310 réponses à ce sujet

[Maria13]

@Addai & Esbatty Considering this whole wardening subplot was not something I had planned originally I think it is coming out pretty well. Once I got into the swing of things ideas started popping up... Sorry about Whurrin but we are talking about the Legion of the Dead, I think he probably had a fun few days what with defying Jarvia and befriending Alistair anyway...

[Esbatty]

Its all good in hood M. I look forward to what you've concocted for the coming installment!

[Maria13]

Hey, I like being M!

PS I think Judy Dench is classy...

Modifié par Maria13, 16 décembre 2010 - 10:26 .

[errant_knight]

I started reading this today, and I wanted to tell you how very, very impressed I am. I'm enjoying the story immensely--plot, characters, style--the whole nine yards.

Edit: And kept on reading until I finished the whole darn thing! It just keeps getting more and more interesting. Loving the way Alistair is pulling himself together and being the kind of king he needs to be. Good for him!

Modifié par errant_knight, 16 décembre 2010 - 07:36 .

[Maria13]

@ Errant, I am really flattered. Yes, my main aim was to move Alistair beyond the game to get him to grow up and adapt to things... I am glad you approve.

[Maria13]

Chapter 41

Dragon 9:34

Cassus/Haring                     Orzammar                                                                    [Present]

Zinthal came to visit Oswyn around midday the next day and Dean answered the door. "Tell her I'm too busy to see her," Oswyn instructed Dean curtly, "and that I will be busy for the rest of today."

Dean scowled but apparently did what he was told. When he came back, he said to Oswyn, "Next time you can answer the bloody door."

This falling out was inconvenient because Oswyn wanted to get some information from Dean regarding his contacts for selling the lyrium and Dean was unusually short with him.

"Frankly, I didn't care where the stuff was destined or what it would be used for, as long as I got something for it…"

With a little more persistence, he admitted, "I am not a thinker like you… By my estimate, 90% of the wretched stuff was sold to Orlais or here in Ferelden. Our King is not one for detail, not sure that he'd be happy about that last… but in any event, and replying to your question, no it was not sold further afield, at least not by us…"

Oswyn spent the afternoon pondering a detailed map of Thedas he had arranged to be copied from the Shaperate, spread out on the kitchen table. He found himself wishing he had paid more attention to the basic instruction his tutor gave him in the geography and history of Thedas. Not that that was very much, education for scions of the nobility in Ferelden tended to concentrate more on practical skills such as shooting and fighting with some local politics thrown in… but it would have been a starting point.

Looking at the map he focused on Jader from there it seemed to him it would be relatively straightforward to navigate the Waking Sea and reach Kirkwall, the capital of the Free Marches and then Cumberland, the main port city of Neverra, two completely new markets for trade, without the lyrium having to travel excessively overland.

On balance, thinking about what had happened with Orlais, leading to this recent market crash, most of it could be attributed to the initial but understandable lack of ambition on the part of the Fereldans who had sold themselves short. After all, neither Alistair nor Dean were merchants or minded like such and their first, desperate, objective had been simply to secure grain or funds to avert a famine.

Even Oswyn was aware that in the last few years there had been some attempts to purchase grain from the Free Marches, the breadbasket of Thedas, to make up for the shortfalls caused by the Blight and undermine Orlais's stranglehold on the Fereldan market. Those attempts meant there would be contacts in Kirkwall, maybe it was possible to up the ante and carry out some more lucrative trade rather than just exchanging lyrium for cereals. Kirkwall was after all a Templar redoubt and where there were Templars, lyrium at a good price would be in demand…

Then there was Cumberland, the gateway to Nevarra, he thought he had heard somewhere there was a circle of mages in Cumberland. He should check that. He began making notes.

Things seemed to be coming together, now what he needed to do once he got back to Denerim was clear, check those connections with Kirkwall and Cumberland. The only problem was that Jader was an Orleisian port but perhaps there would be Fereldan contacts there, as a last resort, there was always bribery.

He felt he now had a few things to put before Alistair, once he returned.

                                                                                       ~~...~~     

"I guess you did the legion all a favour, including my beloved bro,'" said Dolgan somewhat grudgingly "but I am not sure you should have interpreted my advice that literally…"

Alistair shrugged. The truth was he was so fatigued, he had slept well the previous night for the first time in over a week that he had no strength for verbal sparring or even just talking.

"In any event, I owe you an apology… I didn't know that Stone Orchid was Jarvia and I didn't realise you knew Jarvia, if I had… By the way, it was decided you can keep that sword, wretched thing seems to favour you in any event, no other member of the legion would touch it, it's on Mabya..."

Alistair ran a hand before his face as if to brush something away. "Are you all right?" Dolgan asked him.

"I really don't feel like talking now, and even less about these last few days…"

"Makes a change." Quipped Dolgan.

"Just enjoy it while it lasts… By the way, where is Marcus?" Alistair said looking around at their party.

Dolgan hesitated, "With your Maker, I hope…"

"You mean…"

"His calling was due, Alistair, he wanted to do it the traditional way so we took him along… Again, I'm sorry… He told me to tell you that he felt he had come on too strong in that last conversation you two had, if you know what he meant… He had a simple background…" Dolgan shook his shoulders as if to loosen them, "He was a farmer, Darkspawn killed his family, he joined up, did his bit, did his best…"

Alistair closed his eyes and then nodded. After a while, he slowed down, waited for Khegst to approach with Mabya, and then, greeting her and patting her side, matched his pace to that of the bronto.

                                                                                        ~~...~~

The next day Oswyn was making his way to the Shaperate when he thought he saw Zinthal coming in the opposite direction. Hoping she had not espied him, he ducked into a convenient doorway until she walked past. A few moments later, he stepped out again.

A few moments after that, someone grabbed his sleeve. "Oswyn."

He looked down and sagged. Zinthal said, "I am sorry I disappointed you, but I think it was a misunderstanding… Our worlds must be very different…"

"Zinthal, I…" What? Was confused by your behaviour? Confused by my reaction to it? Feel embarrassed because I did nothing to prevent you going with Dulin when I should have done? Didn't know I was such an unreasonably puritanical ****... Am quite possibly jealous? He decided to take another tack, "How, ahem, did it go with Dulin?"

"Oh, well enough… You know the usual…" Suddenly, apart from all the above qualms Oswyn, felt his curiosity had been piqued… What was 'the usual' for someone like Zinthal? A dwarf, a woman and a brand?

"You know…" He said, "I don't quite understand what 'the usual' means…"

Zinthal put a hand on one of her wide hips and her bracelets clanked, "Well I can't imagine Humans are that different from dwarva, Oswyn, you are all male after all…"

Another thing to be avoided, "Do you recall when I got offended because you suggested I might be Alistair's fixer?"

Zinthal nodded.

"Well, I was wrong to get upset… I guess if I am not already Alistair's fixer I am going to be … I think I might enjoy that… But… Look, suppose I do buy you a drink and you tell me what happened… So I can get it from your point of view… But you don't have to give me all the details… Just…"

                                                                                           ~~...~~         

It seemed that their journey back was going to be even more uneventful than their journey there and Alistair was quite happy with that. He had begun to find himself thinking about all the unresolved issues he had left behind: the lyrium, Bann Coerlic, Niamh… So when he let the group amble ahead so he could take a pee in peace against the cavern wall, he was somewhat distracted.

That was until he heard a bellowing noise, something was obviously disturbing Mabya so he tucked up quickly and went to draw. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his left thigh, like an insect sting but more intense. He looked down and unbelievingly saw an arrow pointing out from a gap in his armour…

Swallowing hard he drew in any event and staggered a few steps supporting himself against the cave wall. Before he well knew what was happening Mabya rushed passed him followed closely by Khegst and the other dwarves in full battle cry… Wisely they paid him no attention whatsoever as they fell upon the small band of Darkspawn that appeared to have been following them.

Alistair tried to walk a few steps more but his left leg did not seem to be responding, he reached down to the arrow and tried to pull at it but when he did so what had been gelid numbness turned into a prickly burning fire of excruciating pain, he nearly. It seemed to be embedded very deeply; he knew from experience that that being the case it was better to leave it well alone for the time being.

Feeling helpless and useless he put all of his effort in holding himself upright and waving Starfang pathetically in front of him so as to discourage any Darkspawn who might believe he was easy pickings. Fortunately, the battle was going well for the wardens.

Dolgan was the first to approach, "Alistair…" He said almost affectionately putting his hand around his waist to support him. He made a gesture towards the dart, Alistair shook his head.

"In deep is it?" He growled, Alistair nodded not trusting himself to say yes without moaning. "All right let's sit you down…" and aided by Volkur who was suddenly on his other side they helped lower Alistair down until he was in a sitting position against the cavern wall.

"Looks as though we're gonna have to camp here tonight, lads," Said Dolgan. "And you, pretty boy, put your head on your knees… That's right… Volkur put his sword back in his scabbard for him, will you?"

Volkur did as he was told. "Time to use your training now, Volkur…" Volkur nodded mutely and went towards Mabya. "Arrrgh **** and here was I hoping we'd all get back to Orzammar in one piece… Those of us left, anyway…" said Dolgan rubbing his hands.

"Stupid…" Muttered Alistair.

"What was that, lad?"

"Sorry… I was stupid"

"Well these are the Deep Roads, these things happen here, even when you're taking a ******… But you know that. Good job Mabya picked 'em up, otherwise we'd've been a mile away before we realised you were missing… And she ran straight towards them, too, rather than in the opposite direction…"

Volkur returned with a small package wrapped in cloth and began to kindle a fire.

Dolgan purposely moved himself so he blocked Alistair's view of these preparations. "That sword…" He said, "Do you know anything about it?"

"Da… Elven" murmured Alistair.

"But what was it doing down here?"

Alistair shrugged, "Who knows?" He said weakly, "Down here… everything…"

"Khegst," Dolgan shouted over his shoulder, "Do we have any alcohol? You know poncy stuff, the kind of stuff that won't make this Surfacer here toss up straightaway… Weak stuff." He grinned back at Alistair.

Alistair tapped his dark dragonbone cuirass with his hand… "You have some, pretty boy? Under that nice armour?" Alistair nodded, "I guess we're gonna have to help you out of it sometime soon anyways…" Dolgan reached up for Alistair's shoulders and began to undo the strap on his cuirass.

