The night of the eighth of Kingsway in Zann's eighteenth year, she sneaks out of her room and knocks on the door of Metella's quarters. And knocks again. And keeps knocking until the door is opened.
"Are you familiar with the Right of Conscription?"
Veins are beginning to stand out on Greagoir's neck. "You conscripted a malefi-"
"Yes. You're aware that there's a Blight on, right? The idea of having someone around who could boil the blood in the Darkspawn's veins is quite appealing."
Greagoir snarls in impotent fury.
Greagoir takes offense. He begins to draw his sword-
"I'd recommend you back out while you can, Knight-Captain."
His sword slowly returns to its sheath.
"Good idea. Go back to your cave. My recruit and I will be on our way to Ostagar in half an hour. Hopefully, you'll never see her again. Or either of us, really."
Neither would Irving.
Jahenna puts her sword back in its sheath. "Now can I get some damned breakfast before I have to haul a maleficar to the warcamp? Or is the most noble First Enchanter going to abruptly demonstrate the ability to speak?"
"I'm sure no one will object if you have breakfast before you leave," he says.
Metella smiles slightly.
Zann applauds quietly.
Jahenna goes to acquire vast quantities of bacon.
Irving makes himself scarce. Metella calmly eats breakfast.
"I don't want anyone to get the impression that I didn't enjoy threatening Greg's life, because I've wanted to do that since I was twelve years old, but we do probably need to discuss the fact that you had me recruit a blood mage. Namely, what the fuck."
"You wanted a recruit. I had someone who needed recruiting. She'll be good at it. I thought it was a very elegant solution."
"I don't do the mind control shit, just the blood-boiling etcetera. I can learn it if you want me to, though, it sounds really cool."
"The Wardens have a reputation to- wow, I almost actually said that sentence, huh. You're sure she's not evil?"
"I'm sure she'll make a very good Grey Warden."
Jahenna continues to consume her bacon.