Chapter 61: Recruitment Plans

Wynne looked about to object, so I signalled her to stop and follow me. We went just a little ways out of camp, her judgemental gaze never leaving me as we walked. I held my hand up to forestall her.

"I know. You don't approve. You don't trust Anders, because he keeps trying to escape. Honestly, the only thing that surprises me is that there aren't dozens of escapees. Wynne, you have to admit, the Tower is hard on young mages. Some templars abuse their power, and not everyone was raised religious, they don't get the same comfort from faith that you do. Some of those kids remember their families, and they didn't all have bad experiences. You can't expect everyone to accept being locked in a tower with good grace. Even you won't stay there when there's another option.

"Look, I know Anders. I know exactly what he's capable of, both for good and for bad. I think there's a chance that if we catch it now, and do it right, we can avoid much of the bad part I mentioned. If we wait, he will still end up a Grey Warden, only his animosity towards the Chantry will have increased by that much more by then. Please, trust me. I'll vouch for him. I'll take personal responsibility for what happens. Please, Wynne. Will you help me help him?"

She looked thoughtful, but eventually nodded unconsciously even as she asked, "If he succumbs to blood magic or a demon, will you use your templar abilities to stop him?"

"He won't. He hates blood magic even more than you do. But yes, should he become an abomination, I will do whatever is necessary to stop him."

"Very well. I shall not stand in your way, but I will not recommend his conscription either."

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

She patted my cheek and grinned. "Cheeky child. I'm old enough to be your grandmother."

"Not where I'm from, unless you and Avernus have more in common than I'd expect. Not even here – Rhys isn't that much older than me, I'd think, unless my math has issues. Will you ever tell me actually how old you are, anyway?"

"No." She didn't hesitate, and her tone brooked no argument. I had to laugh; apparently that vanity was the same among all women, whether mage or lady, elf or human, from Earth or from Thedas. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards at my laugh, and we headed back to camp together.

I pulled Tomas aside, gesturing at Aedan and Alistair to join us. I told them the basics – Anders was a mage, a healer, who was very unhappy in the Circle and currently serving a year in solitary for recurrent escapes. Eventually he would end up at Vigil's Keep when the darkspawn attacked and would be recruited. I didn't tell them about Justice, or Anders eventually leaving the Wardens – I was still hopeful that some of that could change. In fact, I was hoping to keep Kristoff alive, and perhaps, with luck, Justice would never leave the Fade. Telling everyone about all of the possible bad outcomes seemed somehow cruel to Anders; he should have a chance to be a Warden without everyone prejudging him for things he wouldn't do of his own accord.

The three Wardens seemed to sense that I wasn't telling them the whole story, but I didn't give them much chance to pry. I sure as hell wasn't going to explain me romancing Anders in DA2; explaining that there was a DA2 had been difficult enough, back in Denerim. Though a small, petty part of me wanted to tell Alistair in hopes that it would hurt him. I quashed that part ruthlessly; I was not going to turn into some harridan because I was spurned.

"So, anyway, you're going to have to use the rite of conscription. Greagoir's already mostly convinced he's a maleficar; he will never let him go otherwise."

Tomas looked thoughtful. "I will need Irving to help. And probably something to use as a bribe." Alistair's face turned red, and Tomas hurriedly explained, "For Irving, not for Greagoir. Aiding me in this is going to give him a lot of trouble; it would only be fair he demand something in return."

We all thought about it, but it only took a second for me to realise I had exactly what he'd need. I took a few more seconds to try to think about the ramifications, but couldn't come up with a better option.

"I know what to give him." At Tomas' questioning look, I continued. "Greagoir too, for that matter. What does a mage like Irving value more than anything? Knowledge. I can tell them about Avernus' theory on templar abilities. And I can show Greagoir my abilities, promise to teach him once the blight is over. It's something they'll both want – Irving will be willing to help Anders, I suspect, since he's the one who keeps convincing Greagoir not to execute him; add in a little knowledge and the chance to see the dumbfounded look on Greagoir's face when he learns the Chantry doesn't know everything? No problem."

Tomas looked intrigued, and even Aedan's expression was slightly impressed. Alistair, on the other hand, was furious. "Are you mad? I know you're angry with me, but is it really bad enough to justify a death wish? You go in there and show Greagoir what you can do, he may never let you leave. And if you think having templar abilities will be enough to prevent them from assuming you're a mage when you disappear, you've got another thing coming. They'll torture you to determine where you learned your skills. There is absolutely no chance you are walking in there and showing off. None."