"So that sword, why does it shine, when you handle it Surfacer, that's what I don't understand…" Alistair shook his head.

Dolgan continued to loosen the armour with his stumpy practical fingers "I mean, I've heard of reactive swords, swords that respond to the wielder, but it's usually to their blood… You're not an elf by any chance are you?" Alistair shook his head again and tried to grin, but Dolgan continued to ponder "I mean I've met elves, plenty of 'em and they are not as big as you an' your ears aint pointy…" Just in case, he double-checked, "Anyways…" he concluded as he shucked the cuirass.

Alistair put his hand in his surcoat and pulled out a small solid looking silver hip flask with an 'A' engraved on it, popped the seal and took a long good swallow that ended in a bit of a splutter. He proffered the flask to Dolgan who took a swig and then looked at it appreciatively.

"Antivan brandy…" Said Alistair.

"Aye…" Said Dolgan, "Only the best for you, ha? Methinks you're gonna need the rest…" and he returned the flask to him. Alistair sighed and helped himself.

                                                                                            ~~...~~

They purposely avoided Tapsters because it was too public. Zinthal steered them to a little place that was practically a slightly modified two-floor dwelling house where they were shown to a private room upstairs.

Oswyn was happy to let Zinthal order. "I'm sorry…" He repeated once the servant girl had left.

Zinthal shrugged, "Oswyn happens all the time… What I do has nothing to do with emotions… I cannot let that stuff interfere; it's business, that's how I have to think of it. The business of survival… If I were to start feeling things… But I realise it may be different for some other people, although that doesn't happen often, I think most of my clients are pretty jaded…"

"I'm…"

"Not. No, you're not, no. What was it that you said when were kissing that it was sometime since…"

"It is. Since this, really…" He gestured towards his legs.

"I don't want to pry."

"Oh, I need to tell, occasionally. About four years ago, I was… kidnapped, I guess, on a winter's eve… During a night on the town if you have to know, leaving a tavern. Drunk and merry as a sailor… Such an easy mark…"

"Were you held to ransom?"

"That kind of thing happens here too?"

Zinthal opened her hands, "All the time."

"Well, that may have been the original idea but then… Things got out of control… It seems they started having fun with me so one objective superseded the other…"

"Super—"

"Took over from the other…"

"Fun…" Echoed Zinthal.

"You know…"

"Oh, I know…" Zinthal looked at the table and shook her head.

The servant girl came back with their order. "Of course you do." Said Oswyn.

                                                                              ~~...~~

They wrapped a makeshift tourniquet around his thigh. "Well…" Dolgan said standing looking down at Alistair, "You know what's coming… Time to think about all those beautiful women you've made love to lately and thank your Maker it didn't get you through the balls…"

Alistair glanced at Volkur who was squatting intently next to him holding what appeared to be a very thin sharp knife in the flames.

"Eh, eh, eh…"Said Dolgan chucking Alistair on the chin and turning his face towards him, "Stupid boy, you know we don't look… Here." He removed his belt, folded it in half and proffered it to him. "Bite… Think of all those pretty women."

"Think of Mabya, Alistair… She loves you…" Cried Khegst, from the other side of the cavern and they all laughed, including Alistair. Then Volkur put the knife against his skin and the pain started…

                                                                                                   ~~...~~

When Zinthal woke up very often, she had to remind herself where she was and whom she was with and that night was no exception. When she turned and saw the tall man sitting up next to her it all came back pretty quickly. His chest wasn't as hairy as most dwarf's just a few swatches of pale fuzz but she found she liked the difference. It was more skin to touch rather than pelt and she liked touching skin…

"Oswyn," she said yawning and stretching quite languorous but quite unselfconsciously, "Can't you sleep, darling?"

"I'm just thinking…"

"Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

He leaned over and kissed her, oh yes, she thought as their mouths came together, this one was very gentle, very emotional, and he had clung to her as he came as if she were the last female in Thedas or at least the last noble hunter in Orzammar. "Of course I did," He said "but I realise that I have done nothing for you that any male hasn't already done for you since your teens probably…"

"Well, you are my first human, Oswyn…"

"And not different at all from male dwarva, huh?"

Zinthal wondered if she was going to regret having made that earlier remark. But Oswyn did not seem to be bitter, just matter-of-fact. "Well if I am going to give you something to remember me by, it's not going to be… Sex… Because that's really just… What it is..."

He leaned over and began to light the lamp by the bed. "How would you like to come for a walk?" he said.

"A walk?"

"See something you have never seen before…"

"Ahhh…" Said Zinthal shifting in the warm bed and attempting to work out how to decline tactfully.

"Come on lazybones," and he reached over and pinched her bum. Well, she guessed, it was good he had already reached a comfortable level with her.

He dressed himself very quickly very efficiently and then, helped her to dress. "Capes, we need capes…"

He took her hand and they left as they headed towards the Hall of Paragons a sense of panic hit her. As they started walking through the Hall itself she tugged at his hand, "No, Oswyn, just no, I am not going outside, I…"

"Shhhh," He said putting a finger to his lips.

"I mean it! The ancestors will hate me, they…"

"And what will they do about it?" He asked stopping, he seemed amused.

Zinthal opened her mouth she was going to say she would loose her caste, her honour, but… Then she realised and sagged.

"So?" Said Oswyn. He bent down and whispered his breath hot in her ear, "it's late and dark, no-one will know but you and I… Ever…"

"As you say." She said resignedly.

"Thank you for your trust." He said, he was sincere, she believed.

He let go of her hand. "My colleague and I… We have a meeting; we shall be back in about two hours…" He said to the dwarf at the door who was frankly too tired to do anything but open the gates.

They stepped out and the cold hit them. Zinthal gasped and then clapped one hand over her mouth so the dwarf on the other side would not hear.

                                                                                          ~~...~~         

It was sometime before he fainted. He had always been just a tad too tough that way… He woke up perhaps a few hours later to find himself lying on his right side near the fire and Volkur lying facing him, eyes open.

"Hello Alistair, how do you feel…?"

Alistair thought about that for a moment, he did not know whether it was the drink or the ripping pain from his thigh, but his mind seemed to be very dull.

"Like death warmed up…" He replied somewhat tentatively, his lips were cracked and his throat and mouth dry. He put his hand down towards his left leg…

"No, don't touch it Alistair… You don't want it to get infected… Anyway, you'll be happy to hear that I dug out the barb and then stitched you up."

Now that Volkur had mentioned it, Alistair could feel the twine pulling at his skin. He nodded and obediently folded his arm over his chest again.

Volkur sat up rummaged for something then propping Alistair up held a healing potion to his lips. "Here drink this… Hope it helps…" Then as if he read his mind, he reached for a canteen and gave him a few very welcome gulps of water.

"Thank you" Said Alistair really quite touched by all the attention.

"Not at all" said Volkur, lying back down in front of him, "I hope you get better, you're my first patient…"

Alistair shook his head smiling, "I'll do my best then…"

                                                                                         ~~...~~

They walked across the abandoned marketplace and turned left. When they were out of view of the gate Oswyn tugged down his hood and Zinthal's.

"It's a perfect night… Look…" He said pointing up to the stars.

"Stars…"

"Yes…"

"I never thought… They are so high up, how high up are they…"

"No-one really knows, Zinthal."

"What are they?"

"You know that's a really good question…"

"Well?" She asked.

"Well," He said hesitantly, "There are theories… The Chantry says that this, all this" he opened his arms, "Is nothing but a large cavern, like Orzammar, and that the stars are decorations, jewels that the Maker has hung on the cavern roof to beguile us…"

"That's… rubbish. I've never seen a cavern like this that… smells… like this does. It makes no sense."

"I agree. Some people say, some wise folk say, that the stars are other suns… You know the sun…"

"A ball of fire in the sky…"

"Exactly. That warms Thedas and allows us to live and see… That all these stars are other suns, which may be warming and lighting other worlds…"

"With people on them?"

"Who knows? Perhaps…"

Zinthal squinted up at the night sky silently for a few minutes more. Then she reached out and took Oswyn's hand. "Suddenly I feel very small…" She said.

Oswyn laughed, "So do I when I look up at the stars, so do I…"

                                                                                        ~~...~~

The next time he woke up, he thought he was still sleeping because the roof of the cavern seemed to be moving above him. He had never thought that a cavern roof could look so interesting but it did. There were different colours, depths and layers of stone so he spent several minutes studying it in detail and taking it in before he tried to move his limbs, only to discover that he was tied down.

"Ah Alistair," Said Dolgan, "We're on our way home…"

Alistair then realised that he was secured to a sort of sledge that was being dragged by Mabya.

"Be there in about a day, I think. Bet you can't wait to get home… to Denerim, I mean"

"Do I have to…?"

"Do you have to travel like that? Yes. Don't you realised your left leg won't be able to take your weight? And don't mutter to yourself like that, you know I'm right, pretty boy… As usual…"

Dolgan paused a while then looked down at him again smiling, "Tell you what, Surfacer, if you're good, I'll let you sleep between Mabya and Volkur tonight, and they should look after you well enough… And I promise I won't tell anybody…"

Suddenly a strange sound came from Dolgan and his chest started heaving, it took Alistair a little while to realise he was laughing.

[Addai]

Awww, yay for Oswyn and Zinthal!

[Esbatty]

The Sky scene was beautiful. Well done, M!

[Maria13]

@ Addai & Esbatty, thanks some more coming soon I hope.

[Maria13]

Chapter 42

Dragon 9:34

Cassus/Haring                                                  Orzammar                                        [Present]

They used Mabya to take him to the foot of the steep staircase that led to Orzammar. Dolgan and Volkur helped Alistair up it as best they could while Khegst backtracked to stable the bronto. There was a lot of cursing in both dwarva and Fereldan and some teasing but eventually they made it to the top. Alistair was given five minutes to recover his breath and then the two dwarves together with some of the dwarven guards assisted him to stumble through Orzammar to the Grey Warden compound where they all collapsed exhausted and were shortly joined by Khegst.

It was late evening so Dolgan arranged for some food and drink to be delivered and then they all took to the available cots. However uncomfortable the cots at the compound were, they were far better than sleeping on a thin bedroll on a cavern floor.
 
                                                                                    ~~...~~

The next day Volkur changed the dressing on Alistair's wound only to discover that it had not healed as quickly as he had hoped so it was decided that an expert physician should be called.

