarks?

Perhaps he'd overthought this entire thing. Perhaps none of these oddities were connected and he and Juliette risked Weisshaupt's ire over nothing. He wished Stroud would answer his bloody letter.

Sighing in frustration, Nathaniel stood and left the Hanged Man, the midday sun hot on him as he took the long flight of steps that led to Hightown two by two. He didn't notice the eyes that followed him as he climbed.

xXx

Lying tucked against her husband's side, Lorelai kissed his chest. The gentle breeze of the warm summer day buffeted her naked skin, making the tall grass move around them in waves.

"Seb?" she whispered, his kind blue eyes gazing up at the dancing leaves of the trees surrounding them. He turned to meet her eyes. "I love you," she said, entwining her fingers in his. "But I have to confess. A month of archery lessons and I still can't hit the target. Also, I'm still not sure this isn't shagging."

"I told you, princes don't shag." He chuckled, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and smiling down at her. "No, this was a seduction, Darlin'. As to your poor aim, that I canna be held accountable for."

Laughing, she snorted. "Perhaps you could let me practice?"

"My love, there's not enough time for practice and seduction, I am a busy man, you ken," he added, taking her fingers into his own. He kissed her knuckles.

"I do." He released her fingers and traced her areola, sending shivers through her body. "Still, busy or not, this felt like a shagging to me." She sighed, biting her lip as he continued to tease her breast.

"Seduction, lass."

"Fast, hot, hard," she paused, arching an eyebrow as she reached down and stroked his shaft, "very hard, actually. And sweaty. That is definitely shagging, my love. I'm certain of it."

He shifted and settled himself over her, her thighs opening to him. "Nay. There's a difference, I assure you."

She ran her hands up his flank, her hips lifting against his. "Yeah, sorry, I don't see it."

"Perhaps a demonstration?" he asked, nibbling along her jaw. He kissed her ear. "To help you understand?"

Grinning, she nodded. "If you insist. I do so hate being ignorant."

"That's one of the many reasons I love you," he rasped. "You've an inquiring mind."

Laughing, she kissed him hard.

"Your Highnesses?" called out a distant voice.

Lorelai gasped, pushing at her husband's shoulder. "Seb!" she squealed as his head snapped up, his eyes narrowed.

"Maker, can't a man even seduce – "

"My Lord?" called the voice again, this time sounding a bit closer. "Forgive me my intrusion! The day grows very late, ser, and the ambassador from Nevarra is still waiting."

Sebastian, still pinning his wife to the ground, sighed, shaking his head. "Damn. It's Samuel," he whispered in explanation, recognizing the voice of the caller as one of his secretaries. "Darlin', I'm sorry, but the ambassador leaves tomorrow and I cannot push back our appointment again. If Starkhaven had a more stable wool trade I could risk the insult, but – "

"Go, I understand," she answered, kissing him quickly.

"I'm sorry, truly."

"It's fine, I still have letters to finish myself and I promised Seana I'd have tea with her."

Sebastian rose to his knees. "Return to the palace Samuel, the princess and I will arrive shortly!" he shouted to the man. Watching the area outside of the grove of trees, he reached out to Lorelai a moment later. "He's leaving, love, he cannot see you now," he said, helping her up.

Quietly they quickly dressed, each helping the other, Sebastian passing Lorelai her breast band and Lorelai finding his belt in the tall grass.

"You know, there's a bit of a frenzied pattern here, Seb. Our clothing is everywhere. That definitely denotes a shagging occurred."

"Princes don't shag, Darlin', so clearly, you're misreading the signs. Perhaps you're not the rogue and tracker you profess yourself to be."

She snorted. "My smallclothes were all the way over there," she argued, pointing to the edge of the tree. "I'm not even sure when you got them off me."

"Ah, but that they were removed without your noticing speaks to seduction, to a skillful lover," he replied with a wonderful and wicked grin. His eyes were twinkling as he teased her, his lips against her neck. "A princely lover, some would say."

Pulling her jerkin into place, she rolled her eyes before kissing his cheek. "I can't argue with that. But I'm holding you to that demonstration later."

Together they finished gathering their items and walked from the woods, pausing briefly to notice that Samuel had retrieved the bow and quiver. Hand in hand they resumed their walk to the palace.

"You said you had letters to finish? May I ask to whom?"

She nodded. "Of course. Fenris and Aveline. She's doing very well in Denerim, Donnic is very pleased with his position in the city guard there."

"Is she happy with King Alistair?"

"She is, or as happy as Aveline can be with anyone in authority above her," she said with a grin. "She thinks he's doing a decent enough job, she likes his efforts to stabilize the south. I still can't believe she was willing to return to the army, promotion or not."

"Alistair is wise to put her skills to good use. Aveline has a unique perspective, having been a foot soldier and a commander of the guard she has experience on both sides. That she's a templar's widow as well must surely be an asset politically. Ferelden being seen as mage-friendly gets the Order's dander up, I expect her status may ease some of the tension."

"You're right, of course. I bet she likes being a commander, she probably has massive plate armor to wear."