My face had become more and more flushed as he spoke, but I controlled my temper enough to avoid screaming right back at him.

"Alistair, you are not my father, and you have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. Everything is not always about you! You will back down this instant, or so help me, I will throw you out of the boat in full plate when we get there. I am a big girl, and I make my own decisions, isn't that what you said? Stop being a hypocrite then, and put your money where your mouth is. It's fine and dandy to agree with me when you also agree with my decision, or it's too late to change it. But the minute you disagree with something I plan to do, that all falls by the wayside, doesn't it?

"I am aware that Greagoir will have suspicions when we meet. I am prepared for that. I will simply tell him the truth. I don't actually believe he will have me tortured; he'll throw me in a cell, at the worst, and then I'll just have to wish to go home and I'll be fine." A frown appeared on Aedan's face, and Alistair grimaced. I didn't stop to inquire. "If I never go back there, they won't be able to do anything to me. He can bring in Tanar to verify my story, and Irving can tell him about whatever it was that I did up in the Harrowing chamber. It will help if we take Wynne with us; Greagoir trusts her. She won't help us free Anders, but I know she will protect me."

Tomas spoke up. "We will bring enough of a force to the meeting to give them pause should they wish to take Sierra. In addition to which, if it becomes necessary, I will tell them she is a Grey Warden. We will have them come over to shore for the meeting, bringing Tanar and Irving and whoever else Greagoir feels needs to be there. We can do this safely, Alistair. And if it means we recruit another mage, especially a healer who happens to be male ... we are going to need all the help we can get in the Deep Roads. We cannot take Wynne with us."

Alistair ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it and making it stand up. He reminded me of a little hedgehog, with his bristles all standing on end. I almost laughed. Finally he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Fine. Just ... fine. I'll be the first to admit I was wrong if this works out well. But I'll also be there to say 'I told you so' when you're planning a jailbreak."

Aedan smirked. "As long as you help with the jailbreak, I agree."

"You joking? A chance to poke the Chantry in the eye? Wouldn't miss it."

"I have a question." Three pairs of eyes swivelled to me expectantly. "I want to tell Greagoir about Meredith. About the situation in Kirkwall. I feel like the Chantry should have the chance to remove her on their own."

Tomas smiled. "I didn't hear a question."

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "What do you think? Is it a good idea?"

Tomas considered. "I don't see that it could hurt. The worst that will happen is they ignore you, and Kirkwall remains unchanged."

Aedan added, "And if it would help, it seems worth it. She sounds like a real nightmare."

Alistair spoke very quietly, "I met her once, I think, in Denerim. You said the red Lyrium is what's going to push her over, but I'm not convinced the push needs to be very big. She's a zealot, and she hates mages. Making them Tranquil seems positively moderate for her. But they won't get rid of her. Templars are never dismissed, rarely punished; at worst they'll shuffle her somewhere else."

"But if that gets her away from the mages ... she could be a fabulous bodyguard for the Divine, or something. Anything that keeps her out of a Circle."

He sighed. "I have no objections. Less templar abuse of power is better. Like Tomas said, the worst case is that nothing improves."

After that, we finally said our goodnights and headed to bed. Tomas took me aside briefly as I was getting up. "Sierra ... you don't have to sleep alone, if you don't want. I can make room for you in my tent."

"Are you propositioning me, Warden Commander?" I smirked at him and raised one eyebrow suggestively.

He sputtered. "No! Maker." He put his face in his hands, and I wondered if I'd even be able to see a blush against his dark complexion.

"Shame. Another time, perhaps?"

He glared at me, and I laughed. He growled, "Be serious! I know you find it difficult to sleep."

I stopped laughing, suddenly very serious. "I do. But I will learn. It's time to stand on my own two feet, Tomas."

"That's why the sparring? And wanting to take a watch?" I nodded. "I can respect that. Fair enough. Just know the offer is open should you need a friend."

"I'll keep that in mind."

When I got into my tent, I found that someone had adjusted it to make it stand better. I was annoyed, but mostly at myself for not being able to put up a tent properly. When I saw my phone in the middle of my bedroll, I sighed. I changed, then sat down to meditate and try to find some inner calm before picking the thing up.

I turned it on and found a note written in the notes app, to my shock. It was brief and to the point.

I'm sorry. I won't stop worrying about you, but I will try to stop being your father. I said try, because I know I'm not perfect, and I'll screw up again, I'm sure. You won't believe me, but I'm aware it's not about me. I promise.

This song is for you. Just so you know. And that one line? I'll never move on, but if you need to believe it, I will let you.

I love you.

Forever, Your Alistair