Alistair sent a message to Oswyn who quickly turned up to see him. He took very calmly the news that Alistair had been injured when he saw him looking generally well sitting on the side of his cot clad in a simple grey warden surcoat and breeches.

Oswyn gave him a brief update on his progress so far and they discussed leaving Orz within the next few weeks because Alistair was eager to get back to Denerim a few days before First Day if that were possible.

That afternoon Lady Helmi paid a surprise visit to the compound. She brought along, carried by two servants, a large pot of nug stew that had been prepared in her own kitchen and the dwarven physician used by her family to examine Alistair. She was still wearing the ring he had given her for winning the Proving.

"Well," she said sitting next to Alistair afterwards and putting her small hand on his, "the physician was not happy… He is concerned that there was something on the arrow that will stop the wound healing."

"Has he examined the arrow?" Asked Alistair. It was an ugly thing, it had a long narrow iron head with no less than three sets of curved, jutting barbs. Volkur had had to cut wide and deep in order to extract it.

"Yes, he has, but he says the Darkspawn are prone to use poisons or spells on some of their weaponry but he is no expert in such… He suggested you should be seen by a healer mage but there are none in Orzammar at the moment."

"I feel all right, just a touch dizzy perhaps, that's all…" Replied Alistair.

Lady Helmi looked at him and shook her head, "Yes but it needs to heal, apart from anything else so you can return to Denerim as you wish. The physician said that he has only ever treated dwarves and ideally, you should be seen by someone accustomed to treating humans… Dwarves are tougher than humans, especially when it comes to injuries inflicted by Darkspawn it seems…"

"I'll see…" Said Alistair, he wasn't entirely convinced. "Thank you so much for the food, in any event…"

Lady Helmi shrugged, "It is the least I can do for you wardens. After all, together with the Legion, you are helping to secure the safety of Orzammar."

"My squad found a brood mother and so did one of the others, you know…"

"Horrible, foul creatures…" she murmured shuddering.

"It seems that the Darkspawn were hoping to hem Orzammar in by bringing brood mothers closer to the city… Dolgan is preparing a report for Harrowmont as we speak…" He paused, kissing her quickly on the cheek "Adal… Thank you again, and…"

"Yes, Alistair?"

"You do know what we did was a one-time thing, don't you?"

Lady Helmi drew herself up, "Alistair," she said carefully, "In needing to say that aloud you are just showing how young and inexperienced you are…"

"I…"

"No, no, no…" She held up her hand, "I realise you were not brought up as nobility… and in many ways that's a very good thing, refreshing, if you will… but those of us who are, and I'd be surprised if Ferelden were any different, to be honest with you, are used to being involved in such… ah… temporary liaisons. Discretion is key and it's considered bad form to insist on anything else arising from the affair… We are adults after all…"

"I am grateful. I just wanted to be sure that we stood on equal footing… But that doesn't mean… Well, if there is anything…"

"I am aware of that, despite your occasional indiscretions with women, it seems you are a man of honour and your word… Your reputation does precede you, you know… If you did not have that reputation I would not have solicited your attention as blatantly as I did because it would simply have been too risky, even though I had heard you were hot…"

Alistair laughed.

"You heard that even here in Orzammar?"

"Even here in Orzammar," she replied smiling, "we had heard of fresh young King Alistair of Ferelden and his lovers… and there was this song…"

                                                                                             ~~...~~

That evening Alistair getting fed up of lying around, put on some of his half decent clothes and slipping out, avoiding Volkur who he thought had become a bit overzealous, went to visit the hideout and see how things were progressing for himself. It seemed that he could now make his own way without limping overmuch.

He let himself in with his key. The first thing he saw was the colour scale of five flasks that Oswyn and Dean had used to sort the lyrium on what had been the shop counter. Going into the back, he discovered the kitchen was empty. He looked into the nearest storage room and it seemed to him that it was more orderly than before.

He hesitated before checking out the other storerooms because, there seemed to be some muffled sounds coming from the back room where the beds were… He went into the kitchen and making sure, he was relatively noisy, clanging the tankard and such, poured himself a beer from Dean's barrel. This did not have the desired effect so once he had drunken his beer, shaking his head he went to the bedroom and knocked. "Hello… Oswyn?"

There was what he interpreted as a stunned silence from the other side. He moved back to the kitchen.

Five minutes later a sheepish looking Oswyn, came into the kitchen and slunk into the chair opposite, trailed by a much brighter looking Zinthal. Alistair smiling said, "Hello, Sweetheart." to her and she gave him a naughty grin back.

                                                                                                 ~~...~~

Alistair and Oswyn agreed to meet Zinthal later for supper because Alistair wanted to prevent her becoming too involved in the business at hand.

Oswyn explained that between by setting destroying flasks of false lyrium, flasks where the lyrium had degraded, or where it was so diluted that it did not justify the transport costs, they had reduced the total number of flasks from some 5,000 to about 3,500, which in turn they had classified into four strengths.

Oswyn then went into detail about pricing. Finally, he pulled out the map, extended it on the table in the kitchen, and went through with Alistair the possibility of arranging for the lyrium to be transported from Jader to Nevarra and the Free Marches as well as to the heart Orlais, i.e. Val Royeaux, although he had yet to cost this. This would mean cutting out the merchants they had mostly been dealing with on the Fereldan/Orlaisian border at least until such a time as they became prepared to pay more.

Having reached this point and still studying the map, Oswyn then said: "So you set me up with Zinthal on purpose?"

"Not exactly…" Alistair replied tracing the suggested shipping routes on the map with a finger. "I did think we needed help from someone with connections on the ground here in Orzammar and if I had to choose between an equally qualified male and an attractive noble hunter… In the event there was only her anyway."

"She is incredibly sweet…"

"I got that impression."

"Alistair, you don't have to fix my life for me, you know…" Said Oswyn glancing over at him.

"I know and I didn't. You did that yourself… I just gave you an opportunity. Anyway, I have this idea that the happier you are, the clearer you think and I need you thinking clearly. I like your proposals…" He said meeting his eyes, "When we get back to Denerim we'll have to see how viable they are in reality…"

"About that, are you fit to travel now?"

"I think…" as he said this Alistair looked down to his left thigh. "Oh dammit…"

"'Oh dammit'?"

"Seems it's bleeding again…"

"Let me take a look…" Oswyn bent down, "yeah, you breeches have stuck to it… I'm sorry Alistair, bed for you.

"I can't do this, I need to get back to bloody Denerim… I…"

"You told me Adal said you should get a mage?"

"She did."

"Think it's time to do that…"

"Bugger… But you know, there might just be a silver lining to this set back… and it's not only your having supper with Zinthal alone, Oswyn…"

                                                                                      ~~...~~

"… far better than the linen basket option…"

Dean's face was full of a fierce joy, he actually seemed to be gritting his teeth with glee. "I will fly, I will be back before you know it Alistair, I…" he said brandishing the sealed letter as if it were a sword and a good one at that.

"Just go and be bloody careful."

"I will, I will…"

"Linen basket?" Oswyn enquired once Dean had left.

"Do mages do their own washing? No. Do Templars? You must be kidding… so how come mages have all those fancy clean robes and Templars don't prance around, over much at least, in soiled smallclothes? Linen baskets are about the only things that leave the Tower… So Dean and I speculated…"

"What about corpses?"

"Both Templars and mages are seen off Fereldan style on Lake Calenhad, so no… Horrible to think the lake is full of the bodies of unfortunate mages and Templars decaying together… This is a much better way of getting her out. Now help me put together a letter to Anora explaining our delay… I also promised Dolgan and Harrowmont that I'll be more proactive in recruiting Grey Wardens in Ferelden so as to assist Orzammar, so I guess we need to write another one to Dummond."

                                                                                       ~~...~~

When Helena arrived with Dean three days, later Alistair was amazed at how young she looked. She was still a child in appearance, though she had already passed her harrowing and was therefore a fully-fledged mage, her figure was still rounded and plump as were her cheeks, rosy from the fresh air and walking, and her pale brown hair was in pigtails. Her eyes were alight with happiness; a joy reflected in every nuance of Dean's own face. Looking at them Alistair felt that he was looking into a mirror showing his own feelings for Niamh.

After greeting them, he couldn't help asking "Are you up to this Helena?"

Helena glanced at Dean and then turned back to Alistair. "Oh yes. I have had quite a lot of practice… The Templars are always getting themselves injured. Sometimes I've wondered whether they were doing it on purpose…"

                                                                                                   ~~...~~

Volkur had asked to be present at the healing, he was currently finishing a record of their expedition for the Shaperate and since he was the one who had extracted the arrow Alistair thought it was appropriate.

It was rather embarrassing actually, when they asked him to lie down so they could examine the wound on his thigh, but both Helena, who was barely a head taller than the dwarf was, and Volkur were so matter of fact about things that he began to feel his presence was almost incidental.

Volkur explained very precisely how he had extracted the arrow and with help of some notes gave accurate details of the treatments he had applied. Helena visually inspected the wound, examined the arrow, shaking her head upon seeing the barbs, and asked Volkur a few very to the point questions which he answered crisp and concisely. They were clearly enjoying sharing this knowledge and it was amusing to see two young people discussing things so earnestly.

"Well, Volkur, given the circumstances, it seems to me that you did the absolutely best possible with the means that you had available…" Volkur blushed.

"Thank you, ma'am." He mumbled.

"Now." She said. Both Alistair and Volkur watched fascinated as she grasped her staff, put one hand on her chest, closed her eyes and took a few deep breathes before launching the healing spell with a small flash of light and a brief, inarticulate, exclamation.

Alistair recalled how Wynne and Neriya were able to cast all but the most demanding spells with no particular physical effort. He guessed that that kind of ease was something that came with time.

They re-examined the wound again as did Alistair, insofar as he could. It seemed much improved.

"Your Majesty," Said Helena gravely, "No drinking for a few days…"

Alistair laughed, even Volkur looked somewhat put out, "Alcohol thins the blood. I would not recommend it." She lowered her eyebrows giving a strangely adult expression to her still childish features. "Just a week, surely you can do that."

"As you say." Said Alistair meekly.

                                                                                                   ~~...~~

Two days later and they were preparing to leave. Helena would stay in Orzammar with her father for the rest of the winter and travel to Denerim in the early spring. "Suppose Gregoir asks for her back?" Dean had objected.