Smiling, he agreed. "And Fenris?"

"He's well, Elena is due any day now. He said between Olivia's fussing and Keegan's handiwork the baby will have a nursery to rival ours. He said Elena complains their child's feet may never touch the ground."

"Is he excited, though?"

"He is, though he's trying to remain as nonchalant as he can."

"That act will go right out of the window when he sees his bairn," Sebastian observed. "I expect Fenris will be a very proud papa who dangles at the end of his child's little finger."

"And you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

They reached the edge of the gardens outside of the training yards. He stopped, her hand still in his.

"No' a single thing," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her gently. "I wouldn't know anything about living and breathing for my lassies."

Returning his kiss, she reached up and cupped his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you."

Sighing, she stepped back. "You'd best go and run Starkhaven."

"Give Fenris and Elena my regards."

Nodding, she smiled as her husband turned and walked up the garden path that would lead him to his offices. Sighing, she closed her eyes and whispered to the Maker, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

xXx

Juliette hurried through the markets of Hightown, hoping to beat Nathaniel to their meeting place, a tanner's stall near the staircase to Lowtown.

Her husband loved well-crafted leather goods, he admired them like most people did art. Years ago, he'd owned a pair of gloves made of snoufleur skins, but were now too worn to be used. Last week, en route to yet another social duty, she'd noticed the merchant's fine leather goods, and had placed a custom order to replace Nathaniel's beloved gloves. Today she would pick them up.

She found herself eager for her errand, knowing it would be a happy distraction from her surroundings. Anything to not see the pockmarks in the buildings overlooking the courtyard.

The man who'd caused those marks was a stranger to her now, but once, she'd called Anders friend. That he'd ever even arrived in Kirkwall was one of the single greatest failings of her command and one of her deepest personal regrets. She should have killed him after he'd merged with Justice and she wasn't naïve enough to deny that her lack of action then had set loose the destruction the citizens in Kirkwall still lived with.

When they'd first arrived here, she'd been shocked that the scarring of the fighting here was still so apparent. Three years had passed and yet the ruin in Kirkwall – Anders's ruin – was still to be seen nearly everywhere. It was a horrible thing to imagine, the brutal and bloody scenes that must have unfolded here. Her guilt over it all clung to her like a shadow.

Sighing, she forced her regrets aside as she arrived at the tanner's stall. The man nodded, acknowledging her arrival, his red hood hiding his eyes.

"Warden-Commander, it's a pleasure to see you again. Your order is finished."

"Good day. That's wonderful, I'm so looking forward to seeing how they turned out."

"Of course, madam. I'll be but a moment," he said in a heavy accent, bowing slightly before disappearing into the far end of the stall.

"Jules!" called out a lovingly familiar voice and she turned toward it. Spotting her tall husband coming toward her through the crowd, she waved.

"Hello! You're here early!" she said cheerfully, smiling up at him. His long hair draped forward as he bent to kiss her cheek. She studied him, sensing his serious mood. "Everything alright?"

He nodded. "Yes. Fine."

She arched her eyebrow. "You seem annoyed."

"I'm not, not really," he answered. "I'm ready to be on our way, that's all."

"Not just yet, we can't be. I've a surprise for you," she teased, though he didn't react. Shaking her head, she sobered. "Yes, I know you meant Kirkwall, I'm sorry. Any word at all from Stroud?"

"None. And between his delay and everything we're learning here… I hate not understanding what's happening around us. It makes it damned hard to keep you safe."

"Nate, none of this has anything to do with us," she said softly. "And no one beyond the occasional darkspawn has tried to kill me in ages. I'm old news now," she finished with a wink.

"Not to me." He glowered, before glancing over her shoulder as a man appeared behind her in the tanner's stall. "Jules," he added, drawing her attention to the man's arrival.

"Your surprise is ready," she stated happily before turning to the merchant. In his hands were a pair of beautiful tan gloves, their sleeves lined with a crimson silk.

"Jules, did you have these made for me?" Nathaniel asked in disbelief, admiring them. "Are they – are they snoufleur? They're very fine!"

"Yes! And they're perfect! Job very well done, ser," she gushed, reaching out to take them.

She cried out in pain as icy cold shot through her veins.

"Jules?" Nathaniel queried and then lunged at the merchant, recognizing that his wife was victim to a ward or enchantment. In that instant, he heard the familiar sound of an arrow taking flight, but was not able to stop it from striking Juliette in the thigh.

"No!" Nathaniel roared, grabbing his wife and pulling her paralyzed form down onto the cobbles. Their fall knocked the entire stall sideways, covering them with the leathers and wares, and this protected them from the next arrow he heard.

"Jules!" he said frantically, his heart frozen in fear for her. The crowd around them was screaming, as chaos erupted in the busy market. He covered his wife with his body, one hand behind his head. "Juliette!"

"A ward… get him… "

"Your leg!"

She began to stir beneath him. "Check it... "

Peering out from their unintentional shelter, he searched the area the archer would have fired from, and seeing no one, clamored off of Juliette. His eyes narrowed in fury as he saw the arrow protruding from her thigh.