Oswyn glanced at Alistair before replying, "We've discussed that, we don't think it's likely, she's young, she's a healer and the King has requested her service personally and will take responsibility for her… Other monarchs have healers at their disposal, it is nothing strange. It would be foolish to kick up a fuss over that… And Gregoir is no fool."

It had snowed lightly overnight and it was crisp under their boots. "I don't know why I'm so attached to that ruddy place," said Alistair turning one last time towards the gates of Orzammar that were quickly disappearing from view. "Maybe because it's a world apart… A world within our world or rather below it. The dwarva are a race like no other… Or perhaps it's something else…" He suppressed a slight shudder.

"Perhaps it's because of the bronto…" Observed Oswyn.

"Oh, the other wardens told you about that did they? Scum…"

"You paid for its upkeep apparently, they were most impressed. There were some really strange jokes going around…" Oswyn frowned, "But it was obviously dwarven humour and I didn't really understand it…"

[Addai]

Dwarven humor indeed- cute! They love the Bronto Whisperer too.

[Maria13]

Thank you and Merry Christmas to everyone reading here!

[Addai]

Merry Christmas to you, Maria!

[Maria13]

Chapter 43

Dragon 9:35

Verimensis/Wintermarch                                            Denerim                                                                   [Present]

"I cancelled the First Day party…" Said Anora, "Postponed it until your return…"

"That's… Was that necessary?"

"Strictly speaking no, but it would not be a real party without you there… At least many people would not think it was… In any event there are a few winter illnesses going around at the moment and it might not have been the best idea to bring lots of people together in one place." She wondered if he was looking a little older, perhaps there were a few additional wrinkles around his eyes? He was tired obviously. Poor, Alistair, he always seemed tired lately but then she took that to be a sign that he was doing what he should do.

She reached for her teacup and took a sip of the mint tea. He did the same, she noticed, she had not seen him drink mint tea before.

"Thanks for writing, in any event…"

"No," he said, shaking his head and putting his teacup down, "I should have done it before…"

"I am almost getting used to you disappearing without warning, but to go wardening and then to get injured…"

"Well I didn't do the injured bit on purpose, you know. The other thing, yes, of course, just couldn't resist. Oswyn advised me against it, by the way. I ignored him…"

"Heedless Alistair…"

"It's the way I am, Anora. I am not going to change." About a year ago, he might have said that aggressively, now he seemed to be just stating a fact of life.

"So I had gathered. Well, moving on… The arbiter decided that Bann Ceorlic should be executed. The evidence was overwhelming, he said. The sentence hasn't yet been carried out. He, I mean the Bann, has sent you this letter." She slid it over the table to him.

Heaving a sigh, he picked it up, "This is not going to be good news, I bet." He fiddled with the seal. Anora passed him her letter opener and he slit it neatly open. "Begs my mercy… private execution… Would like Your Majesty to be present… ****."

"Me too?"

"No just me."

"Alistair…"

"Yes?"

"You are not going to—"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're foolish even to entertain the notion. They, the family, are just going to use it to vex you and to slight both of us. It's poisonous. Stay away I say."

He sighed again and set the letter to one side. "What else?"

"Mother Gertrude passed… She asked you be given some of her ashes… I didn't know you knew her…" She held out the little leather pouch he extended his palm and she placed it in it.

"We talked from time to time." She noticed he had closed his fist protectively over the pouch.

"You never cease to amaze me Alistair…"

"Ha… I do it on purpose you know."

"Well, we have a new palace chaplain now, a…" Anora looked at a note. "Mother Boann… She seems… Interesting… Speaking of the Chantry…"

"Yes?"

"The Grand Cleric wrote to say she is feeling somewhat indisposed… I wonder if she has one of those winter illnesses? Anyway, she has postponed her meeting with us until the coming month…"

"Anora, is there no single piece of good news?"

"Alistair, I thought the judgment passed on Bann Ceorlic would be… Why we didn't even have to pull strings…"

"Pull strings? That was not my intention…" He paused, "Well, I really think that highlights the difference between us… Sorry."

"I was just being practical… No, I know we're different…" She said nodding; she seemed to be thinking intently. "Ah… Eoin returned…"

"Eoin?"

"He's brought you ten horses from the Free Marches and Nevarra…"

                                                                                                     ~~...~~

"So how have you been?"

"Well," Lawler replied, "Very well…" It was around midday and they were walking towards the alienage.

"And your family?"

"Oh the boys, you know, they're just boys… Jo, Puy's teaching her to read, Fereldan, says she's clever that he'll get her reading Trevinter in a few years time… He says that about me too, but I think he's joking… He looked after them well while I was away… Takes a bit of doing that. Bregeth, I visited her and your girl every day… I think she's getting a bit lonely. She used to scold me and then feed me and then ask after Puy and then we would chat."

As they entered the square in front of the alienage gate, which was now permanently open, Lawler's pace suddenly slowed.

"What is it?" Asked Alistair.

"You know, for the last week or so, I've been getting the impression that I'm being watched here..."

Alistair knew better than to stop or look conspicuously around although he very much wanted to. "Really?" He murmured. He did notice that each time he came here there seemed to be more elves around mixing with the humans, which he felt, was a good thing.

"Yes, really and Bregeth says the same..." Lawler hesitated, "I was so worried that one night I came out here late, same feeling like the hairs on the back of your neck are bristling, but I couldn't see anyone... Anyway... She can scold you too, now, that should please her. So what's that?" He gestured towards the package, "Well, I guess it's a sword, stupid question, but why is it wrapped up like that?"

"You'll see…"

However, the suede-wrapped sword was set aside quickly so Alistair could embrace Niamh. She had grown an awful lot; she was almost up to his knee. Her hair was two shades paler than his was and down to her shoulders, it had something sticky in it ("half her breakfast" murmured Bregeth), and her eyes were dark like Neriya's. She had a pert little mouth. She was wearing a plain brown smock down to her knees and little brown felt booties. She was even more delightful that he remembered and distinctly heavier. He covered her face with so many kisses that she almost started crying.

Once both he and Niamh had calmed down somewhat Bregeth said, "Let me show you something." She picked up a little red leather ball with a bell attached to it and held it out to Niamh who immediately tried to reach out and grab it while gurgling with enthusiasm.

"Now set her down Alistair, on her feet that's it…" Bregeth rolled the ball by the child across the tiled parlour floor. Niamh reacted immediately her tiny arms flailing in front of her "Let her go Alistair…"

And go she did taking a few wavering steps on uncertain legs but with a cheerful determination. "She walks…" said Alistair, "She can walk…"

"Yes, she can, she can…" chuckled Bregeth. "And… ooops! Occasionally she falls" Niamh fell onto her hands looked stunned for a moment and then began crawling energetically, "but you see, she really is after that ball…" The child caught up with it and then seizing it with both hands pulled herself to her little feet again and actually ran a few steps towards Bregeth, saying "Ma-ma, ma-ma…"

"Now the sword…" And for a moment Alistair thought Bregeth was referring to his but she brought out a very small crudely carved wooden one. "She likes this very much" said Bregeth and as if on cue, Niamh started waving it in the air gripped in a tiny fist.

Alistair laughed, "Well she's certainly going to strike terror into the hearts of any Darkspawn horde like that…"

Bregeth rolled the ball again and the toddler pursued it wielding the toy sword. The ball came to a stop at Lawler's feet and as they watched, Niamh caught up with it and began batting at it with the tiny weapon. The ball goaded by the toddler's blade moved away slightly but Niamh continued to hit Lawler's feet with her wooden blade… "Ow," said Lawler, "Ow and ow…" but the child did not stop hitting his boots.

Eventually he picked her up and holding her squirming under the arms still brandishing the sword in her fist handed her to Alistair who looked at her admiringly and then with an exclamation of "Princess…" pulled the puzzled toddler to his chest. Alistair finally pried the sword from the diminutive fingers and handed it back to Bregeth.

"Do you think it is a good idea to give a child a sword? A girl child…" He said softly holding Niamh against his neck.

"You child is she safe do you think?" Asked Bregeth. Alistair's lips tightened. "Will she be safe all her life? Are there no dangers in Ferelden?"

Alistair sighed, "I wish things were otherwise…"

"But they are not and we have to deal with them as they are… and so will Niamh." She paused, "You should be grateful to your Maker that he has given you a healthy child…" She faltered, "A child with the means and the spirit to defend herself… I would have…"

"Please don't say that…" He handed Niamh back to her. "You are right and you are doing an excellent job looking after Niamh and bringing her up… It is not for me to criticise your choices especially when I am somewhere else pleasing myself… Speaking of which…" He gestured towards the suede-wrapped package he had left on the table.

Watched by Bregeth and Lawler he unrolled it slowly. Bregeth gasped when she saw it. "Anything you recognise?" Alistair asked her. He had spent more than an hour the day before polishing it carefully attempting to ignore its periodic glinting.

She sucked in air between her teeth, "I know it to be ours."

"Ours." Alistair grinned at the acknowledgement.

"The shape…" she said, "the feel…"

"You can feel it?"

"Oh yes, strong but light…"

"So…" He touched the guard almost imperceptibly and it gleamed. Lawler swore under his breath in surprise.

Bregeth smiled broadly. "It has been some… time, since I saw a sword such as this." She remarked. "How did it come to you?"

Alistair narrated briefly the events leading up to it coming into his possession.

Once he had finished Bregeth said "Yes the dwarf was compelled to hand it to you because you are, at least in part, of the Elvehnen," Then she asked, "Can I?"

Alistair nodded. She touched it briefly and it glinted blue. Then she took Niamh's small hand and placed it on the hilt, it shone a peaceful green hue.

"You have found a sword worthy of your child." She said gravely. "I wish I could say that in Elven to you so you could hear and apprehend it as it should be said. Putting it into Fereldan it is but a poor rendering of the phrase. This sword responds to the Elvehnen wielder and then it bonds to him or her."

"How does it bond?" Asked Alistair.

"How does any sword bond?"

"First blood." Said Lawler.

Bregeth nodded. "Yes, it is so. First blood."

"Are you saying I should set it aside for her?"

"Yes, I am."


                                                                                                  ~~...~~

"You keep well I see…"

Lady Cousland shrugged off her cape into Alistair's hands. She saw Alistair's eyebrows rise upon seeing that she was wearing, a little suit over a chemise formed of a plain woollen surcoat and breeches almost identical to his own. Except that hers was dark blue to his grey and the first three buttons of her chemise were undone so he caught a brief glimpse of her cleavage. She looked up at him smiling. She had pinned her hair up again.

"You look like a boy…" He remarked.

"Do you like boys Alistair?" She said rolling her eyes at him.

He narrowed his. "Only when I know they're really girls…"

Meanwhile Lawler was helping Lady Cousland's companion out of her cape. "Lawler," He said gruffly.

"Richelle" said the redhead, her hair was shorter and oranger than Lady Cousland's, there was some resemblance in the shape of their faces that showed they were distant cousins.

"Well, Richelle" Lawler said quietly if we just let those two do most of the talking and drinking I think we are going to have some fun tonight…"

Richelle tittered lightly.

"How was Orzammar?" Asked Lady Cousland taking a seat on one of the benches at the long table.

"Fairly diverting…" Replied Alistair sitting opposite her.

"Did you have any adventures?"

"A few…"

"Do tell…"

"Can't. It's sort of confidential…"

"You are just being a spoilsport, Alistair."

"Am not…"

"You so are…"

"Anyway, you do know I'm going to win tonight, don't you?"

Lady Cousland's eyes glinted. "So cocky. Wholly misplaced."

At that moment, the door to the private room opened and the innkeeper himself in his cleanest apron came through holding a tray followed by a serving girl. Wordlessly he went over to the table and began setting down twenty little clay drinking cups in a row between Alistair and Lady Cousland. She had folded her hands together under her chin and was staring at Alistair who was pretending to ignore her.

Once he had done that taking using the bottle he has brought in on the tray he filled up every two cups and then, taking a bottle held by the serving girl he filled the remainder. With a polite nod in Alistair and Lady Cousland's direction, he left.

Alistair yawned and stretched. "Keeping you up are we?" Said Lady Cousland.

"Oh no, I'm very used to this, just readying myself you know… Well, who goes first?"

"Shall I toss a coin?" Asked Lawler.

"Alistair." Said Alistair. Lady Cousland shrugged.

"Alistair." Said Lawler having tossed.

"I'll go first then." He said and picked up a cup. "So this is your stuff is it?" He asked Lady Cousland who nodded in response. "What is it?" He asked sniffing it delicately.

"Green apple schnapps."

He took a sip and screwed up his face, "Maker that is foul…"

"Well you are hardly meant to sip it like a girly…" Said Lady Cousland grasping her cup and tipping it back. Once she had emptied it, she banged it on the table and placed it in front of her.

"Trust you to choose something so disgusting…" He said scowling and then drunk his down in turn putting the cup in front of him.

"It's Richelle's and my favourite drink." She said.

"Does neither of you any favours… So what have you told Fergus about tonight then, late night knitting perhaps?"

"Sleeping over with a friend. A cousin and a friend." Said Lady Cousland glancing at Richelle.

"What did you choose?" She said picking up her next cup already.

"Malt grain spirit, the Dalish drink something similar at funerals."

She gulped it down. "No wonder"

"So what was Cailan like in bed?" Asked Alistair drinking half of his.

"Good enough. A touch too pleased with himself…" She said remembering how one morning some five years ago, he had stalked into her bedroom completely naked wearing only an erection and a self-satisfied smile. For some reason he had reminded her of a large slightly egotistical cat. She had flirted with him relentlessly the evening before and he had promised her a 'visit'. He had pulled off her covers wrapped himself around her almost purring and then taken her quite functionally. After stretching, he stalked off again without so much as a word. At breakfast with her parents shortly afterwards he had been perfectly congenial…

Alistair woke her from her reverie by banging his second empty cup down on the table in front of him. If she was reading him rightly, the slight quirk of his lips meant that he was pleased at her lukewarm appraisal of his half brother's bedroom skills.

"Are you familiar with a game called 'I have never'?" She asked.

"Yep."

"Want to play?"

"You have to tell the truth." His fingers drummed on the table.

"I have no problem with that." She asserted.

"Hmmm…" Said Alistair, "But I thought our contest here was simply about who can drink most and remain upright…"

"We could combine the two…"

"Very well."

"Shall I start?" And before he could reply, she said quickly, "I have never… made love to an elf…"

"Oh, such an easy score… I knew I would regret this." He picked up his third cup and downed it. "Well, there's only one response… I have never… made love to a man."

"Cheapo."

"If I were really cheapo I'd make you drink one per man you have made love to…"

At the head of the table, Lawler bent over to Richelle and jokingly put his hands over her ears. "Now they're really getting down to it…" he whispered.

"I have never… made love to anybody whose name I didn't know."

Alistair sighed and downed some malt for his fourth. "I have never fallen asleep whilst making love." He retorted.

"Pshaw… Some men… can be so boring… I'm happy to take this one." Said Lady Cousland drinking. She nibbled the edge of the cup. "I have never…" she pondered this for a good while looking into the distance. "… Had a pee while drinking alcohol at the same time."

"Low." Said Alistair, "and physically you probably couldn't anyway…" Sighing he took another shot of apple schnapps and pulled a face. "I have never lied to my sibling..."

"That's because you never really knew him isn't it?"

"Your point?"

"Bah... You know what I mean." She smirked at him, "I have never..." she said carefully "... played with myself whilst sharing a room with others..."

He gave her a stony look and downed a cup of malt, "I'm sorry but, you're forcing my hand here… I'm going to have to…" Alistair leaned forward and gestured for Lady Cousland to do the same, "I have never…" The rest was a whisper.

"You bastard… Totally grosss…" Lady Cousland slurred but she seized a cup and downed it.

Alistair leant back smiling but his face was red and not only through the flush of alcohol.

"Oh." Said Lady Cousland putting a hand on her chest, "Oh Maker, oh… I…" she turned as if to get up from her bench and collapsed on her knees.

Alistair downed another cup of green apple and said: "Seven. I win." and then went to help her.

                                                                                                      ~~...~~

After sharing a carafe of fresh water and holding a damp cloth to Lady Cousland's forehead for about twenty minutes they set off for home. Since she was still a little befuddled Alistair half-dragged, half-carried her a fair way.

"Cold night air will do you good." He reassured her.

"If you say so…" and she hiccoughed taking a hand to her mouth.

"It's your natural air of refinement that has so endeared you to me …" Alistair commented.

"****** orf…" She gasped and hiccoughed again.

They had gone about half a mile when she suddenly started clawing at his chest.

"Oh Maker, oh…"

"Alleyway." Announced Alistair and steered her down the nearest one.

They were about ten steps into it when she doubled up and vomited.

"Good, that's very good… You'll feel better soon…" He said patting her on the back as she retched.

"Urghhhh…" she said struggling for balance. "I am… so bloody sorry."

"Oh Lawler has done this for me plenty of times." Answered Alistair airily, "And anyway you missed my new leather boots…"

"Gahhhhhhgrh…" She said. And then shortly afterwards. "Wha… what were… you saying just then."

"Oh, nothing." Said Alistair handing her a handkerchief so she could wipe her mouth looking down and then back up again jiggling his feet. "Nice night. Very clear." He remarked. "Let's go over here. I like alleyways…"

"Why… " Asked Lady Cousland who some moments afterwards found herself leaning her head against his chest while Alistair almost absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

"Well because at night they can be full of life and mystery…"

"Really, so you mean you've had sex a few times in an alley…"

"You can be so crude sometimes, it must be a noble thing..." Said Alistair. "Anyway…" He put his hand under his cape and drew out a flask. "Here," He said, popping the stopper. "Take a swig. It will cleanse your palate."

She pulled herself upright and did that.

"Hey, hey…" He said, "Not so much, that stuff's expensive…"

"It's also yummy" she remarked, feeling much revived. The drink burnt her mouth and throat in the most pleasing way, "what is it?"

"Antivan brandy" Alistair replied and took a swallow in turn. "Now…" He said putting the flask away and looking at her. Then resting his hands lightly onto her shoulders, he walked her back into the wall. She sighed and looked up at him. He tilted his face smiled and very gently put his lips against hers. They felt a little cracked and dry, then he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against the wall at the same time as he put his tongue in her mouth.

She opened her eyes briefly, what she could see of his face was rapt with concentration as he kissed her and his long blond eyelashes were fluttering. She could feel his hardness against her tummy even through their winter clothes. She closed her eyes again put her arms around his waist and pulled him even tighter against her, he made a small sound of pleasure at her acquiescence, and she began to respond to the kiss in kind allowing her tongue to toy with his.

Eventually he pulled away from her. His eyes were brimming with need: "Come home with me," he said "and we can get the first time over with tonight, if you feel well enough. Then perhaps tomorrow we can discuss where we go from there."

She put a gloved hand on his cheek. "I can't."

"Why not?" He said fondling her hand, "Why not? It's what you wanted isn't it? I'm giving in to you, we won't even have to duel... I was going to win that, anyway…"

"I… it's my time of the month."

He looked at her for a moment and shook his head. "No it isn't," He said.

"How do you…"

"It's not." He said flatly. "Just tell me why."

"I… need more time, really, I…"

"I don't understand…" He muttered, "I really don't understand."

"I don't mean to hurt you," She said. "I promise… in a few weeks time I'll come to you and we'll…"

"Oh I don't know why I bother." He said sharply. "Let's look at you." He checked her over methodically and brushed down her cape. "You look fine." He concluded then leading her by the hand walked her briskly out of the alley.

                                                                                              ~~...~~

Most of the rest of the walk took place in a rather stolid silence. When they came to Richelle's abode in one of the well-to-do areas of Denerim, not far from the palace, Alistair bade Lady Cousland a rather perfunctory farewell. She on the other hand attempted to put some feeling into her words and once again, but this time taking off her glove, placed her hand on his cheek. He took her hand and kissed the palm but when he marched away with Lawler, he was rather huffy.

"She was sick. She messed up my boots. I kissed her. She kissed me but turned me down... She promised... I don't know what she promised... Women. I just don't bloody understand them. I really don't."

Author's note: To all my readers wherever you are, thanks so much for bearing with me and reading this far. Hope you had a happy Christmas... Roll on 2011 and DA2!!!

[Addai]

Neriya, come back and save him from the clutches of Cous Cous!