He was going to kill someone.

"The bleeding isn't heavy. I'll stop it." Tossing unfinished leathers aside, he grasped a strip of animal skin and tightly tied it above the wound, stemming any further blood loss.

"Go!" she ordered again, her voice a great deal stronger than it had been just a few moments ago. The ward or enchantment was wearing off. "Nate, you have to catch him!"

He pulled a dagger off of his belt and shoved it into her mostly-rigid hand. "Can you hold it?" When she squeezed, he leapt to his feet and with one last look at her, ran after the man who'd been in the stall.

"Which way? Which way did the man in the hood run?" he demanded of anyone who could hear him.

Several witnesses pointed toward the west side of the market and he ran, meandering through the bevy of stalls. He heard a new set of cries and spun on his heel, racing in its direction. He was taller than most of the crowd and spying a flash of red, surged forward, pushing several people aside.

"Stop!" he bellowed and stretching out, grasped at the man's collar.

Nathaniel slammed him hard against the stone cobbles, his strong fingers wrapping around the man's throat as they tumbled. He was much larger than the would-be-assassin and easily overpowered him, holding him down.

He began to squeeze the life from him.

"Bastard! How dare you! Why would you do this?" he demanded, his nose nearly touching the other man's.

"Get… off… " he bubbled.

Nathaniel kept the attacker pinned, his fingers still tight around the man's throat. He leaned in, his lips against the man's ear. "I should kill you right now," he hissed low. "You dared harm my wife?"

"He'll kill me, if you don't, so you're no threat to me," gurgled the man beneath Nathaniel's fierce grip. "And he'll just send more."

"More? Who? Who bloody sent you?"

"You Wardens should have learned – you still don't know your place. He'll soon teach it to you though. He never forgives."

"Neither do I," Nathaniel growled, squeezing the man's airway hard. He soon turned a sick blue, his eyes bulging in their sockets.

Sitting back onto his haunches, Nathaniel released the man's throat and watched as he gasped for air. Satisfied the assailant could breathe, Nathaniel punched the man hard across his face, knocking him out, as blood spurted from his now-broken nose.

The Kirkwall Guard arrived then, surrounding them and Nathaniel stood, his hands held out. "He attacked my wife, you've no quarrel with me!" he declared as the uniformed guards encircled them. "He cast a spell, or something, and my wife was shot with an arrow!"

"I saw the whole thing!" called out a woman from an adjacent stall. "He's telling the truth, that one is!" she announced, pointing to Nathaniel. "Thought that other bloke was the tanner! Blimey!"

"Is he a mage?" a guardsman to Nathaniel's left asked, stepping back slightly.

"I've no idea, I'm no Templar," Nathaniel answered. "He did something though and my wife couldn't move, then she was shot."

"Where's the other then?"

"I don't know. Please, let me see to her, she's injured," Nathaniel explained to the guards closest to him.

"I can send for a healer," an older guard offered.

"Come with me," Nathaniel ordered before following his path back to the now toppled tanner's stall, the guard staying close behind.

Juliette was seated, leaning back against a thick column, her features strained. "Nate? Are you alright?"

"I am," he answered, quickly dropping to his knees before her. "What of you? How is it?"

"I'm alright, we just need to get this arrow out."

"Madam?" began the guard, looking over Nathaniel's shoulder, "shall I send for a healer?"

She shook her head, biting her lip against the pain. "No, but thank you. It's not too bad," she added, offering a weak smile. Nathaniel stood and slowly helped her up, wrapping her right arm around his broad shoulders. She hopped forward.

Nathaniel, hunched over, looked at the other man. "Guardsman? That man, he was aided by an archer. The arrow flew from the east, perhaps the ramparts there."

"Thank you, ser, for the information. We will find the culprits."

"We're Grey Wardens," Juliette said, though her voice wasn't steady, "and we're staying at an inn here in Hightown, Whitman's Inn. We'll want to speak to that man when we can. I'm certain his attack is related to Wardens' business."

The man looked between Juliette and Nathaniel. "Well, madam, I can let my captain know. He'll want to be talking to you anyway, I'd bet, seeing as you're the victim here."

"Send word to us at the inn," Nathaniel directed. "We're in room eleven. Warden and Warden-Commander Howe."

"Warden-Commander?" the man repeated, his eyebrows up in surprise. "Maker, now I know my captain will be wanting to speak to you, ma'am."

"Good, because I assure you, I'm not finished with her attacker," Nathaniel said coldly. "Alright, send for us, but I'm taking her now."

Guiding her through the crowd that had gathered around them, Nathaniel helped his wife around the corner of the market, to a small alley that offered some privacy before he carefully scooped her up into his thick arms.

"Nate, I can walk," she argued, though with a grimace, wrapped her arms around his neck, settling against his broad chest.

"No. You did well, Jules, not letting them see it, but you're not taking another step. It's alright. I've got you now."

"You always do," she replied softly.

"I always will."

Closing her eyes, she bit her lip against the pain and was silent.