*squee* over daddy Alistair

[Maria13]

Chapter 44

Dragon 9:35

Verimensis/Wintermarch                                                                          Denerim [Present]

For the third time in the previous hour, Alistair swore darkly. It was barely twenty minutes before dawn and the second night he had been engaged in this pursuit. He had never imagined that prying one of the terracotta tiles up in the chapel in Denerim palace would be so tiresome and difficult. He had thought that it would be a simple matter of loosening the mortar surrounding the tile with a thin knife and then raising it up from the floor. However, the mortar would not yield so easily, in fact, it seemed more like compact stone and scraping it away was taking him hours rather than the minutes he had assumed.

Perhaps he should have made some arrangements for this; after all, he was supposed to be bloody King. Employed a group of builders, say, and dug up part of the floor under some flimsy pretext or other, but to do that, he felt, would be 'cheating' and the undertaking he had given mother Gertrude had been personal. He had asked her to actually give him something to do in preference to praying which he found tedious and she had. Any reasonable amount of prayers would have been finished by this time, he reflected ruefully.

That was the problem with beliefs sometimes, he thought, what you judged to be simple was often complex, what you thought was easy was often fraught with difficulty. Sweating even in the chapel's cold, he sat back on his knees, which were hurting and recalled the gauntlet leading to Andraste's holy ashes and the challenges the companions had had to overcome there. Even Leli's temper had frayed somewhat during that travail and she had not rebuked him, as she would usually have done when he made the quip about Andraste favouring 'clevers'. Well, Andraste was certainly getting her own back now.

Onwards Alistair, you survived Orzammar twice you can certainly pull up a sodding tile.

He started scraping for about another ten minutes lost in thought. He had just imagined that he was making some headway on one of the sides when he noticed two cheap scuffed little leather shoes standing directly in front of him. He raised his eyes and met those of a dark-haired Elven child looking down at him curiously.

"Mah, where are you?" Called a voice from the direction of the altar.

"I'm here Mother... There is a strange man and he is digging up the floor." The child said in a clear voice.

Alistair cursed again.

"Such language and in the Maker's abode..." Said the female. "Take me to him."

The child sighed and took a few steps backwards returning with a fluffy dark-haired Revered Mother with her hand on his shoulder. Alistair stood up slowly and put the knife in his belt. She would be in her early thirties, he thought.

"You should be ashamed." Said the Revered Mother, "What are you? A thief or something? There is no gold here; this is the Maker's sanctuary. If is gold you are after the King lives three storeys up..."

Despite these bold words, which were said with some resolve, Alistair noticed that the hand on the child's shoulder was trembling. He had briefly entertained the thought of running away but this realization coupled with the one that she was blind put paid to that impulse.

"Maker be with you, Mother Boann."

"So you presume to know me, but do I know you?"

For some reason before answering, Alistair bent forward and ruffled the child's too tidy hair, "Not yet. We haven't been introduced. I'm Alistair."

There was a long pause then mother Boann said, "Tell me Mahon, does he look like the Alistair on the coins?"

The child cocked his head and perused Alistair critically. "Perhaps..." He said sounding somewhat unconvinced.

"That is a lot of trust to put in a child," said Alistair.

"Given my situation I find I have to deposit a lot of trust in many things every day. This child is the least of it." She crossed her arms over her breast. "Now explain yourself."

                                                                                       ~~...~~

Alistair dodged the frontal sweep of Dummond's wooden two-hander. "I am grateful..." He gasped, "For your assistance..."

"Think nothing of it," Said the Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden, "It was clearly an issue that needed to be dealt with..." He parried Alistair's counterattack, "So..."

"So..." Alistair tried to turn quickly and go in low but Dummond had already stepped back leaving him to thrust at empty space. "Ah... Enough..." He exclaimed.

Dummond as was his habit bowed gracefully.

While they both changed out of the padded armour, Alistair once he had recovered his breath said, "Yes, Fiona was my mother."

"So you are a Grey Warden the child of a Grey Warden..."

"Do you think that is unprecedented?"

"I'm not sure..." Dummond's already crinkled forehead crinkled even more. "I haven't heard of it previously but our order has been around for a long time...You should be proud, your mother was a legend in her time in Orlais. A treasure."

Alistair smiled. "And an elf..." He added.

"You understand my hesitance..." Said Dummond placing his wooden sword on the rack and waving his hands expressively, I simply had to be sure..."

"Yes, I do. I also understand Duncan and Neriya's position. It cannot have been comfortable for any of you. Can I ask you...? What's it like?"

"Like?"

"Being... As you are a qunari..."

"I am not a qunari... I am half-human... But unlike human elf mongrels..." He said eyeing Alistair, "Our appearance reflects our ancestry... To answer your question, tough, but life was tough in any event for the miserables in Val Royeaux and at least my build gave me some advantages..."

"And how did your mother..."

Dummond laughed, "If I had a penny for every time I've been asked that! How did yours?"

Alistair answered very earnestly, "It was in the Deep Roads, of all places, my father... Well, apparently they took a fancy to each other..."

"Nice story. My mother says much the same, she loved my father, he loved her, and she assures me. Looked after her, was delighted when she conceived me. Set her up, said he had to return temporarily to the Beresaad, and was never heard of again... She is convinced that something horrible happened to him and he died..."

"What about you?"

"What about me? How can I even judge someone I never met?" Dummond shook his head, "Of course, I am a man and you have your suspicions... We all know, if we are honest, that many women think us better than we are..." Alistair nodded in agreement. "But at the end of the day, that is neither here nor there. I have never lost any sleep over it. Except if someone called me a bastard to my face or my mother a w***e..." There a brief spark in Dummond's eyes. "Well that was simple enough to resolve. They did not tend to do it again."

Alistair grinned "Oh I am the same..."

"Of course you are. How it is our fault what our parents did or didn't do? How can other people even presume to judge our mothers? How can we? What the hell do we know?" Dummond shook his head and a curly dark lock of hair fell loose into his eyes, he shoved it back into place.

"I have to ask you..."

"Ask, my friend."

"My parentage..."

"Is your secret, not mine. My lips are sealed. I do not think many Fereldans would credit such a thing..."

"I am not so sure... I am convinced Anora has always known but I did not wish to question her directly. Cailan probably did. I don't think those that actually brought me up even suspected. But perhaps this was one of the reasons my father never openly recognised me and he might have put them under considerable pressure to inculcate in me as they did that I had no place whatsoever in the succession and no right to the throne. Not that I care, I truly don't, but it fits."

"Eh bien, you said there was something else..."

"Let's discuss it in your office..."

Perched on the lintel of a window Alistair gazed at the Denerim street two storeys below while Dummond leaned against his bureau, he hardly ever used the chair behind it. "I have recently come from Orzammar..."

"So I heard..."

"Of course you did. Well that makes things easier... I promised Harrow... King Harrowmont I mean, to recruit more wardens in Ferelden so as to assist them..."

"How are things in Orzammar?"

"Difficult I would say... My expedition found a brood mother, so did one of the others. We are talking barely fifty miles from the centre of Orzammar. Two brood mothers."

Dummond shook his head, "Not good."

"So more wardens are needed." Alistair turned towards him.

"But you do not wish to trust me to recruit them... And you do not want them to come from Orlais..."

"That's not quite..." Alistair hesitated, "No murderers..."

"Duncan was a murderer..." Objected Dummond quietly.

Alistair sagged, "I know."

"I would suggest there are murderers and murderers?"

"Self-defence, drunk, accidental, young... They must be repentant and seeking redemption. But no torturers, thugs, rapists, child abusers... I know full well you have the right of conscription, but I would request that you exercise it within certain constraints."

"The Grey Wardens have never been a legion of benign spirits, you know..."

"I volunteered." Said Alistair sharply.

"As did I."

"Well then... I was thinking that having standards at least in Ferelden might ultimately be to the Order's advantage... Life is hard in my country at the moment there might be a considerable amount of volunteers, volunteers who would not otherwise come forward were we to be seen recruiting riff-raff..."

"I have nothing against volunteers but there have to be standards for ability."

"And that is good, challenge them, reject them if they are not up to speed. I agree it is a waste of time sending unprepared people against the Darkspawn... It occurs to me we could hold such tests in public, create an interest..."

"A good idea." Acknowledged Dummond.

"Then subject to the exceptions I have quoted, you are free. I know you well by now and I trust your judgment. Should you have doubts about any particular case, run the facts by me and I will decide. You can recruit up to fifty wardens this year. By that I mean fifty who pass the joining and please invite me to the first one."

                                                                                              ~~...~~

He would have to speak to Mother Boann again soon he felt as he shuffled fidgeting from one foot to the other. Lawler looked at him frowning but said nothing; apparently, he had no problems standing stock still for minutes on end. Anora had suggested that Alistair should remain seated throughout the entire sordid business but that seemed to him to be wholly disrespectful and he had rejected it out of hand.

The family were gathered at the opposite side of the room. He had nodded to them discreetly when they first came in. He was uncomfortably aware of them staring at him every now and then with understandable hostility and forced himself not to look in their direction again despite being tempted to do so. He did not want to be accused of gloating. As Alistair stood determinedly fixing his gaze on an empty middle distance, he thought that this was all proving to be every bit as difficult as he had anticipated.

A few minutes later, the double doors to the chamber were pushed open and, with the Commander of Fort Drakon at the head, Bann Ceorlic was led in surrounded by a contingent of six guards, trailed by a Revered Mother. The Bann was wearing a red cape. Alistair allowed himself a moment to admire the man's flair.

The masked Orleisian executioner immediately stood to attention and gripped his two-handed sword a little tighter.

Reaching the allocated spot the Bann paused a moment, removed his cloak with a flourish and handed it to a waiting guard, revealing dark clothing below. He clutched his copy of the Chant even closer to his chest and smoothly knelt.

The Commander of Fort Drakon after casting a brief glance at the Bann marched in Alistair's direction. Alistair's heart fell into his boots. Nevertheless, he leant forward to listen to what the Commander had to say.

"He wishes to speak to Your Majesty."

Pulling himself even more upright Alistair stiffly followed the Commander across the floor. Once he had reached the condemned man, Alistair again nodded his head.

The Bann took his time, looking Alistair up and down. "Why," He said, "My prince, I see you have decided to adopt the two Theirin mabaris after all..." The bravado of the Bann's words was belied by his extreme pallor.

"Yes." Alistair replied. Unwillingly, his right hand gravitated towards the embroidered red symbols that decorated the right side of his black velvet surcoat; he suppressed the gesture as soon as he became aware of it.

"I will not waste any breath proclaiming my innocence." Alistair remained silent. The Bann had tidied his formerly straggly beard and unkept hair, it made him look more dignified and collected Alistair also thought he detected a subtle hint of perfume.

The Bann glanced towards his family. Alistair may have misread that look but it seemed to be full of antipathy.

The Bann turned his reddened eyes back focussing on him again: "They know, you know..."

Alistair remained impassive.

"About her..."

Alistair did not reply.

The Bann laughed an incongruent sound. "Your daughter..."

He hoped he had not hesitated overmuch. "What daughter?"

"Ah, my prince, how you love to make light of things, do you not even care for the flesh of your flesh?"

"Bann, do you have something of relevance to say to me or are you determined to persist in these undignified fantasies even on the brink of death?" Alistair was aware that his voice was carrying in the large vaulted chamber. Well, so be it.

"Pity I will not live a further day to see you shed bitter tears for your child..."

"Maker be with you, Bann, and may Andraste have mercy on your soul." Alistair turned on his heels. It took all the effort he could muster not to run back to his place.

Lawler seemed already to be on alert his eyes searching Alistair's face, good. "Go," Mouthed Alistair, "Niamh, Bregeth, protect them..."

Barely blinking in acknowledgement, Lawler swept out of the chamber. Alistair resumed his position crossed his arms and looked at the floor. There was a few minutes silence. Someone coughed, someone was praying in a low voice, the Revered Mother perhaps?

Eventually he looked up and caught the executioner's eye. The masked man stretched and pulled the massive sword up over his shoulder. The Bann tied a blindfold over his own eyes and braced himself. Alistair gave the agreed signal, touching his index finger to the Theirin shield on his surcoat.

The executioner swung the sword in the most graceful of arcs. It caught the Bann neatly on the back of the neck severing his head in one blow. The Bann's wife, it must have been her, howled, and for a fraction of time, everything seemed to be holding very still, then the Bann's body dipped and crimson droplets scattered in every direction. For the briefest of moments, Alistair closed his eyes.

When he opened them, again the remains of what had been a man slumped pathetically askew. There was a metallic tinge in the air and the sheets surrounding the Bann's body had darkened ominously.

The executioner stood rigid, looking slightly at a loss.

In a departure from tradition there was to be no production of the head, no spiking, and no triumphalist proclamations. The family were free to dispose of the Bann's body as they saw fit so long as any funeral was relatively modest and took place outside of Denerim. Alistair assumed as a matter of course that Anora's contacts would make very sure that that was the case.

Casting a final glance at the sorry scene, Alistair exited the death chamber with some haste.

Happy 2011 to all my readers! 

Modifié par Maria13, 31 décembre 2010 - 09:38 .

[Addai]

Oooh, awesome chapter, and a cliffhanger! *bites nails*

[Shinobu]

I've been reading this on FF.net and just caught up to the present post. I really like this story. Your characterization of Alistair is very interesting. (I think of him as "Ali-cat" 'cuz he's always prowling around the ladies...) Also really like your OC Lawler and what you're doing with Oswyn. Keep up the good work!

[Maria13]

Thanks guys! I've been writing this for about nine months now and I still feel inspired due I think in no little part to comments like the above...



@ Shinobu Ali-cat... Like the idea, we've had an Alicorn and an Alipanda (which is going extinct) the time has come for the Alicat! I'm not sure I'd describe what he does exactly as 'prowling', though (more 'sniffing' or asking for cuddles?), he ain't a predator, he's just looking for love... [Soppy I know] and sometimes women (unsurprisingly) do throw themselves at him... Perhaps I am deluding myself here...

[Shinobu]

Maria13 wrote...

Thanks guys! I've been writing this for about nine months now and I still feel inspired due I think in no little part to comments like the above...

@ Shinobu Ali-cat... Like the idea, we've had an Alicorn and an Alipanda (which is going extinct) the time has come for the Alicat! I'm not sure I'd describe what he does exactly as 'prowling', though (more 'sniffing' or asking for cuddles?), he ain't a predator, he's just looking for love... [Soppy I know] and sometimes women (unsurprisingly) do throw themselves at him... Perhaps I am deluding myself here...

No, no, I didn't mean it in a bad or derogatory way! Ginger toms are always the sweetest. And who wouldn't want to rub his fluffy tummy?   More a Ser-Pounce-a-lot type of Ali-cat.

http://forthecatlove...cat on back.htm

Modifié par Shinobu, 04 janvier 2011 - 11:51 .

[Maria13]

Owwwwww! That's a lovely ginger tom, thanks for sharing and I'm glad you don't see it in a negative light my Ali is just looking for love after his girlfriend left him and who can blame him for that? And who can resist rubbing that tummy.... Either of them...



I know I can't.

[Maria13]

Chapter 45

Dragon 9:31              Parvulis/Kingsway            Orlais, The Nahashin Marshes      [Approx three years and three months ago]

The baby had been born.

It lay motionless under her, still attached to her, in a welter of muck, mud and her own blood.

Things had not gone well, perhaps it was her inexperience, or perhaps crossing the Frostbacks in the bitter winter had taken too much out of her. Since the beginning of her pregnancy, she had been unable to transform due to the danger of losing the baby, so she had been compelled to flee by foot.

Morrigan had clung to the baubles that Neriya had offered her not only because she liked shiny things, which she did, but because she thought she had seen their potential as an eminently portable means of paying her way when the time came for her to depart. What she had not anticipated was the after effects of the Blight. Gold and silver might have some value but you could not eat them, they would not keep you warm during a cold night or slake your thirst and so the trinkets' worth had decreased accordingly since she was going in the inverse direction to the hoard and meeting daily the devastation it had wrought on the survivors she encountered.

She soon noticed that her potions and meagre skills as a healer were a far more welcome currency. She came to regret bitterly having invested so much in powers of destruction and so little in healing. However, making potions and healing took time and time she did not have, Morrigan could not afford to tarry. It was only a few days after the soul had entered the baby that rumours reached her that the almost Templar had been crowned King and the Elven mage exalted as the hero of Ferelden.

Morrigan remembered using and humiliating Alistair in the bedchamber in Redcliffe. She recalled Neriya's vehement words to her at the gates of Denerim and she was afraid.

Alistair had a temper when pushed, and could bear grudges she knew; Loghain had learnt that to his cost. Neriya she was even more afraid of, however, because Neriya was protective. A protective mage, she was aware, was worse that a large cat defending her cubs and mages felt honour bound to fulfil any words of revenge they uttered because if they did not, the belief was that their channel to magic would eventually falter. It was in their nature; after all, most spells began with, ended with and were nothing but, words.

Altogether, however, she had done well enough traversing Ferelden, her presence and her local knowledge had served her quite effectively despite the depreciation of the baubles.

However, Orlais was a different matter, and, of course, by the time she had crossed the border, her pregnancy had progressed so as to become visible; she had been robbed several times, assaulted once and for the most part, ignored. Oh yes, she was a powerful witch but there are only so many people that even the most formidable spell caster can contain at one time. It was no help at all that she lacked more than a rudimentary knowledge of Orleisian.

In addition, she had gotten lost, lost on more occasions than she could count. She suspected she had forfeited considerable amounts of time just going in circles.

Therefore, she could not shape shift because of the child and, she dared not keep to the main thoroughfares, in either Ferelden or Orlais, for fear of the new sovereign's ire. Being able to do so would have saved her time and all but prevented her from straying. Morrigan had hoped to reach the shelter and succour of Val Royeaux and conceal herself in the ebb and flow of the crowds there but the baby had come before she had reached the gates of that city, some six weeks early, by her estimate, in the midst of these wretched, dank marshes.

Several days ago, her feet had begun to swell. At first, she wondered whether because it was of the intensive walking. She had never had to walk so far so quickly in her life. Then, her breasts had engorged even further and started leaking and she began to feel cramping in her pelvis. She was afraid the birth was imminent and allowed herself some time to rest, which she could ill afford. The cramps seemed to pass then.

Then the previous day Morrigan had felt a sticky flow down her legs and the cramps had started up again but this time they were much, much worse and hideously painful as if someone were hollowing out her insides with a knife or pulling out her entrails with a hook. She was unable to continue on her way and some instinct had moved her to go deeper into the marshes, eventually she had come across a little hut made of rushes where she had taken refuge, shivering with sudden cold and trembling with pain... Shortly afterwards she had started to howl like an animal and then felt the irresistible impulse to push...

                                                                                         ~~...~~

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating, she had never seen her mother like this, so wholly lucid and composed.

"Morrigan, foolish girl." Her voice and tone, however, were unmistakable, Flemeth smiled as she ducked into the rush hut and then stood like a dark shadow settling against the feeble wall of the shelter. "You are such a disappointment to me."

Morrigan felt her looking at her but in her distress and humiliation could only whimper.

"How little you have learnt... A pregnant female not under the protection of a male is always vulnerable. Even the most dominant female when heavy with child becomes prey and easy prey at that." she sighed.

"I had you follow those Grey Wardens, coaxed you into their company... The future was writ large over both of them but you could not read it, you were blind to it, dulled by your petty likes and dislikes. You could have played him and charmed him. Had you done so, even if he had not accepted you as his beloved, you would not now be here having given birth to his child alone, in pain and on your knees."

"But still girl," Morrigan flinched she thought she saw something flash in the darkness, "Why should I complain about what benefits me?"

Flemeth bent down Morrigan felt a tug and moaned. She realised the cord attaching her to her newborn had been severed. Flemeth lifted the child by its feet. It was limp, stained, and naked. From behind it resembled nothing more than a featherless chicken.

"A boy..." Said Flemeth gazing at the child as if it were some kind of interesting mineral and scowled.

"Please..." Said Morrigan.

"Cry child..." Said Flemeth walloping the baby on the small of its back so it swung in her hand. She waited a few moments: "Cry..." and Flemeth thumped the child again. After several seconds the little body quivered and then contracted, the arms thrashed, the tiny fists clenched and suddenly a mournful wail filled the hut.

At the sound, Morrigan who had never really loved anyone but herself, felt a pang of primeval pity course through her for the creature that, until very recently, had been part of her. "Please mother, please..." fresh silent tears wended their way down her face.

Flemeth looked down at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. Her thin lips tightened. She ducked out of the hut cradling the naked infant in her arms. "Such a disappointment, Morrigan, such a disappointment..."

                                                                                      ~~...~~

Dragon 9:34                Parvulis/Kingsway         Orlais, Val Firmin                                [Six months ago]

It had taken Neriya and Cullivan the best part of six months. They had worked backwards starting from Val Royeaux through the Nahashin Marshes, the Western Approach, the Heartlands and the Dales to the foot of the Frostbacks.

"Have you seen this woman, she has golden eyes, she was with child..."

Although the Grey Wardens, honouring Konrad's request, had acceded to assist them, it was not at all clear what level of help was on offer. For example, they had agreed to print and distribute an etching of Morrigan's picture to all the Grey Warden compounds in Orlais but since Neriya could not divulge the reason why they wished to find Morrigan, it was unlikely that the request would be given any urgency while there were Darkspawn to fight, and there were always Darkspawn to fight.

When they had finalised all their enquiries in the Dales Cullivan asked for two weeks alone. Neriya did not wish to pry, she imagined he wanted to visit his home tribe. Therefore, when a summons came from Quentin du Plessis, the Commander of the Grey in Orlais, who happened to be visiting Val Fermin, Neriya went to meet him alone.

Du Plessis was a bit of a legend, he had belonged to a minor noble family fallen on hard times. In his early adolescence, he had gained a reputation for being rash and reckless, respecting nothing. He and his compains had specialised in ransacking Chantries by using subterfuge rather than brute force, impersonating lay brothers or Revered Mothers or a merchant attacked by bandits begging for one night's shelter... In this manner, a member of their party would infiltrate the target Chantry and then, usually under the cover of darkness, allow access to the rest of the band.

The spoils from such heists never lasted too long, du Plessis and his compains enjoyed racy women, expensive alcohol and especially, gambling, all kinds of gambling, be it card, die, horses, fighting, drinking, or even pissing contests.

Eventually they had fallen foul of a well-executed Templar trap but even then their luck for the most part held out and they all managed to escape save for one of their number, a young woman called Charmaine.

At that point the Divine made clear that Charmaine would be executed unless du Plessis handed himself over to the Chantry. Against the advice of the other compains, he did, but not before he had made an agreement with a friend of a friend, who happened to be a district commander, that the Grey Wardens would exercise their right of conscription in his favour. The Divine felt cheated but still exacted a price in blood by amputating the little finger on his left hand before turning him over to the Wardens.

All that, however, was a long time ago. In the meantime, he had gained a reputation for being a ruthlessly effective Warden Commander with connections both overt and esoteric throughout Thedas.

When Neriya went to meet him in the Grey Warden compound in Val Fermin she was shown into the presence of a small natty man with an easy smile and vivid eyes seated behind a desk covered in papers who appeared to be in his mid forties.

"Ah Neriya... Sit down. Don't mind Michelle, she has to sniff everyone."

Neriya took the armless wooden chair. A large gangly dog with bristly orange and white hair and a very black nose sidled up to Neriya and put her muzzle in her lap. Cautiously Neriya extended a hand and stroked her head.

"Neriya, Neriya, Neriya..." mumbled du Plessis, shuffling through the papers for a while. Suddenly he looked up, clasped his hands in front of him and said: "You and Alistair, Alistair Therin, I mean, were an item..."

"Yes." She replied slowly.

"What's he like?"

"He thinks I am dead..."

"That's not a ruse you are going to be able to sustain for much longer, jeune femme..." said du Plessis. Neriya's eyes must have shown her indignation. "Ah, ah, ah, that is not a threat... Just an observation from someone who has set up more than a few ruses in his time... I would advise you, advise, I insist, to find a way of resolving that situation sooner rather than later..."

"Please inform me why I am here."

"Your child..."

"Is with Alistair in Denerim."

"Who thinks you are dead."

"Yes."

Du Plessis sighed. "And this Morrigan you are searching for?"

"I am not sure why I have to repeat to you what is probably in those papers."

"I want your version." He said resting his cheek on a hand.

Neriya trotted out the account she had agreed with Konrad. "She is a powerful witch possibly a maleficar, she may have managed to incarcerate the soul of an Archdemon in the body of her child—"

"Why would you suspect that?"

"When we slew the Archdemon, and at that point we were the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, one of us failed to die."

"How do you think she did it?"

"If I knew that..."

"But why do you suspect her then?"

Du Plessis' eyes still sparkled with benevolence but Neriya was beginning to see he was far from foolish. "Morrigan said... She made certain promises that if Alistair and I did certain things, she would obtain the demon soul for her child and we would not die when we slew the Archdemon..."

"And did either of you do those things?"

"No..."

"And so?"

"It occurs to me Riordan may have..."

"And Riordan, is, or course, dead..."

"Yes. Killed in combat before the Archdemon was slain."

"So we will never know..."

"Warden Commander..."

"Neriya..."

"I do not necessarily want to destroy the child, merely establish that it is normal and if it appears to be, perhaps monitor it from time to time..."

Du Plessis clasped his hands behind his head. "Neriya, here's the thing... I am Commander of the Grey here in Orlais and you are a Grey Warden... A talented one, a treasure... and yet you have spent the last six months pursuing this chimera..."

"It is not—"

"Well at most, I cannot prove it is a chimera but you cannot prove that it isn't..."

"So..."

"Let's do a deal..."

Neriya got the distinct impression that du Plessis had been doing such deals most of his life.

"You do some Grey Warden tasks, I allow you to continue to seek this woman... or rather her child."

"I..."

"Your first task will be to attend, as will I, three joining ceremonies to be held here next week. Surely that is not too hard?"

"No..."

"Bon. Did I tell you you remind me of a friend of mine, a very good friend of mine?"

"No..." Neriya hoped desperately that the interview was not going to get personal.

"Well then, sometime in the near future I would like you to consider enhancing your abilities as an arcane mage... You will have to train, in a circle mayhap, one less backward than Ferelden's," Neriya frowned, du Plessis ignored her, "perhaps here in Orlais or Antiva. I also hear good things about the Kirkwall circle, even Trevinter or Weisshaupt..." He paused, "Hopefully not Weisshaupt because, Maker, is it cold there..." Du Plessis shivered, "I spent several years in Weisshaupt myself."

Well, it was Alistair or the Grey Wardens, love or duty, and I chose duty... Neriya found she did not dislike du Plessis's proposal, she actually found it reasonable, however, some things had to be addressed.

"I am a Blight Queller, why do you speak to me like a novice..."

Du Plessis was silent for a moment and scratched Michelle, who had returned to him, behind the ears.

"Sometimes even heroes need to be reminded of their duties, Neriya, of their choices... I could of course give you some direct orders but that is not, generally, my preferred way of working. As for respecting you... You are a woman a mage and an elf and I cannot begin to express my admiration for your accomplishments, but were I to do so; I also think you would suspect me of attempting to butter you up... One of the reasons I want you to attend the joining is that I want you to be seen there, I want to show you off and I want some of the less accomplished wardens to get an eyeful of you." He looked up at her. "You do remind me an awful lot of my friend..."

                                                                                            ~~...~~

The joining hall was a medium-sized room lined for the most part with simple white stone. The joining chalice was placed on a round altar formed of a single rock within in the centre of a circle formed by red stones, some ten metres in diameter.

Five rows of stone seating, "Occasionally, we have relatives and such come to see the joining. They put in a request to myself. Obviously we have to screen them very carefully; this is not for the faint-hearted." Explained du Plessis.

The chalice itself was of unadorned brushed steel. "It was smelted twenty years ago using steel from the sword of a local Grey Warden hero, Pierre Denisot." Du Plessis murmured to her.

They were both wearing plain grey woollen habits with the Warden's griffon emblazoned on the right breast and their warden pendants visible, although, as Warden Commander, du Plessis' griffon was double-headed. Du Plessis also wore a silverite and black onyx seal ring on his right index finger. Neriya had not realised until now that he was slightly shorter than she was.

Neriya laid her hand on the wall behind the altar tracing the many names carved there, below the Wardens' motto: 'In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.' "The joining year?" She asked pointing.

"Yes, on this side are the names of the ones who survived the joining in this compound. Over there—" he pointed to another wall, "the names of those who perished, but they are all here together, seamlessly, round the altar." They were both speaking quietly.

"Many die in the joining…"

"They do, unfortunately. I have kept figures for some years now. Of course, it does fluctuate, but overall, some four in every ten do not make it… My understanding is that it is roughly the same throughout Thedas. A great shame."

"Where would my and Alistair's names be?"

"Yours was an improvised joining so your name and those of the other two—"

"Daveth and Ser Jory."

"Daveth and Ser Jory," repeated du Plessis, "...would be in Weisshaupt, where the names of all Grey Wardens are recorded... Alistair's, I hope, would be in the hall where he was joined as well as in Weisshaupt."

"I see."

A thin elderly mage entered the hall and handed several vials to du Plessis who thanked him. Du Plessis saw Neriya looking at the vials, "Yes, this is the joining potion… If you wish, I can make arrangements for you to learn how the potion is concocted; you would have to take a vow never to reveal the formula, however…"

"I would like that." Said Neriya. Du Plessis nodded.

"You are sure of your role?"

"Yes I am."

About five minutes later two other Grey Wardens dressed in the same habits came in whom Du Plessis introduced as Yves Breton and Ferri Louvain. Yves was a large bearded man, a fighter Neriya guessed, in contrast Ferri was far slighter, a rogue or an archer. They were given some ten minutes to exchange pleasantries until du Plessis gave an order and five figures wearing grey habits with cowls pulled up were ushered in to the hall.

The first one knelt before the altar pulling back his hood.

Du Plessis stepped forward holding the chalice in both hands. At a gesture from him, Neriya standing at his right, solemnly chanted the joining words, which echoed throughout the hall.

"Join us brothers and sisters.

Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.

Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.

And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

And that one day we shall join you…"

Modifié par Maria13, 11 janvier 2011 - 07:14 .

[Addai]

A very meaty chapter! It's good to see Neriya again. Poor Morrigan. Ack, that's the sort of thing that put my male Cousland Morri-lover in such a funk after the Blight- picturing Morrigan having their child alone. In this case even more poignant. Well done, can't wait to see where this goes.

[Shinobu]

Flemeth! Nooo! What is she going to do with the baby?! *bites nails*



A really interesting turn of events. I hope Neriya and Morrigan get to kick some abomination tail in future!